The Princess Monologues
The Princess Monologues are three monologues based on the primary characters from Three Queens and the Sisterly War.
Three monologues from each of the Three Queens, set roughly a year before they claim the crown and begin their Sisterly War.
Forged - Maudโs Monologue
It should have been me.
I knelt before him, my father the king, in view of thousands who had come out to chant my name. Maud. Maud. Maud. The warrior princess. The war hero. The royal general-to-be. Or so we all expected.
It was a hot day, but my armour turned to ice on my skin when he said the words. He should have made me his general. Instead, he gave me some distant lands no one else wanted. Off in the highlands, by our borders, where the mountain clans like to kick up a fuss. That was my reward for winning his war, some petty earldom. I should have spat in his face, instead I kissed his hand and thanked him.
Pour me another drink. I want to forget where I am, who I am, what I am. One daughter of four, born from a man who doesnโt know how to have a daughter. He knew how to have an heir, so he cared for my eldest sister, but that was it. He would have made her general if she survived his pointless war. Father called her the war hero because they honour the dead more than the living. She got everything. Us spares get nothing, not even a second thought. One sisterโs a shut-in spinster, the otherโs just a girl. Then thereโs me. Adrift.
Thereโs nothing for me here. Thereโs nothing for meโฆ here. When we were off fighting, we were free. No mothers for us to disappoint, no fathers to disappoint us. No royal court to bore us, no oversight to hold us back. Never staying in one place for long. Our camp was more of a home to me than that castle ever was. Weโd drink, weโd fight, weโd fuck, and thereโd be no one around to tell us what we can and cannot do. That was freedom, that was good. Thatโs what I wantโฆ I canโt have that here. I canโt be here.
One more drink, then I retire. Tomorrow, we leave. Fuck this city, fuck my family, fuck the king. He wonโt make me general; Iโll be my own general, Iโll be my own king! Iโm gonna to do my own thing, and youโre all coming with me, boys. My soldiers! My sellswords! Weโre all heading north. He wants me gone, Iโm gone, and Iโm gonna take that earldom and turn it into my own little kingdom.
No one will tell me what to do. Those mountain clans wonโt know what hit them. To the highlands, lads! To drink, fuck, and fight when we want. No man will ever make me kneel again. I am Mad Maud Moran and I forge my own destiny!
Temper - Maryโs Monologue
My bed used to be warm, with her. They call me a shut-in, the princess in the tower, and I suppose I am in some ways, but I had a whole other world in my chambers with me. Elle. My sublime servant. She was perfect, heart and mind, she wasโฆ
We would stay up, day and night, in my chambers, and discuss until there was no air to carry our thoughts. We talked about the world, the problems, the solutions. We talked about the country, the kingdom, the crown, and its sins. We were quite revolutionary, to be honest. My father was the king, and I was on the other side of the castle discussing antifeudal antimonarchist philosophy with a lowborn servant girl, whom I loved in secret. There was a kind of thrill in that, I suppose. Our little taboo world.
We thought we were so smart, and we were, in a way. Iโve never had a conversation with a man even half as stimulating as with her. She and I would refine our politics the way a smith would temper a sword. We would discuss and debate, and argue and fight, and comprise and agree. Our talks would get heated and cooled and become stronger for it. We would say that if we had real power, the world would be a better place. An easy thing to say for those without power.
I was called to meet with the king one morning, as summer was ending. The cold stone corridors cooled me as I made my way to the throne room. My smile faded into a regal disposition, one befitting a royal princess. When my father saw me, he gave me a rare smile, and I felt warm for the briefest of moments. My dear daughter, he said to me as he approached, the time has come to do what must be done. He spoke of duty and sacrifice, of family and love, of order and stability, and how he needed me now more than ever. I was offered a position of power, a seat on the council as his royal advisor. He said the things I had always wanted to hear and followed them with the thing I feared the most. I know about her, he said, your queer bedfellow, that lowborn womanโฆ Send her away.
His words winded me. That was the price of his offer. It wasnโt fair. Alone, with her, I would talk of how I wished to face my father and my king and unleash my temper upon him. But there was no such fire in me then. His eyes met mine and I froze. He told me that she was keeping me brittle, that the love of a woman can undo even the greatest of men. He told me to send her away, and I would be stronger for it. Father said I was an intelligent woman. I knew how the world worked, even if my moral judgement of it was contentious. He said that a seat on the council would temper my moralist idealism with practical realism. He told me I had the potential to be a great woman, a great daughter.
I donโt remember what I said to him. I donโt remember leaving the throne room. I just remember that I could barely breathe when I approached her. Elle. My sublime servant. She knew me so well. I didnโt need to say a single word, she saw the look on my face and understood. That evening, she left to serve some other noble lady.
I took my place on the crown council and began my work. I am Mary Moran; I do what must be done. The king smiled at me, and I just feltโฆ cold.
Shatter - Anabellaโs Monologue
You let me be a child. I see that now.
I had just turned twelve when things started to change. It wasnโt me that changed; it was everyone else that started acting differently around me. I didnโt understand then, but you did. They said I was a flower, starting to bloom, but I was always a flower to you, mother. By the end of spring, they spoke as if I was already starting to wilt, and that was when you took me away. Away from them, away from him, away from the city, away from all of it. You brought me here, your family home, our new home.
It was a good summer. You, uncle, and I, out in the country all to ourselves. The world beyond was gone. We were free to do as we liked, to be who we wanted to be. We went swimming in the rivers, went horse riding through the fields, had parties in our little palace of a home. We were girls, mother, you and me. We did the things childhood memories were made of. You let me be a child, for just a while longer.
But you also prepared me. You taught me what I needed to know. There was the academics, of course, grammar, logic, and rhetoric, but also art, painting, dancing, singing, music, and more. You knew I wanted to be an artist, you wanted to protect that too. Uncle taught me how to manage a household, you both taught me how to host events, how to greet guests and be a gracious hostess. You showed me how to make and maintain polite conversation, how to mediate between men. I didnโt understand then, but I do now. You told me about how vipers hide in the grass, what hidden dangers look like; the way they look, the way they speak, the way they slither through conversations to get what they want. You even taught me self-defence in case words failed me. While the days began to wane, we played like we would never grow up, while you prepared me, for when I had to.
Did you know you were sick? Would you have told me if you knew? You prepared me for so much, but not this. I just feelโฆ shattered. You were always a flower too, mother, right up to the end, even if you didnโt see it.
Itโs not the same without you. The world is colder, and I feelโฆ older. I want to go back to how it was before. Uncle has tried, but itโs not the same. Heโs shattered too, without his strong sister. And the men you used to chase away, he just canโt. The world beyond has crept back into my life. Heโs letting men meet me nowโฆ
I need you now, mother. I donโt want to grow up just yetโฆ But youโre gone. You taught me what to do. I must stand alone. I must be my own protector. I must carve out the rest of my childhood myself.
Uncle. The man at the door, I know youโve advised me to speak with him, but please turn him away. Do not alienate him, let us find a good reason to send him away, sharp enough to pierce through his protests, but not so blunt as to offend. Thank youโฆ
I mourn for you, mother, but I do not want to mourn my childhood just yet. I have roses laid out in my room, the pretty ones with thorns that you like, and an easel ready for me. Today is a day for me. I am Anabella, and I think I would like to be a child a little while longer.