Stuff

The Crown

She looked outside the balcony of a palace. Her palace. Her mansion. But yet, it didn't feel like hers. She had the crown, with her Prince Charming saving her from the dreaded evil dragon, she managed to return to her own castle, only to find her mother and father had passed away Murdered by the peasants who demanded for "freedom". From what? What type of "freedom"? She did not know.

Did she want the crown? One would think so. But when she was in her isolated tower with only the dragon for company, she still had a feeling of contentment, grateful she was still alive. She didn't need to be rescued. The dragon, despite the tales of the townsfolk, was in reality kind to her, giving her food, giving her warmth. She may have not been able to leave the tower, but she was happy there. And the prince took that away and glorified himself.

She sighed as she once again observed her surroundings. In the setting sun, the village she looked after seemed heavenly. But she knew deep down, there were people in distress, in fear. In pain because of the oppressive hierarchy. But according to her father, people ruled over others, because people without a leader would be like sheep without a shepherd.

Her family had problems too. Her sister was once taken captive by an evil witch, who threatened to take over the kingdom. A handsome man, claiming to be a prince from a distant land decides to be her sister's hero. This man was absolutely charming in that way, but he was also very proud, boastful, and conceited. Her sister refused to marry the prince when he proposed to her. The next day, her sister was in an eternal slumber, never to rise up again.

Death was common, life was rare. The kingdom she looked after would never have peace as long as royals were here. But is it the royals fault? Or is it the people's? For the people had been the ones to kill her parents. The ones who demanded what they did not need. Freedom, bah! They needed peace, but getting peace through means of violence wasn't wise.

She had another glance at the empire that was technically hers. But it didn't feel right. The people weren't given a chance to show what they were made of. They were seen as lowlifes and were abused by being treated as slaves.

This mislabeling injustice is what she vowed to fix when she had first taken the responsibility of the empire. Leadership was important, to fix the mistakes of her ancestors, to repair the fractured relationships. But the fate of her parents seemed to tell her that no matter what she did, she would never be accepted.

She heard marching in the distance. Was she imagining things, or were her people marching towards the palace? No, her mind was not playing tricks. Rebels were coming to her palace, to overthrow her, to ruin her. A protest against monarchy. A sudden pang hit her heart. This would spark up a war, and as the monarch she would be required to lead. To show everyone that she was capable. To prove to everyone that she was fit for her position. But as she contemplated this, she ran her fingers across the jewels of the royal symbol on her head.

Was the crown truly worth it?