Author's note : This takes place after the death of Queen Wongyeong's four brothers. This is my take on how their relationship has evolved since the last episode. Hope you enjoy reading it. Also this is a break from all the usual scenes we've seen in Six Flying Dragons.

She clenches her fingers into a fist, rage and fear coalescing into adrenaline pushing her forward. Closer to him, ignoring the watchful eyes of the ministers. So close to him, as though there’s no desk exists between them. As though she could feel his breath on her nose again.

The ministers, they know their cues. A glare cutting them as they bow, sends them scattering. A common occurrence this is. Quite frankly, it matters little to her that they’re here to witness her and her husband.

She does not plea or beg. Not since her cries for leniency falls on deaf ears. No, she commands, summoning years of pain and resentment to hide that bubbling fear threatening to take hold of her legs. She is the Queen.

“Go ahead, depose me.”

It’s not a secret. Rumours fly faster than falcons in the palace walls. Her latest interference in the king’s affairs undermines his authority. The very word ‘depose’, his lips utter with conviction.

Taejong lazily retorts, “Don’t tempt me, wife.”

“What is there to stop you? You would get rid of a meddling wife. That state affairs would run smoothly.”

“I will make it real if you continue this behaviour,” he replies, barely sparing a glance. These days, their eyes no longer meet. No woman would want to stare at those soulless dead eyes, especially if they are her husband’s.  

“You know for all the bold risks you took and all that bloodshed you made, deposing a wife should be easy.”

Part of her wonders, if any of her words even strike a chord in that callous dead heart. Does her voice has any impact at all? Does he even see her for her or does he wishes that her face is the face he keeps close to his heart?

“Be careful with your words next, or you won’t be staying in a palace anymore.”

It’s that same bored look he tosses at her. The same one she sees for the past five years. The eyes that doesn’t acknowledge her beyond a mere annoyance. Is that what she is to him now? Annoyance? If it wasn’t so laughable, she’d cried.

But those tears all are dried up. What’s left is only her rising voice.

“The palace? I didn’t live in a palace for the first thirty years of my life. I won’t die from not living in a place,” she hisses sharply, her voice gaining traction, and no longer belongs to the calm and collected queen.

His head snaps to her direction. Is he finally giving her the attention she’d been starving of since her brothers died? Her lips split into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Tears, they’re streaming down her cheeks now. When was it she last cry openly in front of him? Five winters ago? Yes, it felt that long.

And here she thought, she had shed so many tears for the man who doesn’t blink twice at killing her brothers that it should dried up.

“In fact, it’s better to live outside than here. The very least, I won’t suffer like you any longer,” her hollow voice cracks, and she’s acutely aware it’s the voice of a lady seen too many griefs done by the same man - that it numbs her in the end.

“Wouldn’t you like that, too? Free of me. Take one of your many concubines to replace me,” rolls out from her lips, quieter now that she lost the energy to scream at him.

Bitter laugh erupts from her now sobbing chest, as she shakes her head, “And if you want, I would personally find one that looked like the one that got your heart as whole.”

He’s silent. Not another harsh word to remind her of her place. He’s so quick to remind her that she’s the queen he can always replace time and time again … why not now, for it comes natural to him to put her down as always?

Why is he so quiet? Is he not the Taejong who cuts down anyone who dares to touch his Joseon? Is he not the Taejong she hates with every inch of her soul?

Those eyes staring back at her. Unreadable. Empty. Those are her husband’s eyes. Are they not? Is that guilt flickering so brief in his eyes? Did his chin tremble ever so lightly? His jaw clenching so tightly he might bruise himself?

All those minute expressions, are they all in her head? Is she the one losing her mind?

There’s that expressionless mask again.

“Go back to your chambers, my queen. I won’t ask twice,” is all he says instead, turning his gaze to the walls.

She turns around to leave him, all things said has been spoken. Her footsteps echoing inside the empty chamber, and her shoulders lighter from this confrontation.

Maybe her ears are playing tricks on her, “Do not leave me, please stay,” comes after - so low, it might have been the wind breeze, as she reaches the door.

But Da-Gyeong knows her husband’s voice intimately. It may have been years since his voice moves in that tone. She still remembers it well. And she knows she didn’t imagine Yi Bang-Won’s unspoken plea.

That softness, she hates to admit, still sways her heart in unexplainable ways. And for tiniest fraction of a second, she considers staying for him.

And maybe she will.

Until death takes one of them to the grave.