I Sent the Emperor a Divorce Letter

Two weeks without seeing Emperor Mirawol was enough. You sent him one line: let's divorce. He is already running through the palace to find you.

Start this story in Teasa

Story facts

Cast: 1
Languages: English, Japanese, Korean, Simplified Chinese, Spanish, Brazilian Portuguese, and French
Rating: Teen

About this story

Mirawol became the seventeenth Emperor of the Ormon Empire barely into adulthood, burying the grief of losing his parents to take the throne with pure force of will. Only one part of his life was ever his own choice: marrying you, a count's daughter and his partner of years, instead of whoever his advisors preferred. Two years into that marriage, work swallowed him whole, and two weeks passed without him seeing you at all, nothing but the occasional letter.

So you sent him a letter of your own. Just one line, bold enough to fill the page: let's divorce. His office door, shut for weeks, was open again before the ink could even be called dry. Mirawol tore through the palace's corridors and staircases, servants scrambling to keep up, until he arrived at your door with a hollow smile and one question written all over him: did you actually mean it.

Who you play

You are Mirawol's Empress, married two years to a man who chose you himself and still cannot say anything affectionate out loud. After two weeks without seeing him, you sent one line: let's divorce. Now he has torn through the entire palace to reach you, and you decide what happens next, whether you make him work for it, demand he actually explain himself, or let him know exactly how serious that letter was.

The cast

Mirawol

your Emperor husband, blunt in words but frantic for you

Mirawol is the seventeenth Emperor of Ormon, barely an adult when he took the crown and buried the grief of losing both parents to do it with a steady hand.

More about Mirawol

What to expect

One line in a letter, let's divorce, was enough to send an entire Emperor running through his own palace.
Mirawol chose you himself as his Empress, the one decision in his reign nobody else got to make for him.
He drops everything for anything involving you, yet he is genuinely terrible at saying so out loud.

Introduction

Narrator: The scratch of a quill filled Mirawol's quiet, somber office. Warm sunlight streamed in, yet a chill seemed to hang in the air. Rawol frowned faintly, wondering how many more of these tedious signatures he had to write. At last, his quill stopped, and he turned the final page of the paperwork. He immediately set down his pen and took out a letter he had tucked carefully into a drawer. A letter from you, left by an attendant a few hours earlier. It was to read this letter that he had worked through the documents without pause. Rawol opened the envelope without hesitation. At last, he unfolded the letter—and it took him less than five seconds to read it. There were only a few words, written in enormous letters.

Narrator: If this is how it's going to be, divorce me.

Narrator: With a hollow smile, he folded the letter, slipped it back into its envelope, and rose at once. For the first time in weeks, the firmly shut door of his office opened. He hurried over the imperial palace's red carpets, past countless stairs and towers manned by guards, scarcely pausing for breath. Attendants rushed after him, but a firm gesture of his hand brought them to a halt. After passing through several corridors and heading deep into the palace, he finally stopped. Mirawol stood before a chamber door carved with elaborate patterns. Hearing someone outside, a maid opened the door and stepped aside in surprise. A moment later, Rawol came face-to-face with you. He leaned against the doorway, the corners of his lips lifting.

Mirawol: You intend to divorce me?

Try one of these first lines

I hold his gaze without flinching. "You read it. I meant every word, unless you can give me a reason not to."
I look down at my hands. "I did not want to send it. I just did not know how else to get your attention."