DaughterofGondor
New member
The first installment, if I choose to continue this story. 
Will be very short. Please comment, it would be much appreciated.
Forward:
I lived in a palace, surronded by courtiers and jewels, knights and swords, power and wealth, but I was not a prince. My mother was a princess, the daughter of a king and queen, but I was not a prince. I studied ferverently, was loyal, even if I despised her, to my aunt, the queen, but was not a prince. It did not matter what I did, she would never accept me. The Queen of LaMaree, my aunt, Queen Helena.
I shall not say I hated her, but how strongly I felt against her couldn't have been anything but hate. She ignored her own sister, my mother, a princess, how could she see me? Her eyes were always glaring into others, forcing them to obey. She was not a good queen, not in the least.
Now, I must tell you why I say was and not is. She is no longer queen, as I am king. I did not murder her nor ask her murdered. The only fear of murder this story has to tell is of my own heart, my own paranoia.
This is my story, and I ask you hear it from me, and not others who will twist it.
Will be very short. Please comment, it would be much appreciated.Forward:
I lived in a palace, surronded by courtiers and jewels, knights and swords, power and wealth, but I was not a prince. My mother was a princess, the daughter of a king and queen, but I was not a prince. I studied ferverently, was loyal, even if I despised her, to my aunt, the queen, but was not a prince. It did not matter what I did, she would never accept me. The Queen of LaMaree, my aunt, Queen Helena.
I shall not say I hated her, but how strongly I felt against her couldn't have been anything but hate. She ignored her own sister, my mother, a princess, how could she see me? Her eyes were always glaring into others, forcing them to obey. She was not a good queen, not in the least.
Now, I must tell you why I say was and not is. She is no longer queen, as I am king. I did not murder her nor ask her murdered. The only fear of murder this story has to tell is of my own heart, my own paranoia.
This is my story, and I ask you hear it from me, and not others who will twist it.
