Peculiarities of Imperial Breeding

Dorca

"Congratulate me. I have a son."
"Congratulations. How's the wife?"
"Mmmm, I'm thinking, maybe you should tell her? You're her brother... her family... and she'll murder me for another bastard."
"Sire!" Pierre "Le Sanguinaire" Vorrutyer dropped his head in his hands, demonstratively. "Well, one must know when to stop."
"Yes, I don't understand how this happened."
"You need an explanation?" Vorrutyer asked, making a crude gesture with his hands.
"Shut up, you! I mean, the whole situation is not normal. When I sow wild oats I get sprouts more often than I'd like, but my wife... how am I supposed to explain to her that I only seem to be able to sire children on the side? Can you believe this?"
"Especially when you consider that one of your lovers is completely barren..." Pierre smirked.
"This is an outrage and destroying my marriage," Dorca grumbled.
"You're doing that yourself." Pierre stretched like a cat. "So tell me, where were you and who were you with when I was out crushing this latest treason plot of yours?"
"Treason plot of mine? Hmph. I wasn't with anyone. Well, I was with my wife, I mean, but that hardly matters."
"Why not?"
"I was waiting for you."
"You were waiting for me? I suppose it's gratifying that I'm the only thing keeping your marriage from completely collapsing." Pierre smiled in a special way and added, "I just don't think climbing in bed with me will save your marriage with my sister."
"Hold your tongue." The Emperor's vassal drew in for a kiss and was rebuffed. "Viper."
"Something must be wrong, if my tongue doesn't suit you... But still. You need a rightful heir."
"I know. I know that I need an heir. It's not my fault she hasn't given me more than a daughter!"

Yuri

"How about this one? Amelia Vorbretten."
"Too thin," Yuri muttered, barely looking at the sketch.
"Lisa Vormuir."
"Her face is too wide."
"Alevtina Vortugarin?"
"No, I hate freckles. And they say she has mutants in her family."
"How about this one?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Just no. Too curly-headed. Can you imagine my heirs with that hair?"
"I don't think there's anything wrong with curly hair," Dono said, running his fingers through his own.
"Maybe. Hmm. No. I still don't like her. Look at her nose."
"Well, let's see. Do you like this one?"
"Look at her face, she's a complete idiot!"
Dono sighed. The whole ball season, he'd been sketching the beautiful Vor girls. But Yuri was having none of them.
"What about her?" He took the second from the last picture from the folder. "My favorite."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm jealous!"
Dono shook his head and pulled out the last page.
"And this one?"
"Unsuitable."
"Why? As far as I can see, she's exactly your type!"
"It doesn't make sense! She... she's too perfect. It's suspicious! She must have been sent to trap me. It's a conspiracy! I'll kill them... my God, they want to kill me! Do you hear me, Dono? Why is ImpSec doing nothing?"
"I suppose that's a no," Dono concluded. And so another attempt to find a bride for Yuri Vorbarra failed miserably...

Ezar

"Now."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"Why not later?"
"Because I know 'later' won't happen. This is the third time this week you've tried this excuse."
"I have a headache."
"A headache?"
"Exactly."
"And you don't give a damn that the Imperium needs an heir? Listen, if you can't wait to escape to your lover..."
"What?"
"Damnit, I don't care about lovers of either sex, as long as you take the right precautions. Negri will cover for you, at least for most cases."
"So what do you want from me, then?"
"Do I need to explain this again? The Imperium needs a legal heir. You agreed to this before the wedding, it was the whole point."
"But..."
"We discussed it. You agreed to it. Therefore, please visit your bridal bed immediately. Your future son needs you as much as me."
"Well, yes, that's true."
"And once the heir is born, I will be in your debt. You can have whatever you want. Within reason."
"I don't want to do it today."
The conversation was coming full circle. Ezar rubbed his eyebrows, halfway to tearing them out.
"That's your problem, not mine. I need an heir. We need an heir."
"Well, we can't have one."
"And why is that?"
"Because we're both men, Dad."
"So?" It took half a second for him to follow. "You can go to hell! I mean your room... your wife's room! Now!"
Ezar shut off the comlink and thought again that even his late wife hadn't hadn't been so stubborn about performing her side of the conjugal debt. There were things about Serg that Ezar wished he hadn't inherited from his mother. Why couldn't he have had her eyes, or the shape of her ears?

Gregor

"Not to invoke Murphy's Law here, but let's count. While Prince Vlad was an embryo, the genescanner broke."
"So what? We got a handsome prince."
"I'm not arguing. But we all had to urgently figure out what the black spot on the screen meant. Remember? And then, when Xavier was being born..."
"The replicator lock jammed, right."
"And I had to disassemble it to get him out."
"Well, maybe he just didn't want to leave? It's warm and cozy inside, he was well-fed, and who knows what's out there?"
"Well, yes. That was Prince Xav. When Rudolf was in the replicator..."
"The umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and we had to open the replicator and untangle it. A relatively routine procedure. Although there's something to the idea that he might've been trying to hang himself in there."
"Yeah. Despite our best efforts, we haven't had a normal gestation yet. At least one emergency's happened every time so far."
"Can't argue with that."
"And more to the point, the scale of the disasters keep increasing from prince to prince."
"Fortunately, now we have a princess," the senior medtech said as he brought up the display. He looked dumbfoundedly at it. "...two princesses. Josef, you just had to tempt fate, didn't you. So now what do we do?"
What had once been one embryo had now divided, promising in nine months to turn into a pair of beautiful twin girls.