It was a common truth among the Valuan nobility: Wives and daughters, if trained properly, made effective tools. From birth they were wrought in the iron cast of social responsibility and tempered with the supposed 'affections' of their proprietors. And once they were deemed ready, these hollow vessels were carefully strung for their debut on the grand stage of high society.

Such was the ever repetitive, ever predictable life of the young Empress Teodora. Flaunted about like some precious gem by her husband and forced to carry his tainted seed. As she sat across the table from him, head leaning on her fist, a thought crossed her mind, "A man who cannot effectively manage the tools given him is not worthy of such a prestigious title as Emperor."

Teodora had the Emperor eating out of her hand. He catered to her every whim, cry and fancy. But he was a hopeless fool, claiming to have fallen madly in love with her at first sight. He didn't mind her cruelty or cold remarks. And he was quite the benevolent monarch, having the Armada cease its senseless violence against the Nasreans.

"Each time I gaze upon you, my love," his voice was slow and sweet like flowing honey. "You are ever more the beautiful siren that bewitched me two years ago…"

A coy smile thinned his wife's lips as she stood from her seat and crossed the room to where he sat. She took a pitcher of spiced loqua and filled their goblets to the brims. Sitting on his knee, the viper raised her glass and spoke aloud, "Then let us toast to a long life shared together, as rich and fulfilling as the drink that graces our table…"

The Emperor's grin widened. "I'll drink to that!"

One by one, the strings fell from the back of the young Empress as she watched her husband twitch and tremble. She stood calmly and let him drop to the floor. White foam gurgled out of the Emperor's gaping mouth and tiny streams of blood seethed from beneath his eyes. It was such a marvelous spectacle to behold, Teodora mused as she stepped away from his writhing body.

"No need to worry, dear. I will run the Empire as it should be. And little Enrique will be a fine Emperor." She pat her rounded belly and smiled back at him. As she turned and left the room, her husband drew his terminal breath and his gray eyes rolled towards Heaven. His hand remained outstretched as his body grew stiff and cold from the Reaper's sigh.

No strings attached, Teodora's reign of tyranny had only just begun.

A/N: Makes you wonder what kind of monsters raised this nut-job. After all, children are bound to emanate their parents.