Disclamer : The Crown belongs to its rightful creators and owners.

Summary : It was only when facing her grandmother, bowing to her, that Elizabeth completely realized that she was, from now on, the most powerful woman in England.

Author's note : English isn't my first language, it's French. If you spot any mistakes or weirdness, please feel free to notify me ! This is also a translation from a drabble I wrote two months ago.

This story is part of the writing month challenge from TheWritter1996: Write a one-shot per day and share it for an entire month. For more challenge, I decided to go one different fandom per day.

The weight of the crown

Elizabeth didn't ignore what dying meant. She had already experienced it. But her father's death, after the initial shock and despair, she had lived it on autopilot. She was queen but it didn't mean anything to her. If her father's body confirmed the cruel reality, she lived through all of it as if she was anesthetized. Her mother's kisses, her sister's kisses, people bowing, nothing made her snap out of that state. But to see her grandmother bowing to her, to the point of being on her knees before her, it felt like a slap.

Her grandmother, Queen Mary of Teck, was bowing to her, her, Lilibeth, her granddaughter.

She had outlived her husband, King George V, one of Life's possibilities. She had seen her sons become kings, one abdicated, the other passed away.

Her grandmother, a queen consort, a queen mother...

And her, Lilibeth, from heiress to queen, a rank above all ranks, despite her grandmother, despite her youth and inexperience.

Her grandmother was bowing to her.

The king was dead, long lived the queen.

Queen Elizabeth II.

Realizing it had been quite brutal.

She was the Queen of England.

The End