"What if I said I had an idea to help you with that?"

You blink, confused. "What do you mean?"

Cecilia pauses at that, looking awkward. "It's just - and please hear me out - Anne, you you actually like being Queen?" Your continued befuddled look prompts her to continue. "It's just, whenever you're acting as Queen you look like you'd rather be anywhere else. But just now when I walked in you looked... blissfully happy. So do you actually want it?"

A part of you bristles at the suggestion. Your father had raised you for this position, it was meant to be yours for as long as you'd been alive. To suggest it shouldn't be yours is treason. But this is your half-sister, the person closest in your confidence. And maybe as well it's your position, still with a dildo half-buried in your cunt, but either which way the answer slips out of your mouth. "No," you say. "It's just something I have to do. I thought once that I'd like it, but I don't, I don't."

Your sister is hugging you. Why is your sister hugging you? "It's okay, it's okay," she murmurs, stroking your hair. "You don't need to cry." Oh. You're crying? You reach up to brush your cheek and find a small, damp trail. Oh. This... apparently admitting this out loud took more out of you than you thought.

For a good while you just let your sister hold you while you weep. In time you come back to yourself, and gently pull yourself away while you brush the wet away from your eyes. You meet Cecilia's gaze and ask, "You said you had an idea of what to do?"