you've fallen in love with your enemy & other short stories

you've just killed your enemy and now you're taking their throne

alternative POV: 

Blood drips down the white palace walls and you laugh delightedly. 

You run round and round his body, your dress grazing his face lightly each time you step over it. He coughs and splutters, blood splattered across his body, eyes bursting out of their sockets. 

You laugh harder, the music in your head getting louder and louder. You smile, walking to the throne and taking your seat. 

Long live the Queen.

The End.

 -------

But it's not the end, you're still sitting there. 

You hit your head, hard. Isn't this usually the part where it ends? Isn't this the part where you wake up? 

"Wake up!" You scream. "Wake up!" 

You've been having this recurring dream for months now. Killing a King who was harsh and cruel and tried to hurt you. A King you made up, a story you told to yourself to entertain yourself at night. 

But this King doesn't look mean or cruel. He just lays there, and stares. 

And you wonder why he looks so betrayed, so heartbroken. This is your enemy is it not? You had to kill him didn't you? 

Dreams and reality get mixed up, and you start to feel unsure. 

"Wake up!" You scream and wail. "Wake up." 

But it's with a dawning sense of dread that you realise you are awake, and this is no dream. And the King in your life, the King- 

"No!!" You shout in anguish and agony. You jump off the throne and run towards his body. 

Your husband's body. You dress stained with his blood, his chest split by your sword. 

"Wake up." You shout to him instead of you this time. You sob, heartbroken. 

He reaches for your face, and brushes you hair back, so gently, with so much love. And you almost believe he might have forgiven you. 

But then he speaks. "Should never have married the mad princess." 

He takes his last breath, and he's gone. 

As the guards bang open the doors, you calmly walk back on the throne. Taking your seat again. 

They grab you and drag you out of the room, your dress leaving a dark red streak of blood across the cold palace floors. 

But you just laugh and laugh and laugh. You cackle, you scream hysterically, your mouth curving up in delight.

You guess dreams do come true, a sardonic smile on your lips.

If you don't laugh you'll cry, if you don't smile you'll break.

And so you become the woman in your stories, in your dreams. As the music gets louder and louder in your head, you laugh to cover it but you can't. It's there playing and will never stop, driving you insane.

You mutter the words again, chanting until they're so loud you think your ear drums will break. 

The King is dead. Long live the Mad Queen.

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