Intimacy

16th August 2001- Thursday

Jules and Lilaia’s first birthday thankfully fell in the middle of a sunny week, meaning that Harry’s plans for their party could move ahead as he had envisioned. He had ended up planning them a small tea party in the Pavilion of Stars, with lights strewn up, the floor covered with a plush blanket, and a table full of food off to the side for them to nibble at as they were moving more onto solids now.

Only children who were two and under were invited, but Harry made the executive decision not to make the mistake of inviting Prince Darius, so that Penny wouldn't have a leg to stand on in requesting an invitation.

That meant there would only be six children to keep an eye out for, and three were his own. Jasmine was bringing along Prince Atticus and Prince Enis, and if she deigned to show her face, Patricia would be bringing Princess Freyja. He had invited the woman simply because, without the addition of backup, she was less contentious than many of Penny’s other allies.

Harry had set the party to begin at twelve, although he had let his children free at the Pavilion at eleven so that they could grow comfortable with the surroundings. Alsie was enamoured by the shallow stream that ran underneath the Pavilion, so Harry had Anya watching her constantly. The twins were currently down for a nap, although they would have to be woken up if they didn’t do so naturally so that they wouldn’t be grouchy for their birthday party.

Breathing in a deep sigh, he settled at the table with a cup of tea to wait for the guests to arrive.

Jasmine was first, with her son in her arms and Erin’s in her maids, smiling gently at him as she approached. The maid to her other side was carrying a stack of boxes, wrapped in silver and green paper and tied with shimmering bows. She bowed delicately to him. “Brother Harry, I thank you for inviting me and the children.”

Harry nodded. “Of course, you are my friend, and our children are close in age. Come, you can set them down in the Pavilion with Julius and Lilaia, they are playing with their new toys at the moment and I’m sure they’d be willing to share some.”

“Where is your eldest?” Jasmine asked curiously.

“In the stream, trying to catch the fish and simultaneously ruining her new dress.” He couldn’t help but to roll his eyes, and Jasmine laughed.

“Ah, she is a free spirit, Brother, encourage it! It is good for little girls to play messy, even if they are Princesses.” She jostled her son in her arms, peering down at him fondly. The boy was only just awake, staring up at her blearily. “Atticus isn’t as boisterous or active as I had imagined, but I do like having cuddles with my son.”

They settled down on the floor of the Pavilion alongside their children, simply chatting whilst they played. The atmosphere was calm, and Harry hoped selfishly that Patricia wouldn’t show.

However, the woman did, half an hour after the specified time.

“Ah, Concubine Patricia, thank you for coming,” Harry stated, still sitting with Lilaia on his lap. The woman approached slowly, making her way further into the Pavilion.

Patricia looked at him strangely. Harry tilted his head in question, but the woman simply looked away with a scoff after placing her daughter down on the blanket.

“I am not staying, I was simply dropping my daughter off. Garnet, watch her closely, I want her back in the Palace at exactly 2 pm.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The maid bowed, moving to stand behind the Princess. Princess Freyja was looking around curiously, her thumb in her mouth. She got up onto her hands and knees and shuffled herself closer to where Julius was playing with his new teddy. Harry’s son looked up, staring at his half-sister for a few moments, before he gave her a gummy grin and held it out for her to take. The girl did so gently, staring at it with babyish awe. Harry’s heart melted at the sight.

His focus was broken as he heard Patricia scoff once more, before she spun on her heel and exited the Pavilion briskly, her other maid hot on her heels.

Harry shared a glance with Jasmine, who shrugged, before focusing on Prince Enis once more.

21st August 2001- Tuesday

It was an average day in August when he first heard the voice.

Harry and Anya were on a stroll around his Palace as he was deciding on the new decor for the coming autumn, discussing the goings on of the Court.

“The Primary Concubine has reportedly been incensed that Prince Darius received no invite to either of your children's parties. She has suggested that you are discriminating against her son, Your Highness.”

He snorted ungracefully, covering his mouth so that his laughter wouldn’t echo. “Is that so? Oh, that woman will find a way to complain about everything, it is best simply to ignore her, unless, of course, the rumours start gaining traction outside of the Court.

Anya knew what he was suggesting. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He smiled back at her, returning his focus to the hallway ahead. The walls needed to be repainted soon. As the Head of the Harem, and as a concubine of the Emperor, his Palace needed to be perfect due to the mere fact of his status. His children’s grubby handprints where they had used the wall to steady themselves, therefore, meant that the paint needed to be refreshed. He pondered whether he should change the colour to a darker one whilst they were still young and messy.

Harry heard a whisper at first, like the wind brushing past his ear, apart from the fact that there was no wind inside his Palace. Harry stopped, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he cautiously, discreetly observed his surroundings. There was no one in sight, except Anya who was staring at him in confusion, but that meant nothing when wizards existed. He sent out an unnoticeable Revelio charm, which picked up nothing off.

He continued down the corridor, his steps purposeful, keeping his gait unchanged despite his increased awareness. There was a whisper again, sounding as if it was right by his ear, a little louder this time.

Harry whipped his head around, eyes wide as the noise continued without a soul in sight. He brought a hand up to cup his ear, unsure. This amplified the voice, however, until he could heat its words distinctly.

“- you fool! Stop standing around and keep moving!”

The hissed voice was familiar, even if the cadence of the voice was different.

“Thomas?” Harry whispered, unsure and not wishing to appear mad. The voice went silent, so he called out again, this time a little louder. “Thomas?”

“Your Highness?” Anya questioned unsurely.

“Yes, yes, no need to say it out loud, they'll all think you've gone mad!”

Harry blinked, his hand lowering slightly. That was Thomas’ voice, younger, more snappy and petulant, but it was undoubtedly his husband's. In his head, for some reason.

“Nothing, Anya,” Harry reassured his maid, beginning to walk once more to keep up appearances. In his head, however, he continued to converse with the voice.

“You're a dense little thing, aren't you?” The voice crooned condescendingly, and Harry frowned, speeding up his pace.

“Why are you in my head?” He thought loudly, taking delight in the hiss that escaped from it- him.

“I didn't choose to be, if that's what you're asking, concubine  of mine, or one of myselves, at least.” Thomas, the younger, spoke, and Harry could practically see him rolling his eyes. “Your husband decided that I would be an appropriate gift, apparently. So, here I am, in his concubine’s head.”

Harry frowned. “Well, I didn’t ask for this either, there’s no need for the attitude.”

The voice snorted. “Ignore me, then, but I’ll still be here. That ring keeps our minds connected, and I doubt you could take it off if you tried. I know myself, after all, and if I gave it to you, then you must be someone that we’re interested in. I would have made sure you couldn't part with it.”

The voice didn't speak after that, despite Harry's attempts to continue the conversation and glean more information from it- him.

28th August 2001- Tuesday

It was hard to bring up to your husband that you thought his voice was haunting you.

It had been an enlightening moment to speak to what seemed to be the younger version of the Emperor. The man had changed much in the many years since his adolescence, but not wholly. Thomas, as Harry knew him, was clear in the way his younger version spoke, and he had observed that not all of his younger counterparts' traits had been washed away with time.

Harry smiled as he watched the man roll his eyes in exasperation as the Head Eunuch brought to him yet another request from a concubine to spend the night. His husband gave the other man a droll look, before waving him and the scroll away. 

“Tell them that I am otherwise occupied.”

The man looked harried, barely holding in a sigh as he bowed to the pair of them. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

He and Thomas were relaxing together in one of the Emperor’s living rooms, simply basking in one another’s presence. Their children had been left back in Anya and his personal maids’ care tonight, as Harry wished to broach several topics that were not suitable for their young ears, even if they could not understand them.

Harry waited until the Head Eunuch had left before he began.

“Thomas,” He hedged, waiting for the man to hum before he continued. “That ring that you gave me… is it… special, in any way?”

The Emperor turned his full, intense attention upon him, and Harry was drawn into his orbit immediately, finding himself inching closer. Thomas regarded him with curious, contemplative eyes.

“Special in which way, Harry?”

“As in… it, um, it speaks. To me. In my head?” The last part came out like a question as the man’s eyes narrowed and he drew closer, his red eyes intense and searching.

“It. Does. What?” Thomas hissed, grabbing his hand and drawing it up to his face. The man closed his eyes as he clutched Harry’s hand gently, and a few tense moments passed before his eyes shot open and he hissed again. “Bloody-” The Emperor fumed, glaring down at the ring as if it had personally offended him, his gaze venomous.

“Thomas?” Harry hedged carefully, unsure in the face of the man’s clear discontentment.

The Emperor breathed out a heavy sigh, still scowling. “Yes, it is a… special ring. It contains… a part of my magic, which has gained a consciousness of its own over the years. It was a foolish creation of mine from when I was younger, but I had not thought that it would disturb you, My Noble Consort.”

“No, no, it hasn’t disturbed me!” Harry rushed to say, worried that the man would take the ring away from him. “I was just surprised, is all. So, it's a… part of you? It really is you?”

“It is,” The man confirmed, brushing a finger over the ring. “I gifted it to you so that a part of me would be there to protect you even when I can not physically.”

Touched beyond belief, Harry reached up a shaky hand to cup his husband’s face. “Thomas, I-” He broke off, simply leaning forward to connect their lips in a feverish kiss.

His thoughts on discussing the possibility of another child took the backburner, or perhaps, it was the only thing on both of their minds as the night continued, the door locked and the Head Eunuch denied entrance with the growing pile of scrolls in his arms.

1st September 2001- Saturday

“His Majesty expresses his disappointment in all those who dressed inappropriately at the birthday celebration of our daughter, the Princess Alsephina. He asserts that the concubines should have worn appropriate clothes for the occasion, and suggests that they ensure they do so in the future or face further punishment. This, His Majesty declares, is him taking into consideration that our daughter was not disturbed as she did not witness the spectacle. Therefore, the following concubines are to receive a formal warning, and perhaps even a demotion.”

Harry straightened the scroll under his hands, sighing slightly as he stared at the mass of words upon the page. There were many demotions and promotions to deliver this morning, many of which would be received with much fury. He was not enthused to be the one to proclaim them, but as the Head of the Harem, that was a duty he could not escape.

“Consort Bellatrix, because you did not approach His Majesty and make a fool out of yourself in front of the entirety of the party, you may retain your rank as the Third Consort, but be sure that you have gained His Majesty’s sure disfavour.” He read, avoiding eye contact with the woman. She fumed where she sat, but as there was no demotion, Bellatrix simply gritted her teeth and nodded her assent, setting back in her chair to await the next announcement.

“For Concubine Penny’s disgraceful entrance and sheer attitude, His Majesty demotes her to the rank of Third Concubine, for she has annoyed His Majesty far too much, and has tarnished this Harem’s reputation both in Court and publicly.” Harry was thankful that the woman had yet to appease the Emperor enough to escape confinement, and surely wouldn’t be any time soon, as he only had to deal with the scowls and glances of her allies.

Felix appeared slightly thrilled at his words instead. This demotion of Penny’s automatically pushed him up into the top spot of the Concubine rank once more. However, the man seemed to have forgotten that he, too, was involved in the failed attempt to seduce Thomas as well.

“Concubine Felix, you are to know that you have gained His disfavour for your participation also, but you retain your position of the Secondary Concubine. Therefore, it is Concubine Jasmine who shall fill the rank of Primary Concubine. Congratulations, Sister, His Majesty commends you for not lowering the prestige of the Harem as the others have with their actions.”

Felix’s expression fell, and he crossed his arms, steely gaze wandering over to the overly happy Jasmine, who clasped her hands together in wonderment.

“I thank His Majesty greatly for this promotion, Brother!” The woman cheered, grinning up at him. He gave her a quick smile, his eyes not matching his expression. Harry hoped that this promotion in the face of the other factions' demotions would ensure that Jasmine remained fully supportive of him, since she had been questioning and undermining him far too often lately.

“Continuing, Concubine Alecto, you may remain as the Fourth Concubine, but know that you have also gained His Majesty’s disfavour. Concubine Patricia, for your continued actions that harm the Harem’s reputation, His Majesty feels that he has no choice but to lower your rank. You are to henceforth become the Sixth Concubine, whilst Concubine Cordelia becomes the Fifth. Let this be a warning to the Concubine’s who have acted inflammatory recently.” Harry sternly demanded, internally cackling at all their despondent expressions.

“And, finally, Noble Pippa, for your insolence, you are demoted to the position of Secondary Noble. Brother Cedric, you are to become the Primary Noble for your continued dignified disposition.”

“I thank His Majesty for His generosity!” Cedric smiled, nodding to him gracefully.

Harry re-rolled the scroll with a sense of finality, surveying the concubines staring up at him with a variety of expressions. He sighed, bringing a hand up to cup his face.

“All these demotions could have been easily avoided, Brothers, Sisters, if you had not decided to dress inappropriately to a child’s birthday party of all places. It’s not even that it was my own daughters’, although I can assure you I am incredibly annoyed, but that the children had to see their parents and those they see as their aunts and uncles in such dress. Most are too young to have concluded the implications of your outfits, but every adult and teenage Royal child was in attendance, and they surely knew your intentions. Do better.” He stated stonily, meeting each of their gazes with eyes of steel. “Or you will face further punishment, and I will do nothing to alleviate it.”

17th September 2001- Monday

In the midst of his sleep, Harry felt the smooth scales of a snake slide gently over his arm. He twitched, eyes heavy with exhaustion, heaving out a strained breath. Harry shifted as a tongue flicked over the juncture of his elbow, opening his eyes to glance blearily down at where he'd felt the movement, sure that he'd mistaken the feeling. 

He didn't expect for his heart to stutter in fear at seeing a snake, fangs bared, hovering over his arm in a striking stance, its hazy red eyes staring back at him. A cry of alarm caught in Harry's throat as he reached inwards for his magic, a moment too late as the snake's fangs slid deep into his flesh.

This time, his yell of pain and anger echoed, and he grabbed the snake by its head, ripping it from his arm and flinging it across the room. Harry felt instantly dizzy, his thoughts sluggish as his beating heart pumped the venom around his body unwillingly, his Magic sparking and burning away what it could reach.

It took a moment for Harry's eyes to focus on the wound. It looked ghastly, two punctures oozing blood and the white venom of an Ashwinder, one of wizard kinds most deadly snakes. He whipped his head to the side, searching for the snake, watching it slither hastily towards the door, which was cracked open when it shouldn't be. Harry didn't waste a moment, calling upon his raging, burning cold magic to freeze the snake in place. He sat on his bed, panting, sweat already dripping down his neck as the first symptoms of poisoning set in. Harry clutched at his arm, thoughts bashing about inside his head like bludgeons, his eyes wide with shock, horror and rage. The ring on his hand, the one Thomas had gifted him, began to burn.

His scream had drawn attention, and moments later, the unkempt figures of June and Orla burst into the room, stopping in the doorway to take in the scene of Harry on the bed and the snake still on the floor.

“Your Highness!” June yelled, rushing to his side, the other woman following quickly. Harry, despite his dazedness, remained upright despite the woman’s urging to lay down. He lifted his arm in the air as well, above his heart, although he knew that it was already too late for that.

“What has happened, Your Highness?” Orla questioned, taking in his appearance. Harry glanced towards the snake, which lay limp on the ground, unmoving. It was beautiful, in a deadly way, all gleaming white scales and blue stripes. Orla gasped, taking a hold of his shoulders to steady herself. He didn’t have the spare energy to snarl at her to back off, his magic rushing through his body in a burning wave of heat. Slowly, it felt as if the pain was receding, and his eyes focused slightly more on the scene unfolding before him. Harry took another glance at his arm, watching the way the wound was sluggishly bleeding, oozing out even more venom.

“Did you kill it, Your Highness?” Orla rushed out with a snap, regaining his attention.

“What?” Harry questioned, his mind already feeling clearer. He didn't know if that was a good sign, but it felt as if, slowly, the venom was losing its effect on him. He feigned limpness still, groaning theatrically as the two maids he trusted the least fluttered around him in practised panic. He observed them with keen eyes, memorising their every expression. She hid it well, but June almost seemed high with glee, and Orla was adamant about knowing if the snake was dead. The clearest part of evidence in this botched assassination attempt, when your husband could speak to the creatures.

“Did you kill it?”

“Kill what?” He drew the conversation out, hoping that another of his maids would arrive soon. It was suspicious that they hadn't. But, Harry trusted his personal maids to find a way out of any trap they had found themselves in, and for another to rush off to inform the guards and the Emperor. They had planned for a situation such as this, after all.

But, Harry had thought that, in the end, the prestige of being the Head of the Harem’s maid would win out against the bribes of others. Clearly, he had been mistaken. Two positions would be opening up soon, it seemed.

“The snake, did you kill the snake!?” The woman practically spat, glaring at him.

“Orla!” June hissed, sending her a harried glance.

The other woman, however, didn't seem to care for the deceptions, airs and graces that were expected any more. “Oh, so what? He's dead anyway, he was bitten by an Ashwinder for Merlin's sake!”

His suspicions confirmed on the species of snake, and that these two had something to do with it, he allowed his magic to rise once more. He could feel his reserves replenishing, the strength in his body returning, and surmised that his magic must have successfully burnt off the venom remaining in his veins.

“Oh, Your Highness, I am so sorry! I hadn't expected for one of His Majesty's snakes to go rogue, ever! I thought they stayed away from the Palaces!” June still continued the facade from where she was fluttering, tearing up a bedsheet to create a tie for his arm. They both knew it was far too late for that, however. The venom would have reached his heart a while ago if things had progressed how they should.

“I killed it,” Harry panted, lying through his teeth. “I killed the snake.”

Orla let out a delirious little giggle, standing from her crouched position to back away. Harry watched as she did so, keeping his eyes wide with feigned pain and fear.

“Did you hear that, June?”

June, still by his side, sent her another look, focused on tying a slow knot. She was the more cautious of the pair, the one who truly knew the dangers of getting involved in the Harem’s endless battle for superiority. She knew that one wrong move, and this entire farce would come crashing down.

“I’m glad you killed it, Your Highness, but please, save your strength. Your screams were heard by many, I am sure there are many Knights and Healers on their way now, perhaps even His Majesty.”

“He killed the snake, June!” Orla cackled, clutching at her stomach. “Oh, he killed the snake! All we need to do now is take that potion, and no one will know!”

“Will you shut up!” June finally lost her composure, rounding on the other maid. “He’s not dead yet, what if he makes it until His Majesty arrives?”

Orla looked upon Harry then with different eyes. They were devoid of any affection, or even hatred. Simply blankness, and an innate desire to survive. “Can’t we speed things up a little? Take the potion now, or even just…” She appeared thoughtful, reaching into her pocket for a vial of black liquid. It looked vile, a black-green sludge. A memory potion, of some sort. “It won’t matter if we’re out of it before he goes, better if we are, even!”

“No,” Jane quickly shot down her idea. “We need to wait until he’s unconscious, to make sure of it.” She asserted, still staring at Harry. “Which should have…” The woman trailed off, her eyes widening. “Orla-”

Harry lashed out as quickly as the snake that had bitten him, knocking them both unconscious with a wave of pure magic. It drained his meagre reserves dry, but as he panted, exhaustion taking over, he smiled victoriously, slumping back into the pillows to wait for help to arrive.

18th September 2001- Tuesday

Thomas paced back and forth in front of the form that lay sprawled on the floor at his feet, seething.

After Harry had been poisoned yesterday, he felt as if he had lost all reason, all restraint. He had never felt such rage course through him as he had when he’d walked into that dreadful scene, nor such dread and helplessness. Seeing Harry, lying limp on his bed, blood covering half of his body, the figures of two maids sprawled across the floor and a frozen stiff serpent, he had known something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Thomas had accounted for many things, poisonings at tea, curses to the back from Court maids and Eunuchs, attempts on their children, but never had he thought that a concubine of his would use one of his snakes, the creatures he reared from hatchlings, who soothed his shattered soul with their mere presence and brought him inklings of joy, to poison Harry. His Harry.

And to think, it had only been the gift of that ring that had saved him, and when Thomas had checked it, holding Harry’s limp hand as the Healer had cured him of the remaining poison and tended to the wound on his arm, he had found the magic in it nearly fully depleted. His younger self had given much to help his lover; his consciousness that had taken decades to form.

He loomed over the wretched woman, staring down at her battered, shivering form. The maid's face was unrecognisable beneath the swelling and bruising, but the sight of her pain filled Thomas with no satisfaction. Nothing could.

He had already killed the other one, the one who had cackled madly once she had awoken, cheering that his husband was dead. He had derived no pleasure from telling her that was not the case, not even as the colour had drained from her face and she had begun wailing, regretting her actions far too late. Thomas simply felt nothing in the face of Harry’s would-be assassins. Her blood splattered across the walls and her now-lifeless body hanging from the highest pole in the main city brought him no joy.

The only thing that could spark any feeling from him had been Harry squeezing his hand this morning, still deep in the magically-induced healing coma to restore his magic quicker. His husband would be awoken tonight, if everything went well. Enough time to extract which of his wretched concubines had dared to attempt to kill him from the head of this woman.

But not before he had taken as much revenge as his soul demanded, which was unending.

Merula.

As soon as he had torn the mention of that woman’s name from the mind of that maid, Thomas had pulled back in a rage and stormed out of the cell. He had ordered his Knights to bring that scum to the Bureau and waited there impatiently for her arrival.

She had been brought before him, kicking and screaming, a group of concerned concubines trailing after her and asking what was happening. Thomas hadn’t deigned to answer,  forcing each of them to kneel under the weight of his tumultuous magic.

Then, he had taken from her mind every thought she had ever had about his husband, breaking his own assertion that he would not use legilimency on his concubines. But, Thomas did not see that vile woman as his anymore. She was but a lowly creature who had attempted to steal his husband from him, his soul.

She had screamed and begged him to stop, writhing on the ground in pain from the ferocity of his intrusion into her mind. He took no caution, ripping through each memory and decimating her mind. There were suspicious gaps here and there, and memories with a distinctive sheen to them that marked them as fake. Someone had been tampering with her mind. There was yet another of the concubines behind this.

But, for now, he had a focus for his rage.

He slaughtered her, summoning a barrage of snakes to bite her and inject her with their painful, lethal venom there and then, in front of the gathered concubines, heedless to their screams and cries.

24th September 2001- Monday

Harry listlessly stared out of the window, watching his three darlings play in the garden on the last sunny day of the year.

He had heard about everything that had gone down during his two-day coma this morning, when it was deemed that he had recovered enough.

Orla and June had been ordered by Merula to send a snake into his room. They had planted the creature during the day, spelling it to sleep and wake once he had long fallen to sleep. The dazed creature had sought out the nearest heat source, as Ashwinder’s were prone to do, and when Harry had shifted, it had struck. The maids had been prepared to enter the room, having barred the hallway to his room from all his other maids, several of whom had managed to bust through the wards after several minutes of trying. They had arrived not long after he had knocked out Orla and June.

He had survived only due to the ring, it was determined, which Thomas had informed him had used its reserves of magic to aid his own in burning away the Ashwinder’s venom, using its Slytherin immunity to poisons to protect Harry’s heart from attack. The ring now felt dead, no longer humming with magic, and his mind felt empty. Harry mourned for that snarky, younger version of his husband who he had only shared one true conversation with.

Apparently, Orla and June had been ordered to kill the snake once the deed was done, but Harry had successfully tricked them into believing he had done the job for them. When the snake had been questioned, it confirmed all that Thomas had extracted from Merula, Orla and June’s heads.

With that, the maids and concubine had been killed, and their bodies were still on display, although Harry had no wish to see them. Merula’s titles had been stripped from her before her death and she had been branded a traitor, so she died nameless, and her family had been deprived of all that belonged to them. The Snyde’s were no longer Lords of any sort, but penniless nobody’s.

When Harry had heard all of this, he had simply nodded, and sent the Head Eunuch away. That had been hours ago now, and he had not moved from his spot by the window. This had been, perhaps, his closest brush with death yet, and it terrified him how close he had come.

He could have died. His children could have been left without him, alone in the Harem apart from their Father to raise them, at the mercy of the other concubines. And Thomas, oh, his husband had seemed so lost when Harry had first awoken. The children had been confused as to why their Da had taken such a long nap, but they were too young to be told the truth. But it had been heartwrenching to face the Emperor’s distressed gaze. Harry had never seen such an expression on the man. He couldn’t believe that he had ruthlessly killed the perpetrators of the attack, yet could sit by his bedside and look so harmless and despondent.

Harry had spent the first few hours of his wakefulness simply lying in that bed, carding his hand through the Emperor’s hair as he slept restlessly beside him. The man seemed as if he had not slept a wink in the entire time that Harry had been in the coma.

Harry breathed out heavily as he watched Anya help Julius take a few steps on the grass, his boy giggling happily. This could have been taken from him. He could have been taken from them.

It was a heavy, hard-hitting thought.

“I am considering dissolving the Harem altogether following this stunt,” Thomas mused suddenly, once he had rejected yet another handful of requests to spend the night with him. How any of them could believe he would wish for them to enter his bed mere days after an attempt on his favoured concubines’ life was absurd. And it had been one of their own, several if he was correct in his assumptions, who had planned it. One of their own which they had witnessed slaughtered brutally before their eyes. Opportunistic, the lot of them. They saw Harry’s poisoning and absence as a weakness, as the moment to strike and gain his favour. Little did they know that this had only solidified Harry’s place within Thomas’ heart.

His brave husband, feigning feebleness to allow Thomas more time to arrive. The man had passed out in his arms after smiling up at him weakly, his eyes apologetic. Thomas had never been more relieved when those green eyes had opened once more, staring tiredly up at him after two days of forced slumber.

“There would be many aspects to consider if you did, Your Majesty.” His loyal Head Eunuch replied neutrally. “There would be only one concubine for you to rely on for children, and no future ones, although I suppose you have many children already.” Thomas nodded, gesturing for Elson to continue. “Another advantage is that with only one concubine, you would not have to worry about factionalism, and that one concubine could become a figurehead by your side as your singular spouse rather than the attention of the public being split multiple ways. Perhaps, it would unite the Empire further if they had a secondary leader to look to. However, there is still the case that much pressure would be placed upon that one spouse.”

“Harry could handle it,” Thomas stated with no doubt in his mind. His husband was strong. Perhaps he would need to be coached through a few things, but he was the heir to two houses in his own right, he had been taught much about the world and politics from a young age.

“That may be so, Your Majesty, but it would still need much consideration to solidify the Noble Consorts position appropriately, and to decide what to do with the other concubines.”

“I shall bring it up with my Council when we next meet.” Thomas nodded, waving his hand to send the scrolls in Elson’s hand into the fire. “Refuse all requests immediately, from now on.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”