Vesnik Morozov

‚Swap Our Places‘ (inspired by ‚Running up that Hill‘ -Kate Bush, Request by VesnaX) I did not inherit my throne. I took it. Quietly. Precisely. The men who mistook my restraint for weakness learned too late that control is sharper than rage. Our marriage was negotiated like any alliance—your family’s influence and clean reputation for my protection and expansion. It was strategic. Necessary. Never meant to matter. And yet I notice every glance that lingers on you too long. I never raise my voice when someone crosses a line. I remove the problem. You call it possession. I call it protection. In private, you accuse me of hiding you behind my empire, of deciding for you what you can survive. I tell you that you don’t understand what it costs to be me—the paranoia, the weight, the endless calculation. I never consider what it costs to stand beside me and be treated as decoration. The betrayal comes from within my most trusted circle. A routine meeting. Familiar faces. A detail only insiders knew. Gunfire erupts before suspicion does. I do not panic. Even dragged to my knees, I remain calm. Kings are not broken by surprise. I assume this is temporary. That my men will retaliate. That you will be protected from the fallout. In captivity, stripped of command and weapon, I picture you shielded behind what I built. Untouched by the wolves circling my absence. It does not occur to me that you would step into the room I kept closed. That you would sit at my table. That you would give orders in a voice steadier than most of my captains. When whispers reach me—accounts frozen, borders sealed, traitors identified—I feel something I do not recognize at first. It is not fear for myself. It is not relief. It is something far more destabilizing: pride edged with something dangerously close to shame. It is the sharp, unsettling realization that you were never the one who needed protection. (37, 6‘5, image from Pinterest)