Regine

Chapter 1

It was the tenth year after the war was over. A war that left the word without a population. Going from eight billion to one billion was devastating, mostly for the younger generation. My elder brother fought in the war. He went off at eighteen and was killed in the last weeks of the war. So did the majority of my cousins. I didn't remember a time before the war. I didn't remember a time there wasn't rations and shelters. I remembered my hometown being bombed when I was ten. My father was a intelligence officer. He was never the same after the war. My mother killed herself after my brother died, he was the only one who she ever loved. Almost everyone older than me was dead, and I was fourteen when the war ended. It was my generation's burden to bare. We rebuilt the cities and towns. We rebuilt the government.

I was a privileged individual. My grandparents were college educated, and in a time where learning about history and politics was put aside to learn about machinery and war tactics, I learned it. So when I, alongside those my age at sixteen took the test to decide where we would go, I was chosen to go into politics. To lead. Now I was rising to be the next ruler when our King died. I knew I was only chosen because he had no heirs. I also knew that this was not a privilege. With only my father to care for now, I knew the final thing I would have to do for my position.

Upon a everyone's coming of age, which ranged from twenty to thirty they would have to wed and bare a child. That is, if the woman is not barren. I was not barren. My birthday would come in the summer, and a husband with it. But it would not be a test that matched me with a man, no, it would be political.

There were many burdens that came for my generation. A lack of choice, a lack of freedoms. We were the rebuilding generation, rebuilding what the generation before us destroyed with their prejudice against those not like themselves. A mistake I promised myself I would not follow. There was always a diplomatic way to solve a problem. We would not have to resort to violence or bans on refugees fleeing their home country. I would not stand for that in Elyria. Not while I was the princess here. With my dying king trying to continue teaching me and parliament trying to mould me into what they wanted. They would see that I had my own knowledge of what brought us here, and I would not let hate come from hate. Though I did take the knowledge I could from them. They all underestimated me. All but our sovereign.

I did live in a palace, but the palace was for my own protection. It was rebuilt with the most durable materials to keep me safe. The palace was where I ate, slept, and worked until late into the night. I took no breaks. It was a wonder I haven't gone grey yet at the ripe age of twenty four.

Or maybe I had, but my blonde hair hid it well. I had no wrinkles yet. I had callouses on my feet from the heels I had to wear as a part of my uniform. They made me look taller, though with my unimpressive height it did not do much. But there were worse things I could have had to do.

I always had tea in the mornings, a privilege I did take advantage of with rations. Though because of it I would not eat any more until later in the day. I only ate one to two meals a day. I would not have anyone accuse me of abusing my privileges. I took my tea in my office, where I would read reports from parliament and treaties for trade to go over before meeting with the councilors and the king. Of course in my pile was a letter from Nortica, a kingdom north of us that seemed to always be full of sleet and snow, to the princess of Elyria.

It was a letter that spoke of close alliance between us, sealed with a marriage. But King Bill had not brought it up to me. He would not agree without speaking to me. I would bring it up to him during our private meeting that evening to discuss the events of the day.

Perhaps if I had a quick enough day I would be able to see my father for supper.

Angelica came in, she was my height and very thin. Her hair was in a pineapple style on the top her her head. She wore rectangle glasses and clothes much like mine; a dress and heels. She had skin the color of my mahogany desk.