Your Majesty, Please Let Me Go

A trophy. A tool for legitimizing bloodline.
To Fenrir, who succeeded in his rebellion, Princess Anaide held exactly that much value.

There was a time when they were lovers, but even that was nothing more than an act.
He despised Anaide, who was like a greenhouse flower.

Even if Anaide bore his child,
he was merely pleased to see her acting like a proper queen within the boundaries he’d set for her.
She would remain by his side forever as his wife.

He gazed at Anaide and thought to himself:
He would never love her. Not ever.

* * *

Anaide brushed away Fenrir’s hand from her shoulder.
Slowly, but decisively.

“Your Majesty.”
“…”
“Please let me go now.”

And she added:
“I’ve given you the finest heir to protect the kingdom. My role as queen is finished.”