Novel & Cerita A Prayer For The Crown-shy

A man approached— Holding the crown. Gold. Heavy. Unforgiving. “This is not how I wanted things to be,” I said softly. But loud enough for the world to hear. The man dropped to one knee. “Your Highness.” He rose slowly. Turning to the room. “Let all present stand witness,” he declared. “To the coronation of Princess Bella.” The room straightened. Still. Silent. “Princess Bella,” he said, turning back to me. “Take a knee.” I lowered myself slowly.

I was the famously sickly daughter of a great general. A cold breeze could make me cough blood. Unfortunately, I also had echopraxia, which made me compulsively imitative. Whatever I saw, I copied, and nobody could stop me. When I was three, one of my father's mistresses staged a hanging to win his attention. I thought it looked interesting, looped a sash around my own neck, and copied her. By the time a maid found me, my eyes had already rolled back. The physician forced three bowls of restorative down me through the night before he got me back. When I was five, my half sister threw herself on the floor screaming for candy. I copied her and stayed unconscious for seven whole days. My fa

she says in a low voice. That's probably true. The great crown might have the power to heal. But it's on Rowena's head. I am afraid that I haven't been exactly thinking of how much I hate her. I was in fact unconscious most of the time. "I will not let her and that stupid Alpha take your life tomorrow. Just tell me that I have the consent of your heart to wear the crown and I will save you. You can be free and happy once more instead of dead," Cara urges.

they all closed their eyes spontaneously as the prayer began. “ Thank you Lord, for this moment. Thank you for the opportunity and privilege you've given to us to be able to call on your name at any moment. We are grateful. Lord, we ask that you grant Evie wisdom, understanding, counsel and might. We ask that you be with her in her quest and you help her win Adrian's soul to your kingdom. Strength her, Lord. Uphold her, Lord. Be her shield and buckler. Thank you Lord for we know you've answered. In Jesus' name. ”

I guess I have to put those things aside and focus on finishing this summit, for now. ~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~ I remember reading from Shakespeare that said something like, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown…” I can’t help but think today is one of those days when I feel the hefty weight of my crown. And my head spins and bends sideways just to carry it. I’ve been staring at this fancy invitation card in my hand, black paper with gold printing, sealed with a red wax showing the crest of the Blue Blood Pack.

Maybe I need earth beneath my feet, sky above my head, something real and honest to remind me that I am more than just a crown and the duties that come with it. A sharp click ahead. The throne room doors close, someone having entered before us. The sound tugs me forward, snapping my mind back into the corridor—into the moment. I inhale, straighten. "I understand your concern, Admiral," I say with a nod that sets my crown's chains to chiming softly. I adjust the shawl over my head, tucking back any loose silver strands that dared escape the confines of propriety. The fabric brushes cold against my skin, the golden chains over my forehead settling with familiar weight.

The ceremony had begun, and there was no turning back now. The high priest moved forward, his steps slow and deliberate. His eyes were filled with the gravity of the moment as he approached her. In his hands, the crown gleamed, a symbol of power, of control. The weight of it was palpable, and Sienna couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down her spine. She had always heard stories of the crown’s power, of the responsibility it demanded. But she had never felt it so strongly until now.

The great doors close with a sound like breaking bones, leaving me alone with the ache of this cursed crown and the weight of a kingdom built on graves. The crown itself pulses against my temples, its once-brilliant gold now tarnished to the color of old blood. It used to shine like captured sunlight, a beacon of hope and righteous rule. Now it hums with an endless network of hairline cracks, each fracture a spider's thread of corruption spreading deeper into the metal and into me. Each break is a reminder that nothing in this world remains unbroken: not thrones built on noble intentions, not bloodlines stretching back to heroes of legend, not oaths sworn under starlight with hearts full of

Nora looked at the glowing face of Orion and clasped her hands together. “So… The people of Aradia Kingdom. I … present you the crown prince, Mr. Orion Ironheart, and request him to touch the precious stone before taking the oath and wear the silver crown also known as the Promise crown. It’s a promise that we will follow his future commands and it's also a promise that he will always prefer his kingdom over everything.” The podium was shaking due to the deafening cheering and clapping. It was an outdoor ceremony so that maximum people could attend it.

he shouted back. Klara hunched slightly with being alone with Xander, sure he’d been nothing but kind to her since her father attacked the Kingdom, but she still had a notion of worry. A finger hooked under her chin, “Shoulders back, my Queen.” He placed a hand on her lower back, pushing gently for her to straighten. “Sorry,” she whispered. “You are nervous, I remember my coronation. I was terrified.” His golden eyes flashed. “You were young,” she murmured.