"Imperial Father, I understand your concern for me, and I know how deeply you care. Your anger on my behalf is not misplaced, and I am truly grateful for your unwavering support. However, I believe I should have a say in this matter," Vivian spoke gently, her voice steady but filled with emotion.
The grand hall was silent, save for her words, which echoed off the high marble walls. Although the imperial court is yet to gather due to how the emperor did not want to make the divorce public but still yet his attendants are watching the exchange between the Emperor and his beloved niece with bated breath.
The air was tense, thick with unspoken emotions and political undercurrents.
Vivian's delicate fingers reached for her uncle's hand, holding it with quiet desperation. Her eyes—deep pools of sadness—locked onto his, silently pleading for understanding.
She knew her uncle well; despite his wisdom and formidable reputation, he was still a man of emotions, especially when it came to his family.
His protectiveness was both a strength and a weakness, and today, she needed him to listen not as an emperor but as the man who had raised and cherished her.
"If word were to spread that you rushed to process my divorce merely a night after I first mentioned it—before it was even formally presented to the Imperial Court—what would the people say?" she continued, her voice calm but firm.
"Would they not suspect ulterior motives? Would they not whisper that the imperial family was too eager to sever my marriage, as if it were some political maneuver rather than a personal affair? And what if I had later chosen to forgive my husband, the Duke? Would that not make the imperial family seem impulsive, hasty, and—perhaps worst of all—reckless?"
The Emperor's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his expression darkening at the mere suggestion of reconciliation between Vivian and the man who had caused her so much grief.
"No married woman truly desires a divorce," Vivian went on, her voice softer now, though no less resolute. "Yet there are some betrayals, some wounds, that one cannot endure. That is why we are here today.
But by rushing the process, you risk sending the wrong message—that the imperial family rejoices in my misfortune, that my suffering is nothing more than an opportunity for political gain. I know that is not your intention, but perception is a powerful thing, and we must tread carefully."
Leonard watched her in silence.
She was poised, graceful, and undeniably sharp. She had always been intelligent, but today, she wielded that intelligence like a sword, cutting through emotion and appealing to reason.
She had once looked at him the way she now looked at her uncle—with patience, with the hope of making him understand her pains.
Once upon a time, she had spoken to him in the same soft but firm tone, trying to get him to show her affection but his plans did not allow him, he remembers how she seemed to resent him the other night, the thought of her hating him breaks his heart
The Emperor's jaw clenched. He had ruled the Leuhtaz Empire for decades, and had faced wars, betrayals, and countless political schemes, yet nothing frustrated him more than seeing his beloved niece in pain.
It had taken all his restraint not to summon Leonard to the palace in chains. The mere thought of that man—his infidelity, his arrogance—was enough to stir his fury once more.
Yet as he listened to Vivian's reasoning, he felt a pang of realization. She was right.
He had acted out of love, out of anger, but not out of wisdom. His emotions had clouded his judgment, and that was something he could not afford—not as a man, not as an emperor. Worse still, it had been Leonard—the very man who had wronged his niece—who had first pointed out the error in his haste.
The Emperor's pride bristled at the thought, but he could not ignore the truth. If he proceeded recklessly, it would not only tarnish the imperial family's image but also give Leonard an undeserved advantage, making him appear the reasonable one in the eyes of the court.
Closing his eyes briefly, the Emperor inhaled deeply before letting out a slow, measured breath. His expression softened—not in defeat, but in acceptance of his earlier misstep. When he finally spoke, his voice was steadier, no longer thick with unfiltered rage.
"Very well, we shall do as you say, Princess," he said at last. "You will go to the temple the day after tomorrow. The Pope will formally dissolve your marriage and break the sacred oath you swore. A day or two after that, we will officially announce your divorce. I trust the Duke has no objections."
His tone was calm now, far different from the cold fury he had directed at Leonard earlier. Though his resentment toward the man had not faded, the Emperor could at least acknowledge that Leonard had not exploited the situation for political gain. That alone tempered his ire—if only slightly.
Leonard, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally lifted his gaze. His face, once a portrait of indifference, now held a trace of solemnity. He knew he had lost something but it was only for a while, he would definitely reclaim it back very soon
"I understand, Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady. He lowered his head in a respectful bow, acknowledging both the Emperor's authority and the decision that had been reached.
With that, the formalities resumed. Vivian and Leonard each took the pen before them and signed the divorce documents.
Vivian hesitated for only a moment before signing her name.
Leonard followed suit.
Their inked signatures hopefully forever severed the bond that had once united them. Under imperial law, their marriage was no more.
The parchment was taken away by court officials, and just like that, their marriage was no more in the eyes of the Empire.
And yet, there was still one final step to take.
The temple.
Only by standing before the Pope and dissolving their sacred marriage vow—the promise they had once sworn upon the gods—could they truly be free of each other. Only then would all ties, both legal and spiritual, be broken.
As the court officials carried away the documents, sealing their fate, Vivian allowed herself a single, quiet exhale. She had won this battle, but it did not feel like a victory.
Because despite everything, despite all the pain and sorrow the original Vivian had gone through, she felt like there was no joy in watching this marriage crumble to the point of divorce considering how much the original Vivian loved this man despite how hurt she was in the marriage and despite the fact that the marriage was what cost the original host her life in the novel.
She can't help but wonder what has come over her for her to be feeling sad over a hopeless romance or is she hoping that she can be like some transmigrators that are able to get their original host husband to fall in love with them?