Little girls dream of princesses,
I dream of bloody queens.
Queens such as Anne Boleyn,
beheaded on the Tower Green.
Mary, Queen of Scots,
beheaded by Anne’s daughter,
Marie Antoinette of France,
taken like a lamb to slaughter.
Then there’s Katherine Howard,
another Tudor wife.
She entered Henry’s marriage bed
and paid with her life.
I dream of queens tragically bloodied
and queens who bloodied others.
Queens like Bloody Mary,
who loved to play with fires.
Empress Anna Ivanovna,
colder than Russian winter.
Her acts of cruelty could make
the very summer shiver.
So many queens,
echoing screams through history.
So few understood,
so many a mystery.
Their hands reach out,
voices screaming disembodied,
haunting my nightmares,
shivers running through my body.
Fingers outstretched,
stained red as wine.
Pale cold faces appear,
dead eyes staring into mine.
Some scream for mercy,
mercy they never got.
Others laugh cruelly
for sins the world never forgot.
Hands grasp onto me
to drag me to Hell’s depths,
blood smearing over face & body,
smothering my breath.
That’s when I awake,
skin slick with sweat.
I look out through the window
where the sun had previously set.
In my ivory tower,
I breath a relieved sigh.
Sure that I am safe
I look upon a moonlit sky.
Tomorrow I will be crowned
and the hour is getting late.
I must get some rest
or I’ll be in a sorry state.
I refuse to lose sleep
over history’s ghosts.
Theirs will not be my fate.
I will be adored by hosts.
I have no need to be cruel,
no reason to be afraid.
My position is secure.
For this I was made.
I go to return to rest
when something catches my eye.
I look out on the courtyard
and can’t believe the sight.
A ring of ghostly women,
translucent, cold, and pale,
robed in crowns and ermine
with eyes that burn like Hell.
They surround a scaffold,
a sight that makes me gasp.
For there in the center
lays a bloody axe.
The women look to me
and point with bloody fingers.
I want to turn away
but my gaze still lingers.
Then they vanish into the dark,
and a voice speaks in my head.
“Dear sister, you’ll be one of us,
heed the words of the dead.
A woman with power
is something men hate.
Open your eyes to wisdom,
you can’t escape your fate.
There’s so much you don’t know
going on behind the scenes.
Friend and foe will use you.
Become a bloody queen!”
For a second time I truly wake.
I am left alone.
I lay there in my bed,
Trembling with fear & cold.
I can’t go back to sleep,
mind racing with the queens’ warning.
Minutes grow into passing hours.
Finally it is morning.
The day I had waited for
was finally really here.
I shake my head of thoughts
that fill my soul with fear.
Rubbing my eyes,
I leave the safety of my bed.
This exciting day of joy
now fills me utter dread.
But no, I won’t give in!
The queens don’t know me!
I refuse to be a pawn!
Just they wait and see!
Determined to not be used,
I’m readied for the day.
In elegant splendor,
to the carriage I make my way.
The day is filled with all the pomp
and ceremony the kingdom could muster.
With the grace expected of me,
I avoid all disaster.
My moment of triumph comes.
I kneel in a resplendent gown.
The bishop comes forward,
bearing the golden crown.
I can’t help but smile,
as it’s put in its royal place.
I make my way to the throne,
with queenly poise & grace.
“Long live the Queen!”
The crowd all cheers.
Shouts of adulation
ringing in my ears.
That’s when I see them.
Phantoms dressed like me.
The bloody queens are haunting,
ghosts only I can see.
I stare at the women,
standing amidst the crowd.
All their lips are moving,
but the hoards are too loud.
But I choose to ignore them.
I whisper, “You have no power.
I will be beloved by all.
Be gone this very hour.”
Pasting a smile upon my face,
I take the arm of my escort,
who guides me to the carriage
that will take me to my court.
I wave to the masses of people
crowding along the street.
Suddenly I see a queen
in the other carriage seat.
Her lips begin to move
but I will not let her speak.
“I will not listen
for I am not weak.
I do not need your guidance
for as queen I am strong.
I will not sully my hands.
I will prove you wrong.”
Expecting a rebuke,
much to my surprise,
the wraithly queen smiles,
a devilish gleam in her eyes.
With a respectful nod,
she vanishes away.
No spirits bother me
for the remainder of the day.
But for years to come,
they loom over my reign.
Visiting me day & night
to tell me of all pain.
At least that’s what I assume,
for I never let them speak.
What good are specters’ words?
What havoc would they wreak?
But a few words I heed,
I refuse to be used.
I secure all power,
determined not to lose.
I trust in no one’s wisdom
except for my own.
I take no husband or lover.
I refuse to share my throne.
I never can be too careful,
I won’t let anyone close.
Yet I’m never lonely,
being surrounded by ghosts.
One day I hear whispers,
not of ghosts but men.
Treasonous words they utter
of how my reign will end.
“They say the Queen is going mad,
she sees the dead everywhere.
She’ll send the nation into chaos,
talking to thin air.”
Servants gossip too much,
how else would courtiers know?
I must nip it in the bud
or the rumor would surely grow.
I assemble my court
and prepare to address them all,
when I notice her
against the farthest wall.
A spectral queen so terrifying,
unlike any seen before.
Her head a grinning skull,
her crown of blazing fire.
Tears of blood stain her cheeks,
dripping like melted wax,
in her arms a severed head,
face hidden by a mask.
The wraith glides towards me,
I’m paralyzed with wicked fear.
I scream at the queen,
“Why now?! Why torment me here?!”
The demon smiles a horrid grin,
and removes the mask from its place.
My scream rings through the court.
The head has my face.
“Why?! Why are you here?!”
I exclaim with a shriek.
“Why would you hold my head?!
I tell you I’m not weak!
Why do you queens torment me?!
What would you have me do?!
Who are you really?!
What hell hath spawned you?!”
With my ranting and raving
I almost fail to see
the frightened faces of the court
all staring at me.
I tremble in my throne
as the apparition draws quite near.
She speaks in a whisper
so low I can hardly hear.
Before I can make out the words
my lady-in-waiting comes to me.
With a face confused & upset
she drops into a low curtsy.
“My Grace, shall I call a physician?
You seem taken quite ill.
Shall I take you to your chambers?
To rest until you’re well?”
I see the demon vanish at her approach
making me oh, so furious.
How could the dolt no see?
Was she really that oblivious?
“What have you done, you wretch?
You made her disappear.
I’ll have your tongue for this,”
I reply loud, cold, and clear.
“Guards take her away.
To the rest let it be known,
I’ll have the tongue of any
who speak of madness on the throne.”
With that proclamation
I sweep out of the room.
Furious at my lady,
Unknowing I might’ve sealed my doom.
From this day forward
nothing will be the same.
Spirits won’t leave me be,
but I refuse to play their game.
True to my word,
I take the voice of every man,
servant or lordship,
who dares defy my ban.
But my efforts are futile
for news of my courtroom scene
make it to the masses.
I’m called the Mad Queen.
When I toured my kingdom
peasants use to flock and cheer.
Now they stare and whisper.
Love has turned to fear.
Everyone talks behind my back
that visions visit nightly.
As they lose all faith in me
I grip my power tightly.
I see them everywhere,
ghosts and people judging.
Though they want me stepping down,
from my throne I won’t be budging.
Unrest flourishes in the kingdom,
threatening my rule.
I put down all defiance.
I will not be taken a fool.
Still the people murmur,
still the spirits mumble.
Still I carry on
as my position crumbles.
Then comes the morning
before I’m fully dressed.
I hear commotion outside my door,
someone dares disturb my rest.
Forcing the door open,
In comes guards and advisors.
Seeing me in my nightdress,
they beg pardon for the hour.
“Dear Queen,” an advisor starts,
I quickly put up my hand.
“I want to know the meaning of this.
Your answers I demand!”
The leader steps forward,
either stupid or brave,
beginning to insult me,
not even bowing, the knave!
“Your highness,” he begins,
“We know you’re not well.
Whether you’re mad or sane,
we simply cannot tell.
We think it prudent to rest
starting this very hour.
We suggest you stay here,
no need to leave your tower.
And in your absence
we’ll tend to all affairs.
Matters very urgent,
such as naming heirs.”
“Heirs? Rest?” I laugh,
“That’s putting it nicely.
This is an attempted coup!
You think to depose me!”
“Call it what you will,
but matters stand as thus.
As long as you speak to air,
you can’t be ruling us.”
Shocked I sputter out,
“Then it is treason!
I will show you I am queen.
Guards seize them!”
Not one moves to action
and now I see the truth.
I have no power.
I will be removed.
I am truly alone.
I never bothered making friends.
No one loyal to help me.
I know how this ends.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth,
“I’ll make no fuss or scene.
I’ll even share my power
as long as I stay queen.
I’ll do my duty
and preserve the monarchy.
Choose a husband, produce a son,
prevent all anarchy.
Tell me what to do,
give me your demands.
I’ll do whatever it takes.
I’ll even dirty my hands.”
The lead advisor clears his throat,
and looks amused at me.
“We’ll consider your words.
We’ll weigh them carefully.
In the meantime,
stay in this tower.
We’ll send up your ladies,
and be back within hours.”
With that they leave,
posting guards at the door.
A servant brings me breakfast,
but I hunger no more.
My ladies enter in,
I bid them bring my finest dress.
I may be imprisoned,
but I’ll look my queenly best.
They help me dress then depart
leaving me quite alone.
Sure that no one can hear me,
I let out a sobbing moan.
I turn to my mirror
and jump in surprise.
Inside the glass I see
a pair of gleaming eyes.
A woman bathed in crimson,
glowing with ghostly sheen,
seeming to bleed from every pore,
the bloodiest queen I’ve ever seen.
She gazes from the mirror,
a steely stare unyielding.
For hours she watches me,
the tension always building.
I try to ignore her
as I pace to hear my fate.
But hours seem to stretch,
giving me time to contemplate.
I try to keep occupied,
I try to dismiss the mirror.
I sit down to pen and parchment.
I begin to write with great vigor.
I write of my reign,
I write of my dreams,
I write of all my life
haunted by bloody queens.
I write with fevered speed
until the sunlight grows dim.
I hear a knock at my door.
I bid them enter in.
A guard enters the chamber
looking rather grim.
He bows respectfully
asking me to come with him.
“This is it,” I think.
“They took time to deliberate.
Now I’ll see if I’ll stay queen
or endure a harsher fate.”
The guard escorts me out,
walking past the mirror.
The bloody queen smiles at me,
her eyes seem to glimmer.
I’m led to the council chamber.
and stand before them all.
I look upon all the faces
too eager to see me fall.
“Your Grace,” the leader starts
looking far too smug to me.
“We’ve drawn up our demands
to which I’m sure you’ll agree.”
He continues to drone on,
but I don’t seem to hear.
For behind each man
a bloody queen appears.
All the queens I’ve learned about
seem ready to attack.
Each with hands like claws
ready to plunge into men’s backs.
“No!” I scream,
my eyes wide with fear.
“Run, run away!
The bloody queens are here!”
“Your Grace?” the leader asks
but suddenly he stops.
Yelling, he grabs his chest,
from his place he drops.
The Skull Queen appears
behind where the man stood.
In her hand the man’s heart,
stopped from beating for good.
The advisors leap from their seats
but it is far too late.
Though they finally see the queens
they all meet the same fate.
Shocked by the gruesome sight
I flee from the room.
Now certain the queens are demons,
I must escape my doom.
The queens chase after me
calling, screaming, wailing.
I fly up flights of stairs,
my strength and courage failing.
My breath comes in heaving gasps.
My heart pounds in my ears.
Knowing I cannot stop,
I run with streaming tears.
Through galleries & battlements I run,
pursued by every queen.
My lungs feel about to burst
when I make it to the castle green.
Seeing the wraiths close behind,
I make towards the river.
I stop at the water’s edge.
I can go no further.
I spin to face them
bracing to meet my death.
Certain it will be my last,
I gasp and hold my breath.
Yet nothing happens.
No one tears me limb from limb.
They stop just feet away,
faces looking grim.
Two step forward,
queens I recognize.
The one bathed in crimson red,
the skull with weeping eyes.
“Demons!” I scream.
“What are you going to do?!
What is your purpose her?!
Have you come to kill me, too?!”
“No,” comes a soft voice,
Surprisingly gentle and kind.
I search for the source.
It’s the blood-soaked queen I find.
“We’re not here to kill you,
or at least I am not.
I’m the Queen of those who suffered at other’s hands.
Mercy they never got.”
She gestures to the other queen,
the skull weeping blood.
“This is my sister queen,
one to be frightened of.
She is Queen of those whose hands are scarlet
from sins they committed.
No follower of her path
to Heaven will be admitted.”
“Is she here to kill me?” I ask.
“Why did she kill those men?
If you’re not going to kill me,
why torment me then?”
The Skull Queen says nothing,
her tragic sister sighs.
“My sister wants you for herself,
she sees every soul a prize.
Every wicked queen is for her to keep,
to make her slave.
Every tragic queen comes to me,
their soul is mine to save.
She thought through fear she’d make you mad,
through madness make you cruel.
If everything went according to plan,
you’d be hers to rule.
But you tried to defy her,
so she revealed herself to you.
And when you took that girl’s tongue
there was little hope, too.”
“Then I am lost,” I moan,
but the Crimson Queen holds up her hand.
“My sister has not yet won.
Let me help you understand.
Yes, you would’ve been my sister’s
if it wasn’t for those men.
Their plan was to use you
then give you a bloody end.
My sister would not have it,
to see you go to me.
To make you truly mad,
she killed those men with glee.”
“But I’m not insane.
Neither am I truly free.
Now those men are dead,
my deeds have still damned me.”
I fall to my knees in despair.
“What is the point of listening to you.
There is little hope for me.
What am I to do?”
“Listen to me,
you’re not yet truly lost.
My sister may be merciless,
but I am not.
You have paths before you.
One leads to doom.
Another leads to salvation.
It’s up to you to choose.
You can wipe out the red in the ledger.
Attempt to right every wrong.
Be forewarned though,
that path is hard and long.”
“Or,” a new voice says,
the frightening soul finally speaks up.
“You can follow my path.
It’s not so bad for the corrupt.
You’ll be awash in power,
do whatever you desire.
It is an easy path.
My sister is a liar.”
She continues on, grinning,
her voice chilling me to the bone.
“I’m trying to spare you a tragic fate,
dark or worse than any known.
Dare you trust my sister?
Her merciful kindness is fake.
Would you believe her honeyed words?
Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
I gaze upon the sisters,
both terrifying to behold.
One’s voice warmer than blood,
the other’s dripping ice cold.
I ponder upon their words.
Who do I believe?
Both queens have haunted me,
causing me to grieve.
I know what I want to choose,
what path I want to take.
But first, I must ask a question
before the decision I make.
“If I make a choice,
will you leave me be?
When I choose a path
will ghosts stop tormenting me?”
The Crimson Queen sighs.
“It depends on what you do.
If you don’t choose her path,
my sister won’t stop haunting you.”
The Skull Queen’s smile widens.
“Dear sister, you’re such a liar.
If she chooses me
you’ll haunt her every hour.”
“So you mean to tell me
no matter what I do,
no matter the path I take,
there’s no escaping you?”
The Queen of Tragedy says nothing.
The Queen of Cruelty smiles wide.
Their silence speaks volumes.
I take it as a sign.
“No,” I moan from the depths of my soul.
I plead from my knees.
“I can’t take it anymore.
I beg of you, please”
“There is another way,”
the cruel queen purrs.
“One my sister failed to say.
It makes you one of hers.”
I turn to the bloody queen,
feeling quite confused.
Her expression is sorrowful.
Her cruel sister seems amused.
“Yes, there is another path,
one you can’t walk back.
To set yourself free of this life,
you must walk into darkness black.
You cannot waver
if you wish to leave this mortal coil.
You must end your life,
and be buried under soil.”
“Suicide?” I whisper shocked.
I look at the river behind me.
“Is this my only hope of escaping
the queens who show no mercy?”
I rise up from my knees
and make towards the water.
I feel myself trembling
trying not to falter.
I reach the water’s edge
prepared to jump and drown,
when I see the reflection
of me wearing a crown.
“No, I’m not a coward,”
I whisper much to my surprise.
“What?” the Crimson Queen asks.
I turn to look her in the eyes.
“No,” I say more loudly.
“This is not how I’ll die.
If you say this is my only hope,
then your grace doth lie.
I am no coward!
I am a queen!
I’m not weak I say!
I’m the strongest ever seen!”
“So you choose my path,”
the Skull Queen cackles.
“You fool!” cries the Crimson Queen.
“You’ll end up in her shackles!”
“No, I belong to no one!
I will clear my sins!
I choose my own path,
where neither of you wins!”
At that the queens both scream
and begin to transform.
They seem to melt into each other
frightening me to my core.
A new demon queen stands before me,
shrieking to the skies.
She has a crimson skull,
dark smoke weeping from hate-filled eyes.
Blood drips from everywhere,
Including her gnashing fanged teeth.
She has fiery claws and flaming hair,
a daggered crown like an iron wreath.
She turns my way,
Her eyes piercing as thorns.
She speaks to me,
voice dripping with scorn.
“You should have listened to us,
followed us willingly!
Instead you defy us, wretch!
You’ll regret it undoubtedly!
I’ll chill the marrow in your bones,
as I give you a watery death!
You’ll find no mercy now
as you gasp your final breath!”
She lunges at me with claws outstretched.
I leap backwards, a fatal mistake.
Into the rushing river I go,
unable to escape my fate.
The next day the servants find my body,
resting on the riverbank, blue and cold.
Wondering what befell their queen.
Oh, the story I could have told.
They tell stories of the expression
found on my queenly face.
Some say it was wild with terror.
Others say it was serene in death’s embrace.
They also make up stories
about the gruesome council chamber scene.
Some say it was murderous beasts.
Others say it was assassins of the queen.
Many fear without an heir
the kingdom will fall into disarray.
War for my throne will erupt
unless they find another way.
As for me I do not care
who becomes the kingdom’s head.
I am now beyond those cares.
Who worries when they’re dead?
Now I’m in a limbo,
too wicked for Heaven and too good for Hell.
I’ll forever haunt this plane,
on earth I’ll forever dwell.
But I do not despair,
I keep my queenly pride.
For I belong to no one.
I went to neither side.
So hear me now, oh, living,
From my story all truth glean.
And may you never have to face
the wrath of a bloody queen.
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