Deal with father's old mistress

Like many others among nobles, your parents' marriage was one of pragmatism, not love. Your mother allowed your father a lone mistress if he did not sire bastards with her, and he kept his word. Now that he has passed, you are sure that your father would have wanted his old lover Lisandra taken care of.

You leave the throne room to see her chambers, tucked away atone of the castle's corners. Inside, you find Lisandra, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, several days since your dad died. About 36 years old, she shocks nobody in her role as a former royal mistress. She has pale skin, long black hair expertly groomed, ample bosom showing from her decolletage, slim waist. Oh yes. Her face is not as girlish as some of the other court ladies. Though feminine, it could sometimes be a bit intimidating, like she was looking at you as prey. That was a shame, you always thought, because from what you could tell she was a sweet lady. But that's not important right now. You open your mouth to talk but she cuts you off. "Thank you for coming to check on me. You're so thoughtful, just like your father. He was an excellent man. But you know, there was always a blind spot in his consideration. You," she says, her tears now dry, not allowing you a word in edgewise, "stuck in that awful church career, with no prospects beyond a cassock and maybe some monastery ****." She gets up before you can respond. "Not even a single peasant wench to take care of your manly needs." Before you know it she has closed the distance between you and grabbed your now throbbing crotch, head nestled against your neck.

"It's your big day my king", she says in a hushed whisper into your ear. "How shall we celebrate?"