Birth Right

I loved my Mother.

I laughed when she told me her many stories that took place somewhere in the sky. I sang sweet songs with her as we folded the never-ending pile of laundry. I cried harder than any raging storm while I watched her life leave her body, leaving behind nothing but a shell of lost memories.

I will always love my Mother for all the blessings she gave me.

But for this one moment, hatred burns through my body, and I read the words she could never tell me with her living voice, a secret that I am sure tore her apart with every waking moment.

The stars in my sky never shined bright until the day you came into my life. There isn’t enough silver in the world to show how much love you gave me. It is now my time to leave this life and unfortunately, leave you as well. I wish to not take the truth with me, but I also hope you will not look down upon yourself after reading the words. With you, I leave my dying wish, for you to live happy furthermore.

I wanted nothing more than to rip up the paper and burn it in the night fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to part with my Mother’s last words. Instead, I carried it inside my dress, close to my heart, to feel the last of her love.

The following days were hard to stand. I listen to the younger maids squeal as they dreamed while washing the floors just as they did, day and day before. Speaking of jeweled crowns and dresses covered in lace while wearing clothes of dust.

“I would take a dagger to heart just to be a princess! “

How real that dagger feels after I found out how close I was to be that princess. How that dagger twists and turns after learning that the Queen was my real Mother by blood. It could have been me wearing flowing dresses and eating large feasts, but instead, I get to clean their dirty scraps.

I was burdened with the curse of a broken body, one that couldn’t bear the miracle of a child. I heard the screams of our fair lady, her majesty going through her labor. Soon after I found you in the maids well, your face the most beautiful thing I‘ve ever seen. I took you and told others that you were my child.

Before, I wished there were more mirrors around this bloody castle, but now I never want to see my reflection again. My Mother would spend extra time with me when we cleaned the mirrors together, allowing us to gaze at each other while no one was watching. She would brush my hair with her fingers and whisper to me how beautiful I was. Tell me how my leg was a sign of how strong I really was.

Now I know better. I see the burden this deformed leg had brought me. It cost me a chance to be on top, dance along with heavenly music while princes watched and wished they could dance along with me. I want to live up to my Mother’s dying wish, but whenever I stare into the mirror’s, I see nothing but what could have been.

You were my blessing from the heavens; I could have never imagined having a better child. You are such a talented girl, learning how to read and write faster than any boy has. We may come from the corners of dust, but my dear child, I can see such a beautiful life ahead of you. 

My head flares up with different feelings each time I see the princess. Each time she summons me to brush her hair or tighten her dress. She is the second attempt, the perfect young girl to carry the crown. She and I are one of the same, sisters who shall never be family.

For quick moments while my hands are around her head, I feel the urge to tighten them and not let go until I can feel nothing more. Though I wish to do it, I would never go through with my sinful act. Every time the urge arises, so does the feeling of my Mother’s eyes and her desire for me to be lead by kindness. That is why I keep my silence and brush her hair while she sits, oblivious to the anger that fills my heart.

I was forced to listen to her mindless blabber once news of her wedding was released. Her voice was worse than the young maids, for her vision was not a dream, but what was going to be. A handsome prince from the west was coming to take her hand in marriage, the King’s way of replacing his throne as he becomes old and ill.

She spoke of sweet cakes and more jewels as I tightened her dress for the two young royals’ grand meeting. I knew deep down as the sister that she would never know that I should be happy. Tears of joys should be shed as I witness her walking down the aisle to meet her husband, a literal stranger whose name she can’t even pronounce.

I should feel something, but all there is in my heart is ice. I have no love for this sister of mine, the ungrateful brat with everything set on a silver plate. I simply stayed back and watched her become Queen, a queen that could have been me.

 I wish I could have given you the royal life of luxury that you deserved. I wanted nothing more than to be able to feed you their wonderful food and cloth you in outfits that had no holes. I am sorry I could not replace the life that you were born into. I hope that one day you can forgive me. It would be my greatest pleasure to see you once again and have you call me your Mother.

My heart began to feel different as the years went on. Both my blood parents passed in the night, their illness taking the last they had left in their fragile bodies. The new King and Queen left with no guidance on ruling a country of more than they can count.

I watched as they made terrible decisions, sending troops out to kill the people of our allies for the slightest reward. I saw the peasants starving out on the streets. All the food was hoarded in the castle for the royals and nobles to enjoy. I felt the hit along with my fellow servants as our portions started to ever shrink.

I listened as calls for help fell onto the deaf ears of the King and my sister, the most pathetic Queen she could be. For years I was jealous of the life I could have led that my sister held instead, how desperate I was to have my chance back to be that Royal child. Yes, for years, I felt that way, but not anymore.

How could I be jealous as I watch my sister get what she deserves? I watch with nothing more than a smile as her guards’ rebel and drag her and the King out to the streets, dirtying her elegant dress. I listen to her cries of help that fall upon the deaf ears of the subjects she betrayed. We all cheer as the rope is tightened against her throat. Now, as I watch her dangle and life leave her eyes, I can let go of all the anger that filled my heart before.

For now, I know deep inside me that when I see my Mother again, I will thank her for giving me a life better than any royal one.