Belle Crown Novels & Stories

"It is time to inspect the bridal silver." The velvet cloth was lifted. Beneath it lay a stunning silver crown. Ninety-nine tiny silver bells were arranged across the crown in delicate layers, catching the morning light until they shimmered so brightly that no one could look away. My younger sister, Lily Jones, covered her mouth. Her eyes turned red at once. "All seven pieces are here," she whispered. "Julia, you can finally get married." A wave of admiration spread through the crowd. "I have not seen a silver crown that beautiful in decades. Logan really spent a fortune this time."

Chase staggered as he took a step back. Then, he turned on his heels and ran back frantically, shoving open Bella's bedroom door. Bella had been in the middle of trying on a magnificent jewel crown in front of the mirror, an accessory that could only be worn by the pack's Luna. "Chase! Do you think I look good in this?" she asked, looking at him with a coquettish smile on her face. Yet, Chase grabbed her by the wrist, his eyes chillingly cold.

"You're going to be in the ceremony. You should look like you belong there. You do belong there." Mira took the dress. She held it in front of her. She looked at the silver thread at the collar. "You made me a coronation dress," she said. "I made you a dress for the ceremony where my daughter becomes Luna," my mother said. "What you call it is your business." Mira looked at me. I did not say anything.

Somewhat excited but skeptical about the possibility of Ronnie straight up ghosting her all over again afterwards, Belle went in the shower to wash up in preparation for her second date with Ronnie. Apparently, they had synchronized their watches and Ronnie had given her exactly one hour. After a few minutes of indecision about what to throw on for the evening, she finally chose a sleeveless, strappy, open back, black, mini dress with semi fitted bodice which showed off the slim line of her figure to a better advantage.

Yet today, her heart raced with the anticipation of a new beginning. "Yes, sister," Elen responded, quickly weaving her hair into a braid. She adorned herself in a simple purple gown, the fabric whispering of her anticipation as she readied herself to celebrate the ascension of her beloved Prince Addison. Upon stepping outside her room, Elen's eyes fell upon Chiara, who was attired in a resplendent red gown adorned with glistening accessories. A pang of bitterness fluttered through Elen's heart as she beheld the stark contrast between their appearances. With their parents, they made their way to the carriage, the anticipation hanging thick in the air as they journeyed to the palace.

Elowen said, her voice cutting through the noise with practiced precision. “I refuse false hope,” Alina replied. “The Crown is not a charm. It does not exist to quiet fear or buy time.” She turned slowly, meeting the eyes of those gathered. Faces she recognized. Faces she did not. Faces that carried hunger, exhaustion, and a desperate need for certainty. “If I wear it before I understand what it requires of me and of us,” she continued, “it will fall silent again. And next time, it may never wake.” The silence that followed was thin and brittle, stretched tight over disbelief.

“I want you honest.” She turned to Vow again. “And what happens if the Crown lies?” There was a beat of silence. Then—for the first and last time—Triarch Vow spoke. “If the Crown lies,” the voice rasped through the hood, genderless and sharp as glass, “then the city burns.” Later, in a room without screens, without files, without exits—he handed her a coat. Black. Fitted. Cut like armor. “You’re inside now,” Domenik said. “You dress like it.”

“I can do it again.” Outside, the bells tolled midnight. Deep beneath the palace, in the Sanctum, frost crept along the golden walls. And in that silence, somewhere between prayer and power, the two sisters began to draw closer once more, one in chains, one in silk, each preparing to claim the crown that the other could not hold.

I scrolled down and started reading the article. 'A curious announcement from the royal house of Medora, a kingdom north of Scotland. The king announced today that a contest will be held to find the crown prince a wife. Medora is known to be secluded, with not much news coming in and out of the country. They announced a test will be put online for whoever has any interest in becoming a queen. It does not matter what your nationality is, as long as you are above eighteen years old.'

Just beauty for its own sake. Flowers bloomed from our palms, each one reflecting a different perspective. Golden roses for Kael's fierce devotion. Silver lilies for Rhett's sharp intelligence. Blue orchids for Darius's gentle strength. Violet nightshade for Marcus's dark history transformed. And in the center, a bloom that shifted through every color—Lyra's cosmic nature, containing multitudes. We wove them together into a crown. Not for wearing. Just for creating. Just to prove that even as one being, we could still make beautiful things.