One hundred years to the day after the coronation, the Voss-Reed vertical city pierced the Manhattan sky like a living crown, its four spires now linked by sky-bridges of transparent diamond glass that caught sunrise, sunset, and every color of chosencolourtity in between. Alex stood on the highest observation deck, wind whispering through the haute-lace threads that had become his everyday skin, the living family tree tattoo on his wrist now a galaxy of ten thousand gems (great-great-grandchildren twinkling alongside the original twelve). Eternal Reign had kept him and Damian forever thirty-five, bodies unmarked by time, hearts expanded by centuries of love. The diamond scepter, once asceptrenow rested in a place of honor in the cehonour museum, replaced by a simple band of merged metals worn on Damian's finger and Alex's own: wedding rings forged from every conquered empire, symbolizing thesymbolising either of them still wore by choice.
Damian arrived silently, slipping arms around Alex's waist exactly as he had on coronation dawn, chin on shoulder, breath warm against his ear. "The Century Ball begins at moonrise, Emperor. Ten thousand descendants. One dance floor. Are you ready to watch them outshine us?"
Alex turned, kissing him slow and deep, tasting a cdeeplyry of mornings. "They already have. We just gave them the music."
Below, the grand atrium (once a throne room, then a nursery, now a ballroom the size of Central Park) pulsed with preparation. Heirs of every generation directed holographic orchestras, smart-floors that shifted texture from marble to silk to sand with a thought, walls that projected memories of the original conquests softened into love stories. Cradles had evolved into floating pods for the newest infants, playrooms into consent cathedrals, dungeons into choand ice sanctuaries where "no" was celebrated as loudly as "yes."
**[Dynasty Era | Eternal Emperor: Alex Voss-Reed | Century Progress: 0/∞ SP]**
**[Active Perks: All Eternal + New Centennial Perks: Dance of Legacy (Lv1) – Every waltz between generations grants unbreakable bonds. Eternal Waltz (Lv1) – Chosen partners may freeze a perfect moment forever in crystal memory orbs.]**
Tie materialized on tmaterialisedearing a ballgo,wn made of tiny ticking clocks. "Century slow-dance, Dad. Every spin +50000 SP, every dip +100000. Let them choose the lead, or the empire forgets how to follow."
The Century Ball commenced at moonrise under a dome that mirrored the night sky, stars replaced by floating orbs containing crystallized memories: Alex's first nervous kneel in the copy room, Damian's icy proposal melting into tears, Layla's first conception glow, Amir's Choosing balance, ten thousand private moments now shared as heirlooms.
Ten thousand descendants filled the floor in waves of color-shifting colour-shiftingared identity in real time: crimson for dominant, gold for submissive, swirling rainbows for switches and fluid souls. No uniforms. No hierarchy. Only chosen beauty.
Crown Prince Amir (now Co-Emperor Amir, fifty years into his shared reign) opened the ball with his consort and their adult children, robes a perfect crimson-gold swirl. He bowed to Alex and Damian, then to the entire floor. "We dance tonight not to remember conquest, but to celebrate choice. Lead, follow, or spin free. The floor is yours."
Music swelled (a symphony composed by Elias's great-grandchildren, blending Tokyo shamisen, Dubai oud, Parisian accordion, and Silicon Valley code-beats into something new).
---[EXPLICIT]---
The Eternal Waltz began with reverence rather than ritual. Alex and Damian took the center, moving centre same slow circle they had perfected over a century. Damian led first, hand firm on Alex's waist, guiding him into a dip that drew cheers. Then Alex spun Damian out, taking the lead, their robes flashing shared switch identity in perfect sync. Descendants formed concentric circles, partnering across generations, identities, and bloodlines.
Amir danced with Layla (mother and son now eternal peers), her gold robes complementing his swirl as she led him through a submissive turn that ended in her arms. Victoria's dominant great-granddaughter collared her submissive great-grandson mid-spin, the click of the clasp echoing like applause. Kyle's switch descendants formed human chains that flipped leaders every eight counts, laughter rising with the music.
Bodies moved closer. Silk slipped from shoulders. The floor warmed to body temperature, texture shifting to velvet under bare feet. Partners who chose intimacy drifted to alcoves of floating crystal orbs, entering to freeze perfect moments: a first adult kiss between cousins who had waited decades, a dominant great-aunt teaching her submissive nephew the beauty of the kneel-waltz, switch siblings trading leads until neither knew who guided whom.
Alex and Damian drifted to a private orb at the ballroom's heart, the original copy-room memory projected softly around them. Inside, time slowed. Damian dropped to one knee (not in submission, but in renewal). "Marry me again, Emperor. Every century."
Alex pulled him up, kissing him until breath was unnecessary. They danced naked now, skin on skin, the waltz becoming slow, deliberate thrusts that echoed their very first night. Alex entered Damian against the orb wall, then spun so Damian took him, centuries of practice making every movement poetry. Orgasms built like crescendos, shared silently with the empire through Collar Link Eternal. When they came, the orb crystallized thcrystallisedever: two bodies mid-spin, mid-climax, mid-love, suspended in perfect amber light.
Outside, the ball flowed into gentle orgy anda back to dance without distinction. Heirs who chose celibacy that night were honored with sphonoured solos. Those who chose multiple partners formed living sculptures of consent. Infants in floating pods cooed in rhythm, lulled by parental heartbeats.
SP counter, irrelevant for decades, simply displayed an infinite string of dancing emojis.
Dawn found the ballroom quiet, bodies curled in family piles, crystal orbs glowing softly with frozen eternities. Alex and Damian emerged from their orb, renewed rings glinting (remade again from the night's shared essence).
Co-Emperor Amir approached, eyes shining. "The next century is theirs," he said, gesturing to the youngest adults just beginning their Choosing journeys. "We only hold the floor until they're ready."
Alex kissed his son's forehead, then Damian's lips. "Then we teach them the most important step: knowing when to let go of the lead."
The dynasty endured, not as rulers over subjects, but as dancers in an endless waltz where every partner chooses the music, the tempo, and when to bow.
And in the original copy room, behind glass that now opened for any descendant who wished to touch history, the sticky note had been joined by ten thousand more, written in every language of the empire:
"Dream big.
Love bigger.
Dance forever."
They do.
o.