What a great run that was. It was never a dull moment as the finalists battled it out one vote at a time. Did your favorite win?
No wonder it was so close. They’re all great entries. Every one I read I said, “that’s the one.” Until I read the next one. Ah, decisions.
The queen had power. She could order ones death or grant a pardon at the wave of a hand. Upward meant life, downward meant a sharp, searing pain to the neck and a coffin that was 12 inches shorter then it would normally needed to be.
She knew her power. She liked it. She had been raised with the understanding that one day her power would be absolute. She could be as kind or as ruthless as she wished to be. In her 21 years of life, she had been kind, granting pardons as they came to her. She couldn’t imagine becoming a tyrant.
Never had she imagined her hand would be forced like this.
When they brought her enemy to the throne room for trial, surprise filled the great hall as she started to laugh. For endless minutes the delirious laugh pierced castle walls. Of course it would be him. She was blind and stupid to think her lover would never betray her. The lesson of the day was one she would take with her to her grave. She let him stand there squirming for endless minutes as she laughed and laughed.
Finally, with tears in her eyes, from laughing or not no one could tell, she let her hand drop then sat and watched as his head did the same. Swift, final punishment. The tyrant unleashed.