“I Never Asked To Be Queen”

I never asked to be Queen.

Come to think of it, that’s probably why the role fell to me. Everyone else who wanted to rule killed each other trying to get the crown. I just stood back and watched.

Afterward, when the ground was littered with bodies, I had stepped forward to pick up the crown so that it didn’t become stained with blood.

In that instant, the crown claimed me. It sprang from my fingers and affixed itself to my head. I tried to pry it off, but it was no use; it refused to budge.

When the people—my people—emerged from their houses after the Great War, they immediately fell to their knees. Not at the sight of me, but at the sight of the crown, who had finally chosen its bearer.