Post by Queen Melody on Sept 8, 2019 11:41:00 GMT -6
“He’s out.”
“What do you mean he’s out?”
Fourteen unanswered calls. I could hear the endless ringing in my sleep that night. Every attempt to reach out was shut down and left me lying in bed that night alone. Emotionally exhausted as I stared at the ceiling.
Eventually, the sound stopped permeating the room.
By Thursday morning, my stomach continued to turn as I tried once more. This time, there was no endless ringing - only the silence of dead air left in his wake.
My king had well and truly abdicated his throne.
As I laid across the empty bed, doubt and fear clutched at the pit growing larger in my stomach. What prompted his sudden change of heart? What was it that shot my King out of our kingdom and away from everything we worked so hard for?
You know why.
The fear almost cackled audibly as I shook my head to drive out that particular demon. It wasn't that the nagging voice was wrong but there was no way it could possibly be right. Every night I'd spent with Cyrus had effectively been as discreet as possible without the ability to somehow magically teleport to one another. Dinners were in private, we didn't enter or leave the hotel together. For every caution we threw to the wind throughout those sleepless nights together? We made up for doubly in public in Nova Scotia. I knew what it would mean if either of us were seen with the other. America's Most Hated and America's current championship sweetheart? Both of us ran the risk of getting morally crucified if they got wind of our Canadian fling.
Yet up until Dominic (rather abruptly) broke the news to me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to go back.
I kept telling myself how what happened in Canada needed to stay in Canada. That no matter how sweet the words were, there was no way I could let him charm my panties off in Los Angeles. And I'd somehow, miraculously managed to keep my personal promise. Even now, with the news of Draco's departure, the way Cyrus let his gaze linger on me at dinner the other night was palpable in my empty hotel room.
It was enough to make a girl consider Canadian citizenship.
I stared at the copper and gold filigree crown on the nightstand. That was my gift - the crown he put atop my head to declare me Queen of FSW. What was a Queen now without her King? The air felt hot now, threatening to choke the admission from me as I drew a shaky breath. Everything I'd been building, meticulously, for months had gone away with not even a bump in the night. I knew why, of course. I knew from day one. The name never failed me.
Lazarus.
It might as well have been Judas at this rate. I'd sold my proverbial kingdom for that thirty pieces of Cyrus' silver tongue. I'd hung on his every word, the way he managed to pluck every string that held my captive soul in place.
I will seduce you with my words and slowly undress your soul.
Tongue in cheek banter, but as God as my witness: he hadn't lied in the slightest. Every word he whispered had left my heart begging for another taste. Another word of adoration. He was the antithesis to everything I had. Where Draco’s smug ego once stood, there was a laid back smile. Narcissism was replaced with a compassion I hadn’t known existed. I never meant to do what I did, it wasn’t intention that drove me to that hotel suite. But he wasn’t Lazarus and in that moment, that’s what I needed most. Anything but the name. Anything but my name. Those few days together, and I got the relief I desperately searched for. Even now, in this moment as I sat with a vacant stare at the crown that appeared to tarnish by the minute, I craved that attention.
You’re no better than he is.
The inner demon reared its head again, spoiling the fresh memories of Nova Scotia. Was I no better than Draco? In those moments, languid and desperate for the adulation of another person, was I the same narcissist that I sought relief from? Was I no better than the modern Mata Hari that shared that locker room at Night of Champions?
Probably not.
I stood from the bed, heart heavy in defeat. I knew it would come back on me. It always did. Now I stood in my hotel room alone, the cup of coffee that I’d been nursing since 4AM was cold and bitter as I tried to choke down another sip. Angry and acidic, I grimaced before putting the cup down and carefully wiping the corner of my mouth as I stared in the mirror. Those same demons laughed, loudly, at the sight. My hair was limp and my eyes swollen with unshed tears. I deserved that cold coffee and to see my kingdom slowly razed by my own hubris.
“Fuck.”
I muttered, raking back the dull hair from my face as I leaned forward to examine the state I was in. Eyeliner smeared, not even washed away from the night before. Mascara clumped my lashes together and there was only the faintest trace of lipstick left over. I pulled away from the mirror, half a sneer of disgust on my face before I reached to the nightstand to lifted the crown into my hands. The orangey light of the hotel room bulbs cast it to look even more coppery than it was. The longer I held it, the more it felt like it was burning in my hands. A new wave came over me, hot and terrible as I clenched my hand around the band of the crown and the soft copper and gold crumpled and bent beneath it.
Anger.
He left me to the wolves. ReBelle, once they discovered Draco had abandoned me at the precipice of our match would have a field day. No matter how good I was, even with a banged up post-Insanity Cage ReBelle I knew I stood no chance. I’d be picked apart, and at that point… there would be no justification to enter the rumble for my coveted shot at the Undisputed championship. I’d be little more than a bait dog thrown into the den of pitbulls to be mauled apart.
And he knew it.
Had the news even broken yet? Did Dominic do me a solid in giving me the lead before the rest of the company knew? If I could manage to find a way to put a new partner in his place, the tag title match could still be saved. I could still survive it. And if I could break past this, put ReBelle down and pull those tag team titles off their shoulders before going into the Rumble? I could be unstoppable. No one would be able to stop that kind of momentum. Not even a King gone rogue.
I looked down at the crown in my hand, disfigured from its former glory before I threw it aside and turned back to face the mirror. Once swollen eyes were replaced by fire, as I stared and gritted my teeth.
No Queen needs a King… to rule an Empire.
“What do you mean he’s out?”
Fourteen unanswered calls. I could hear the endless ringing in my sleep that night. Every attempt to reach out was shut down and left me lying in bed that night alone. Emotionally exhausted as I stared at the ceiling.
Eventually, the sound stopped permeating the room.
By Thursday morning, my stomach continued to turn as I tried once more. This time, there was no endless ringing - only the silence of dead air left in his wake.
My king had well and truly abdicated his throne.
As I laid across the empty bed, doubt and fear clutched at the pit growing larger in my stomach. What prompted his sudden change of heart? What was it that shot my King out of our kingdom and away from everything we worked so hard for?
You know why.
The fear almost cackled audibly as I shook my head to drive out that particular demon. It wasn't that the nagging voice was wrong but there was no way it could possibly be right. Every night I'd spent with Cyrus had effectively been as discreet as possible without the ability to somehow magically teleport to one another. Dinners were in private, we didn't enter or leave the hotel together. For every caution we threw to the wind throughout those sleepless nights together? We made up for doubly in public in Nova Scotia. I knew what it would mean if either of us were seen with the other. America's Most Hated and America's current championship sweetheart? Both of us ran the risk of getting morally crucified if they got wind of our Canadian fling.
Yet up until Dominic (rather abruptly) broke the news to me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to go back.
I kept telling myself how what happened in Canada needed to stay in Canada. That no matter how sweet the words were, there was no way I could let him charm my panties off in Los Angeles. And I'd somehow, miraculously managed to keep my personal promise. Even now, with the news of Draco's departure, the way Cyrus let his gaze linger on me at dinner the other night was palpable in my empty hotel room.
It was enough to make a girl consider Canadian citizenship.
I stared at the copper and gold filigree crown on the nightstand. That was my gift - the crown he put atop my head to declare me Queen of FSW. What was a Queen now without her King? The air felt hot now, threatening to choke the admission from me as I drew a shaky breath. Everything I'd been building, meticulously, for months had gone away with not even a bump in the night. I knew why, of course. I knew from day one. The name never failed me.
Lazarus.
It might as well have been Judas at this rate. I'd sold my proverbial kingdom for that thirty pieces of Cyrus' silver tongue. I'd hung on his every word, the way he managed to pluck every string that held my captive soul in place.
I will seduce you with my words and slowly undress your soul.
Tongue in cheek banter, but as God as my witness: he hadn't lied in the slightest. Every word he whispered had left my heart begging for another taste. Another word of adoration. He was the antithesis to everything I had. Where Draco’s smug ego once stood, there was a laid back smile. Narcissism was replaced with a compassion I hadn’t known existed. I never meant to do what I did, it wasn’t intention that drove me to that hotel suite. But he wasn’t Lazarus and in that moment, that’s what I needed most. Anything but the name. Anything but my name. Those few days together, and I got the relief I desperately searched for. Even now, in this moment as I sat with a vacant stare at the crown that appeared to tarnish by the minute, I craved that attention.
You’re no better than he is.
The inner demon reared its head again, spoiling the fresh memories of Nova Scotia. Was I no better than Draco? In those moments, languid and desperate for the adulation of another person, was I the same narcissist that I sought relief from? Was I no better than the modern Mata Hari that shared that locker room at Night of Champions?
Probably not.
I stood from the bed, heart heavy in defeat. I knew it would come back on me. It always did. Now I stood in my hotel room alone, the cup of coffee that I’d been nursing since 4AM was cold and bitter as I tried to choke down another sip. Angry and acidic, I grimaced before putting the cup down and carefully wiping the corner of my mouth as I stared in the mirror. Those same demons laughed, loudly, at the sight. My hair was limp and my eyes swollen with unshed tears. I deserved that cold coffee and to see my kingdom slowly razed by my own hubris.
“Fuck.”
I muttered, raking back the dull hair from my face as I leaned forward to examine the state I was in. Eyeliner smeared, not even washed away from the night before. Mascara clumped my lashes together and there was only the faintest trace of lipstick left over. I pulled away from the mirror, half a sneer of disgust on my face before I reached to the nightstand to lifted the crown into my hands. The orangey light of the hotel room bulbs cast it to look even more coppery than it was. The longer I held it, the more it felt like it was burning in my hands. A new wave came over me, hot and terrible as I clenched my hand around the band of the crown and the soft copper and gold crumpled and bent beneath it.
Anger.
He left me to the wolves. ReBelle, once they discovered Draco had abandoned me at the precipice of our match would have a field day. No matter how good I was, even with a banged up post-Insanity Cage ReBelle I knew I stood no chance. I’d be picked apart, and at that point… there would be no justification to enter the rumble for my coveted shot at the Undisputed championship. I’d be little more than a bait dog thrown into the den of pitbulls to be mauled apart.
And he knew it.
Had the news even broken yet? Did Dominic do me a solid in giving me the lead before the rest of the company knew? If I could manage to find a way to put a new partner in his place, the tag title match could still be saved. I could still survive it. And if I could break past this, put ReBelle down and pull those tag team titles off their shoulders before going into the Rumble? I could be unstoppable. No one would be able to stop that kind of momentum. Not even a King gone rogue.
I looked down at the crown in my hand, disfigured from its former glory before I threw it aside and turned back to face the mirror. Once swollen eyes were replaced by fire, as I stared and gritted my teeth.
No Queen needs a King… to rule an Empire.