It was the seventh day of the final feast.
The air in the palace was thick with stale wine and loud declarations. Noblemen, flushed and bloated from drink, slurred their praises to the king.
They had run out of stories.
Now they wanted spectacle.
And so, he summoned me.
The Messenger
They sent seven court officials.
Seven.
As if I were a deity to be worshiped — or an animal that required herding.
Their eyes did not meet mine.
Their tone was flat.
“The king commands your presence… wearing your royal crown.”
That’s all they said.
Not, “Your husband requests you.”
Not, “The queen is wanted.”
“The king commands.”
“Wear your crown.”
That was the message.
And the meaning was as clear as polished marble.
They did not want Vashti, the queen.
They wanted the crown — draped over flesh and paraded for men who had lost their sense.
Some say the command meant I was to appear only in the crown.
Even if it didn’t, the insult was loud enough without being naked.
I Sat Still for a Long Time
I did not speak right away.
The women at my banquet had grown quiet.
They knew. They had seen what happened to women who displeased kings — not just in Persia, but in every empire stitched together by conquest and control.
But I…
I had already been conquered.
Every day I had bowed.
Every night I had smiled.
Every moment I had been taught to perform.
And this command?
This was not a request for presence.
It was a demand for possession.
I Said No
Three words.
Softly spoken.
Unmistakably clear.
“I will not come.”
The court officials flinched.
One stammered something. Another bowed nervously.
But I did not repeat myself.
I would not be displayed like a jewel on a drunken man’s finger.
Not again.
Not that night.
If this was rebellion, then so be it.
Let history write me down as the woman who disobeyed a king — because her dignity was worth more than his delight.
The Room Fell Silent
When the eunuchs left, silence fell.
Not judgment. Not fear.
Respect.
One of the younger women at my banquet looked at me with something like awe.
For once, we were not just attending history.
We were witnessing a woman shape it.
I Knew the Cost
I knew the consequences.
I would be stripped of my title.
Erased from court.
My name scraped from scrolls and tapestries.
But names do not make queens.
Courage does.
And that night, I became more than their queen.
I became my own.
