Thrones of Her Own: The Women Who Changed Fantasy Forever

Soft Sheet, Gold Coins, Locked Doors

You told me you loved me.

And perhaps you did — in the way a man loves a shadow that does not speak too loudly or ask to stand in the sun.

You gave me soft sheets, gold coins, and locked doors, and said it was safety.

But I was always waiting.

Waiting to be seen in the light.

Waiting to be enough to walk beside you, not behind.

When you said “go,” I went.

I did not cry.

I did not beg.

I learned long ago not to.

You were the one thing I almost believed in — the clever man who held my hand in the dark but would never name me in the daylight.

You said I betrayed you.

But you betrayed me first when you let me become invisible.

I wanted to stay. But not like that.

So I found someone who said my name without shame.

Even if it was only power he saw in me, it was still more than nothing.

And when you found me there, on his bed, in his world, you strangled the life from me with your own hands.

You said you loved me.

But if you had, truly, you would have made a world where I didn’t have to crawl to survive.

You would have saved me, instead of leaving me to save myself.

And now, I am only silence.

But your grief will speak for me.

Forever.