Family Affairs

~Family Dinner~

I paced my private chambers, the fire flickering in the dark.

Marjorie Bishop.

I growled at the mere thought of the woman.

From the moment I met her, I disliked her immensely.

She was dressed in an armored gown of polished steel. The gown was orange, like the sunset, and it was beautiful, but the armor soured whatever thoughts I held of her beauty.

I knew she was from Eskesh, the kingdom of my empire that allowed women to hold the same rights as men. They could hold positions of power, be made the heiress over their younger brothers if they were born first, and fight in the Eskeshian army.

But the audacity this woman had, to show up in my city, to be presented to me as my future wife, dressed in armor.

Women should be faithful to their husbands, obey them without complaint, and raise the children they sire together.

Yet this woman, Marjorie Bishop, was aloof and expressed her opinions in the thick, German-accented English she knew.

I was going to break her, make her the perfect Voskarian Flower like my sweet Lavinia was.

Yet time and time again, she refused to submit, to bend.

She proved her usefulness when she was expecting our first child together.

I was sure it was going to be a son, a brother Edmund could play with. A brother sired by me, unlike the sons Margery Duke had given me.

When the child was born, it was a girl.

Emma Blackburn.

Now she was no longer of any use to me.

Marjorie Bishop has failed to do her duty to her husband and give me a son.

That was when the young, fifteen-year-old girl, a lady in waiting to my wife, caught my eye.

"The whore." I spat to myself.

Elizabeth Chandler was young, twenty-three years my junior, and so sweet.

So I married her, doing what I had done with Elizabeth Lyon and Margery Duke, taking two wives at once.

And soon, the fertile girl was expecting.

Yet, like those before her, she failed to give me a son.

Anne Blackburn.

Then her treasonous and whoring ways were brought to light like her cousin, Margery Duke.

I had been the sixth man out of seven whom she had lain with.

The seventh man was a friend of mine, and it was done while Elizabeth and I were wed.

The whore had forced my hand, and I had to execute him.

Robert Westbrook was dead because of her.

I was humiliated because of her.

Elizabeth was tried and found guilty of adultery, her sentence was to be beheaded.

Five strikes it took.

Five strikes with an axe to chop her head off.

I smiled at the thought, remembering when her head was presented to me.

I divorced Marjorie while Elizabeth was being executed, and my former wife decided to start a rebellion as thanks for letting her live.

My lips curled into a snarl.

Damn that woman.

Damn all of them.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Their Imperial Highnesses, Princess Margaret and Princess Aurora." The doors were opened, my two eldest daughters entering.

It had slipped my mind that I was holding a family dinner in my chambers.

"Your Imperial Majesty." The two both curtsied, elegant and graceful, and my thoughts drifted to their mothers.

Elizabeth Lyon and Margery Duke.

Upon rising, I caught the slight smile on Aurora's lips, mind flashing to the time when I first met Margery and the same smile graced her lips.

It was too much.

I turned around, just barely catching the hurt gleam that flashed in Aurora's eyes at the action.

"Where are your siblings?"

"Prince Edmund should be here any moment now, Your Imperial Majesty," Margaret answered, catching on to who I really wanted to know about. My little lion. "The others should be arriving soon after him."

I grunted, gesturing toward the table. "Take a seat."

The two were silent as they sat down on the sides of the table, the ends saved for myself and Edmund.

Speaking of Edmund, there was another knock at the door.

"His Imperial Highness, Prince Edmund VI."

Turning, I greeted my youngest son with a smile as he entered.

He returned it, although it was small.

"Come here, son," I said before he could say his formal greeting. Edmund obeyed and walked over to me, to which I embraced him and held him close to me.

Edmund returned it after a moment before I pulled back and led him towards the seat opposite of mine at the head of the table.

"Seat of honor," I said.

Edmund looked up at me, a storm of indiscernible emotions flashing in his eyes before he nodded and sat in the seat. "Thank you, father."

I walked to the other end of the table, sitting in the seat across from my son.

Margaret and Aurora remained silent, flicking glances at one another as if having a silent conversation with each other.

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity before there was another knock. "Their Imperial Highnesses, Prince Brandon, Prince Robyn, and Prince Christopher VI."

That was everyone, the others being too young to attend.

I didn't want to lay my eyes on Anne or Emma at the moment anyway.

"Your Imperial Majesty." The three princes bowed.

I gestured for them to sit as I had done for Margaret and Aurora.

They obeyed, sitting at the table while my grooms brought the food and set up the table, filling every one of our plates.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this dinner would remain tense.

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Sneak Peek:

If she had been a son, she would've been perfect heir material.

She was the Pearl of my Heart.