ARYA

³⁰ [ 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗤𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻 ]

[ 𝗔𝘂𝗴𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝟯, 𝟮𝟭𝟬𝟰 ]

          My sixteen-year-old great-granddaughter, the caramel-colored beauty that my family also knows as Arya, sat closest to my bedside. One day, this little girl will be known to the world as Arya The Second. Little Arya held my frail left hand in her own, as she had just finished hearing me tell my life's story through the help of my eight-decade-old diary and a few family members. Alongside her, other grand and great-grandkids of mine were present. Everybody sat around my bedside, in the same bedroom that was introduced to me eighty-one years ago by my late husband upon my arrival to Doe Castle, back when he was just my assistant. I would have never imagined the conflict and beautiful resolutions that would go down in this room over the next several decades. I would have never imagined that any of this would become of me.

         Even after becoming the longest-ruling monarch in world history, the idea of being Queen still feels unbelievably surreal. That nineteen-year-old girl that sat in her father's living room, being told that her life would never be the same, is still deep inside of me somewhere. Moments like that, you never forget, no matter how old and withered you become. Even as I lay here, surrounded by family and with news outlets right outside of our castle, crudely waiting to be the first to report my passing, I can still remember the most prominent moments of my reign. I remember the deaths that hurt me the most: my father leaving me all alone, not getting to say a proper goodbye to Madam, my son, the heir, dying all in such a bitter way, my mother dying right before my ruby jubilee, Tyler suffering a stroke and quickly passing away not too long after, my brother leaving cryptic notes behind. One would think I was cursed.

         But actually, I was given the grace of a long and fruitful life and for that, I am blessed. Death is, unfortunately, inevitable. When you have lived as long as I have, you are forced to lose the people you love. I am one hundred and though seeing one hundred and one years would be an honor, I know it isn't likely. I am declining in health, having been on all sorts of medications to keep me alive in the last year. I am tired of fighting a thing as natural as death. I have lived a God-fearing life and have lived in ways that knew no bounds. I know that even though I had regrets and was not always perfect, I have done my civil duties as Queen and will be in a good place when I die. I will be able to see my family again, the thought of that makes me want to cry. Sure, I'll be leaving one family, the family I made. But I will be seeing the ones that made me.

       My father, oh, my father, I haven't seen him in eighty-one years. I haven't seen Madam in fifty-six. I haven't seen my mother in forty-one. I haven't seen my son in forty-seven. I assume my brother is up there with the rest too, I hope God showed his mercy on Armani. But you know who I miss the most? Who do I want to embrace first thing as I walk through the gates? My adoring, fearless husband. The man who loved me till his last breath. My body, soul, and mind have ached for Tyler for the last three decades. Looking back, I truly do not know how I did it.