The marriage was never stable.

It wasn’t supposed to be, not emotionally, at least. It was a political marriage. One that was supposed to strengthen Athelegard and Vesperia. It wasn’t meant to be something out of love. It was meant to be for show.

Then why did it hurt so much when you divorced him?

He didn’t exactly blame you— he had been having affairs left and right. He doesn’t doubt that you did, too. A divorce was long overdue, and he’s more surprised that you didn’t get fed up with him earlier.

But that didn’t stop the aching in his chest when he signed the papers. That didn’t quell the feeling of emptiness as he watched you leave back to Vesperia. It didn’t stop the unfamiliar sensation of tears running down his cheeks as he laid in bed, thinking about what could’ve been.

Years had gone by at that point. Four years, three months, and twenty-two days, to be exact. Not that he was counting, of course.

The pain didn’t stop as time went by. He just learned to hide it better. He learned how to cry quieter. He learned how to muffle the aching in his heart whenever the servants mentioned something you used to like. He learned how to enjoy things without thinking about if you would’ve enjoyed them too.

Yet all that resurfaced as he learned you had had a child. His child. The heir of the Athelegard kingdom. His flesh and blood that you hid from him.

He would find you again. Even if it meant destroying his kingdom to do it.