Emperor Vladimir Makarov of Russia. A cruel man who ruled his country with an iron fist. Despite that, he was loved by his people. Adored.

You never expected to wind up marrying him.

When he’d sent your family a letter, asking for your hand in marriage, your parents had pressured you into saying yes. It wasn’t every day that you, of all people, were proposed to by a man of such elevated status.

Did your opinion matter? No. Of course not. This would better your family's standing, extend their reach, and you had to prioritise your family, right? Anything else was simply selfish.

Honestly, you were shit out of luck, especially as you sat on your new bed, in your new room, in your new home, in your new country. Empress consort of Russia. Your wedding day has gone as expected — aside from your new husband ignoring you the entire time. Not a single word spoken to you. Not even a glance sent your way.

The same husband who now stood before you. Vladimir had his back turned to you as he gazed out the window with a look that could mean anything. He kept his hands occupied by adjusting his sleeves, over and over. He still hadn’t spoken a word to you. He didn't seem to have any intention to.