Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1784: Melting Elves

He spun her once more, faster, and Rosie’s vine-hair whipped around her face as her giggles bounced off the mansion walls.

"Everything alright back home?" he asked, settling her against his chest.

Rosie didn’t answer.

She pressed her cheek against his collarbone and curled there, small green hands gripping the fabric of his tunic, and the golden veins in the tree above pulsed in slow, warm waves that matched the rhythm of her breathing.

"Rosie is so happy Daddy came back home safe..." she whispered, eyes half-closed. "And that everyone survived..."

The courtyard went quiet.

Myrasyn’s vision blurred.

Beside her, Isveth’s hand flew to her mouth.

Quinlan held her for a moment longer, chin resting against the top of her head. Then the warmth in his expression shifted.

A grin crept across his face, beyond mischievous, and his eyes flicked toward the two weeping elves.

"Rosie."

"Hm?"

"I brought you fresh meat."

Rosie’s head came up from his chest, and the smile that split her face was her father’s own, the same angle, the same width, the same scheming delight that promised trouble for everyone in the vicinity.

She wriggled free, dropped to the ground, and planted herself before Myrasyn and Isveth with her feet apart, her chest puffed, and her chin held high.

The two elves looked down.

She was very, very small.

"My name is Rosie Elysiar!!" she declared, her tiny voice carrying far more authority than her height had any right to produce. "First born daughter of Quinlan Elysiar and granddaughter of Grandmommy Luminara!!"

Both elves stopped breathing.

"And by Rosie’s sacred right as the First Elf’s granddaughter..." Her amber eyes sparkled as she drew herself to her full and entirely unimpressive height. "Rosie decrees that BOTH pretty elven ladies MUST pamper her like there’s no tomorrow!!"

She spread her arms wide, expectant, ready to be embraced.

Myrasyn’s lips moved without sound.

Isveth’s tears were still falling, but her eyes had gone so wide they looked ready to leave her face.

They stared at the child.

Then at each other.

Then back at the child.

Neither moved.

Rosie’s confident expression held for a few seconds before it began to falter.

She glanced toward Quinlan, and the scheme drained from her face as the two women simply stood there.

Quinlan’s grin also vanished. What replaced it was so profoundly, devastatingly sad that Jasmine had to press her lips together to keep from laughing.

"You two don’t want to...?" he asked, voice heavy.

Rosie looked up at the two elven women, and her eyes went round, wet, and devastatingly large. Her lower lip pushed out.

"Is Rosie too ugly for the pretty elven ladies to touch...?"

"!!!!!!!!!"

Myrasyn and Isveth’s heads whipped toward Quinlan.

The devastation was already gone.

What had replaced it was so wide and so shameless it could have lit the courtyard on its own, and the look in his eyes said one thing.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

Myrasyn moved first.

The four-thousand-year-old queen dropped to the earth without a single thought for her attire or pristine skin, her knees hitting the ground, and her arms closed around the child before Rosie finished blinking.

"Too ugly?!" Her voice cracked on the first syllable. "Never say such a thing! It was just... You’re too mesmerizing! I don’t deserve this honor!"

Isveth hit the ground at the same time, crying yet far too happy. "Thank you..." The Head Shrine Maiden pulled Rosie tighter against her chest while her tears fell freely into the dryad’s vine-hair.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Rosie, buried between two elven women’s soft skin and heavenly bosom, tilted her head.

She looked up at Quinlan from the tangle of limbs and tears and elven robes.

Quinlan gave her a thumbs up.

Rosie gave a thumbs up back.

The dryad had accepted the tribute she received.

All sins were forgiven.

"Hehehe!!" She squirmed deeper into the embrace, giggling helplessly. "The pretty elven ladies are even prettier up close!!"

Hearing those words, Myrasyn did exactly what Rosie manipulated her to do.

Namely, pulling the girl even tighter against her chest, stroking her vine-hair with trembling fingers as tears streamed freely down her face, and the sounds that left her were the soft, half-melodic hums that elven mothers used to soothe their young, pulled from somewhere so deep in her chest she hadn’t known it was still there.

"This is the best day of my life..." she whimpered.

Isveth pressed her forehead against Rosie’s small shoulder, tears refusing to stop flowing, and her fingers cradled the dryad’s tiny green hand as if it were the most precious thing she had ever held.

From the side, Jasmine watched with her hand on Quinlan’s arm and a smile warm enough to melt winter. "You two are far too deadly when working together."

"I have no idea whatever you could be talking about."

"Mhm."

Elisabeth stood where she had been standing for the past several minutes, hands at her sides, staring at the scene with an expression that had stopped attempting to process new information roughly one weeping elf ago.

A child from an unknown origin. The self-proclaimed granddaughter of the First Elf. Calling the Primordial Villain "Daddy."

Being pampered by the Queen of All Elves and the head of their faith, both of whom were sobbing in the dirt like new mothers meeting their firstborn.

"I need to sit down..." the Arch Priestess whispered.

Right on cue, a chair of stone materialized beneath her, sweeping the Arch Priestess off her feet.

"..." Her eyes narrowed as she examined the Primordial Villain.

Yet, the Dawn Breaker realized with growing horror that she didn’t have it in her to keep it up any longer.

Her expression softened. She moved around a bit in her new chair until it was just right, leaned back, and enjoyed the show.

Alexios, arms loose at his side, watched the pile of elves and dryad. His expression was far too wry, for he understood the implications.

The elves were already treating him like a deity. Without seeing this creature.

If they did, he had no doubt all members of their race would become weeping messes just like their queen and lead shrine maiden.

The political implications were impossible to miss.

"That tree..." His attention drifted to the golden veins still pulsing in slow, warm rivers across the trunk. "...How?"

"Remember the Geim you had locked up in that cave at your military outpost in Greenvale?" Quinlan wasted no time, asking casually.

Alexios’s heart rate spiked instantly, on the verge of bursting. "...No."

Quinlan’s grin widened, far too sadistic. "Old friend, I’d dock that storm dude’s pay if I were you. I sent my Pupcake to cause some ruckus and a gang of werewolves caught a whiff of her heavenly pheromones and lost their minds. We waltzed right through the chaos while the storm dude was giving speeches about honor and duty."

"NO!" Alexios’s voice rose.

Quinlan paused for dramatic effect just long enough before adding, "We were barely level ten back then, by the way."

"ELYSIAR!"

The cities. Built with his stolen gold.

The multiracial settlement. Stocked with stolen slaves.

The cobblestones, the mansion, the bathhouse, all funded by his pillaged treasury.

And now the tree, the centerpiece of this compound, the creature that had reduced two of the continent’s most powerful elves to sobbing in the dirt, had been taken from his own military outpost.

By a level ten nobody and a horny dogkin girl’s scent.

"Is there a single thing you own that you didn’t steal from me?!" the King of Vraven screamed.

"Hmm... let me see..." with theatrical motions, Quinlan began pondering the question, looking like it required a lot of thinking.

Alexios was a patient man, all things considered.

But this bastard...

He knew exactly how to infuriate the old king until he looked like he was about to choke on his own anger.

On the ground before them, Rosie had discovered that Myrasyn’s long ears were within reaching distance, and a small green hand was creeping toward one with the careful precision of a predator stalking prey.

Isveth saw it happen.

She did nothing to stop it.

Instead...

She lowered her head and offered hers freely.

"Hya!" Rosie lunged, grabbing onto both women’s ears at once, eliciting merry yelping.

At the same time, a soft hand landed on Alexios’s head.

Or tried to. Felicity had to jump to reach him, and her fingers barely grazed his crown before gravity reclaimed her.

She jumped again and managed to pat quickly twice.

"It’s okay, Father." Her voice was perfectly, devastatingly understanding. "You tried your best."

Alexios looked down at his daughter, then up at the man who seemed intent on bringing him to an early grave due to a deadly stroke, and the look on his face said everything.

Quinlan was no longer paying attention.

His gaze had shifted toward the distance, and the amusement drained from his face. "The girls are ready."

He flicked two fingers, and a [Warp Gate] tore open in the courtyard.

Ayame stepped through.

Her composure was set, katana at her hip, spine straight.

She looked like a woman ready to conduct business.

It was time to begin.