Chapter 2: Death of a King

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My father, the king, is dead.

It's been one week since he died. He died right before my eyes. I sit in my bed with the silk covers wrapped around me, soaked with my tears. Tears have fallen like waterfalls from my eyes until the water ran dry. Now I feel empty. Every time I tried to sleep, pictures of my dead father run through my mind. He was the last of my blood. The first rays of sunlight burn through the glass window. A loud knock on my door sounds. My mother's voice floats into the room. 

"Sweetheart? Can I come in?" 

I remain silent, I haven't got out of my bed for the entire week. She turns the door knob and opens the door. She gasps when she sees me. I'm not sure what shocked her more, the state of my face, my hair, or the fact that I haven't moved for a week. She rushes over to me and pulls the covers off. 

"What are you doing? Yes, your father died. I get that you're upset, I'm upset too. But we knew he was going to die, it's not like we should be surprised. Look, darling. I know this is hard for you, but you can't let it ruin your life!" 

I numbly stare out the window. "You don't get it, you don't feel what I'm feeling. You never cared about him, you only married him because you knew he would one day rule."

 She gasps. "How dare you talk to your mother like that?! Maids, get in here!" 

A small group of about five maids comes scuttling into the room.

"Get her ready. Call the seamstresses, the footmen, and all the guests! I want the people to see their dazzling future queen!" 















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