Pregnant by the Prince of Lust(BL)

Seraphel

​I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. I absolutely hated how they were looking down on me, treating me like a piece of worthless garbage, but what infuriated me more was Azriel’s silence.

Was he actually considering taking back his declaration? It wasn’t that I cared about the royal title, but he had already announced it.

If he backed down now, the humiliation for me would be unbearable—especially in front of someone like Eiren.

​I turned my head to look up at him, desperate to read his expression, but the sight made my breath hitch.

Azriel was grinning wickedly, his glowing crimson eyes darkening into a shade of terrifying, bottomless midnight.

​"Is that so?" he asked, his voice raised slightly. It still carried that deceptively soft, melodic tone, but the malice dripping from it made the air in the room turn heavy and suffocating. "You dare to dismiss my royal decree? You dare to look down upon my Crown Princess?"

​"Your Highness, we are merely expressing legitimate concern," Lady Mireth stammered, trying to hold her ground. "There are far more suitable high-born concubines who should be considered over a nobody."

​Azriel let out a low, chilling chuckle.

​Then, in the absolute blink of an eye, he vanished. He moved so incredibly fast that my eyes couldn’t even register the motion. Before anyone could blink, he appeared directly in front of Lord Vaust, the physical air pressure in the room dropping instantly.

​"Tell me, Lord Vaust... are you suggesting that the only one truly worthy of my throne is your precious son, Lioren?" Azriel whispered dangerously.

​Lioren? It all clicked. Lord Vaust was the father of that spoiled, arrogant brat from the dirty district. No wonder the name had sounded so familiar.

​Azriel turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto the trembling woman in green. "And you, Lady Mireth... should your dear cousin, Eiren, become my princess instead?"

​Lady Mireth.

A chill ran down my spine as the memory from the book flashed in my mind. She and Eiren were the ones responsible for the horrific death of Slyven in the original timeline.

​Azriel’s gaze slid toward the third minister. "And what about you, Lady Lydia? Should your dear brother, Kaevian, take the crown instead?"

​Lady Lydia. The ruthless, cold-blooded businesswoman who controlled the entire luxury brothel industry in Katula, alongside her brother Kaevian.

​"Are any of you daring to suggest that they are the ones who belong by my side?" Azriel demanded, his aura flaring outward.

​Lady Mireth was the first to break, her voice shaking violently as she collapsed under the weight of his spiritual pressure. "Your Highness... that is not what we meant at all! We are simply concerned about a man with an entirely unknown background. With the foul rumors spreading through the capital, he could have easily laid with another man and lied about carrying your divine heir! There is simply no way he could have—"

​"Your tone," Azriel interrupted coldly, his voice clipping her words like a blade, "is strongly implying that I am an incompetent fool who can be easily scammed. Or perhaps you mean to imply that I am incapable of fathering my own child, Lady Mireth?"

​"No, Your Highness!" Lady Mireth shrieked, dropping flat onto her knees and slamming her forehead against the marble floor. "That is not what I meant! I am only worried about his background! He could be a spy from a rival realm! I am only concerned about—"

​"I do not need your pathetic concern!" Azriel roared.

​My heart violently leaped into my throat. It was the first time I had ever heard him scream. He was always so soft-spoken, masking his malice behind whispers and giggles. Hearing him unleash a full, unfiltered roar meant he had reached his absolute limit—either from their relentless disrespect, or because something Lady Mireth said had severely triggered his sanity.

​I shifted on the throne, my chest heaving as the volume of his voice tore through the hall. The acoustic force didn’t just ring in our ears; the entire structural foundation of the grand palace shook violently.

The tremors were so intense that several ministers standing on the left side of the hall lost their balance, crashing clumsily to the floor.

​"I am the Prince of Lust!" Azriel screamed at them, his voice vibrating with raw, terrifying spiritual energy. "I was born from primordial sin! I am a demigod, the second of my divine kind, and you dare presume to be concerned for me!"

​With every single word he unleashed, the throne room shook harder, large cracks violently spider-webbing across the pristine marble walls.

Even the massive throne I was sitting on began to rock sideways.

​A dense, suffocating swirl of crimson smoke violently erupted around Azriel’s body, glowing with a blinding, catastrophic light.

​"Oh, gods... this cannot be happening," Malachi muttered under his breath, appearing out of nowhere beside the throne.

​Despite the chaotic spiritual tempest tearing the room apart, Malachi remained physically unmoved, but the panic in his eyes was terrifying.

I couldn’t remember Azriel ever displaying this level of apocalyptic rage in the original book.

​"His Highness has unleashed his true voice," Malachi added grimly, reaching out to brace against the shaking dais. "It has completely triggered his suppressed destructive powers. This entire palace is going to collapse on top of us."

​"Then stop him! Find a way to calm him down!" I yelled over the deafening tremors, gasping as the throne tilted dangerously.

Malachi quickly grabbed the armrest, stabilizing it with his immense strength. "What the hell is going on? Is this why he always whispers?"

​Malachi nodded rapidly, his face pale. "Yes! His Highness permanently restrains his voice because his vocal frequency possesses apocalyptic, destructive properties."

​"Then what the hell are we supposed to do to stop a literal demigod?!" I screamed, watching in absolute horror as the ground split open and chunks of the ceiling began to rain down.

​I pointed a trembling finger toward Azriel.

Massive, thorny crimson vines had aggressively erupted from his spiritual core, wrapping tightly around the throats of Lord Vaust, Lady Mireth, and Lady Lydia, the rest of the ministers lifting them completely off the ground as they choked and clawed desperately for air. "He’s completely lost his mind! He’s going to kill us all!"

​Malachi locked his arms around the crimson throne, steadying my frame, his eyes boring into mine with a fierce, deadly seriousness. "You still don’t get it, do you, Seraphel? Look at him! Why do you think His Highness is this furious? Why do you think he unleashed his forbidden voice? Why do you think he is entirely willing to bring this entire kingdom to its knees right now?"

​"Because they disrespected his authority?!" I yelled back over the roaring winds.

​"No!" Malachi shouted, his words cutting through the chaos like a knife. "It is all because of you, Seraphel! You are his ultimate trigger! His Highness is tearing this throne apart because they dared to disrespect you!"