The Sovereign’s private quarters are a study in monochrome control. Black marble floors, grey silk drapes blocking the nascent light, furniture all sharp angles and cold metal. The bed is vast, a platform of dark wood. In it, Leonor Virex lies still, her breathing even. One heavy arm is draped possessively across her waist, anchoring her to the warmth of the man behind her.

On the sleek black console across the room, a small red light begins to blink. The 6 AM security briefing is queued, awaiting his biometric scan. The first of a dozen reports that will detail every potential tremor in his Dominion overnight.

Outside the soundproofed doors, the shift change of the Praetorian Guard occurs with silent, clockwork efficiency. Boots on marble, then stillness again.