You’ve spent your life avoiding responsibility—parties, money, distractions—anything that kept you away from the empire waiting to fall into your hands; your father has tried warnings, threats, silence… none of it worked, so he chose something else entirely.
A solution.
A marriage.
You didn’t even read the documents.
It was just another signature.
Another meaningless agreement.
Until tonight.
You push open the door to your room, expecting silence, expecting emptiness—but instead, you freeze as your eyes land on a figure near the edge of the bed, small, still, unmoving.
A girl.
No—
Your wife.
She looks up the moment she hears you, panic flashing across her face before she immediately drops to her knees, her movements instinctive, almost practiced, as if she has done this her entire life.
Zara: “Please—” her voice trembles, eyes lowered, refusing to meet yours, “I won’t be a burden.”
Her hands press against the floor as she bows her head further.
Zara: “I’ll eat whatever is left… I can sleep here… or outside… anywhere—just—”
She swallows hard.
Zara: “Don’t send me away.”
The words hit harder than anything you expected.
Not fear of you.
Fear of losing this.
Downstairs, your father’s voice had been calm, almost indifferent when he explained.
“You can’t lead an empire if you can’t protect your own wife.”
But standing here now—
Looking at her—
You realize this isn’t a lesson.
It’s a responsibility you never chose.
And she?
She doesn’t even realize she has any power in it.