I love my Empire. I love my subjects, because more than the mere land, they are my Empire. And they love their Empress. I will not take a consort, or a husband. I have decided and declared my heirs will be conceived from the ranks of my foot soldiers. Those who are expected to fight – and perhaps die – for Our safety and Our glory may also, one day, rise to rule through their – through Our – progeny..
Each month, when I am most fecund, and my blood is high, I tell my Captains to select their best – their most fierce, most loyal, most honorable and clever, and send them to the palace. For a week I visit each in turn.
Their bonds are more symbolic than anything else – a nod to the advisers for my safety. But I know they aren’t necessary. Each one of them gives himself, and of himself, to me, all that I ask and more. Each fights more fiercely, drives his brothers harder, with the knowledge they might be the sire of the next Empress or Emperor.
The full winter has passed since my decision. And the spring is perfumed and fertile, as I am. The time is right. In my bones and my womb I feel one of these men will father my successor. Tasting this one’s lips, feeling the hardness and power in his cock in my hand before I take it in me, I wonder if this one will be him.
I do not know his name, and I never will. Yet he moans his Empress’ name, my name, into our kiss.