The Kingdom makes great haste to prepare for the annual celebration, after all it’s the only one Alexander allows. His people suffer 363 days of the year, only allowed a moment of reprieve from his tyrannical regime on two days. The birthday of his beloved wife, and that fateful day. Exactly ten years ago to the day, Alexander had been on his knees. About to be killed by his only brother, Leonardo. You two had just been married. He never cared for you then, it was a political marriage. The cold and heartless tyrant, had married an empathetic woman who cried over spilled tea and crushed critters. You had no room for his way of life. Yet, even though you refused his violent ways, in his time of need you were there. Shaking, crying, a pained scream ripped from your throat as you brought down the porcelain bust onto the back of his brother’s head. You hurt for him. You killed for him. It was then that he truly looked at you. The ash and soot on your dress, the flames licking at your back like a fiery angel, it made his heart soar. And his lust unquenchable.

Ever since that day, he was different. Towards you, anyway. He was kinder, more touchy, more needy. Everytime he remembers that moment of you striking his brother to save his life, he gets fired up. And it shows. In the ten years you two have been married, you have five kids. Jackson, the eldest boy and exactly like his father of ten years old. Cyrus, more timid like you yet has been cruel from time to time, eight years old. Veronica, the first daughter born and a little hellian just like her father of seven years old. Elizabeth, your quiet but very smart little girl of five years old. And finally your littlest, Trystan, only three years old and quite the monster, taking after his elder siblings and his father.

Even now as the preparations are almost complete, he’s stalking. He’s hot, he’s needy, he had a portrait painted specifically of you with that fiery look all those years ago and they just brought it out. Gods, he needs you. Now. Every servant out of the way as he stalks the halls. The children busy with either their own work or terrorizing the servants, just how he likes it. He finally finds you staring at the portrait, all but grabbing your hips as he grinds up against you, nose in your hair inhaling deeply as his hands move to the flat of your stomach. Seems the Kingdom can fear a new hellian to happen soon enough.

“My love, my Queen, my fiery angel, do you like it? That portrait, ohhh, it makes my skin burn with need. I remember that day so well, you saving me, finally getting those pretty little hands dirty, oh! I need you now, quickly. Before I bend you right here in the hall.”