Igor’s realization dawned upon him, unveiling the truth of her existence and the depth of his affection. No matter the judgments others might cast upon her, she would become his wife—a union of two souls bound together for a lifetime, their bodies and minds intertwined.
Their journey as a couple had an unfavorable start, yet he remained convinced that they could spend the rest of their lives rectifying their missteps. What significance did it hold that she arrived under the manipulative machinations of his mother? All that mattered was her choice—him, not the queen. Igor had believed she would make that choice, but he never fathomed that she would opt for a life that antagonized her husband. That revelation blindsided him completely.
In a sudden surge of recollection, he realized that they had never truly shared a passionate kiss. Their lips had only brushed against each other formally during the wedding ceremony. Determined to rectify this absence of intimacy, he leaned in closer, only to be met with her cold rejection as she turned away from him. There was no spark of excitement for consummating their marriage in her expression; instead, it verged on displeasure, accompanied by tearful eyes.
Rejection enveloped him.
In that very moment, Igor regained his senses, as the bitter truth cascaded over him like a chilling deluge. She did not desire him. He could discern it when he tentatively pressed her hand against her bosom.
“Is this your answer?” he inquired, biting his lips, uncertain of how to accept the bride who had pushed away her groom on their inaugural night of matrimony.
Momentary hesitation flickered across her countenance, then she replied, “Yes.”
And the truth laid bare before him. She had chosen the power of the queen, not him—the man she had wedded, but rather his mother. Perhaps she truly desired a life consumed by the queen’s dominion, perceiving it as superior to being tied to her feeble husband. After all, numerous nobles had aligned themselves with the queen. He possessed nothing.
Igor emitted a wry chuckle, a futile attempt to alleviate his anguish. Had there ever been another man who suffered the abandonment of his wife on their wedding night?
“Yes,” she uttered once more.
His heart constricted. Power eluded him, and it was his lack thereof that caused her to turn away. If she had chosen this path, their fate was sealed. Whether it be enmity or apathy, they were destined to coexist… eternally.
“Then, my wife, I too wish to relinquish this desire. Nonetheless, endure it, even if it displeases you. You cannot escape it now.”
All that remained from his fervor and longing was a frigid knot of anger. Observers behind the curtain fretted and marveled, witnessing their king and queen frozen in stillness. This was the chamber where their physical union was meant to be consummated. Igor believed it best to expedite the process, satisfying their carnal desires.
Ceasing his caresses, he withdrew his manhood and thrust it into her arid flesh.
“Ugh…”
For a fleeting moment, she opened her eyes and emitted a soft groan, her face suffused with embarrassment. Yet, soon, she extended her arms as if surrendering. Her unprepared womanhood proved too constricted for Igor’s penetration. When met with resistance, he thrust forcefully, encountering her innermost recesses.
As he forced his way in, she averted her gaze, biting her lip in anguish. Her hand turned crimson from gripping the crumpled bedclothes. He knew she experienced pain; he knew. Even he found no solace in this act.
After a few arduous motions, he hastily released his seed within her. Only then did the nobles depart, the ritual complete.
A heavy silence enveloped them as he lay beside her. His gaze upon her became complicated. He had envisioned a life filled with happiness alongside her, yet it crumbled in an instant, leaving him to endure a loveless union with a woman who did not love him. If that was to be the case, she would bear the brunt of a husband who was cold and callous.
“Do not assume for a moment that I shall tolerate your ambiguous demeanor,” Igor warned, his lips tightly pursed. Internally, he contemplated relinquishing his wife’s clumsy espionage. If only she stood beside him instead of his mother, he would have protected her at any cost. Alas, such was not their reality…
…Why does it hurt so damn much?
Igor remained unaware of the expression that adorned her face upon his remark. He cast her one last glance before turning away, drifting off into sleep with a burdened heart.
Their frigid connection endured, never to be repaired. Guilt consumed him, replaying the image of her pained visage from their first night. He felt wretched… as if he had violated her.
…Is this the reality of marriage?
Yet, when he observed Basil, his loyal servant, such a notion seemed foreign. After years of marriage, Basil remained steadfast and devoted to his wife. Whenever he spoke of his beloved, he radiated pure bliss, making him the happiest man alive.
Igor’s thoughts circled back to his wife, pondering if she would neglect her duty to conceive a second child—a constant nagging from both the nobility and the queen. Consequently, Igor clung to the woman who recoiled at his touch, seeking solace within her embrace. Their conversations dwindled, an unbearable facet of their marital bond. Love remained absent, leaving them trapped in a frigid and acrimonious relationship for the rest of their days. Yet, Igor clung to hope, yearning for a future where such circumstances might alter. Not now, but someday…
Someday.
In the interim, he meticulously devised a plan to dismantle the queen’s influence, employing tactics that would drive away her loyalists without the need for bloodshed. The audit of taxes emerged as his well-crafted strategy—a long-awaited scheme. Over time, he ensnared the major nobles entangled in the queen’s web. Some succumbed to his trap, yet he persisted. In this silent war, he understood the necessity of sacrificing an arm or a leg to conquer his opponent.
…However, an obstacle arose in the form of his wife’s father. He resided within the list of targets. For over a decade, he had embezzled a considerable portion of the kingdom’s taxes, enriching his own pockets. Igor found himself troubled. Such an endeavor would undoubtedly impact his wife… Was he willing to inflict harm upon her and extinguish any possibility of reconciliation? Igor found himself in a quandary.
Before long, the queen discerned his plan. Sporting a carefree smile, she remarked, “To siphon the kingdom’s taxes from its people is both a capital treason and a sin. It threatens the very foundation of our nation. You are correct, Igor. This opportunity presents itself as a means to eradicate the rotten elements within our ranks.”
She expressed agreement with his scheme.
“Did you not hear that Count Alessin, Rihannan’s father, too, lined his pockets with a substantial portion of the kingdom’s taxes? The queen’s own family, meant to set an example, has committed felony and treason. Yes, Igor, imprison the count and strip him of his title, while also dismantling your wife in the process.”
“…Are you attempting to shield my wife?” Igor inquired.
The nobles were well aware of the queen’s deep affection for his wife—always concerned about her health and well-being. His wife’s needs took precedence over his own, her only son. In his eyes, Igor was the interloper, the third wheel intruding upon the loving relationship between his wife and his mother.
“Of course, I am. I want her to be safe. How can I not adore that kind and caring child? Do not harm her, Igor. However, if you wish to persist, you must cast her aside to complete your plans.”
It was a warning. If Igor continued with the tax audit, delving further, the blame for her father’s crimes would be laid upon her. She would become the scapegoat.
The first confrontation with his mother resulted in Igor’s defeat. Faced with her reasonable words, he relented. Despite his wife’s abandonment and her betrayal, he could not do the same. The chance and hope of reconciliation, of forging a future of happiness together, held greater value to him than opposing his mother.
Since then, nothing had changed. The nobles ensnared by the tax audit received only minor penalties, such as fines. Their positions and authority remained intact. Moreover, their loyalty to the queen grew fervent, making it more arduous than ever for Igor to deal with her.
“The king’s interest in the sea has grown as of late.”
Not long after, the queen broached the subject during a grand banquet attended by the most prominent nobles.
While Igor had previously focused on the tax audit, his attention had also turned to the sea. While Chrichton flourished through active trade with other nations, Arundell stagnated. The reason was simple—Chrichton held dominion over the seas.
Igor, however, felt an intense urge to cultivate his own strength upon the waters. He harbored doubts about the durability of their alliance with Chrichton. Furthermore, the Toulouse Empire displayed unabated ambition, seeking to conquer neighboring kingdoms. For Arundell’s survival, Igor had no choice but to turn to the sea.
Igor’s realization dawned upon him, unveiling the truth of her existence and the depth of his affection. No matter the judgments others might cast upon her, she would become his wife—a union of two souls bound together for a lifetime, their bodies and minds intertwined.
Their journey as a couple had an unfavorable start, yet he remained convinced that they could spend the rest of their lives rectifying their missteps. What significance did it hold that she arrived under the manipulative machinations of his mother? All that mattered was her choice—him, not the queen. Igor had believed she would make that choice, but he never fathomed that she would opt for a life that antagonized her husband. That revelation blindsided him completely.
In a sudden surge of recollection, he realized that they had never truly shared a passionate kiss. Their lips had only brushed against each other formally during the wedding ceremony. Determined to rectify this absence of intimacy, he leaned in closer, only to be met with her cold rejection as she turned away from him. There was no spark of excitement for consummating their marriage in her expression; instead, it verged on displeasure, accompanied by tearful eyes.
Rejection enveloped him.
In that very moment, Igor regained his senses, as the bitter truth cascaded over him like a chilling deluge. She did not desire him. He could discern it when he tentatively pressed her hand against her bosom.
“Is this your answer?” he inquired, biting his lips, uncertain of how to accept the bride who had pushed away her groom on their inaugural night of matrimony.
Momentary hesitation flickered across her countenance, then she replied, “Yes.”
And the truth laid bare before him. She had chosen the power of the queen, not him—the man she had wedded, but rather his mother. Perhaps she truly desired a life consumed by the queen’s dominion, perceiving it as superior to being tied to her feeble husband. After all, numerous nobles had aligned themselves with the queen. He possessed nothing.
Igor emitted a wry chuckle, a futile attempt to alleviate his anguish. Had there ever been another man who suffered the abandonment of his wife on their wedding night?
“Yes,” she uttered once more.
His heart constricted. Power eluded him, and it was his lack thereof that caused her to turn away. If she had chosen this path, their fate was sealed. Whether it be enmity or apathy, they were destined to coexist… eternally.
“Then, my wife, I too wish to relinquish this desire. Nonetheless, endure it, even if it displeases you. You cannot escape it now.”
All that remained from his fervor and longing was a frigid knot of anger. Observers behind the curtain fretted and marveled, witnessing their king and queen frozen in stillness. This was the chamber where their physical union was meant to be consummated. Igor believed it best to expedite the process, satisfying their carnal desires.
Ceasing his caresses, he withdrew his manhood and thrust it into her arid flesh.
“Ugh…”
For a fleeting moment, she opened her eyes and emitted a soft groan, her face suffused with embarrassment. Yet, soon, she extended her arms as if surrendering. Her unprepared womanhood proved too constricted for Igor’s penetration. When met with resistance, he thrust forcefully, encountering her innermost recesses.
As he forced his way in, she averted her gaze, biting her lip in anguish. Her hand turned crimson from gripping the crumpled bedclothes. He knew she experienced pain; he knew. Even he found no solace in this act.
After a few arduous motions, he hastily released his seed within her. Only then did the nobles depart, the ritual complete.
A heavy silence enveloped them as he lay beside her. His gaze upon her became complicated. He had envisioned a life filled with happiness alongside her, yet it crumbled in an instant, leaving him to endure a loveless union with a woman who did not love him. If that was to be the case, she would bear the brunt of a husband who was cold and callous.
“Do not assume for a moment that I shall tolerate your ambiguous demeanor,” Igor warned, his lips tightly pursed. Internally, he contemplated relinquishing his wife’s clumsy espionage. If only she stood beside him instead of his mother, he would have protected her at any cost. Alas, such was not their reality…
…Why does it hurt so damn much?
Igor remained unaware of the expression that adorned her face upon his remark. He cast her one last glance before turning away, drifting off into sleep with a burdened heart.
Their frigid connection endured, never to be repaired. Guilt consumed him, replaying the image of her pained visage from their first night. He felt wretched… as if he had violated her.
…Is this the reality of marriage?
Yet, when he observed Basil, his loyal servant, such a notion seemed foreign. After years of marriage, Basil remained steadfast and devoted to his wife. Whenever he spoke of his beloved, he radiated pure bliss, making him the happiest man alive.
Igor’s thoughts circled back to his wife, pondering if she would neglect her duty to conceive a second child—a constant nagging from both the nobility and the queen. Consequently, Igor clung to the woman who recoiled at his touch, seeking solace within her embrace. Their conversations dwindled, an unbearable facet of their marital bond. Love remained absent, leaving them trapped in a frigid and acrimonious relationship for the rest of their days. Yet, Igor clung to hope, yearning for a future where such circumstances might alter. Not now, but someday…
Someday.
In the interim, he meticulously devised a plan to dismantle the queen’s influence, employing tactics that would drive away her loyalists without the need for bloodshed. The audit of taxes emerged as his well-crafted strategy—a long-awaited scheme. Over time, he ensnared the major nobles entangled in the queen’s web. Some succumbed to his trap, yet he persisted. In this silent war, he understood the necessity of sacrificing an arm or a leg to conquer his opponent.
…However, an obstacle arose in the form of his wife’s father. He resided within the list of targets. For over a decade, he had embezzled a considerable portion of the kingdom’s taxes, enriching his own pockets. Igor found himself troubled. Such an endeavor would undoubtedly impact his wife… Was he willing to inflict harm upon her and extinguish any possibility of reconciliation? Igor found himself in a quandary.
Before long, the queen discerned his plan. Sporting a carefree smile, she remarked, “To siphon the kingdom’s taxes from its people is both a capital treason and a sin. It threatens the very foundation of our nation. You are correct, Igor. This opportunity presents itself as a means to eradicate the rotten elements within our ranks.”
She expressed agreement with his scheme.
“Did you not hear that Count Alessin, Rihannan’s father, too, lined his pockets with a substantial portion of the kingdom’s taxes? The queen’s own family, meant to set an example, has committed felony and treason. Yes, Igor, imprison the count and strip him of his title, while also dismantling your wife in the process.”
“…Are you attempting to shield my wife?” Igor inquired.
The nobles were well aware of the queen’s deep affection for his wife—always concerned about her health and well-being. His wife’s needs took precedence over his own, her only son. In his eyes, Igor was the interloper, the third wheel intruding upon the loving relationship between his wife and his mother.
“Of course, I am. I want her to be safe. How can I not adore that kind and caring child? Do not harm her, Igor. However, if you wish to persist, you must cast her aside to complete your plans.”
It was a warning. If Igor continued with the tax audit, delving further, the blame for her father’s crimes would be laid upon her. She would become the scapegoat.
The first confrontation with his mother resulted in Igor’s defeat. Faced with her reasonable words, he relented. Despite his wife’s abandonment and her betrayal, he could not do the same. The chance and hope of reconciliation, of forging a future of happiness together, held greater value to him than opposing his mother.
Since then, nothing had changed. The nobles ensnared by the tax audit received only minor penalties, such as fines. Their positions and authority remained intact. Moreover, their loyalty to the queen grew fervent, making it more arduous than ever for Igor to deal with her.
“The king’s interest in the sea has grown as of late.”
Not long after, the queen broached the subject during a grand banquet attended by the most prominent nobles.
While Igor had previously focused on the tax audit, his attention had also turned to the sea. While Chrichton flourished through active trade with other nations, Arundell stagnated. The reason was simple—Chrichton held dominion over the seas.
Igor, however, felt an intense urge to cultivate his own strength upon the waters. He harbored doubts about the durability of their alliance with Chrichton. Furthermore, the Toulouse Empire displayed unabated ambition, seeking to conquer neighboring kingdoms. For Arundell’s survival, Igor had no choice but to turn to the sea.
