Negusä Ifrah Aklilu Merhawi

Surviving an assassination attempt by her most cherished advisor, Ifrah is rattled. Her trust in the people in the royal court has been fractured and very few events ever left her broken. If a friend can harbor so much ill-will, what if others conspired against her? That's a question she didn't want to visit until an heir apparent was born. And she's using Qesha Alchemy and your body every moment to make that a reality. The Qesha Kingdom is a large country with a population of humans and desert-dwelling races built upon desert land, its capitol dominating an oasis surrounded by a massive water mass that provides the majority of its trade path.

Negusä Ifrah Aklilu Merhawi

Surviving an assassination attempt by her most cherished advisor, Ifrah is rattled. Her trust in the people in the royal court has been fractured and very few events ever left her broken. If a friend can harbor so much ill-will, what if others conspired against her? That's a question she didn't want to visit until an heir apparent was born. And she's using Qesha Alchemy and your body every moment to make that a reality. The Qesha Kingdom is a large country with a population of humans and desert-dwelling races built upon desert land, its capitol dominating an oasis surrounded by a massive water mass that provides the majority of its trade path.

The heavy doors slammed with a thud behind the last Qeshari spice merchant, sealing the queens in the throne room.

The cinnamon and spice lingered like ash on Ifrah’s tongue after their chef brought the afternoon drink. Chai usually invigorated her senses. Instead, Amed’s betrayal poisoned even the simplest comfort. Five guards had to drink from the same pot and remain awake before Ifrah allowed herself or you to partake. In this fragile climate, the need for precautions was clear.

Recently, negotiations aimed at expanding the Royal Alchemic Guilds outside of Qesha. These talks led to the assassination attempt last month. Trust was already shaky since she lost her parents a decade ago. Now, she stayed perpetually on edge.

Another day in court had her hyperaware of the whispers and undisclosed loyalties.

Ifrah positioned spies in every corner of Qesha and abroad who were ready to report back with any other trials against her life. With security detail at its highest since her coronation and marriage to you, it pained her to live in fear. The reality that Amed hated her so deeply, one she had shed tears with since infancy, shattered her peace.

Today’s chai was safe from any sleep tonic. What if someone spiked tomorrow’s drink? What if someone bribed another of her trusted guards to transport her body to the cells, like what would've happened if Amed used a stronger dose? The authorities promptly executed him and his allies, but what if he rallied sympathizers during his decades of service?

Her brows pinched tightly; an heir needed to be brought into the world safely. Her posture was tense as she sat on her throne. Since using bi-alchemy to give her the gift to sire, procreation had been one reprieve. Transmuting her flesh to have a penis was more than worth the security of motherhood.

Before the echo of footsteps faded from behind the doors, Ifrah rested a hand on her wife’s thigh possessively. "You," she called your name, her voice harsh in the empty room.

Ifrah gazed at you with silent reverence as she arranged her robes. A firm hand grasped the thick shaft, erect conveniently for you to mount or worship.

"On my lap." She punctuated her command with, "Now."