Meriona’s POV

Sleep wouldn’t come to me at all that night. My body was tired, sure, but my mind refused to quiet down. Thoughts just kept piling up, one after another, looping back and forth like they had nowhere else to go. It felt like if I closed my eyes for too long, everything I had been holding in would just rush in all at once, and I didn’t feel like dealing with that yet.

My daughter, Myrcella, had finally been officialized and coronated as the King of Milham. Even now, thinking about it still felt strange. King, not Queen. Anyone hearing it for the first time would probably hesitate, maybe even correct it out of habit. A woman ruling a kingdom, yet bearing the title of King. It went against what most people expected, what they were used to.

Still, that was the truth.

It was such an odd turn of events that led to this. If someone had told me years ago that things would end up like this, I would have laughed it off without a second thought. I never intended for any of this to happen, not in this way. Yet somehow, everything kept moving in that direction, step by step, until it all settled into place. There was a point where I could have tried to interfere, maybe steer things differently, but that moment passed before I even realized it was there.

In the end, all I could do was watch.

Watch as everything unfolded, watch as Myrcella stepped forward, and watch as she took control with a firmness that left no room for doubt.

It wasn’t something I regretted.

If anything, it was the opposite.

I was happy. Genuinely happy. Proud, too, in a way that sat quietly in my chest. Myrcella had become the King of Milham, the kind of ruler this kingdom actually needed. Someone strong enough to stand on her own, someone who wouldn’t bend under pressure, and more importantly, someone the people could believe in.

Because that was the problem before, wasn’t it?

The people needed someone they could cheer for, someone they could look at and feel hope instead of disappointment. They needed a King who wouldn’t be laughed at behind closed doors or openly mocked in the streets.

Milham needed that.

And now, it finally had it.

A new age had begun for the kingdom. That much was clear.

As that thought settled, something else followed right behind it.

A memory.

My last conversation with the King.

Even now, recalling it felt... strange. Not heavy, not exactly painful, but something close to it. Like touching something cold that should have meant more than it did.

He had already been dying back then. Old age had caught up to him, slowly but surely, and by that point, there wasn’t much left to do about it.

That was why I stayed by his side.

Love had never been part of our relationship. That much had been clear from the very beginning. There were no fond memories to hold onto, no hidden affection buried somewhere beneath the surface. Still, I was his wife. That role alone carried a certain weight as well as a certain responsibility. Watching over him at his lowest point felt less like a choice and more like something expected.

By then, the poison had already been slipped into his wine.

He always drank before sleeping. It was a habit I never quite understood. Medicine was what he needed, not alcohol, but he never listened when it came to that. Stubborn until the end, in his own way.

"Have you put the poison in?" he asked.

His voice was calm. Too calm, considering what he was asking.

"Yes," I answered, just as simply.

"Good," he said.

He didn’t hesitate. He picked up the glass and drank it in one smooth motion, like it was nothing more than his usual routine.

I didn’t even have time to react.

For a brief moment, I thought about stopping him, but that moment passed just as quickly. Maybe part of me knew it wouldn’t change anything.

He told me he was tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but something deeper than that. He said he couldn’t keep pretending anymore and couldn’t keep acting like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

The kingdom was falling apart. Slowly, quietly, but undeniably.

And his solution was to end his life.

That way of thinking frustrated me more than I expected. It felt irrational, almost childish in a way. Things were collapsing, and instead of trying to fix them, he chose to walk away from it all. Who does that? Who looks at everything breaking apart and decides the best option is to disappear?

Still, none of that mattered anymore.

He had already taken the poison.

"Husband," I said. "Do you really think this is the way?"

"You can stop calling me husband now," he replied. "I’m already dead. That title doesn’t mean anything anymore. You’re free from the shackles that tied you to me."

"Then... Your Highness," I corrected myself, even though it felt pointless, "do you really believe killing yourself is the right choice?"

"Well, at least I’ll be spared from being tortured as a useless king if an insurgency breaks in and captures the castle," he said. "This is better than going through that. Much better."

Even at the end, he still saw himself that way.

Useless.

I couldn’t fully agree with that. He had been manipulated, surrounded by people who fed off his authority and twisted his decisions for their own gain. Power had changed him, or maybe it revealed something that had always been there. Either way, calling him useless felt too simple.

"You just have to do what I tell you," he continued. "Make Julius the King, no matter what."

"Do you really think the people would want that?" I asked.

"It doesn’t matter what he’s done. He’s still my son. He needs to be King. Or are you thinking Myrcella is the rightful one? You’re deluding yourself. She may be capable, but she’s still a woman. She can’t become King."

I didn’t respond.

There wasn’t much point in arguing at that stage.

"I only wanted what was best for this kingdom," he went on, his voice starting to lose its steadiness. "But I was betrayed. Used. In the end, I became a puppet. An illusion. I never became the King this kingdom deserved. Instead, I became someone people laughed at. A King who was jeered instead of celebrated. That’s not how it’s supposed to be."

His breathing grew heavier with each word. The poison worked quietly, without pain, but it didn’t stop the weight of what was happening.

"I was supposed to be cheered," he murmured. "Celebrated... but I ended up as a jester."

There was a bitter kind of honesty in that.

"Now go," he said after a moment. "I don’t want you to be the last person I see. And for all the time we’ve spent together... I’ve always hated you."

Straight to the point, as usual.

Somehow, it almost felt fitting.

His eyes closed not long after that.

I didn’t stay.

I turned and left the room, my steps quiet against the floor. He would fall asleep soon, but this time, there would be no waking up.

That was the end of it.

Looking back now, none of what he wanted came true. Julius would not become King. Myrcella had taken that place instead, and Julius would be executed.

The future he imagined, the one he held onto even at the end, was nothing more than an illusion.

And that illusion went with him to the grave.