Aragorn Crowning Novels & Stories

All I hear is, "By the power vested upon me, you will become the queen of Evergreen, from today until forever!" A maid removes my crown and my father stands up. He walks next to the high priest. The priest takes a few steps back and my father takes the queen's crown. Gently, he crowns me with it and says, "I am so proud of you!" I force a smile and curtsy as father nods and goes back into his place. I face the crowd once and for all. The high priest announces, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Children, world-- help me welcome the new Queen of Evergreen, Aurora Wintershade!"

Tall. Bareheaded despite the cold. Dark hair braided with silver rings. A scar crossed one eye. She stepped forward. And dropped to one knee. Every warrior behind her did the same. Snow whispered across their armor. The woman lowered her head. “Crown-Bearer.” Lyra stared. Cassian went rigid behind her. Lucien’s knife flashed into his hand. The woman looked up. Her one good eye fixed on Lyra. “We have waited eighteen years for your blood to return north.”

A sleek black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me, its tires cruelly splashing a wave of muddy water from a puddle, soaking me to the skin. The car door swung open, and Nolan stepped out, his bodyguards forming a tight circle around him. His eyes locked onto the urn cradled in my arms, and for a moment, he froze, then his face twisted with anger. "Lena was right. You're really going all out with this charade, even getting yourself an urn to play the part in this rain!" He grabbed the urn from me and hurled it to the ground. I felt a surge of rage. Ignoring the pain racking my body, I dove for the urn and, thankfully, caught it just in time.

Beside us, Bella clapped her hands in delight, her expression one of untouchable arrogance. "Kill her, Lorenzo! Chop off her hands and feed them to the dogs! A pathetic, low-born woman like her could die ten thousand times and it still wouldn't atone for my son's life!" Bella even spat on me, acting as if she were already the Sovereign of the city. Lorenzo raised his right hand high, another heavy blow ready to fall. Just then, the rhythmic thud of heavy, synchronized footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. Each strike of expensive leather against the floor carried enough raw pressure to turn the air to lead.

"I'm listening?" "Well, you see... it's in the tradition. The throne shouldn't be vacant for more than a month and it's about three months now that no one has sat on the throne. So the elders and I have agreed that you'll be crowned King in two weeks time and also, your wedding will take place on the day of your coronation." "Wait...all these are too much for me."

The neckline dips elegantly, the back is daringly low, and the slit up one leg is just enough to be sensual rather than scandalous. I step into it and stare at myself in the full-length mirror. Hair swept into a soft updo, simple diamond studs from the bag, makeup kept luminous and natural. I look… like I belong. Which is terrifying. Aragorn is waiting at the bottom of the grand marble staircase when I descend. He’s in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, white shirt crisp, bow tie impeccable. The moment his eyes find me, something raw flickers across his face—pride, hunger, love—before the polished royal mask slides back into place.

His lips curved into that serpent’s smile he wore so easily. “These... ” he gestured broadly to his left and right, where his allies stood “Are my friends. They have come here to witness the coronation. To bear witness to history. To stand as proof that this crown does not only belong to me but to whichever of us... Nicklaus or myself, proves worthy today.” The crowd shifted uneasily, but they grew silent, their eyes darting between us. Aragorn’s voice was smooth, he was trying to sound cool, but I could hear the pride in it. Pride, and ofcourse arrogance.

The elder raised his hands once more. “And now, the coronation shall commence!” Two warriors stepped forward carrying the Luna crown. Gold. Encrusted with diamonds. My crown. The one that had once sat on my head as I carried Magnus proudly beside Edmund. My lungs felt too tight to breathe. Clara turned and sank to her knees gracefully, hands folded, chin up like she had rehearsed this pose a thousand times in the mirror. Edmund lifted the crown. For a moment he looked around the courtyard, soaking in the attention and admiration. Then, slowly, he lowered it onto Clara’s head.

Jane said. “I, Ario, take this oath. I promise to protect the kingdoms and put them first. I promise to protect my subject for as long as I shall rule,” Jane said, and Ario repeated. Then Maeve took her oaths. Everyone watched as the guards brought two crowns. The crowns were beautiful; they were the same; there was no difference between the crowns.

The entire wolf world was watching this historic moment. I wore a silver coronation gown, a crown of moonstones weighing on my head. Damien was dressed in the black royal uniform of his house, holding the ancestral scepter of the Ironfang Pack. We walked side by side toward the twin thrones, our steps silent on the long red carpet. Tens of thousands of wolves rose to their feet in respect. "All hail! All hail! All hail!" The roar was like a tidal wave. Just as the coronation was about to begin, an image suddenly appeared on the large screens.