Work Text:
When I was ten years old, I saw my father executed in front of the entire kingdom.
It didn’t matter that he was royalty. It didn’t matter his status, his bloodline, how much fame and wealth he had. He was brandished as a traitor to the kingdom, to the people, to the public interest. And despite everything he did for the kingdom - the one that he worked every bone in his body to provide for - that wasn’t enough to save him. His life ended in an instant.
For nearly half of my life, I wondered why he was killed. I assumed it was just for power, so my uncle could take over as king.
I was right in one sense, but wrong in another.
And when I found out the truth? I wanted to drown myself in the river of the crushing weight it brought to my heart.
The ladies in waiting and butlers kept it a secret for years. They didn’t want me to know the truth. They saw my rage. The way I trained for ages in an effort to get stronger, to shake the power structure, just out of revenge. They probably assumed that if they found out what led to my father’s death, then Claudius would be done for. If I failed, if he found out about the plot his own niece had against him, then they’d be executed just like poor King Amlet. And even that chance wasn’t worth dying for.
Of course they wouldn’t tell the truth. Self-preservation was more important than exposing the darkness of the world.
After I left the Infinite Land and came back to life, after Claudius had been disposed of and I became queen, the first thing I did was ask the ladies in waiting for the truth. What exactly happened to my father? Why was he so dangerous that Claudius had to let his own brother’s blood spill on the floor?
When I asked that question, each lady’s jaws dropped to the floor. Their glasses broke. One nearly fainted.
“Queen Scarlet, do you really have to know?”, one timid lady asked.
With more resolve in my pinky than Claudius ever had in his entire soul, I nodded. “Tell me everything.”
There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Nervous looks shifted throughout the room. I could tell no one wanted to obey. That they feared that the truth could break me.
But after years of gnawing sorrow, finding out the truth would only strengthen my resolve for a better world.
I gave the lady a determined glare. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
The lady sighed, almost like the truth was a weight bearing on her soul, crushing it to bits. “There’s … a letter.”
Clearly worried, she excused herself from the room without elaborating, heading to the nearby closet. I sat down in silence, before she returned, letter in hand.
“They told us to burn this letter. It’s a miracle I still have it.”
I took the musty unmarked envelope, dusting it off and tearing away the seal. The paper was filled with small ink, worn out from years of sitting idly, hidden in an abyss where no one would ever look at it. But now, I would read the words my uncle had tried to hide away from the people. The words that killed my father.
Dearest Brother,
I write to you today to express my grievances with your plans for the Danish Army. Earlier yesterday, you advised me to deploy thousands of our men in areas across Europe, in lands as vast as Spain, France and Germany. You even invoked the idea of sending soldiers across the seas, to territories we do not know much about, in order to expand our empire further and bring in a ‘great economic expansion’.
I am aware of your vast business interests overseas. I am aware that you, as Foreign Minister, have had meetings with trade companies based in France and Spain, as well as our domestic weaponssmith groups. I am aware you have financial interests in these facilities and groups, and I am aware you believe that this is for the general interest of the public. I believe you want to create jobs, to spread Danish influence across the globe. But have you ever considered that your aims are wrong?
Spain, France, Germany, the Americas, and every land in between doesn’t need you to step in and disrupt their way of life. They don’t need you to spread excellence or expand our economy. In fact, I am concerned that your aims are for your own greedy ways. For you to profit off of starting wars that, considering our strength, will be impossible to end.
I thoroughly reject this aim. Please inform your trade partners that Denmark will have nothing to do with this imperial plan.
Signed,
King Amlet
A deep shiver consumed my body as I read my father’s words, knowing their implications. My eyes couldn’t help but water, rage I hadn’t felt in a while seeping back in.
This was the truth that Claudius wanted to keep hidden from me. It wasn’t a petty grievance or a personal dispute or a mistake that my father made that caused his untimely demise.
No. It was because Claudius wanted to start wars. Across the globe. And my father was the only person who had the guts to say no.
My fists simmered as I set the paper down, giving the ladies a concerned look. The lady who gave me the letter looked at the floor, timid. “I’m sorry… it’s not the news you wanted to hear…”
Part of me wanted to run in my room. Cry for the rest of the day, let the crushing waves of the words sink in. How my father died because he was an obstacle for profit. How Claudius exploited it to take power, how his death led to more bodies scattered across the vast grass fields of the Earth. It was enough to make me feel sick inside, knowing that there was a poison in the minds and souls of our world’s leaders that led them to kill their own brothers for more cash.
But I couldn’t do that. That would be a betrayal to my father, the people who died in these wars, every living breathing person on Earth. A betrayal to Hijiri, the man who showed me that there was more to life than wallowing in grief. And to the Kingdom, who starved while Claudius created an empire off of their backs.
The Kingdom had to change. And I had the power to change the world. Power that my uncle killed for.
Why not light the spark that would commence a world-healing ripple?
The lady finally regained her composure. “Queen, do you want a drink? Some entertainment? A walk outside?”
I stood up from my seat, slamming my hand on the table and defiantly shaking my head.
“We need to act.”