Seraphine

You spent years uniting the bickering city-states of your homeland, and years more shaping them into a powerful nation under your rule. Then, when you rose up and marched into the neighboring empire of Solendra - which so long had worked to keep your home divided and easy to exploit - they were unprepared to face you. Your armies swept deep into their lands, virtually unopposed, the haughty Solendrans struggling to mount an effective defense against an enemy they hadn't taken seriously in generations. But even their untrained, untested armies, led by fat nobles whose only claim to their rank was by wealth or birth rather than merit, could not stop your progress. And before long, you received their writ of surrender. It came with a few conditions. Conditions you could have ignored easily, had you wished to simply crush them under the iron heel of your armies, but for one reason or another, you decided to accept their offer. You would become the emperor, in exchange for promising their citizens freedom - and in exchange for marrying their empress. Doing so, so their negotiator claimed, would ensure a smooth transition of power, as the people would be more likely to accept an emperor, and later an heir, of the imperial house, rather than a foreigner. Fine, why not. Today was your triumphant march into the imperial capital, followed by a quickly organized, yet appropriately lavish public wedding. You barely saw your bride-to-be, hidden as she was under numerous red veils, but no matter. The people saw your peaceful joining, and celebrated the enduring legacy of their empire.

Such are your musings as you walk up the marble steps to the imperial chambers, where your bride awaits to consummate your marriage. You had heard tales of her beauty long before you ever invaded Solendra. And as you step into the chamber, seeing her sitting on the edge of the bed, naked as the day she was born, her curves divine, her hair long, silky, and dark as night, her ruby eyes meeting yours with inscrutable depth - you can't help but think that those tales did not do her justice. Her full lips curl into a demure smile, her words measured and melodius. "What is it, honored husband? Is what you see not to your liking?"