Queen's Revenge Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Just like how your bastard of a husband paraded my sister’s corpse — naked — in front of the entire town after murdering her! Now you’ll feel what she felt. Now you’ll know the monster he is!” So this is what it’s all about. Revenge. And I? The perfect pawn. Clenching my fists, I raise my head, my cracked lips forming the only truth I know. “She betrayed him. He did it… because she betrayed hi—” A cold chuckle escapes him as his face hardens. He grabs the chain at my throat and jerks my face closer. “And you didn’t? Tell me, My Queen…” His voice suddenly explodes, echoing for everyone to hear.

After days of being confined, he collapsed and is still under observation in the hospital. “Is that all you are going to say? Do you still refuse to take accountability? Fine.” The Queen grits her teeth. “Then prepare yourself. As soon as my daughter wakes up, I will let her decide how she wants to enact her revenge. If she wants war, prepare to shed blood.” “Please wait, your grace!” Miranda is about to turn her back on us when I rise from my throne and grab my sword. Astor stands and shakes his head. “No, your majesty. Please don’t do this to me. I-I didn’t know Dahlia was the Vampire Queen’s daughter, I swear! I let it happen because I wanted your goddaughter to be happy. I thought Dahlia

I hiss, stepping in front of her. “I- Forgive us, Blessed One,” she lowers her head to the ground, stretching her arms out further in front of her. “Not what I asked,” irritation coats my words, “who ordered the death of my mate?” I snarl, feeding off the fear-induced aroma wafting through the room. “It was I,” the Queen brazenly whispers with remorse. I raise my blood stained shoe, place it over the top of her bony knuckles and twist it until I hear the satisfying sound of her bones crunching as they break. She screams in agony, trying to pull her hand out from under my foot, and I twist it the other way.

I pleaded, tears flowing more from my eyes and my sobs grew louder. “Oh! The never dying plead speech of the captured. Please, stop doing that, I have already heard that so much I am already bored with it. But you are wrong, not everyone to take revenge on is dead. The King still exists. And you still exist. You are the one last thing that prevented me fro ever taking here away from this place. You are the one last thing that made all f that dreams break like glass. So, I will take you last.” I was stunned, I was frozen in place and paralyzed by what I was hearing. The Queen was capable of doing such atrocities all because she did not get what she wanted.

It is she who should be angry and the one who showed anger was the other one. When the cupids were giving each other exhausted glances, an annoyed voice called, “MOM!!!” Slapping her own head remembering she got Arman late for his school, Aisha said, “I have to go too.” After planting a small peck on Arif’s cheek and doing a quick hug with Aliyah, she screamed while walking out of the mansion in hurry with holding an annoyed Arman’s hand, “BYE!!!” Sitting on the sofa nearby, Arif and Aliyah were the only people left in the home except for the workers. "Hassan has told Simran about him being part in this Revenge shit of Ali," Arif said to Aliyah who looked at him in shock.

She averted her gaze, her eyes roaming the space, lost in thoughts. I waited patiently for her to give her a reply while running my tongue through my mouth and watching her keenly. Her silence infuriated me, as I did not see any reason why she should be thinking this hard, given that she had said he hurt her by rejecting her and her baby and choosing her best friend over her. Revenge should be the next action to take and I was offering it on a platter of gold. I couldn’t understand why she was hesitating. After a few seconds, the woman lifted her gaze to meet mine. This time, I could clearly make out the anger and disdain they held, which was likely directed at Damon.

Sera took it carefully, unfolding it beneath the weak glow of the nearest lantern The handwriting was hurried, desperate, and pressed hard enough into the paper that it had nearly torn through in places. She read the words twice before their full weight settled in. To the Apocalypse Queen—we need your help, or we die tomorrow. She stared at the note for a long moment—the title she'd never asked for and hadn't wanted—staring back at her in someone else's desperate handwriting. Marcus watched her carefully. "What do you want to do?” Sera folded the note back along its original creases, her mind already racing through logistics risk assessment of everything. Pixy could help her calculate about

“I had never even talked to Wick Webster before that night. Why are we even discussing him, anyway? I’m here to talk about what you did.” “I’m serious, Haven.” Gripping my arm hard, he pulled me close and peered deeply into my eyes. “Don’t trust him. The prick hates me with a passion you can’t believe. He would love nothing more than to get the ultimate revenge against me. Like fucking you behind my back.” “Revenge?” I repeated softly as the hairs rose on the back of my neck. Funny how he’d use that word. Then I shook my head. “Revenge for what? What did you do to him that was bad enough to merit his revenge?”

Dark armour, masked faces, blades gleaming with death. “No!” the queen roared, spreading her arms protectively in front of her daughter. She fought them, the memories were scattered. A flash of steel. A scream. A fall. The queen collapsed. Her silver hair spilled across the floor like a river of moonlight tainted with red. “Mama!” little Marhea shrieked. She ran to her mother, cradling her shoulders. The queen’s lips moved faintly. “Live… my child.” Then her eyes went still. The hall shook again as enemies poured in. Someone grabbed Marhea from behind, lifting her. She screamed, kicked, clawed but arms wrapped around her, fierce and protective.

This was the echo she’d been chasing through visions and ruins and glass. This was home. The fire dimmed. The crown descended. It landed, cool and heavy, in her hands. And the weight was not just physical. Memories crashed into her. A battlefield, drenched in silver blood. A queen crowned in ash and wrath, her eyes black with divine fury as she cleaved through a vampire king’s skull with a flaming blade. Then another vision. The same queen, seated upon the old Eldorian throne, was betrayed by her council. A goblet filled with silver thorns. Her wolves held back by command. Her final breath seeping between cracked lips, not with regret, but with vengeance.