The Town is Yours. Is All Mine.
King Rowan sat on the throne with his preteen daughter on his right thigh making her jump up and down by bouncing his leg.
The unaware nine-year-old enjoyed the quality time with her father, while he presented his ideas to her. The young Princess thinking it’s only a game they play. Little did she know, the King planned to attack innocents so she could have land and people to rule over once the right time came and she was mature enough.
“The town is yours.” The King’s tone was hushed as if sharing a secret with his young daughter and he feared that even the walls of the throne room had ears.
“The town is mine,” young Phillipa repeated back, all giggly and giddy.
“So take it all,” he continued.
“So take it all.”
“It’s worth fighting for.” The King leaned in to brush his nose with the child, making her giggle even more and squirm on his leg.
“It’s all mine!” Phillipa giggled, spreading her arms above her head in entertainment.
“It’s all yours,” Rowan agreed.
7 years have passed. Young Phillipa grew into her beauty and into her duties. As she sat on her father’s throne. The royal apple in the right hand and the scepter in the left hand. In her practice coronation dress, her father’s ermine cloak around her shoulders, overwhelming her small frame and despite the fur, too heavy to bear on her shoulders as the burden she started to notice within her father’s words.
“The town is yours.” The King tapped his chin with the back of his hand, giving Phillipa a stern look.
“The town is mine,” Phillipa repeated, lifting her chin and straightening her back. Obeying her father’s silent command.
“So take it all.” Rowan continued, tapping his various body parts, giving Phillipa silent commands to sit and behave properly.
“So take it all.” Phillipa watched her father pace the throne room.
“It’s worth fighting for.”
“It’s all mine.” Phillipa’s tone was steady as she turned her head to stare ahead.
“It’s all yours.” Rowan nodded.
12 years and a few weeks after her 21st birthday, it all came down on her. What it all meant, what it all meant for her.
As she picked up the crown her fleeting father left behind, sitting it on her head, her father’s mantra echoed in her head.
‘The town is yours, so take it all, it’s worth fighting for.’
Phillipa slowly stepped onto the balcony, where all of the townspeople - Tchuvomans, Jovirkans, Arpahans; and even Tovicans, who were glaring at her as if she was the carbon copy of the King’s actions, stood in the courtyard.
“So take it all, it’s worth fighting for,” Phillipa whispered to herself, raising her sword above her head.
“The town is yours, it’s all yours,” Phillipa said to herself a bit louder this time, declaring herself the new Queen.
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