Unexpectedly, even though my older brother had always been careful and patient, one day, he lost that patience. In the middle of the night, he sneaked into our father’s room, and assassinated him. He couldn’t get away in time, and was caught by none other than my mother. In the heat of the moment, my mother was the one in power. She was furious.
“I never knew you would do something like this,” she said to my brother.
It was probably because he was pretending so much, and so well, on a daily basis, that my mother was caught completely off guard by his action. She sent him on exile, and put me on the throne instead.
I paid my respects to the late king with the proper ceremonies, and soon after, a wave of celebrations would have to come. One of the first things I did was to make Rosalie my queen. Her mother was in tears in our wedding ceremony. Rosalie and I were happy as well, but we kept our tears inside. After all, our lives would be ninety percent public. As king and queen, our reputation affected too many things.
“Mother thought you would ditch me for the throne,” Rosalie said that night, wrapping her arms around me. “She is surprised.”
“Are you surprised?” I gave her a kiss on the forehead, holding her close to me, gently, still afraid that she would break at my touch. She was so small, so fragile, and so precious, like a diamond.
“I’m not,” she said. “I believe in you.”
“Thank you, Rosalie.”
Yet, even though my brother was in exile, he was undoubtedly still alive. He was alive, and I had no doubt that he still wanted the throne more than I did. This worry was buried deep in my heart, and there, it became a seed, growing every day. What kind of plant would it grow into?