Vanya

Call me king

"You were supposed to be king!" Ah. There it is. My beloved father never wanted a daughter, he wanted a successor, an heir, a king, never admitting his deep hatred to my fate until this very moment of weakness, raising me as a king and nothing but. He was given the ultimate curse of a queen, a queen who has to be married off, just so she could rule behind the scenes.

"I knew you would admit to it one day, and here we are, father. Why are you so upset over a system you and your ancestors thought was fitting? I, on the other hand, wouldn't mind the awful fate of hiding behind the idiot who is destined to marry me. You mustn't worry, father, because I am king." I confidently stated, in the stoic tone he taught me well, and i could see some of the worry disappearing from his features.

"yet who is deserving of you? I see none! Who would be fine with you taking control of everything? Who would think it is okay? Who would listen and look away? No man can resist the temptation of power! Of authority! And your name holds it all!" His voice cracked, pathetically so, revealing how weak minded and weak sighted and fragile he really was. I could never understand how a man this weak ruled for so long. But then again, all men are weak minded and could never see far into the future, how could they? with their upsetting egos and their inability to control their emotions, they are bound to be a walking mess. I truly resent them all for their blatant weaknesses.

"No man can resist the urge of wanting to be called king, but none of them care about the responsibilities that come with it, I doubt any one of them would be smart enough to work, they can have the crumbs of the so called glory, i've had my fair share of it, father." I make sure he understands what i meant, throwing him a disregarding look, and heading out of his depressing chambers.

"My queen, do you need an escort?" one of my guards asks, seeing as i was heading towards the back gardens, it was raining and i loved contemplating my existence under the sounds of rain drops falling from the soaked leaves.

"An escort to my own garden? what do you take me for? A helpless child? You would be needed more guarding your king." I said, firmly, watching the pure panic fall on his face as he quickly returns to his position by my father's doors. In moments like these, I become the head of all, the ruler they never expected or wanted, the one they learned to respect and fear, and I secretly love it.

"Yes, your majesty." There it is. Sometimes, men forget that a fearless woman means a fearless warrior, and a fearless warrior was unstoppable, and they needed a little glimpse of how ugly i can get once crossed or belittled, so they can get back in line.

I have struggled with men a lot growing up, from them thinking i was a pretty face and my father's biggest tragedy (which, I don't disagree on) to them constantly disregarding me and shamelessly looking down on me for being a woman who knows her sword, her horse and her battles. They never accepted the fact that i was the successor, that i, a mere woman, a creature -to them- who's far below them, was going to rule over them all. They are scared, and i knew exactly why.

I walk slowly around my garden, looking at the beautiful leaves that are hugged by the rain, alive and dancing gently with the loving breeze, i loved it a lot when it rained at night, because only then, i can take deep breaths and can exist at ease.

As i was heading out, i noticed him. I nearly threw up at the sight of his muscles flexing ever so slightly with every swing of his sword. What is this madness? And why, oh why... do i get so mad at the sight of him?

"My queen! I did not see you there, had I known you were watching me, I would've taken my sword away." His sword almost took my eye, and I didn't mind it. You don't see warriors who take their swords as seriously as Amadeus here, and i had nothing but respect for him.

"At ease, i know you did not, i got caught up watching you obsess over that poor sword."  I tried to tell him I liked what i was watching, that he is a great warrior, and that he knows his sword well, and how he has such great muscles that I could look at for all eternity, but a usual lump in my throat prevented such foolishness from my end.

He smiled at what i said, and that one dimple of his that crushes my lungs mercilessly was evident and beautiful and as hurtful as ever; i knew I won't be seeing such smile again, for a long, long time, yet i keep trying desperately to see it smudging his stone cold expressions and turning them into the warmest ones, to ease the itch and burn in my heart. To me, Amadeus was nothing but heartache and bereavement in a suit of flesh.

"You are too kind to me, your majesty. Your praise is an honor."

"Though you did call me your queen, which deeply disappointed me." I teased, knowing i put him in a difficult position, he will never call me king, for it is seen as disrespectful for some odd reason, and knowing he gets why I dislike the word queen so much, because the way everyone uses it is as condescending as calling me mere dirt or filth. What will it be this time, soldier?

"Forgive me. I call you how i see you, royalty."

Dogged this one well... shame. Now this conversation has to be over, and i have to turn my back on my heart and choke the lump out of my throat, again.

Damn you, you beautiful forbidden soldier.