The Queen Who Killed Me twice

Chapter 4: The Throne That Never Belonged

Rain tapped against the stained glass windows like a mourning song from the heavens. The once-mighty palace of Arzaria now stood as a bleeding wound in the heart of a dying kingdom. Rumors ran wild—some said the Queen had vanished, others that she'd been murdered in the very halls she once ruled. Only a few knew the truth. And fewer still had lived long enough to tell it.

Zaynah's bare feet pressed into the cold marble of the corridor, her blood-soaked gown trailing behind her. Every step felt heavier than the last. The golden crown, once too large for her head, now rested perfectly, though it cut into her scalp like a mocking blade. She had won. But at what cost?

Behind her, the screams of the councilmen faded. Some betrayed her. Others simply didn't matter. She left them all in the chamber—doors sealed, fire lit. They had set the game. She ended it.

But victory had never tasted so bitter.

"I killed the King," she whispered aloud, to no one.

She hadn't spoken those words before—not even to herself. Not even to the ghost in her mind. But tonight, there were no more lies to hide behind.

Her hands still trembled from it. Not from fear, but from the memory. The blood that had gushed from his chest when she stabbed him—not once, but twice. The first time was rage. The second… was love.

She could never forgive him for killing her family. For pretending to love her. For feeding her lies wrapped in velvet and gold. But deep down, even as he gasped her name with betrayal in his eyes, she wished things had been different.

She had meant it when she said, "You made me a Queen—but forgot I was born a storm."

And yet... something in her cracked when his eyes closed.

Now, with the kingdom at her feet, there was only silence.

---

The secret tower of the palace, where no one dared enter, was where Zaynah now found herself. Inside was the hidden chamber—once her sanctuary, now her prison of memories.

She touched the stone wall, brushing off the dust, revealing a name carved faintly into it:

"Zaynah + Rayan."

Her hand froze.

Even after everything... she hadn't forgotten.

"Loving you was my greatest sin," she whispered.

Suddenly, the door creaked open behind her. She didn't flinch.

It was Azrael—the General. Her last loyal soldier.

"My Queen," he said, his voice deep, unsure. "The army is waiting. They want orders. The kingdom is in chaos."

She turned to face him. "Then let it burn."

His brows drew together. "But… the throne is yours now. You fought for this."

"No," she said, walking past him. "I killed for this. That's not the same."

---

In the throne room, the fire roared behind the iron brazier. The golden throne—so heavy it had to be lifted by ten men—stood untouched.

Zaynah walked toward it.

Every step toward the throne echoed memories.

Her sister's screams. Her father's last breath. The night Rayan promised her the stars.

The throne was beautiful, yes. But it was cursed. Every person who sat on it had lost something—love, family, soul.

She stopped inches away from it.

Her reflection shimmered on the polished gold.

And for the first time, she saw herself not as a Queen... but as a villain in someone else's story.

---

Suddenly, footsteps echoed through the hall. Rushed. Desperate.

Azrael ran in again, face pale. "My Queen! He's alive."

She turned slowly. "Who?"

He swallowed. "Rayan."

Her heart stopped.

"That's not possible. I stabbed him—twice. I saw him die."

Azrael looked shaken. "The physician said he survived. Barely. He was smuggled out by the royal guard who remained loyal to him. He's coming back."

Zaynah didn't speak.

She only looked at the throne.

So… the King who broke her heart lived.

And he was returning.

---

Nightfall.

The gates of Arzaria shook.

Zaynah stood at the balcony, her hands gripped on the cold stone rail.

Torches in the distance. Thousands of soldiers marched toward the palace.

And at the front—Rayan.

He was alive.

He looked weaker. Paler. A scar ran down his cheek like a jagged tear.

But his eyes… they still held the storm.

Zaynah descended the stairs alone.

The guards watched her pass, unsure whether to stop her or kneel.

Outside the gates, the two once-lovers stood face to face.

The world seemed to pause.

No swords. No arrows. Just silence.

"I thought you were dead," Zaynah said, voice calm.

"I was," Rayan replied. "But hatred can keep a man breathing longer than hope."

A long pause.

"You killed me," he said.

"You killed me first," she said, her voice breaking for the first time.

They stared.

No words left. Just pain.

Finally, Rayan whispered, "Then maybe… we both deserve to die."

Zaynah looked at him.

And something inside her finally let go.

---

She dropped the crown.

It hit the ground with a heavy clang, rolling once before stopping at his feet.

"You can have your throne," she said. "But I'm not dying here."

He looked shocked.

"No revenge?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. "Only peace."

---

Zaynah walked away.

Past the gates. Past the army. Past the palace she once bled for.

And never looked back.

---

Epilogue

No one knows where Zaynah went.

Some say she sailed across the Red Waters and lived in peace under a false name.

Others say she built her own kingdom far away, where no crown touched he

r head again.

As for Rayan—he ruled alone.

He never remarried.

The throne was his.

But the Queen he once loved…

She remained the one storm he could never survive.

The End.