Anastasia entered the monarch's chambers, her legs quivering despite her resolve. The spacious room's walls were adorned with literature, cartography, and artwork. She traversed the crimson rug, surveying her surroundings with inquisitiveness. Her search for her spouse in the room proved fruitless, causing her heart to race with apprehension. She inhaled deeply, attempting to regain composure.
Moments later, the entrance swung open as someone strode in with authoritative steps. Anastasia, positioned centrally, remained facing forward, clasping her hands while bracing herself for the evening ahead.
"Anastasia," the king's resonant voice addressed her.
She bowed profoundly, demonstrating her deference.
"Straighten up," he instructed.
She complied, gazing directly ahead. Her husband, Demetrius, sovereign of Hwagwante, stood before her. Her eyes beheld him nostalgically. Anastasia had first encountered her husband at their wedding. He had neither acknowledged her presence nor extended his hand. Following their vows, he had departed without a backward glance. 'His beard has lengthened since our last encounter,' Anastasia mused, her gaze fixed on the monarch.
"My Queen, what prompts this meeting?" Demetrius inquired, turning away and approaching his seat.
Regaining her focus, Anastasia summoned her courage and began to speak.
"Your Majesty, I wish to request of you."
"Proceed."
"My King, I arrived as your queen three years ago. However, I have failed to fulfil my queenly duties. I am unworthy of this crown and the position at your side. I am utterly inadequate as a wife. Therefore, I implore you to return me to my homeland and accept a true queen in my stead." Anastasia beseeched, kneeling before him with her head bowed deeply.
The monarch remained silent. As time elapsed, Anastasia glanced up, sensing his quietness. Their gazes intersected; he was observing her intently. The queen's skin felt flushed. Unable to decipher his thoughts, she spoke once more.
"I request a dissolution of our marriage, Your Majesty," she stated, maintaining direct eye contact to convey her resolve.
"A divorce?" the king responded uneasily.
"Indeed, Your Majesty."
Demetrius rose from his seat, walked around the desk, and positioned himself in front of it. The king possessed a muscular physique, his pale complexion marked with scars. He had a thick, dark beard and hair. His azure eyes were as profound as the sea.
"Should you return to your family, can they reimburse the resources and manpower I've provided? Are they prepared to relinquish their claim on the goldmine? Will they surrender the territories I've allowed them to access?" the king inquired calmly.
Anastasia stared at him as if confronted by an apparition, utterly stunned by his words. This possibility had never occurred to her before arriving. Above all, she was certain of one thing: her family would never accept a loss, even if it meant she had to remain here as if deceased. With a single statement, he had shattered her resolve, causing an unfamiliar ache in her heart. Anastasia couldn't bear to look at her husband, feeling humiliated and disoriented.
"You should continue as you have been. I have no intention of remarrying. You remain my spouse and sovereign until your dying day," he stated dispassionately.
Anastasia, the youthful queen, struggled to contain her emotions. Despite her efforts, tears streamed down her face, unleashing a torrent of painful memories and sorrowful feelings. She shielded her weeping visage from him with her delicate, pale hands.
"Abandon any thoughts of escaping again. I can forgive once, but not repeatedly. You're an intelligent young woman. You must come to your senses before more lives are lost due to your misguided choices."
His words pierced her heart like sharp needles. She lowered her hands from her face.
"What about me?" Anastasia inquired, lifting her gaze.
"Tell me, my lord, what becomes of my existence?" Her fair, beautiful countenance was tear-stained, and her brown eyes brimmed with anguish and fury. She fixed him with an intense stare.
"For three years, I've existed as if deceased, like I'd committed a grave offence. Merely because I'm your wife; because I was born a princess. I've never known peace or joy in this realm. I can't even perish. Why must I endure this life? Why?" She cried out in agony. The queen collapsed to the floor, her strength failing her.
She wept uncontrollably. Demetrius observed his lamenting wife.
"The moment you became my spouse, your life ceased to be your own. It belongs to the kingdom."
"Your spouse? Have you ever truly regarded me as such? No, never. If you had, I wouldn't have lived like a servant," she uttered, her gaze fixed on the ground.
"I've provided you with everything imaginable—sustenance, wealth, jewels, and more," Demetrius replied, perplexed.
"What I desired was dignity, contentment, esteem, and someone to rely upon. But what did you offer? Have you ever considered my well-being? How I'm living?"
The king remained silent. He strode past her towards the entrance. He opened the door and exited, disregarding his wife. The petite figure on the floor lost consciousness.