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Chapter 67: The Tyrant Queen
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2025-08-04 23:47:41
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CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 68: Children of the Curse
The silence in the palace has changed.It used to be fear thick, palpable terror that clung to the walls like moss and made servants scurry through corridors with their heads bowed. That silence was predictable, manageable, almost comforting in its consistency. I could navigate it, use it, shape it to my will like clay in a potter's hands.Now... it's something sharper. More dangerous. The quiet breath before betrayal. It carries whispers of rebellion, threads of conspiracy woven so subtly that even my enhanced senses struggle to catch them all. This silence has teeth.They're gone.My blood. My children. My heirs and my sword. Gone like smoke in winter wind, like promises made by dying men.Gone.The guards were fools blind, deaf, useless creatures who failed at the one task that mattered. I should have their eyes plucked out and fed to the ravens. I should have their tongues cut from their mouths and their hands severed at the wrists. But their punishment would be mercy compared to
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 67: The Tyrant Queen
They call me a tyrant now. The word follows me through the corridors like a shadow, whispered behind trembling hands and spoken in hushed tones when they think I cannot hear. I see it burning in their eyes even when they kneel before my throne, especially when they press their foreheads to the cold marble floor in submission. Fear and hatred war with desperate self-preservation in their expressions, creating a cocktail of emotions that once might have broken my heart. Now it only feeds the darkness that has taken root in my chest like a poisonous vine.But I am no longer the gentle queen, the merciful ruler they prayed for in their moments of weakness. That version of myself is no more. Now a sovereign who rules not through love, but through absolute, unquestionable power.The transformation began at dusk three days ago when I dismissed the entire royal guard with a single, irrevocable decree.Some of the veteran soldiers tried to protest, their voices rising in desperate pleas about
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 66: The World Falls Silent
The palace has never been this quiet.Not even during the War, when enemy arrows whistled through broken windows and the screams of the dying echoed through these very halls. Not even during the Plague Years, when death stalked the corridors and claimed a dozen servants each night.This is different. This is the silence of absolute terror.Silence drapes the halls like mourning cloth, thick and suffocating. It pools in doorways and gathers in corners, a living thing that feeds on fear. Even the marble floors, once alive with the music of courtly life, the rustle of silk, the click of heels, the whispered conspiracies that make palaces hum with intrigue seem to mute my footsteps. As if the stone itself recoils from my touch.The servants move like ghosts through passages that once rang with laughter. They press themselves against walls when I pass, eyes downcast, barely daring to breathe until I'm gone. The kitchen maids cross themselves when they think I'm not looking. The stable boys
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 65: Blood of the Matriarch
They gathered like frightened sheep, herded by whispers and summons into the heart of my domain.The High Court was full to the brim nobles in their ceremonial silver-trimmed cloaks, their faces pale as winter moons beneath elaborate masks of composure; council elders clutching their trembling scrolls like prayers to forgotten gods; the guards lining the marble walls stiff as stone sentinels, their hands resting on sword hilts they hoped they'd never need to draw. The great hall stretched before me, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadows that seemed to pulse with their own malevolent life.A hush thick as smoke blanketed the chamber, broken only by the steady rhythm of my heels against the floor. Each step echoed like a funeral bell, marking time until the inevitable. I could taste their terror on my tongue, metallic, sweet and intoxicating. It fed the beast that prowled beneath my skin.They thought this was a trial. They thought democracy still had meaning in a realm ruled b
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 64: The whispering court.
Fear is a scent sharper than blood. The court reeks of it.I can smell it from afar. I hear it in whispers, in voices too hushed to matter.They bow lower now. Speak less. Watch me when they think I don’t notice. But I notice everything, the tremor in Lady Morwyn’s hands when she presents the tax ledgers, the way Count's pulse quickens when I enter a room, how they all seem to shrink beneath their elaborate silks and velvets as if finery could shield them from my gaze.Since the decree, I've seen the shift. Doors that once opened freely are now shut barred with iron and desperate prayers. Eyes that once held loyalty now dart away like startled birds. The courtiers whisper in corners, their voices silenced when I pass, but the walls remember. I hear the echoes in the stone, fragments of rebellion, seeds of betrayal.The Queen has lost herself.The curse has taken her mind completely.Someone must act.Traitors breed in silence. So I burn it.I summoned the court yesterday. A full assem
CROWNED BY BLOOD Chapter 63: Shadows of a Queen
They whisper that a storm is coming through the corridors of my castle, their voices carrying on currents of fear and uncertainty that seep through stone and mortar like poison. Servants duck their heads when I pass, nobles avert their eyes, and even my most trusted advisors speak in hushed tones behind closed doors. But I am the storm. I am the lightning that splits the sky and the thunder that shakes the earth to its foundations. And I no longer fear the tempest that rages within my own heart.The great clock in the tower had just struck midnight when I signed the decree, its bronze hands pointing toward a future I would forge with blood and iron if necessary. The ink was still wet from my claws, not a pen, for such human instruments felt too fragile for the weight of what I was decreeing. My own talons had scratched the words into parchment like prophecy carved in stone, each letter a promise of protection and a threat of retribution in equal measure.By Royal Mandate of Queen Luna
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