The First King's Last Command
There are many things I expected from ancient vampire history.
War.
Betrayal.
Terrible emotional decisions.
Possibly dramatic capes.
What I did not expect—
It was my possible past life appearing like a ghostly king and giving me relationship advice.
Honestly?
Lucian was already exhausted.
I stood on the balcony of the Crimson Church guest chamber, the night colder than before, Elena still watching me like history had just punched both of us in the face.
Which, in fairness, it had.
The mark near my neck still burned.
Not pain.
Recognition.
The throne.
The blood.
Memory refusing to stay dead.
Elena slowly released my arm.
Her crimson eyes never left mine.
"The throne has never spoken that clearly before."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Well, apparently ancient kings also enjoy being cryptic."
She folded her arms.
"What exactly did he say?"
I looked at the moon.
Because somehow admitting it aloud made it worse.
Then I sighed.
"He said…"
I paused.
Already regretting existence.
"A king who fears love deserves his enemies."
Silence.
Perfect.
Humiliating silence.
Elena blinked once.
Then—
She smiled.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"Oh."
No.
Absolutely not.
I pointed at her.
"Do not make that face."
She was absolutely making that face.
"The face of someone who has been proven correct?"
I glared.
"The face of someone enjoying my suffering."
She nodded once.
"Yes."
Honest.
I respected it.
Against my will.
She walked toward the white stone table near the balcony and poured wine into two glasses.
Of course, there was wine.
Ancient emotional trauma apparently required proper presentation.
She handed me one.
I took it.
Because refusing wine during supernatural identity crises felt disrespectful.
She lifted her glass.
"To kings with terrible timing."
I touched mine lightly against hers.
"To women who keep dangerous secrets."
Fair.
Very fair.
We drank.
The silence afterwards wasn't awkward.
Just heavy.
The kind of silence that belonged to old truths.
Finally, Elena said—
"Lucian's final command was never written."
That got my attention.
I leaned slightly forward.
"Explain."
Her expression changed.
Less saintly.
More women carry memories too long.
"The night he fell…"
Her voice softened.
"He knew betrayal had already entered the throne room."
Of course.
Kings were always the last to be informed and the first expected to die gracefully.
I understood that too well.
She continued.
"The noble clans had already chosen survival over loyalty."
"The Church had chosen fear over faith."
"The humans had chosen safety over gratitude."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the wine glass.
"And Lucian…"
A pause.
"He chose them anyway."
That—
felt painfully familiar.
I asked quietly—
"Why?"
Elena looked at me like I should already know.
Because maybe I did.
"Because he loved them."
Simple.
Terrible.
True.
She stepped closer.
"The ten queens begged him to run."
"His generals offered war."
"I offered him escape."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"And?"
Her voice dropped.
"He refused."
Of course he did.
Ancient kings and self-sacrifice.
Name a worse romance.
She looked directly into my eyes.
"His last command was not for war."
Silence.
Then—
"He ordered them to live."
That one landed like a blade.
Not revenge.
Not destruction.
Survival.
I stared at her.
"He told them to leave him."
Elena nodded once.
"Yes."
Her voice almost broke.
"He said…"
She closed her eyes for a second.
As if even now it hurt to repeat.
"If I become only a king, then I have already lost.
Go. Live long enough to hate me for it."
The world went still.
No jokes.
No sarcasm.
Only that sentence.
Because suddenly—
I understood him.
Too much.
Too clearly.
The assassin king in me.
The man who died was betrayed.
The boy was reborn into blood and chaos.
The part of me that would absolutely burn alone if it meant the people I loved survived.
Yes.
I hated how much I understood.
Elena whispered—
"They obeyed."
Not because they wanted to.
Because love was cruel like that.
I looked away.
At the moon.
In the city.
At the quiet lie of peace.
And said softly—
"They hated him for it."
She answered just as softly.
"Yes."
A pause.
"And they loved him more because of it."
There it was.
The tragedy.
Not death.
Choice.
A king choosing to be hated so others could live.
Perfect.
Awful.
Mine.
The bloodline stirred again.
Not memory this time.
Emotion.
Ancient grief.
I laughed once.
Sharp.
Dry.
"Lucian and I would have been terrible friends."
Elena smiled sadly.
"Yes."
Then she stepped even closer.
Close enough that truth had nowhere to hide.
"And that is why I am afraid."
I looked at her.
"Of what?"
Her crimson eyes held mine.
"That's when the time comes…"
A pause.
Soft.
Certain.
"…you will make the same choice."
There it was.
The real fear.
Not power.
Not monsters.
Love.
Because kings in love made stupid, beautiful decisions.
I smiled faintly.
"That depends."
She raised an eyebrow.
"On what?"
I thought of Seraphina.
Selene.
Lilith.
Valeria.
Mother.
Father.
My sisters.
This ridiculous life I had somehow started wanting.
Then I answered—
"On whether the people beside me are stupid enough to let me."
For the first time that night—
Elena laughed without sadness.
Bright.
Alive.
"Good."
She whispered.
"Because I am very tired of heroic men making decisions without permission."
Amazing woman.
Terrible for emotional peace.
Perfect.
Then—
a knock at the chamber door.
Three sharp knocks.
Not polite.
Not patient.
Valeria.
Obviously.
Elena looked at the door.
Then at me.
And smiled with the calm of someone enjoying future chaos.
"Your queens are here."
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
I looked at the heavens.
Perhaps Heaven could judge me faster.
Before I could move, the door opened.
Because privacy was still a myth.
Valeria entered first like a red-haired declaration of war.
Behind her—
Seraphina, already suspicious.
Selene, elegantly dangerous.
Lilith, aristocratically terrifying.
Perfect.
Valeria looked between me and Elena.
Then at the wine.
Then at my face.
And smiled like a disaster.
"Well."
She crossed her arms.
"Should we be jealous…"
A pause.
Bright.
Deadly.
"…or should we start with murder?"
Seraphina approved silently.
Selene looked practical about homicide.
Lilith simply adjusted her sleeve.
Which somehow meant political assassination.
Excellent.
I sighed.
Honestly—
Facing heaven had been easier.
But somewhere beneath the chaos—
beneath blood, kings, and ancient ghosts—
One truth had become impossible to ignore.
Lucian's last command had not been about death.
It had been about love.
And maybe—
The second king would have to decide
whether history deserved repetition
or rebellion.
Good.
Because I had always preferred rebellion.