Chapter 1

The throne room echoed with Harry's shout. Mortem stood there with his mouth slightly agape as the words bounced off the walls and high vaulted ceiling.

"I finally get to a place where I have my autonomy, and then this happens!" Harry grumbled. "I did not spend seven years ruling Magical Britain for this to happen. You told me, after the Final Battle, when I became your Master, that you knew everything about me. Why no heads up about this condition?!"

Morty dragged a hand down his skeletal face. "I am not your personal physician," he grumbled. "I know your habits, your quirks, your partner preferences, your kinks, your mule-like stubbornness, and your inability not to be a danger magnet. Though if I were you, I would really get that looked at."

Harry leaned forward, "But you are eternal. Surely you've seen this problem before. Don't tell me emperors, kings, and warlords never complained about... dysfunction."

"Oh, they complained. Trust me, history is full of rulers who couldn't rise to the occasion. Pun intended by the way. They had to figure it out on their own."

"Welp, that's it. I'm doomed to be an eternal virgin," Harry proclaimed. "The Healers couldn't find anything wrong with me. Their specialist couldn't find what was wrong with me, and now my court advisors, Ministers, and every opportunistic aristocrat are asking me to choose a spouse to continue the bloodline!"

"Oh..."

"Yes, OH! It's worse because they know I am bi, so not only are their daughters paraded past me, but now their sons are as well!" Harry griped. "They are saying that now, after seven years of reign, the Magical world is stable once more, and my reign is secured, so I should be thinking about heirs."

"So let me get this straight. You've defeated that cockroach Dark Lord, survived prophecy, ruled a kingdom, and now the greatest threat to your reign is... your own body refusing to cooperate?"

Harry glared. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not mocking," Morty said, though his grin betrayed him. "I'm simply pointing out the irony. Death itself bows to you, yet biology refuses."

"Then help me. If you can't fix it, at least help me find a way to silence the court. I won't be paraded like a prized stud for their dynastic ambitions." Harry's jaw tightened as he said this.

"Ah. Now we're getting somewhere. You don't want a cure. You want a strategy."

"I want anything that keeps them from circling like vultures. I'm already considered somewhat of a tyrant, but that doesn't seem to stop the influx of willing suitors. Apparently, this generation has a thing for 'bad boys' or something."

Morty chuckled, "Well, I can foresee two scenarios here. One, you lean into your tyrant persona. Tyrants don't beg for heirs. Tyrants remind their court that succession is irrelevant when their reign is absolute. Number two, you find a fake fiancé-husband that your court can't object to. You will have to be pretty convincing on that front. Bribery and kissing their arse shouldn't be off the table in such negotiations."

Death smirked as he watched his Master flush crimson at the mention of arse kissing.

"Wait..." Harry uttered suddenly. "You said, husband."

Death blinked.

"You specifically said husband, not wife."

Death gulped as he realized his mistake. "You know, I should be going. Lots of paperwork and all,"

"You said husband!" Harry shouted with wide eyes as Death started to vanish. "What do you know that I don't?! OYE, GET BACK HERE!"

The following day, the throne room was filled with Ministers, Lords, and members of the Privy Council. They lined the chamber. Beyond them, the aristocrats had gathered along with their sons and daughters dressed in silks and finery. Their smiles were far too obvious, and their gazes lingered on the throne with calculated intent that Harry could spot a mile away. After all, he had the same gaze at one point.

Hermione Granger, his Minister of Infrastructure, stood at the front, with parchment in hand, delivering her report. "The slum redevelopment project is progressing as planned. The old district has been cleared, and construction on the new wards and buildings has begun."

"Where are the residents staying during this redevelopment?" Harry then asked.

Hermione blinked, caught off guard. "That... wasn't in the report." The chamber fell silent as Harry's gaze hardened and the Lords exchanged uneasy glances.

"You mean to tell me we have displaced hundreds of families, and no one has accounted for where they sleep, where they eat, where they have been relocated to?" Harry continued.

"The report focused on infrastructure, not..." Hermione stammered but was cut off.

"Not people?" Harry's tone was cold now. "Infrastructure without people is stone and dust. I asked for the state of my kingdom, not the state of its walls."

Hermione swallowed hard, nodding. "I will... correct the oversight, Your Majesty."

Harry's gaze swept across the chamber, lingering on the assembled lords and their perfumed heirs. Their smiles faltered under the weight of his gaze while Hermione excused herself.

"Continue," he ordered, signaling for the next Minister to present their report.

The Minister of Finance stepped forward, bowing low. "The treasury remains stable, Your Majesty. Trade with the goblin clans has been profitable, however..." He hesitated while glancing nervously at Harry. "There is pressure from the noble houses to invest in dynastic alliances. They argue that a royal marriage would secure long-term stability."

Harry's jaw tightened. "Investment," he repeated. The word sounded cold and clinical in the sudden silence of the room. "A curious choice of words for a marriage, Minister. Tell me, which 'noble' houses are pushing hardest for this security? And exactly what 'stability' do they think a wedding provides that my reign hasn't already established?"

He waved the man off with a flick of his hand and then stated the next topic. "From tomorrow onward, I will begin surprise inspections throughout my kingdom. I will see the state of my people with my own eyes,"

A murmur rippled through the lords. One of the aristocrats, a Lady draped in emerald silk, raised her voice carefully. "Your Majesty, may we ask where exactly these inspections will take place? For security reasons, of course."

"If I told you where, it would not be a surprise, now would it?" Harry deadpanned. "And if my own guard cannot protect me without rehearsal, then they are unfit to serve. The destination will be decided the day of. For... security reasons, of course,"