The Princess

Chapter four- The crown is mine

A thousand thoughts swirled like a storm in my mind, but I bit my tongue and waited—waited for the right moment. My uncle lifted his fork with calculated grace, savoring his pasta as if he dined in the halls of gods, not the ruins of his decaying pride.

I watched him. Watched him destroy my appetite with every exaggerated chew and primly wiped lip. The irony stung—his table manners were a theatrical tragedy, and yet, he fancied himself noble. Sometimes I wonder how we share blood. My father never snarled like a beast or drooled ambition like a hound with rabies. This man... disgusted me.

And yet, it was time.

“Uncle,” I began, my voice steel wrapped in silk. “I am ready to take the crown.”

He froze. His eyes widened—comically, beautifully—as if my words struck thunder into his soul. I danced a quiet waltz of victory in my mind. Did he truly believe his roars and rage could scare me into hiding? What a shame.

“You can’t be queen... oh no, you’re just a child!” he hissed, the words scraping out of his throat like rusted daggers.

“A child?” I echoed, my chin lifting. “No. I am not just a child. I am a royal child. I carry the blood of kings and queens in my veins. I do not eat crumbs—I feed the world.”

And in that moment, something shifted. His composure cracked like shattered porcelain. Rage, envy, hunger—those ancient sins shimmered in his eyes, painting them with a fire that threatened to devour reason. I could see it—feel it—his hatred, thick and suffocating. The flare of his nostrils nearly made me laugh. Could there be a more grotesque creature than the man who calls himself my kin?

“You will do no such thing!” he spat. “I am your King and I will not bow to you!”

I met his glare with fire of my own. “Watch your tongue, Alphonso. If I were you... I would tread carefully.”

Our stares clashed, thunderous and electric, a silent war of wills. He faltered. His eyes twitched, fidgeted. And I knew. I knew I had already won the first battle.

“Eat,” I said coldly. “I’ll send word to the Elders.”

I rose with all the grace I could summon, spine straight, chin high—my heartbeat loud in my ears as I turned away. The breakfast was forgotten. The taste of war now sat heavy on my tongue. My fingers trembled with the weight of what I’d just done.

Was I ready?

Ready to wear the crown... or to burn under it?