The World Is Mine For The Taking

Talk?

I couldn’t help but wonder what she actually wanted to talk about with me at a time like this.

Of course, I didn’t think it was going to be about sex or anything along those lines. Still, seeing her dressed like that made it surprisingly difficult to stop my mind from wandering in that direction, even though I knew this wasn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts.

Even then, I knew she was still in an incredibly fragile emotional state.

Her father had just passed away.

If I tried to take advantage of her while she was feeling like this, I’d be nothing more than complete scum. Sure, I wasn’t going to pretend I was some kind of saint, because I knew perfectly well that I had plenty of flaws, but even I had lines that I refused to cross.

Besides, with everything she had been carrying on her shoulders, the last thing I wanted was to become another burden she had to deal with.

More than anything else, I simply wanted to treat her properly.

"Sure," I said as I looked at her. "What did you want to talk about?"

She quietly stared at me for a few moments before slowly walking over to my bed without saying another word.

I shifted over to one side so she’d have enough room to sit beside me comfortably instead of awkwardly squeezing herself into the corner.

"My father is dead now," she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"He is..."

The words slipped out of my mouth almost automatically, but after that, I couldn’t think of anything meaningful to add.

What could I even say?

Anything I came up with felt painfully inadequate.

"I feel like something disappeared from inside me," she continued quietly. "Now it just feels... hollow."

She placed a hand over her chest as though trying to hold together something that couldn’t actually be touched.

"Honestly, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore."

Silence settled between us after that.

Neither of us said anything for several long moments.

The room became so quiet that I could almost hear both of us thinking.

Eventually, she took a slow breath before continuing.

"Now that my father is gone, I’m the one who’s supposed to lead the kingdom."

Her fingers tightened slightly on the fabric resting over her lap.

"I’m supposed to become the Queen."

She let out a weak laugh that didn’t sound happy in the slightest.

"Honestly, I don’t think I’m capable enough to handle something like that."

She lowered her eyes.

"I’ve been spoiled for most of my life."

A faint smile appeared on her face, though it looked more self-deprecating than amused.

"You probably know that better than anyone."

She glanced at me.

"You’ve been close to me ever since our first year at the university."

Well...

She wasn’t exactly wrong about that.

Back then, Titania could be pretty insufferable.

Well, at least she was if you asked almost everyone else.

Personally, I never found her nearly as unbearable as other people seemed to.

If anything, I thought her spoiled personality was strangely charming most of the time.

It could definitely be frustrating every now and then, but there was also something oddly genuine about it that made it difficult for me to dislike.

Unfortunately, I was probably in the minority.

Most people didn’t find it cute.

Most people simply found it exhausting.

Looking back on it now, that wasn’t particularly surprising.

Her father had practically raised her with nothing but affection.

Since he had been raising her by himself all those years, it only made sense that he’d end up spoiling his only daughter whenever he had the chance.

"I was always taught that becoming Queen meant making the most responsible decisions possible," she said quietly. "The lives of everyone in the kingdom would eventually rest on my shoulders."

She paused again before continuing.

"But unlike Myrcella, who’s already been doing exactly that, I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to do."

She looked frustrated with herself.

"I wasn’t prepared for any of this."

Her shoulders sank ever so slightly.

"I wasn’t properly briefed about what would happen afterward."

She let out another tired sigh.

"And because of that, I can’t stop worrying."

She gently rubbed one side of her forehead.

"My head starts hurting every time I try to think about everything that’s waiting for me."

Her voice became even softer.

"Right now, thinking hurts more than anything else."

She slowly lifted her head before looking directly into my eyes.

Our gazes met.

I’d looked into countless people’s eyes before.

Still, I’d never seen eyes quite like hers.

They were unbelievably clear.

Looking into them almost felt like staring into the surface of a quiet river on a calm day.

They weren’t empty.

They weren’t lifeless.

Instead, they were overflowing with grief, uncertainty, hesitation, and the crushing weight of responsibilities that had suddenly landed on her shoulders before she had any chance to prepare herself. But for some reason, along with those, they were also looking... very pure.

"To be honest..." she whispered after another long pause.

"I’m completely lost."

She hesitated again.

"I wanted..."

Her lips trembled slightly before she continued.

"I wanted to become Queen someday, but..."

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t have to.

I already understood exactly what she meant.

Listening to her, it became obvious that the greatest source of her pain wasn’t simply losing her father anymore.

That wound was still fresh.

That grief would probably stay with her for a very long time.

But there was also another burden that had quietly settled on top of it before she’d even had the chance to mourn properly.

She wasn’t afraid of wearing the crown itself.

She was afraid of disappointing the people who would place their trust in her.

The citizens of Bethlan.

The countless lives that would eventually depend on every decision she made.

Honestly, the more I thought about it, the more I realized just how much she resembled her father.

The similarities had always been there.

Both of them genuinely cared about their people.

Neither of them saw the kingdom as something they simply owned.

They saw it as something they had a responsibility to protect.

The difference was that her father had spent years carrying that responsibility.

Titania had inherited it almost overnight.

"I think what you’re really trying to tell me," I said gently, "is that you’re worried about whether you’ll be worthy enough to become the kind of Queen the people of Bethlan deserve."

She quietly listened without interrupting me.

Her eyes stayed fixed on mine the entire time.

"But from where I’m sitting..."

I gave her a small smile.

"I honestly think you’re already more than worthy."

That wasn’t me trying to make her feel better with comforting words.

I meant every single word of it.

From everything I’d seen, I honestly couldn’t think of anyone who cared more sincerely about the people of Bethlan than Titania did.

If someone looked at everything she’d done, everything she’d worried about, and everything she was willing to carry for the sake of her people and still claimed she wasn’t worthy of becoming their Queen, then I’d honestly have to question whether they understood what being a good monarch actually meant in the first place.

Sometimes the people who worried the most about failing were the very ones who ended up becoming the leaders everyone needed.