Chains are three things.
Chains are heavy.
Chains are cold.
Chains are pain.
I felt both out of place and just right in the chains.
Me, with the silver dress, the glittering tiara, shining in the golden light of joy, with chains snaking up my arms and around my wrists, holding my wings down.
I guess it's fitting that the last thing that I saw was the two of them, the two people I loved most, together. She was sobbing into her hands, dignity forgotten, and when I looked at him, the figure of strength, the one who understands, the one who held me up, even he was broken, and the thing that tore my heart was watching their tears mingle on the floor as I was lead away into the Dark, never to return.
And in that moment, I wanted to cry too.
But I'm a queen.
And Queens don't cry.
YOU ARE READING
Dark
Short StoryIf you liked Queens Don't Cry, you should probably read Dark. No context stories from various times during Ezira's reign as queen show the dark side of the royal life in Zacononia, and tell a woeful tale of a girl who's forbidden to cry.
