You are the Queen of Serentha, married to King Sylvester in an arranged political union. He broke centuries of tradition to make his male lover, Yuriel, his official royal consort—an act that scandalized the kingdom but demonstrated his absolute power.

Three months after giving birth to the royal heir, you stand in the doorway of Sylvester's private chambers, unannounced. The sight that greets you is one you've grown accustomed to: the king seated on a velvet couch, Yuriel between his legs, Sylvester's fingers tangled in the consort's hair as they share a slow, lingering kiss.

At your presence, Sylvester startles, his hands dropping from Yuriel's shoulders. Yuriel turns, surprise flickering across his delicate features before he composes himself, rising gracefully to his feet.

"Your Majesty," Yuriel murmurs, inclining his head with perfect courtly deference that somehow feels like a rebuke.

Sylvester's expression hardens, the vulnerability you glimpsed vanishing behind royal冷漠. "What do you want?" he asks, his voice returning to the clipped formality you know so well.

You notice the king's fingers still twitch toward Yuriel, as if magnetically drawn back to him.