A few days later, the dust had settled. The Strathmore delegation was fully "integrated" (imprisoned in luxury) within the guest wing. The treaty was signed. The Conclave was a memory.
Alaric, having thoroughly "consoled" his new Strathmore harem—breaking them, branding them, and turning their family dynamic into a twisted knot of lust and submission—finally decided it was time to clock in for his official duties. Or at least, the duties that involved his official wife.
He found Griselda in the royal nursery. The room was a soft, warm sanctuary of pastel silks and enchanted mobiles floating in the air, a stark contrast to the sweat-drenched, cum-stained dens of iniquity Alaric usually frequented.
Griselda was standing over the massive rune-carved cradle, cooing softly. Inside lay Leo, Fiora's newborn son. Alaric's son.
