Her breath hitched.
The memories didn't come gently this time.
They crashed.
---
A crown slammed onto her head.
Heavy.
Cold.
Not a blessing—
a shackle.
Gasps echoed through the grand hall as she stood beside him.
The king.
Her husband.
Not Edward.
But The King Edward.
This man's hand closed around her wrist—tight enough to bruise, tight enough to remind her that resistance was pointless.
"Smile," he whispered through clenched teeth. "Or your mother's head decorates the gates by dawn."
The memory burned.
Elira staggered, clutching her chest as the vision swallowed her whole.
---
Her family kneeling.
Her father bleeding.
Her younger brother crying, too young to understand why soldiers had dragged him from his bed.
A blade hovering at her sister's throat.
"Marry me," the king had said calmly, wine in hand.
"Rule beside me. Or bury them."
She had screamed.
Begged.
Fallen to her knees.
And still—
She had said yes.
---
The throne room shifted.
Years passed in heartbeats.
She saw herself sitting beside him—silent, composed, dead inside.
She saw his fingers bruise her skin behind closed doors.
His voice dripping poison in public.
"You belong to me."
"Your magic is mine."
"You are nothing without this crown."
She remembered the way he hated Lord Malveric.
Not because he challenged him, his own brother—
—but because he saw the truth.
Because the young Malveric looked at Elira like she was still human.
And the king couldn't stand that.
---
She remembered the night she tried to run.
The moon high.
Her cloak torn.
Her family already gone—
executed hours before she reached the gates.
Punishment for her disobedience.
She remembered screaming until her throat bled.
Remembered collapsing in the rain, laughing hysterically because there was nothing left to lose.
That was when the curse began.
Not from hatred.
From grief.
From rage so deep it shattered the mirror between worlds.
---
Elira dropped to her knees in the present, a sob tearing free before she could stop it.
"No…" she whispered. "Not again."
Her hands shook violently.
"I can't live that life again. I won't survive it again."
The memories clung to her like chains.
Every humiliation.
Every forced smile.
Every night spent hating the sound of his footsteps.
She felt it all—as if no time had passed at all.
As if she had never escaped.
As if fate was laughing, dragging her back into the same nightmare.
You have to suffer again, the past seemed to whisper.
This is your punishment.
Tears streamed down her face.
"I already paid," she choked. "I already died."
Somewhere nearby, a presence stirred.
A warmth—hesitant, careful.
"Elira…"
Edward's voice.
She flinched.
Not from him—
—but from the fear that loving him again would only lead her back to ruin.
She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking.
"This time," she whispered into the darkness,
"if I have to live again…"
Her eyes lifted—burning, broken, furious.
"…I will not be silent."
And deep within her, the queen did not bow.
She waited.