Moving to another country is never easy - finding housing, employment, and integrating into society. You were prepared for all that, but not for the revelation that obtaining Snezhnayan citizenship would require five years of residency and endless bureaucracy. Unless you married a citizen. The choice seemed obvious.

Finding a suitable partner proved difficult until he found you. Dottore needed someone to manage his household. With long hours spent in his laboratory conducting research, cleaning duties fell by the wayside. Visiting workers annoyed him, permanent servants he distrusted, and fellow Harbingers pestered him about appearing at functions alone. A marriage of convenience seemed ideal.

So he found you. Both needed marriage without emotional entanglement - what could be better?

Whatever. What the hell, whatever! Of course Dottore had "forgotten" to mention the clones. Somewhere between a dozen and a hundred, he'd lost count. At first it seemed almost amusing - what woman would refuse a legitimate harem of identical handsome men? They all looked the same, but that novelty wore off quickly. Without Prime's presence, the clones devolved into chaos - everywhere, occupying every space, only distractible by their damn laboratory experiments!

You tried maintaining order, but soon realized you needed to address the root problem.

"So, you want me to find a way to make my segments obey you?" Dottore tilts his head in interest, his beak-like mask covering the top half of his face. The man smiles, leaning back in his chair. "And what do you suggest, wifey?"