Royal Malice

The sky wept for him, just as I had. 

The Grand Duke, my father had died in a conspiracy by my fiance, Charles. He had already set foot into the Grand Duke’s residence along with his knights.  Claiming a throne that was never meant to be his.

He was just a man, not a leader. He was full of audacity, not merits. He knew he would never be given the throne as long as the Grand Duke was alive. 

It seemed everyone underestimated the legitimate heir of the Grand Duchy just because I was a woman. I remember his words as if his shadow still whispered it in my ears in a mocking tone,

 “A woman was never meant to rule. Be grateful I am here to handle everything.”

Be grateful? The fury inside me could consume the whole world and still remain unquenched. I looked down at the sword in my hand. 

My father gave me this sword. His last present to me. And today I will use it to give him a gift.

I tilted my head up for a brief moment and looked at the storm raging tonight as if heaven itself was sharing my grief and fury. I could feel the storm crying in agony and thunder roaring in wrath.

They, too, wanted justice. And as the manor drowned in darkness, I knew—tonight even the angels were on my side.

Thank you

Tonight, I will deliver fate’s final judgment. 

With each step I took towards the Grand Duke’s bedroom where now Charles is, the wind howled through the halls of the Grand Duke’s manor, rattling the windows, and snuffing out every flickering light.

It was as if nature itself had risen in my favor, draping the world in darkness to aid my vengeance.

The manor was nearly empty—most of the knights were stationed outside, while only twelve were inside. Most of his knights were guarding the main entrances as if they wanted to make sure I didn’t leave or so no one could come to my aide till tomorrow morning when finally Charles would be given the title.

It was looked at poorly if a woman had an interest in masculine activities like swordsmanship. No one would even teach a woman in the first place. But my father wanted to prepare me & taught me in secret.

I did not know then why but now I do. As I approached them silently ready to strike and kill those who had set foot into the palace of a man who was not even buried yet. 

I could hear the faint rustling of armor as the twelve knights shifted restlessly in the dimly lit chamber. They were uneasy—this palace was unfamiliar, the darkness sure didn’t help

I, however, knew every inch of this place. This was my domain.

The first knight barely had time to register the whisper of a blade before it slid across his throat in a practiced movement. I caught his body before it could slump to the ground, lowering it gently.

One down.

The others, unaware, continued scanning the dark, their torches offering little aid. Flickering light distorted their vision, casting deceptive shadows. 

A second knight fell, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as her dagger pierced the weak point beneath his helmet. 

A knight heard the gasps from their fellow knights and reached for the lamps but that was the mistake. 

I could hear his voice in my head, my father who taught me swordsmanship. “You never turn your back on a predator. Always fight darkness with darkness. Focus on the sound, focus on the whisper of air, don’t lose your focus or else you will die no matter how skilled you are.” 

Then a third. A fourth. Panic set in when their fellow knights did not answer after they heard the sound of metal clacking.

The remaining knights huddled closer together, their discipline fracturing. Someone fumbled with their torch, the flame nearly dying before flaring back to life.

“There!” one of them hissed as the flame captured my moving figure for a moment.

The moment they turned toward the voice, I struck again. A blade drove into the back of one knight’s knee, severing tendons. He collapsed, a strangled grunt barely leaving his lips before I drove my sword under his chin.

The knights’ breaths were coming faster now. Fear. It dulled their reflexes. 

All the knights were unfamiliar with this residence. 

Again his voice whispered in my head, “When you have your companions fighting alongside form a circle, and attack with no fear. You all will have each other’s back”

Then a knight lashed out wildly, blade slicing empty air, his mind unraveling in the blindness. However, I was already behind him, steel sinking through his heart.

Another torch fell to the ground.

Only three remained. All faced the dark hallway, ready to attack first but they were clumsy, weighed down by their own terror.  They tried to yell for help but the thunder drowned it all. No sound escaped out of the hallway.

And my size was my advantage, all their attacks were meant to be an enemy their size because they could never think it was a woman attacking them. And before they could realize my blade found soft flesh.

One fell. Then another.

The last knight stood frozen, his sword trembling in his grasp. He turned wildly, his breath ragged, trying to run away to alert more knights. But then something sharp caressed his throat.

He never got the chance to scream.

Silence reclaimed the palace. The bodies lay still, their blood soaking into the splendid red royal rugs soaking the blood turning a shade darker. The whole place reeked of the filthy metallic smell of blood.

Just when I was about to take a step forward, I heard a creak.

The door opened, and Charles stepped out, a crystal goblet of wine in his hand, his robe lazily draped over his form. His face twisted in a frown. His arrogance remained, even in the dead of night. It seemed like he came out to complain about something. But then—he saw me.

Saw the corpses lining the hall behind me as the light from his room illuminated the hallway.

Saw the crimson stains on my hands, my dress, my face, and my sword.

Saw the cold, hollow emptiness in my eyes.

The goblet slipped from his fingers, shattering on the marble floor.

“R-Regina…” His voice was no longer drenched in arrogance. It trembled.

I stepped forward into the light up, letting him see me fully—see the woman he had tried to break now standing before him.

Charles stumbled back, his breaths ragged. Then, panic overtook him, and he turned, attempting to flee.

A mistake.

Steel flashed in the darkness.

A sharp cry tore from his lips as my blade sliced across his side. He collapsed, gripping the wound, crimson seeping between his fingers.

His head snapped up, his fear now masked by desperate rage. “You—You dare attack me?” He gritted his teeth, forcing himself up. “I am the Duke! The ruler of this land! If you kill me, you will be a traitor, a murderer—”

I did not speak, only took a step forward. He immediately took a step back.

A smile came on my face, this man. This was the Charles I knew. A man who only knows how to bark. The man who could not pick up a sword and fight me. 

Blood dripped from my sword and soaked the marble floor, the scent of iron thick in the air. Charles trembled before me, his once-arrogant smirk now long gone, replaced by desperation.

"Pathetic," my voice was cold.  "To think a coward like you dreamed of becoming the grand duke. How amusing."

I took a slow step forward, my voice cutting deeper than my blade. 

"Do you know how much you disgusted me? And yet, for my family, I was willing to accept you. To marry you. To endure you"

Charles swallowed hard, his back hitting the cold stone wall as I advanced. It was honestly a shame, his father was one of the best swordmasters in this empire yet Charles never bothered to learn from him. 

“I ignored everything you did because I did not care but it seemed you thought I couldn’t do anything.”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He was too stunned, too cornered.

"Let me tell you the truth before you die Charkes. Every one of your mistresses sought permission from me first before they warmed your bed because they feared offending me—the daughter of the Grand Duke. And I allowed them so you would keep your paws off me."

A few years back Charles wanted to get physical before marriage but I refused. The next day a woman came to meet me and explained how Charles had invited her to his manor. She wanted me to decide whether to accept it or not. And I let her so he won’t keep bothering me.

"I never expected you to be a good husband. I just expected you to be loyal to the Grand Duke. To this Duchy. But no. You chose the path of arrogance and greed. You chose to be my enemy when I could have been your greatest ally."

His lips curled into a snarl, trying to regain his composure. "You think I need help from a wo—"

"I pity you." I cut him off, her voice dripping with contempt. "You’ve always been a pawn in someone else’s game. A disposable piece. Did you really believe you would hold the title of Duke for long? You were nothing more than a stepping stone."

Charles's eyes widened slightly. Doubt flickered across his face.

Seeing his expression anyone could tell he never doubted his allies, but he deserved it. 

"You were never even meant to last. And honestly how long did you think people will tolerate an imbecile like you? You could not even lead a herd of donkeys.” I smiled coldly as I leaned forward, "You would end up following them.”

His face twisted with rage. With a roar, he lunged at me with a knife lying on the bed beside him, his last attempt at salvaging control.

Fool.

I moved before he could even register it. My blade sliced through the air, striking his arm so swiftly that the knife clattered to the floor before he could even cry out.

Pain shot through him, and he stumbled back, clutching his wounded arm. He bared his teeth, his breath ragged as he glared at me. "You think—You think killing me will make you win?" He puffed out his chest, desperate to regain even a sliver of dominance. 

"You can never win. You’re just a weak wo—"

I struck again.

This time, my blade met his chest, silencing him with a sharp, sickening slice. Blood spilled down his robe as he gasped, his knees buckling beneath him.

And then came the pleading.

"R-Regina," he stammered, his arrogance now completely shattered. "Y-You’re mad  because of what I did. I was wrong, I see it now! And I’ll forget this happened. I—I’ll forgive you! I’ll blame someone else for this.”

It was understandable he said it, only an imbecile like him would trust such words. 

"Charles I am going take that throne. And I will kill all who conspired my father's murder.”

Charles’s eyes widened in fear hearing my dark tone. He swallowed, shifting tactics, his voice trembling now. “L-Look, I made a mistake, alright? We can fix this, Regina. I can make you the Duchess. You’ll have power, wealth—anything you desire! Just put down the sword, and-.”

“Make me the Duchess? A son of a count has no authority over me or this Grand Duchy.”

My eyes narrowed at him in anger. My blade gleamed in the dim light to attack at any moment now.

Desperation seeping into his voice. “P-Please…don’t. We can still rule together. I—”

I tilted my head, my expression unreadable. And then, in the coldest whisper, I spoke:

 "You are not worthy to rule beside me."

With that, I raised my sword for a final swing. 

And Charles’s head fell to the floor.