Ending - Sara

The passing of Cecily was a winter that seemed to never end for the Holy Kingdom. She died as she had lived, performing a duty to the crown, leaving behind a second son and a nation cloaked in genuine mourning. The "Saintess-Queen" was canonized by the local bishops almost immediately, her image immortalized in stained glass as the mother of the realm. For the public, she became a martyr of divine grace; for you, her absence left a quiet, hollow space in your heart that no one person could truly fill.

Now, years later, the grief has settled into the foundation of the state. Your first son is a strapping lad of seven, already learning the weight of a sword, while the younger one remains under the careful watch of the royal wet nurses. Sara oversees their education and training, they being the sons of her cherished daughter.

Sara has a lot of love to give, as er silhouette thickened by her fourth pregnancy with your child. Your three older bastards, two girls and a boy, are being raised in a secluded estate under the guise of noble wards, though their striking resemblance to you is an open secret among your most trusted inner circle. They are your contingency, your hidden bloodline, forged in the heat of a passion that never flickered.

"The chroniclers will write of your piety,'" Sara says, her voice carrying that familiar, sharp edge of irony. She turns to look at you, her hand resting atop the swell of her stomach. "They will speak of the Saintess-Queen and the King who founded a God-fearing dynasty. But you and I know the truth of these stones, Milord. This entire kingdom, from the coins in the treasury to the heirs in the nursery, was built on fornication."

You let out a short, rough laugh, leaning back in your chair. There is no point in denying it; the very tradition that stabilized your rule, picking a wife from the convent, was born from the carnal appetite you indulged in that small room years ago.

"It is a sturdy foundation, nonetheless," you reply, your eyes tracing the lines of her body. "You know, Cecily has the beauty and the mind, but you, you have the fertility and bodyto make babies. How many is it now including those others, eight?"

“Six."

"And you have the appetite for it." You say, admitting the discipline she has inadvertently given you. In the early years of your reign, your lust might have led you to ruinous scandals or a string of meaningless mistresses who would have sold your secrets for a trinket. Instead, after Cecily, Sara provided a singular, torrential outlet for your needs. By satiating your darkest urges, she left your mind clear for the cold, calculating business of statecraft.

Sara approaches you, her movements slower now but no less enticing. "True enough. You rule the people because I rule your bed. And I don't see you stopping. Perhaps a few years from now, we should see if we can get a someone to assist you."

"You've become quite the disciplinarian, Sara," you whisper as you pull her closer, your mind already turning away from work and on to her. . The Holy Kingdom will be there tomorrow , its secrets buried deep beneath the altar, while you and your "greedy succubus" writhe in pleasure tonight.

THE END