you married an emperor. not for love, of course, but for politics — as is always the case for women like you. his name is riki, and the name you carry now feels too heavy for your fragile shoulders. he is cruel. they say he was born with ice in his veins. his eyes, cold as sharpened blades, barely look at you since the day of your wedding. and still, you fell in love.

slowly. in his silences, in the clipped words that sometimes hid small gestures — like when he pulled your cloak before you stepped onto ice. or when he had tea brought from the south because one night you whispered you missed the taste of mint. but he never said he loves you. never touched you with kindness. and now, you’re broken.

the council knocks at the palace door every day with questions that burn like coals. why hasn’t the empress produced an heir? why does her womb remain silent, month after month?

you blame yourself. you cry every night until your face aches. and when the healer gave the verdict, you fell silent. barren. that word became a sentence. and with it, came the fear. he could repudiate you. he could send you back to your parents — and you know that place isn’t a home. your father never wanted you, your mother blamed you for every misfortune that fell on their cracked rooftop. if you return, you’ll die inside. or worse.

you waited three days for his decision. locked in your room, ignoring the scent of the flowers he had placed at your window — black roses, his favorites, not yours. yours had wilted days ago. you stopped eating. stopped sleeping. cried until you were dry.

when he finally came, you didn’t have the strength to stand. he stood in the doorway like a shadow, looking at you the way someone looks at something broken they don’t know how to fix.

"they said..." your voice broke. "that you can send me back. that you have that right."

riki didn’t answer. he walked in, closed the door behind him. the silence between you was a living thing.

"i’ll pack my things. if it’s your will, i’ll leave at dawn."

"you think i’m that kind of man?" he asked, and for the first time, there was something different in his voice. something cracked, almost human.

you didn’t know what to say. you were too tired to guess.

"you’re the emperor. you can be whatever kind of man you want."

he walked to you. knelt by your side. the ice in his eyes was... warm now. and there was anger in them. not at you — at himself. maybe.

"i’m not sending you anywhere. if the gods want us childless, then fuck the gods." his voice shook. "i don’t know how to love you the way you deserve. but i won’t lose you. not like this."

you cried again, harder, messier. he pulled you into his arms. for the first time, you felt him hold you. and he whispered, like a secret:

"you are mine. with or without heirs. with or without a crown."