⸻ The Lost Queen - XXI ⸻
— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.
— genre: yandere, dark!au.
— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.
— word count: 4,495.
— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23, @leathesimp, @dostoevsskij, @meheheasasa, @jsprien213, @lammys-thinking.
—the lost queen series masterlist.
— ko-fi
Chapter 21
When you opened your eyes, you were no longer in your room in the Persian Palace, amid the gilded excesses and fine fabrics of the city of Babylon.
You were in your old room. In the room of a life that seemed to have belonged to someone else.
The dull white ceiling was the first thing you saw, and for a moment, your heart stopped — as if everything you had lived had been just a feverish delirium. But when you sat up in bed, everything became even more confusing. The sheets were exactly as you remembered them: with that faint scent of aged lavender, the rough touch of cheap cotton under your hands. It was as if you had been ripped from Babylon and forced back into the past — but not just any past, but right where it all began. Your old life.
The room was the same. Every corner held a memory. The walls were painted in a pale, characterless tone, the pictures of your family, friends and your cat, the simple furniture, devoid of any luxury, just the essentials — the old, worn wooden dresser, the mirror with a small crack in the corner. Everything was there, as if time had frozen. But the strangest thing was that, although everything was exactly the same... It no longer felt like yours. It felt empty, soulless, almost suffocating. You realized, with a heaviness in your chest, that you had grown accustomed to the opulence of Babylon — the silk, the gold, the smells of incense, the distant sound of exotic music as night fell.
Now, surrounded by this cold simplicity, your old room seemed faded. Dull. Strange. But questioning the decor was the least of your problems. Not when your mind was spinning, confused and dizzy, trying to understand what had actually happened. You had been sent back — that much was clear — but why? Why now? Why like this?
Why would Aslan have brought you back? Right now, after everything you had lived, felt, lost and achieved?
For a moment, you wondered if it had all been just a long and incredibly vivid dream. But when you looked at yourself, you realized how impossible that was. Your slightly rounded belly — the weight of it, the subtle, almost timid movements you felt under your skin — were living proof that it couldn’t be an invention. You were still pregnant. Your body didn't lie. Your mind did.
And if it wasn't a dream... what was it? A trap? A mistake? Had you been just a toy in the hands of that creature: Aslan.
A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you got up from the bed. Your legs, once firm, wobbled. You leaned against the nearest piece of furniture, feeling your body exhausted, as if you had fought invisible battles for centuries. Everything hurt, inside and out. But there was no room for mourning. You were back.
This was what you always wanted... Wasn't it?
You tried to convince yourself of this, but the words sounded hollow even to you.
There was so much that needed to be understood, so much that needed to be done. But first of all... You needed a shower. You needed hot water, to wash away the sweat, the fatigue and who knows, with luck, some of the confusion that weighed on your shoulders.
As you looked in the mirror, a wave of nostalgia hit you. There you were, in your old kitten pajamas — the ones you remembered hiding at the bottom of a trunk in your old tent in the Macedonian camp. You remembered how you tried not to think about them, how you avoided them, because just seeing them made your eyes fill with tears.
And now they were there. As if they had never been touched by time, just a little tighter. Your body had changed — rounder, heavier, with the curves of someone who carries life inside them. But it wasn’t just your body. You had changed too.
You were no longer the person who once wore those pajamas and slept in that bed. And now, all that was left was to figure out what to do with them.
And with everything that was yet to come because, somehow, you knew it wasn't over.
The bathroom was exactly as you remembered it — a perfect reflection of the past you thought you had left behind forever. The white tiled walls, the simple details, the mirror with faint fingerprints, and that white light that had never been bright enough but now felt welcoming. Comforting. Familiar. And strange.
Everything was in its place. As if you had gone to sleep there the night before, as if none of this — Babylon, the Macedonian camp, Alexander, the linen robes, the gold, and the fear of the unknown — had ever happened. Your hair products, your skincare products neatly arranged on the shelf, your towels folded in the cabinet, and your toothbrush.
It was when you saw the toothbrush that you felt the tears rise to your eyes, burning unexpectedly.
It wasn’t that your teeth were dirty — no, you'd always managed — but it was the contrast that hit you like a punch in the gut. For a while, your "brush" had been a tree branch, carefully frayed at the end, like a relic from ancient times. And instead of toothpaste, you used what you had on hand: ash powder mixed with crushed crystals, and, on more "luxurious" occasions, activated charcoal. None of it was exactly pleasant, but you got used to it. You had to. It was either that or live with the bitter taste of poor hygiene, and that was a battle you refused to lose.
But now... Here were your real products. Your mint-flavored toothpaste, the deodorant that made you feel clean and fresh, the lavender-scented soap, and, oh — the shampoo that made your hair shine the way you liked it. The relief was almost absurd, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How could you miss such little things so much? Things you never really thought about.
Carefully, you removed the kitten pajamas, folding them slowly before placing them in the laundry basket.
Turning the shower knob, the hot water began to fall, filling the bathroom with the soft, steady sound you hadn't even realized you'd missed. As soon as you stepped in, you felt a shiver of pleasure as you felt the water run down your body. It was so different from the baths in wooden tubs, the clay bowls and damp cloths you used so often. The shower felt like an unparalleled luxury. The simple sensation of the hot water falling directly onto your shoulders, your back, your belly... it was like coming back to life.
You washed yourself calmly, almost in reverence. You washed your hair with your favorite products, massaging your scalp like you used to do before everything changed. You shaved your armpits carefully and, feeling bold, other parts too — like you used to do in the past, for pleasure, for comfort, for feeling in control of your own body.
It had been so long since your last bath like this and you decided to make the most of it.
Now, there was only the present. The water. And you. The rest would come later.
When you felt like you had spent enough time under the hot water, when your fingers were wrinkled and your skin was starting to become sensitive to the touch, you finally turned off the shower. The silence that followed seemed almost deafening, in contrast to the constant sound that had filled the room until seconds ago.
You grabbed a soft towel — the same one you always had, a little faded from time and use, but familiar — and wrapped yourself in it, calmly drying your face and then your body. Your movements were automatic, a reflection of the routine of a life that now seemed so distant. You walked out of the bathroom, the steam still dissipating around you, and started heading to your room, ready to change.
But you had not taken more than two steps down the hallway when you heard a sound — a loud, frightened sigh.
Your body reacted instantly, your muscles tensing, your heart racing. For a second, you thought it was a burglar or something else. You turned around quickly, already preparing to scream, but the air left your lungs in another kind of shock.
Your best friend was there, standing in the middle of the hallway. Her light blue eyes wide, fixed on you as if she were seeing a ghost — and, in a way, she was. Her face, always so expressive and full of life, now showed absolute astonishment. Her mouth was half open, her hands slightly raised, as if she didn't know whether to run to you or run away.
You didn't even have time to blink when May crossed the short distance between you and wrapped you in a desperate, almost painful hug. A sob choked in your throat, and the tears came as if they were just waiting for that touch to free themselves. You hugged her back tightly, clinging to her like a safe haven, as if only then could you believe that you were truly home.
No words were spoken. For long seconds, you just pressed against each other, sharing the silence full of longing and pain. You felt her face pressed against your damp hair, felt her fingers digging lightly into your back, as if she feared you would disappear at any moment. Instinctively, you patted her back lightly, trying to calm her down, trying to calm yourself down.
May pulled away, but only enough to look you in the eyes. Hers were red, full of tears and a pain that made your chest hurt even more.
"Where have you been?! I... We've been worried sick for months, (Y/N)! Fuck, I was starting to believe you were dead!" Her voice broke at the end, and then the questions came, all at once. An emotional bombardment, an outburst. She needed answers, she needed to understand.
And you didn't blame her. How could you? If you were in her shoes, you would feel the same — the same desperation, the same anger, the same need to know.
"I... I don't know how to explain it to you." Your voice came out low, hoarse, as if it hadn't been used in a long time. And in a way, it hadn't. How could you explain the inexplicable? What words could describe that you had been sent two thousand years into the past, that you had met Alexander the Great, that you had become a queen, a wife... and now, a mother-to-be?
How could you tell someone this without sounding insane? Even for May, who had always been by your side, who knew you like no one else, it was too much. She would think you had gone crazy. And you wouldn't blame her for it. Before, you would have thought it was crazy yourself.
But it was May. Your best friend since forever. And you needed to tell her. You needed to get it all out. Share everything — the fear, the pain, the fleeting moments of happiness. Keeping it all to yourself would be too much of a burden.
May was still holding you, as if she was afraid you would disappear if she let go. Her eyes were trembling, but they were steady on yours, searching for something. Understanding, maybe. Or just the certainty that you were real.
"Start from the beginning." She asked, trying to smile but failing. Her face was a mirror of your confusion.
You nodded slowly and tightened the towel around your body, only then realizing how exposed you were. Vulnerable, not only physically, but in everything.
"Can I... Change first?" You murmured, trying to smile too. "I feel very exposed right now."
May hesitated, but let you go. Her arms crossed, her gaze still on you, as if she were prepared to follow you to the ends of the earth.
"I won’t let go of you," She said firmly, her eyes narrowed in defiance, as if daring you to try to run away.
You smiled. A small smile, but sincere.
"I don't expect anything different." You replied and walked into the bedroom, with her close behind you. She closed the door carefully, and you hurried to grab your clothes. May, to her credit, turned her face away when you let go of the towel.
You pulled on a pair of comfortable black sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. Simple, comfortable clothes... But at the same time strange. You felt strange in them. After months of chitons, tunics, veils, jewelry, and embellished sandals, those clothes seemed so... Dull. Weightless. Meaningless.
And why did you miss the hands that dressed you so much, the necklaces that adorned you, the fine, hand-embroidered fabrics?
Your fingers instinctively touched your bare neck, and you felt strangely... Naked. Empty.
There you were, back in your old room, with your best friend. But you had never felt so out of place in your entire life.
May cleared her throat, bringing your attention back to the present.
"Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened? Why did you disappear?" Her voice was shaking, but there was determination there. And you knew it — the time had come.
It was time to tell her everything.
From the moment you bought that old book, to the moment that man — Aslan — appeared in your life, like an impossible mirage, with his confusing words.
You told her about Babylon, about the hanging gardens you saw in the distance, the dry heat in the air and the clothes you never imagined wearing. You told her about Alexander — not the one from the books, or from movies and series, but the man behind the victories and the wars. The Alexander who looked at you as if you were his own world. You told her about the wedding, how he almost killed his friend because of you, about the few pleasant nights in his royal tent, about the fear and admiration that grew throughout the short but significant time you spent together.
You told her about Perdiccas, about the kiss, the kidnapping, the loneliness. About the pregnancy discovered in the midst of chaos. You told her about the sleepless nights, about the constant fear of losing the babies, about how each day was a struggle between the past and the desire to return home. You told her, with tears in your eyes, how you woke up suddenly, in your old room, in the pajamas you thought you had left behind, with the babies still moving in your belly.
You didn't spare anything. Not even the details that seemed too absurd to say out loud. But then again, everything was absurd.
And in the end, your voice came out in a tired whisper, as if each word had left you more exhausted:
May stared at you as if she was trying to see through you, as if she was searching in your eyes for the lie, the rational explanation, anything that made sense.
"You..." She began, but stopped, processing everything. "You're married to a conqueror who died over two thousand years ago and you're expecting not just one, but two babies from that man?"
Her voice sounded almost neutral, but her eyes said it all. They were wide, confused, almost desperate.
"(Y/N)..." Your name came out of her like a whine. "Were you drugged? Were you... Abused? None of this makes sense!"
You pressed your lips together, feeling the salty taste of tears that threatened to come back. Her words hurt, even if they were the result of concern. You didn't blame her. No rational human being would accept that story.
"I wasn't drugged..." You said softly, staring at your own hands. "And as for abuse..." You bit your lip, hesitating. "Not in the true sense of the word."
May frowned, taking a step forward, as if she wanted to reach you and at the same time feared touching whatever it was you had become. You took a deep breath and ran your hand through your still damp hair, trying to anchor yourself to something.
"I'm telling the truth, May."
The silence settled once more, heavy, thick. May seemed to fight with all her might not to panic, not to yell at you. She crossed her arms, pacing back and forth, the words stuck in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears, and when she finally looked back at you, her expression was one of pain.
"So..." She whispered, trying to understand, trying to accept. "What are you going to do now? If this is real... What are you going to do, (Y/N)"
The question hung in the air like a sentence. You had no answer.
May sat back down, the weight of the moment on her shoulders, and took your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly, as if to make sure you wouldn’t disappear again. Her soft, lightly tanned skin was warm, familiar — a comfort.
You felt the pang of longing. Longing for something you hadn’t known you needed until that moment.
"Do you have any idea what these past five months have been like?" Her voice was shaky, filled with pain. "I was worried like crazy... Your family was too. The police..." She shook her head, her eyes watering "dropped your case. They said that since so much time had passed... The chances of you being alive were slim."
Her lips trembled as she said it, and for a second she looked like a child trying to hold back tears. You could see how much she had suffered. How much she blamed herself, perhaps, for not having done more, for not having been able to find you.
And then the guilt came — devastating, suffocating. You knew it was irrational to blame yourself. You hadn't asked for this, you hadn't chosen to be taken from your life, from your reality. But you couldn’t help it. The guilt settled deep in your chest like a heavy stone.
The guilt of having disappeared.
The guilt of having left May, your family, everyone who loved you... In the dark, without answers, drowning in pain and uncertainty.
You swallowed hard, feeling your throat burn.
''May...'' Your voice was broken, small. "I'm so sorry. I didn't want anyone to go through this... I swear I tried... I tried to go back, I tried to find a way..."
But there was no way. Not until now.
May pulled you into a hug, her hands shaking as they held you tightly, as if they could hold time back, prevent something like that from happening again.
"I'm just glad you're alive..." She whispered against your shoulder. "That's all that matters now."
But was it really? You didn't know what mattered anymore. Because even though you were back... Part of you was still there. And maybe it would never stop being there.
Suddenly, you remembered something.
Curiosity had become a fire inside you, burning everything in its path. Had history changed? Had your presence in the past, with Alexander, with the entire empire, left any mark? Was there any record of you in the books now, in the articles? Was there any mention of Alexander's Queen?
"May, do you have your phone with you?" You asked, a little anxious.
May pulled away a little, her hands still holding yours, her brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in your tone.
"Huh? I am, why?" She asked, quickly wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Are you okay?"
You nodded, even though you weren't. Not really.
"I just… I need to see something. Please."
It was irrational — or maybe not. You knew you shouldn't think about it now, with so much going on, with May finally having you back, with so many unanswered questions... But you needed to know.
"Okay... Okay." May mumbled, still not understanding, and pulled her phone out of the pocket of the baggy sweatshirt she was wearing. She handed it to you with a worried look.
You picked up the device, feeling your heart race in your chest, and opened the browser with trembling fingers. The screen shone like it was a window to a reality that shouldn’t exist.
You typed "Alexander the Great"”" into the search field, your stomach tightening, your breath held.
And then, holding the phone as if it were fragile, you started scrolling through the pages.
And you hoped to find... Something. Anything.
Your eyes scanned the headlines, passing by well-known biographies, mosaic portraits, battles, campaigns... Until something caught your eye. An article with a strange, almost absurd title jumped out of the screen like a punch in the gut:
"Alexander’s Lost Wife: New Document Reveals Unsolved Mystery"
Your heart nearly stopped. You clicked, your hands sweating, your breathing ragged. May was looking over your shoulder now, confused, not understanding why you were shaking. But you couldn’t explain it — not yet.
The article was from a reliable historical website, the kind that wouldn't publish something without a basis. The text was detailed, serious, with quotes from renowned archaeologists and historians. And there you were. Not just mentioned... But as part of the story, of the history.
"For centuries, the existence of an unknown wife of Alexander the Great was treated as legend — briefly mentioned in rare manuscripts and regarded as folklore. But recently, translated fragments of Greek and Persians records reveal the figure of a woman named (Y/N), described as a foreigner of unusual appearance, who is said to have won the heart of the Macedonian king and become his consort."
You felt pressure in your ears, as if the world around you were sinking in.
"The records tell of her mysterious disappearance during the height of the Persian campaign, and of Alexander's devastating response — he is said to have launched his fury, his revenge against his own generals, agaisnt the Persians, made impulsive decisions, and, according to recent theories, began his final march in poor health and broken spirit. Alexander died a few months later after his wife disappearance."
There was even a crude illustration, reimagined from ancient descriptions, of a woman with modern features, standing next to Alexander. Your name was in parentheses, as if it were a footnote, but you were there.
May put her hand over her mouth.
"What the fuck..." She whispered, her eyes wide. "This isn't a montage. This is from a real website. They... They're talking about you."
You looked at her, your mind a whirlwind of shock and confirmation, and whispered, almost soundlessly, "I... Changed everything."
And in that instant, there was no denying it anymore. History had been changed, the proof was there, even if it couldn't be felt.
The article continued to scroll. The words on the screen seemed to blur together as your eyes took in more than you expected — more than you wanted.
"Historians suggest that after the unexplained disappearance of (Y/N), Alexander the Great plunged into a state of intense rage and grief. There are records of chaotic orders and military campaigns that were not in the king’s original plans, including the siege and subsequent destruction of Babylon, one of the most prosperous and wealthy cities in the ancient world. It is estimated that thousands died or were enslaved."
You felt the phone slip a little from your hands, but forced yourself to hold on tight. Your chest tightened, as if a chain was wrapping around your heart.
"Furthermore, Persian and Greek sources suggest that the king, weakened by pain and battles, fell seriously ill, refusing care, fasting, and giving in to despair. His early death, at the age of 26, is now attributed, by some currents, to the direct consequence of the loss of his wife, whose identity was considered a mystery for more than two thousand years."
The pain cut deep, sharper than any blade.
Your departure — your return to your own time — wasn't just an escape from an impossible life. It was the spark that set everything on fire. You stared at May, who was still reading, in shock. The words wouldn’t come out of her mouth.
But at the cost of thousands of lives. Of an entire city. Of an empire. Of Alexander.
You fell to your knees on the edge of the bed, the world spinning.
May knelt before you, hands on her knees, and asked in a low voice, as if afraid of the answer, "This all... This happened because of you?"
You didn't answer right away. How could you? How could you put into words that your return home, which seemed like a miracle, had cost you more than you could ever imagine?
You stared at your shaking hands and finally whispered:
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Guilt enveloped you like a thick, suffocating fog, holding your breath, crushing your chest. But deep down… Deep down, you knew the truth.
You chose none of this. You didn't ask to be ripped from your time, thrown into the past, forced to adapt, to survive, to go through everything you went through. Aslan used you. He played with you as if you were a piece in a cruel game, a pawn sacrificed for a purpose you didn't even understand.
He was the one who took you from your life. He was the one who made you part of a world that wasn't yours. And he was the one who took you from there, ripping you away not only from the environment, the people, that you had grown accustomed to... But from everything you had built. He destroyed that. He caused all of this.
But the guilt... Still burned.
"I know it's not my fault..." Your voice came out hoarse, weak, as if it were someone else speaking, "But I feel this way. As if I had killed thousands... Destroyed everything I've touched."
May stared at you, still kneeling, tears streaming down her face, but without saying anything for a moment. And then, she squeezed your hands tightly, firmly. Her eyes, red, fixed on yours.
"No. You didn't destroy anything, (Y/N)." Her voice was firm, full of pain and fury. "The one who did this was this... This Aslan. That thing. You were used. You survived. And you're still here. You're not a goddess or whatever, you're not omnipotent. It wasn't you."
You closed your eyes, letting a tear fall silently. May sat next to you on the bed and hugged you tightly, holding you as if she could stop you from falling apart — as if her presence could glue the broken pieces inside you together.
But you knew you needed to fix this. You just didn't know how to do it yet.
— lady l: I know this chapter was more focused on Reader but it was necessary, but the next one will focus on Alexander and someone else :)) and yesss, I know that no one remembers May (not even I remembered to be honest) but since Reader is back, I thought it was right to bring her friend back too! lol
I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes. I've been exhausted lately without my medication and a lot of things may have gone unnoticed but I ask that you please ignore it.
As always, feedback is always welcome. See you in the next chapter! ❤️❤️
