The Witch Queen's Gambit

'Is this how I am going to die?'

Madelyn wondered as two strong arms dragged her down a long corridor, the quiet rattle of armor echoing through the cold, empty space. Neither guard spoke—the only sound came from the crowd outside, cheering and shouting with frenzied excitement.

The bag over her head made it impossible to see where they were taking her, but it sharpened her other senses. The noise grew louder with each step, and though she couldn’t make out the words, she felt certain they were nearing the mob. Her heart pounded.

None of this made sense. Why would the Royal Guard storm into her chambers like she was a criminal? Why was she suddenly being treated like an enemy? No one had explained what crime she’d supposedly committed. No one had given her a chance to defend herself. Not even now. Especially not now.

She had done everything right.

A perfect lady. A loyal wife. A model queen.

She made no enemies, caused no scandal, bore every duty with grace. She was going to be a good mother.

Madelyn had given him everything—her family’s fortune, her land, her connections, even her body and heart, now breaking under the weight of betrayal and grief.

Where had it all gone so wrong? How? Why?

A creak of a heavy door reached her ears, and suddenly the sounds of the crowd grew tenfold, drowning out everything else. It became even harder to distinguish their words, but their hunger for blood prickled her skin like thousands of needles.

One of the guards yanked the bag off her head, and she squinted against the bright sun. Even the sparse light of sunset was better than the complete darkness she’d endured for days. Or so she thought—until she looked around.

“Witch! Monster! Demon!”

The words struck her like blows, one after another. She looked left and right, finding nothing but faces full of hatred and fear turned toward her. Someone threw a tomato; it splashed over her tattered dress, spraying red juice onto her face and hair. She tried to wipe it away, but the guards held her too tightly, dragging her forward without giving her a moment to compose herself.

The voices grew louder, shouting curses and profanities while their loathing eyes burned through her skin like fire. She tried to tell them she was none of those things, but her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears.

Lowering her head to shield her eyes from the objects thrown at her, she glanced at the structure ahead. The guards were dragging her toward a high podium that hadn’t been there before she was imprisoned, where a wall of soldiers held back the crowd. A single chair stood on the platform, rising tall and proud—just like the man sitting on it.

She couldn’t see his face clearly or distinguish the people around her, the constant pulling and jerking by the guards making it impossible. Her eyes stung from the sour juice, and tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with those shed earlier. She hadn’t thought she had any tears left.

Once they reached the podium, the guards forced her to her knees. The shackles on her hands threw her off balance, and she fell, pain stinging her cheek as her face slammed into the ground. When she looked up, the chair on the podium was empty and its occupant was slowly descending the stairs.

His tall, slender frame and broad shoulders made him look like a magnificent statue come to life just to save her from this horror. The moment he stopped in front of her, his handsome face twisted in a grimace of disgust, her heart shattered.

“Please, Evander, I’m your wife! Your queen! I’m not a witch, and you know that! I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m innocent!” Madelyn pleaded.

Since their vows were exchanged and the two were bound by law and God, she had never received a warm touch or sweet word from him. She had never felt his undivided attention, let alone his love. It had always been her giving everything.

She had believed that if she loved him more, loved him better, the dazzling man she’d fallen for—the one who had promised her the world—would finally love her back. But with every passing day, he grew colder, more distant. Angrier.

“How dare you use the king’s name so casually?” he snarled, his voice dripping with menace. Madelyn shivered, curling up when he leaned down. He hadn’t hit her before, but now he looked like he wanted to hurt her. Really hurt her. “You are pathetic, Madelyn. So powerless that I can’t even look at you. Your only redeeming qualities were your money and your potential. But you ended up being a useless disappointment.”

“I gave you everything!” Madelyn cried out. “My wealth, my name, my support, even the child growing inside me right now! Your child! What else can I give you? Please, tell me! Why is that not enough?”

“Like I need a child with your dirty blood running through it.” Evander spat, studying her face for a second before crouching in front of her. “I want you to know one thing, Madelyn. You did this to yourself. If only you had broken down faster, this could have been avoided. But unfortunately for you, I’m out of patience, and I can’t let anyone else have you. So you left me no choice. Bear the consequences.”

Madelyn opened her mouth to say something, but he was already on his feet, turning his back on her and facing the crowd. The guards straightened up as he raised his hands, and the people quickly quieted. Once an eerie silence had spread over the square in front of the palace, Evander spoke with a low, almost somber voice, full of regret and sorrow.

“Citizens of Moranna, I have asked you to come here today to bear witness to my shame and remorse. I have made a grave mistake and allowed myself to be deceived by those closest to me. By my own wife!” He added in a cold, cutting tone. “I thought I had chosen a wise, honorable woman to help make Moranna a better place for you and lead you with grace, but I was just being used by this evil witch!”

The crowd came to life at once, letting out a deafening roar at the last word. Madelyn winced, watching them with growing horror.

Nobody was listening to her, nobody was going to believe her. He was the king after all, the king everyone loved, and he was telling them she was a witch. Even those who weren’t sure before, now probably believed that lie more than they believed in the sun and the moon.

“But thanks to my loyal subjects, her true nature has been exposed! She was proven responsible for all those deaths in the Matuda district, as well as the collapse of the bridge that killed eleven people last month. She was responsible for the drought in the west and the fire that destroyed half of our winter crops. She feeds on death and suffering, and she has been feeding on all of you!” A murmur rose from the crowd, and a few people pulled back, as if afraid that being closer to her might hurt them. Madelyn watched them with resignation, not even trying to make her voice heard anymore.

“But that ends today! We will snuff out the darkness and make sure she never hurts anyone else again!” He shouted, and the crowd roared with him, swallowing his voice as he ordered the guards to tie her up.

Madelyn felt the hands grab her again, dragging her towards the crowd. For a moment, she thought they planned to throw her to the people and let them tear her to pieces, but the other guards pushed the screaming men and women away, revealing their true destination.

Madelyn’s eyes widened, and the horror she was pushing to the back of her mind broke free, sending her into a frenzy. She fought against the guards, but they just dragged her more harshly over the ground, picking her up under the armpits and putting her on top of the wood and twigs they had put in a pile. The two other guards standing on the top of the pile caught her and pushed her against the stake that rose out of the middle of the burning pyre, tying her so fast that she didn’t even get a chance to break free.

The tears had started falling down again, but she was not sure why she was crying anymore. Was it the fear of dying? Or was it the regret? A bitter voice in her head kept telling her it was really all her fault. If she weren’t so eager to please Evander, so determined to be the perfect wife for him, to make him love her, this all wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have been framed, she wouldn’t have lost everything, including the life of her unborn child. She wouldn’t be dying branded as a witch.

She looked towards the podium where Evander was sitting in his high chair, head leaning on his hand, almost in boredom. As their eyes met, a small smile blossomed on his lips that sent shivers down Madelyn’s spine. A figure appeared next to Evander’s chair and touched his shoulder, and Madelyn immediately looked up at the woman, not even surprised to see the arrogant smile on her face. What surprised her more was the fact that Evander caught her hand and placed a small kiss on her knuckles, his eyes still on Madelyn.

Anger and desperation swelled in Madelyn’s chest, and she gritted her teeth, willing her tears to stop.

It had all been for nothing. All of this, all of her effort and sacrifices, for nothing.

“Burn! Burn! Burn!” the crowd chanted, louder and louder, all slipping into one voice. Evander lifted his hand and gave the sign for the guards to proceed. They had already jumped off the pyre and were adding oil to the wood, some of the foul-smelling liquid splashing on her skirts.

Madelyn leaned her head on the stake, closing her eyes and letting out a scared sob. The sudden burst of happy cheers made her open her eyes again, only to realize one of the guards was pressing the burning torch in different places around the pyre, spreading the fire everywhere. Heat rose under her feet, and Madelyn whimpered, pressing herself closer to the stake even though she knew that wouldn’t help.

She was going to burn no matter what she did, she was going to die in agony.

Madelyn wished she really was a witch at that moment. If she had so much power like he told them, she could have gotten herself out of there, she would have survived, and she would have…

The thought trailed off as the first flame licked her leg and she screamed in pain, looking down. Her skirts had caught on fire already, and the cloth was quickly burning along with her skin. The pain was so striking and overwhelming that Madelyn thought she’d die from it, but the seconds dragged and the torture continued for what felt like forever.

Feeling her mind slowly slipping, Madelyn thought that even if she was a witch, nothing would have changed. Even if she got herself out of here, if she survived, there was little she could do to change how things are. But if she never fell in love with Evander, if she never agreed to marry him… then things could have been different. She could have lived, she could have made better choices.

Madelyn screamed as the fire licked at her feet, bite after bite of agonizing torture. A thick fog fell over her mind, but in the distance, she could feel something stirring and moving towards her. She embraced it without thinking, without questioning, and as its warmth wrapped around her, a soothing voice whispered its name.

Revenge.

Madelyn screamed again, throwing all of her desperation and regret into that final plea, praying to God to give her one more chance, to let her go back in time and make him suffer instead.

The fire bit into her face, devouring her hair and melting her skin, burning her eyes and destroying her lips. Her voice broke, losing its power, and her body slacked off against the stake in utter surrender.

‘If only I could go back…’ Madelyn’s last thought lingered in her head before slipping away. A bright light flashed in front of her, swallowing the crowd and the soldiers, moving towards Madelyn and reaching out as if to take her away. Its blinding rays wrapped around her, and for a second, the pain returned, even stronger than before.

Madelyn screamed as she jumped awake, sitting up in her bed and taking a sharp breath. Darkness met her from all sides, but her eyes quickly got used to it, distinguishing the outlines of furniture and walls.

“What the…?” she whispered, her hands reaching up. Her eyes were still there, as well as her hair and skin. Apart from the sharp pain in her chest from panting so hard, nothing hurt, and nothing was missing.

Could that have been a dream? But it felt so real and so detailed, she could almost feel the fire melting the muscles off her bones.

The door of the room opened, and Madelyn flinched, locking her eyes on the maid who rushed in with ruffled hair and a candle flickering in her hand. The young girl stopped by the bed, looking around frantically, even more scared than Madelyn herself.

“Are you alright, Miss? Did something happen? Did you have a nightmare?”

Madelyn stared at her, trying to recognize her voice but failing. None of her maids at the castle sounded so young or so worried, even when Madelyn was really sick.

“Miss?” Madelyn repeated, realizing what she had heard. “Did you just call me Miss?”

“Well, um,” the girl stuttered uncomfortably. “You told me to call you that, Mistress. You told everyone to call you that. You didn’t like being called ‘Duchess’ because it made you feel old.” The girl said in a single breath. “Are you alright? Do you want me to call His Grace or a doctor?”

Madelyn kicked off her covers as fast as she could, rushing towards the girl. She noticed the maid had curly ginger hair and her face was round, with lots of pretty freckles on her cheeks. She could distantly recall she had a maid like that back in her father’s mansion, back when…

Madelyn grabbed the candle from the maid’s hand, carrying it to the full-body mirror in the corner and taking a deep breath before stepping close enough to see her reflection. She dropped the candle holder as she stared at herself, her hands immediately going for her face. She heard the maid shrieking, then stomping the flame with her foot, but chose to ignore her. Madelyn still couldn’t tear her eyes away from her reflection in the mirror.

She was back.

Back before she was queen, back before she became crown princess, back before she accepted the marriage proposal that set her on the course of disaster. She reached out and pinched herself with all her might, welcoming the pain that spread through her arm.

“It worked,” she whispered, reaching out and touching the mirror. “I can do better now. I will do better.” She continued to talk to herself, painfully aware of the maid’s eyes on her, but not caring at all. “This time, I will change things. This time, I will survive.”