His throne,her war

People say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. Mine didn’t. There was no slow-motion montage, no bright light, no warmth. Just the usual overcast sky, the smell of damp concrete, and my fingers tapping across a cracked phone screen as I walked home from cram school. My name? It doesn’t really matter now, does it? Back then, I was just a normal sixteen-year-old girl. No tragic past. No burning ambition. I wasn't the top of my class, but I wasn’t failing either. I wasn’t beautiful enough to stand out, nor plain enough to be pitied. People liked me well enough, but no one really knew me. I was… background noise. Filler in everyone else's story. But I liked my quiet little world. I liked watching the rain dance down my window. I liked rereading old manga panels until the pages blurred. I liked walking with my headphones in and pretending I was the main character of a life I never really wanted to change. And I loved stories—especially tragic ones. The kind where villains were more than they seemed, where broken people still fought, and silence had meaning. That’s why I was obsessed with The The Crown's Eternal Promise. A historical fantasy novel set in a kingdom full of betrayal, blood, and beauty. I didn’t care much for the heroine. But the villain…? Kael Varentine. The ruthless warlord who rose through the ranks with a blade in hand and shadows in his eyes. The man who betrayed the king. Burned cities. Ordered assassinations. And died, smiling bitterly, whispering something no one could hear. Everyone hated him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Maybe I just saw a little of myself in someone who stood apart from everyone else. That rainy evening, I walked home reading the last chapter of The Scarlet Throne again, even though I’d already finished it three times. My phone’s screen was cracked in the corner. My earbuds were glitching. But I was there—completely lost in Kael’s final scene. Bound in chains. Surrounded by guards. Betrayed by the only person he’d ever trusted. The crowd called for his head. And he said: “I was born with a sword in my hands and silence in my throat.” Then they hanged him. And just like that… he was gone. I remember blinking. The sound of the wind. A flash of red. A horn. The screech of brakes. And a strange, weightless feeling—like the moment just before a dream begins. And then… everything went black. But I didn’t wake up in a hospital. There was no beeping. No bright light. No mother crying beside my bed. Instead— I woke up in the rain. Soaked to the bone. The sky above me was dark, the clouds low and heavy like they might crush the world. I sat up slowly, my body screaming in protest. My shoulders ached beneath unfamiliar weight. Armor. Worn, cracked, and soaked with blood that hadn’t dried. My hands hit stone as I stumbled forward. They were large. Callused. Scarred with battles I had never fought. These weren’t my hands. This wasn’t my body. The air smelled of rust and fear. And somewhere nearby, voices echoed—sharp, angry, terrified. “Seize him!” “The Duke has betrayed the crown!” “He must answer for his crimes!” And then, loud and clear: “Kael Varentine will die tonight!” My breath caught. That name—Kael Varentine. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be real. But the pain was. The cold was. The trembling of the ground beneath me as horses approached, guards drew swords, and I realized... I was him. Or rather— I was in his body. But something was off. I felt it in the way the armor pressed too tightly against my chest, in the bruises beneath the surface that didn’t match the ones I remembered from the book. I felt it in the way my voice—when I tried to cry out—got caught in my throat. This body was hiding something. It wasn’t just Kael. And then the memories hit me. Not my memories—his. No… hers. Fleeting images. A silver blade. A mirror shattered. A desperate binding of cloth across the chest. Orders shouted through clenched teeth. Standing at the edge of a battlefield alone. Kael Varentine was not the man history painted him to be. She had hidden herself behind armor, name, and silence. Not to deceive—but to survive. No one had ever seen her for who she was. Not her soldiers. Not the court. Not the world. Not even the reader. Not even me. Footsteps. Someone was approaching. I gripped the hilt of the sword beside me on instinct, though I had no idea how to use it. My arms were too heavy. My breath came too fast. I had no training, no strength. A figure emerged through the mist. A boy, maybe a year younger than me. Thin. Dirty. Eyes wide with terror. “Your… Your Grace,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “They say… you betrayed the king. That you’re to be executed tonight.” He looked like he wanted to run. But something held him in place. Fear, maybe. Or awe. “You saved us. From the northern raiders. You held the line when the other nobles fled. Please…” He paused, glanced over his shoulder. “You have to go.” I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out. Because in this world, I was Kael Varentine. I was the villain. The traitor. The execution order had already been signed. And no one knew that beneath the armor… I wasn’t him. Not a man. Not a monster. Not even a soldier. Not a villain. Just a girl who died in the rain and woke up in someone else’s war. “Kill him on sight!” a voice bellowed. Closer now. “The capital demands his head!” The boy flinched. I stared down at my bloodied hands, then to the sword, then to the stone beneath me. This was the moment Kael died in the book. Smiling. Silent. Alone. But I wasn’t ready to die again. I wouldn’t let her story end like this. Not again. They didn’t know who I really was. And that was my only weapon. So I stood. And for the second time in one day— I refused to die. 🧭 End of Chapter 1