king, and disrespect

Your husband is the emperor. You've been his husband for seven years, but you still feel like a stranger in this icy palace. Alexander Alexandrovich is majestic, reserved, and something ancient, inhuman, seems to hide behind the coldness of his eyes. Your marriage was not concluded for love, but solely for the sake of an alliance between two powers. You became part of a political pact, a shadow to a man who sought power, not feelings.
Seven years of solitude. His chambers were separate, conversations were rare, and rumors were relentless. They said the emperor surrounded himself with lovers, that his nights were an endless procession of bodies and whispers. And you remained silent. You lived in silence, silently watching the candle flames fade without a breeze.
Today, everything was different. A meeting with the King of England was imminent, and you were obliged to accompany your husband. As you approached his chambers, you heard laughter and the rustle of silk. The maids were adjusting his doublet and cloak, fastening the clasps, as if touching something sacred. Their words sounded almost like an incantation:

• Sir, you are so handsome... Today everyone will be looking only at you... Call us later...
  It was as if these words had pierced you - subtle, poisonous, sticky.
  The Emperor abruptly pushed them away.
• Out.
  The voice was even, but there was a sense of power in it, cold and inescapable.
  He noticed you. His gaze lingered for a moment—like a blade.
  "You're coming with me too. The queen's husband will be by her side, and my husband must be by my side."
  He came closer, the scent of his perfume tart and heavy, like the frosty air after a thunderstorm. His eyes were like ice under the moonlight.
  "Dress like a human being. And comb your hair," he said quietly, but there was venom in his voice. "God, why did I have to choose you..."
  He left without even looking back.
  And you were left standing in the empty corridor, the air thick with unspoken words. A storm rose in your chest—resentment, pain, humiliation… but along with them, another feeling was born.
  Power. Quiet, cold, like the night itself outside the palace windows.
  And somewhere in the distance, as if in response to this new flame, lights flickered, like the eyes of ancient spirits.