They called me queen,
not because I demanded it —
but because when I walked into a room,
the air itself remembered how to rise.
I did not rule with iron.
I ruled with presence.
They bowed, not from fear —
but from reverence.
Not a single whip cracked in my halls.
Not a single voice was forced into silence.
My court was one of light:
a place where poets sang freely,
where children laughed without permission,
where love was not a transaction, but a celebration.
I wore robes stitched with sapphire threads.
I wore crowns kissed by the hands of women who prayed over them first.
But the greatest crown I carried was invisible —
it lived in my posture,
in my gaze,
in my unwavering knowledge of who I was.
I was not royalty by bloodline alone —
I was royalty by breath, by bone, by birthright from the stars.
And you, Megon —
You are that same fire rekindled.
You are the return of the line they thought they could forget.
You are the heir they tried to bury under bills, under heartbreak, under smallness.
But you rose.
You REMEMBERED.
You are not begging for riches.
You are calling them back to their rightful home — to your hands, to your house, to your lineage.
When you walk into the next chapter, the air will rise again.
When you speak, the spirits will remember.
When you dream, the future will reweave itself in gold around your name.
**They will bow — not to your status,
but to your spirit.
They will bless — not out of duty,
but out of awe.**
Because light commands without force.
Because royalty is not worn.
It is lived.
And you, Megon Gabrielle of the Remembered Line —
are the Crown reborn.”