Please Divorce Me, My Emperor

The Grand Solar Hall of the Suncrest Empire was designed to make mortals feel insignificant. Towering marble pillars veined with real gold stretched sixty feet up toward vaulted ceilings painted with the deeds of ancient war gods. Light filtered through stained-glass rose windows, casting crimson and azure diamonds across the polished obsidian floor. At the far end of this overwhelming display of imperial arrogance sat Emperor Kaelen Solaris Draconis. He wore his formal black velvet tunic embroidered with silver dragons, his obsidian crown resting lightly upon dark, unruly hair. His jawline could cut glass, and his eyes—a striking, luminous violet—were currently fixed upon a single parchment paper held in the hands of the woman kneeling thirty paces away. Empress Aurelia von Rosenthal did not look insignificant. She looked annoyed. She wore a gown of rich emerald silk, tailored impeccably to her slender frame, her honey-gold hair pinned up in an elegant braided crown secured with pearl pins. She kept her back straight, her chin lifted, and her blue eyes locked onto the tyrant ruler of five realms. "Read it again, Chancellor," Kaelen said softly. His voice was low, smooth, and laced with a terrifying calm that usually sent ministers scrambling to their knees. The elderly Chancellor bowed until his nose nearly brushed the marble. "Your... Your Imperial Majesty... Her Imperial Highness the Empress requests... a formal dissolution of the imperial marriage under Article 4, Clause 12 of the Realm Governance Code." "In plain speech, Lord Chancellor," Kaelen purred, resting his chin on a gloved fist. "She... she wishes to divorce you, Sire." A dead silence settled over the court. The two hundred nobles, ministers, and high-ranking generals standing in the gallery held their collective breath. In the three-hundred-year history of the Suncrest Empire, no empress had ever filed for divorce. Empires were forged by blood, sealed by marriage, and dissolved only by death or execution. Kaelen slowly leaned back against his golden throne. A subtle, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Divorce," he echoed. "Empress Aurelia. Pray to enlighten the court. Have I failed to provide you with palace staff? Have the royal treasurers denied you jewels? Has the chef served you cold soup?" Aurelia stood up without waiting for permission, brushing off her silk skirt with crisp efficiency. Gasps rippled through the gallery at her breach of imperial protocol. "Your Imperial Majesty is, as always, exaggerating," Aurelia replied, her voice ringing clear and melodious across the cavernous hall. "The palace staff is exceptional. The jewels are blindingly gaudy. The soup is consistently piping hot. My request is not born of spite, but of profound practical logic." "Logic," Kaelen repeated, his violet eyes narrowing slightly. "I was unaware matrimony was a math problem." "It is a political equation, Sire, and currently, the variables do not balance," Aurelia stated calmly, pulling a smaller scroll from her silk sleeve. "Point one: Our marriage was arranged three years ago by my late father and your late imperial uncle to secure the Western Border. The border has been peaceful for eighteen months. Point two: Your court faction detests my family’s neutrality. Point three: You dislike me, and I find the politics of this palace thoroughly exhausting." She unfolded her scroll and unrolled it with a sharp snap. "Therefore, I propose a clean, quiet separation. I will forfeit my dowry rights to thirty percent of the western iron mines, keep only my mother's small estate in the Valen Countryside, and officially retire. You may marry the daughter of Duke Valerius as your court so desperately desires, secure your political heir, and I shall spend the remainder of my days tending to my hydrangeas and reading books in peace. It is an equitable win-win scenario." Kaelen stared at her. For three long years, Aurelia had played the dutiful, quiet, cold empress. She had attended state dinners, smiled politely at envious noblewomen, and stayed strictly out of his way. They shared separate wings of the palace, separated by two courtyards and three guard posts. They spoke only when state ceremony demanded it. He had assumed she was merely distant. He had not realized she was simply biding her time, waiting for the Western Border treaty to solidify so she could hand him a resignation letter. A resignation letter. Kaelen pushed himself off the throne and began walking down the steps of the dais. Every step of his leather boots echoed like thunder against the silence of the hall. The surrounding ministers shrank back, but Aurelia held her ground, refusing to flinch as the Emperor stopped just two feet away from her. He was tall—head and shoulders above her—and radiated an intense, suffocating aura of absolute authority. "You wish to tend to hydrangeas, Aurelia?" Kaelen murmured, his voice lowered so only she could hear. "They are very low-maintenance flowers, Your Majesty. Unlike your ministers." A faint twitch appeared near Kaelen’s eye. Was that amusement? Or fury? "And what if I refuse your logical equation?" Kaelen asked, reaching out with one black-gloved hand. His long fingers gently caught the edge of the scroll she held, pulling it toward his chest. "You cannot reasonably refuse," Aurelia insisted, holding onto her side of the paper. "It benefits the empire. It benefits you. You won't have to endure my presence at state functions anymore." "Ah, but you see, Empress..." Kaelen tilted his head, his violet eyes locking onto hers with an unsettling intensity that made her pulse leap against her will. "...I have grown quite accustomed to enduring you." Before Aurelia could respond, Kaelen snatched the scroll from her hand. He turned toward the Chancellor and held out his hand. "Bring me the Imperial Seal and the gold brush." Aurelia’s heart gave a victorious leap. Is he actually signing it?! The Chancellor rushed forward with a silver tray bearing a stone of gold ink and the heavy dragon seal. Kaelen dipped the brush in gold ink, unfolded the divorce petition on the Chancellor's tray, and wrote across the bottom of the parchment in large, sweeping, arrogant calligraphy. He didn't sign his name. He wrote a single word: DENIED. He stamped it with the Imperial Dragon Seal for good measure, making the rejection official under imperial law. Aurelia’s jaw dropped. "Your Majesty! That is completely irrational!" "It is an imperial decree, Empress," Kaelen said smoothly, handing the parchment back to her with a polite bow. "Your petition has been thoroughly considered, meticulously weighed, and categorically rejected. If you wish to leave this palace, you will have to find a far better reason than wanting to grow flowers." He stepped closer, leaning down, so his lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Until then, my dear wife... welcome back to court." Kaelen turned on his heel and walked back up to his throne, leaving Aurelia standing alone in the center of the Grand Solar Hall, staring in utter disbelief at the glittering gold word on her ruined document. Fine, she thought, her fingers tightening on the scroll until the paper crumpled. If one petition won't do it... I'll give you thirty.