Claimed By The Fallen King Novels & Stories

The kingdom should know his name very well if only they weren’t a few hundred years past his prime era. “People of the United Realms,” I began, my shaking voice carrying out over the still crowd, now hanging on to my every word. “I see you all from where I stand, and I know very well what you are all feeling—confused, and afraid. This tragedy has struck our lands without warning and now we are with a fallen King. And without a monarch, the kingdom will fall. But worry not, because I will not allow such a thing to happen. My Father trusted me to never show a moment of weakness; we are the Capital and we are the sovereign. There is nothing in this world that can shake us.”

He stumbled, his strength waning as the cold spread through his veins. The illusions intensified, making it impossible for the king to discern reality. Lord Varnaak's eyes gleamed with triumph as King Radia fell to his knees, his vision blurring. A final, crushing blow sent the king crashing to the ground, his body lifeless. Lord Varnaak stood over him, his chest heaving slightly. "The strongest rules," he declared, his voice cold and detached. As the king's blood pooled around him, Lord Varnaak's gaze lingered on the lifeless body. He had waited for this moment, studied the king's weakness, and planned his move meticulously. The throne was now his, and he would stop at nothing to keep it.

Her husband, his bastard, was on his knees, with a bloodied mouth, and held down by a soldier who had a gun pressed to the back of his skull. And Ruslan, reclined majestically on the throne-like chair at the far end of the room with a lollipop in his mouth, watched his every reaction, the amusement in his eyes heightening as the blood drained from his father's face. The soldiers surrounding them and his deputy standing beside Ruslan were proof of a shift in loyalty. He thought this day would never come. "Mum..." The shaky, muffled voice of his grandchild filled his ears, "What's happening, mum?"

Chapter 288: A Riddle? Diana's pov It was over. Standing at the highest point in the palace for everyone to see and gazing down at them as they all came to a stand still. Hughes laid with his back pressed against the earth for everyone to see that the kingdom had finally fallen. A kingdom with no king is as good as doomed, at least that's what they said but I seemed to disagree, it didn't matter if we had a king or not, what mattered was peace and equality.

He was trying to use his sorcery but was restrained by the magic of the chains, long forged. "The last peach blossom is you, my king. The last son, the last alpha. If you fall, autumn will be the ruin of your kingdom," he revealed. I held my breath. "Who came to see me?" he teased, smiling. "It does not matter, Majesty. Just an old friend who still cares about me." And with that, I understood. I was the last peach blossom. The last king. Enemies were attacking because they knew that, after me, there would be no other.

As the sun was just peeking over the walls, the crowd filled the vast square, with a high platform in the center. The guillotine seemed to shine with a macabre gleam. The King stood in front of his main pack. "I’ve gathered you here so you can all witness the fall of the man I took in like a son, raised as a hero, the one we all worshiped, and he’s nothing but a vile coward and a traitor!" He roared, still wearing his bandages, milking it even more than necessary. The murmurs spread like some contagious disease. “Someone” said somewhere that Archer coveted the throne.

Using Radcliffe’s blood, they wrote the words “The King will fall and a new power will rise” I growl low and pace, staring at the mess and the threat. There are traitors within my kingdom and now I have to weed them out. When did this start? Why and how? “Clean this up, burn the body. We will hold a ceremony for his family’s sake, but he will not be buried.”

He walked to the window. Looked out over the city. Lights flickered below. Alive. Unaware. A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. “So…” His voice was low. Almost thoughtful. “The king of the underground.” A pause. His eyes darkened slightly. “My son.” The words came easier this time. Not softer. But accepted. His head tilted slightly. “If he rules…” A breath. “Then I rule.” Not dominance. Not greed. Something else. Recognition. Blood. Legacy.

The voice comes from directly behind me—deep, commanding, carrying an authority that makes my spine straighten instinctively. I turn slowly. Arthur Slater stands less than three feet away. Up close, he's even more imposing—raw power barely contained beneath expensive fabric and cold control. "Your Majesty." I keep my voice steady despite my racing pulse. "Should I bow?" "No." His gaze doesn't waver from mine, intense and unrelenting. "You're my mate. You bow to no one." The casual certainty in his words, the absolute assumption, sends a jolt through my chest.

He was hurled backward, slamming into the distant wall, his armor cracking, shadows flickering as if they were dying embers. Kai collapsed to his knees, struggling for breath. Rowan groaned, regaining his senses. And Luna remained at the epicenter of the chaos, her eyes gleaming silver-white, her hair billowing as if caught in a breeze known only to her. The Fallen King slowly rose, fractures spiderwebbing across his armor. “This is not finished,” he snarled. “I will come back — and when I do, you will surrender what I desire.” His form contorted into black smoke and disappeared.