Chapter 72

The whispers had started before the wedding torches had even burned out.

They drifted through the palace halls, carried on hushed voices and sideways glances. Nobles murmured in quiet corners, servants gossiped in the shadows, and messengers carried the same rumors to the furthest reaches of the empire.

The Emperor and Empress are wed. When will they produce an heir?

Aeliana had expected it. It was inevitable.

She was not just a queen-she was a human queen, a ruler that had clawed her way into power through war, blood, and strategy. And now that she sat on the throne beside Tharx, the world demanded the next step.

An heir.

A future.

A child.

She had ignored it at first. Let them talk. Let them speculate. It was not their concern. But as the days passed, she could feel it growing like a pressure against her skin-the weight of expectation, the unspoken need for something more.

She was not blind to the way Tharx had begun to hear it, too.

They had ruled as warriors. They had fought battles, crushed rebellions, conquered their enemies. But now there was peace. Now, there were no more wars to win, no more blood to spill.

And peace, as Aeliana was beginning to learn, came with its own set of dangers.

She found Tharx in the war chamber, hunched over a map, his fingers dragging along the edges of borderlines that no longer needed to be defended.

Even without war, he was restless.

Aeliana leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "Are you trying to conquer lands that already belong to us?"

Tharx didn't look up, but she could see the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Old habits."

She stepped forward, her voice light but measured. "There are whispers, you know."

That got his attention.

Tharx straightened, his golden eyes meeting hers. "There are always whispers."

Aeliana tilted her head. "These are different."

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "An heir."

There it was. Spoken aloud, unshakable.

Aeliana's jaw tightened. "The nobles are growing impatient. They think a dynasty is only secure if there is a child to inherit it."

Tharx's gaze darkened, his hands curling over the edges of the table. "They think I need a son to rule after me."

She studied him carefully. "Do you?"

He was silent for a long moment, then he shook his head, stepping toward her. "This empire is mine, Aeliana. It will remain mine-whether I have an heir or not."

She lifted a brow. "And if you die?"

His smirk was slow, dangerous. "Then let them fight over the ruins."

Aeliana sighed, rubbing her temples. "That's not an answer."

Tharx moved closer, his fingers skimming the exposed skin of her arm, tracing small, absentminded patterns. "You are thinking about this more than I expected."

Aeliana exhaled, turning away slightly. "Because I hear them." She hesitated. "And because I know they are not entirely wrong."

She felt Tharx still beside her.

She turned back to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. "We built this empire through force. We secured it through blood. But peace is different. If we do not shape the future, someone else will."

Tharx studied her carefully, his fingers brushing against her jaw before tilting her chin up. "You want a child?"

Aeliana swallowed. It was the first time the question had been put so plainly.

She did not lie to him.

"I don't know."

Tharx nodded slowly, as if the answer was enough. "Neither do I."

The weight of their honesty settled between them, heavy but unspoken.

Neither of them had ever imagined a life beyond war. Neither of them had ever seen themselves as parents.

But the world demanded more from them now.

And for the first time, Aeliana wasn't sure if she could ignore it.

The days passed, and the whispers did not fade.

At court, the noblewomen made pointed remarks about family legacies, about sons and daughters that would strengthen alliances.

The generals spoke of a future ruler, a child raised in the ways of conquest and strategy.

And through it all, Tharx and Aeliana said nothing.

Instead, they focused on the empire itself.

They doubled their efforts in governance, reinforcing laws, ensuring their reign would be remembered not just for war, but for strength.

Tharx oversaw the expansion of trade routes, fortifying the empire's economic hold across neighboring lands. Aeliana took command of military reforms, ensuring that the kingdom remained untouchable even in peacetime.

They built alliances not through marriage contracts, but through loyalty and fear.

But no matter how much they fortified their rule, the question still remained.

What happened after them?

What was their true legacy?

One night, Aeliana stood on the balcony of their chambers, staring at the vast city below. The empire stretched out before her, a kingdom of fire and steel, of power and blood.

But for the first time, she saw it differently.

She felt Tharx before he spoke. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, his breath warm against her ear.

"You are thinking again," he murmured.

Aeliana smirked. "That's what rulers do."

Tharx pressed a slow kiss to her neck. "Tell me what is troubling you."

She hesitated before speaking.

"I used to think war was the hardest thing," she admitted. "The fighting. The survival. The blood."

Tharx remained silent, listening.

"But now I wonder," she continued, "if building something that lasts is even harder."

Tharx exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around her. "You are afraid of what happens after us."

Aeliana nodded. "For the first time, yes."

He turned her in his arms, studying her face, searching her expression. "You think we need a child."

She met his gaze. "I think we need a plan."

Tharx was silent for a long moment before he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We are rulers, Aeliana. We will shape this empire as we see fit." His golden eyes burned into hers. "Heir or not, our names will never be forgotten."

She exhaled, pressing her forehead against his. "Then we build something worth remembering."

Tharx smirked. "We already have."

Aeliana kissed him then, slow and deep, letting the warmth of him drown out the weight of uncertainty.

They were rulers.

They were warriors.

And no matter what came next, they would face it together.