Daenerys Targaryen Crown Novels & Stories

Her attention was elsewhere. She did not know why it was happening. She did not know that somewhere beneath her ribs, coiled in a place even she had never touched, something older than her name recognized this hall — recognized these weapons — as pieces of a Crown that had crumbled long before the kingdom's founders had learned to read. The Void Queen's dormant will did not announce itself. It only reached, quiet and absolute, and the weapons answered because they remembered being reached for before. Auriel knew none of this. She knew only the pressure building behind her eyes, and the sound — a hall full of ancient steel screaming a name it had no right to know.

The words landed heavily. Then the Third Crown pulsed. Truth. God. No. Fair. Absolutely not. Reasonable honestly. Then Ava immediately pointed. Then: "I hate him already." Then Henry adjusted his glasses. Then: "What's his Crown?" Valen's expression darkened. Then: "The Crown of Dominion." Silence. Then Thomas felt something. The First Crown reacted. Authority. The Fourth Crown reacted. Resolve. Then Valen nodded. Then: "The Crown of Dominion is a corrupted twin of your Crown of Authority."

"The Dark Lord Khaos is no more." Ronan nodded in agreement, his gaze still fixed on Khaos's lifeless burnt form. "The throne is ours once more," he said, his voice firm. "We have reclaimed it, and none shall take it from us again." he did a slow bow to his granddaughter, who is now Queen Dynaris, The sleeping Dragon who we first met, stepped forward, placing a crown upon her head. "I crown thee 'Queen Dynaris' rightful heir to the City of Dragons," She watched in amazement as the miracle of the prophecy happened before her eyes.

Then, with a groan, the iron door shifted, revealing a stairway spiraling into darkness. They descended cautiously. What awaited them wasn’t a chamber of secrets but a sanctuary—untouched by war, sealed away from time. Candles burned eternally on the walls, enchanted flames flickering blue and silver. In the center of the room stood a pedestal bearing a single object: A crown. But not just any crown. This one was forged of blackened silver and crimson stone—its aura commanding, regal, and foreboding. Aria’s breath caught in her throat. “The Crown of Eldara.”

Althea fought her way back to Argos for Lysandros and helped him reclaim the throne, only to find herself trapped in the enemy kingdom of Thrace, wearing a slave's collar for three full years. Through three years of mortal danger, being dragged behind chariots, and bone-chilling winters, Althea survived on a single conviction: her betrothed, Lysandros, would come to rescue her. But when she finally set foot in the royal city again, what awaited her was not an embrace. It was a heavy golden laurel crown pressed against her brow, the Sacred Flame seal clutched in another woman's hand, and a royal heir growing in that woman's womb. She clung to one last hope: perhaps they had cast her aside onl

“So, you’re asking permission to make a water maid the crown princess, again?” “Yes, father. Lady Arya was a water maid too. If you can make a water maid your wife, why can’t I?” “CONCUBINES ARE NOT WIVES.” Narendra was devastated. “Fine, father. If you are not letting me marry her because I am the crown prince, I give up my title. I will leave the palace and take her with me. You better find an heir. Oh, you have so many children from your just-to-have-fun-women right? Choose one of them.” Danyel uttered furiously. He was going to leave for real.

All of his hype comes from his brothers, how good-looking he is or horny people who like smut-filled books. His brothers are just as famous as him. His eldest brother, Christian Crown runs a few strands of clubs and hotels. The middle brother, Khalil Crown is the maker and designer of the Crown. A car luxury brand, which became as popular as BMWs, Teslas, Lamborghinis, Mercedes and other car brands in just its first year of being produced. Soon enough they became on the same level as Rolls Royce, Lambos and other luxury cars. I do have to admit Crown cars are sexy as fuck.

She grabbed the only attachment to her clothing, a golden ring the size of a closed fist, she snapped it out, and her silver-white dress, the color matching her hair, fell to the floor with the ring making a light metallic sound that echoed through the room. Daario looked astonished, and he started to contemplate her beautiful body. Daenerys had undressed and was completely nude and began to slowly walk forward to the bed. While she walked, her hands reached for her hair and released her shining trenches, separating her hair while she was shaking her head slowly as her hair cascaded down to her breasts. Her face was relaxed, and her eyes were staring at Daario seductively. She raised her arm

he said, flipping open the lid with a practiced motion. My breath caught in my throat. Nestled against midnight velvet lay a crown unlike any I'd ever seen. Not the delicate, almost ornamental circlet traditionally worn by Lunas, but something magnificent—platinum wrought into intricate patterns that reminded me of forest branches in winter, diamonds and emeralds capturing light in their crystalline depths. It was a perfect balance between strength and beauty, power and elegance. "It's perfect," I whispered, not daring to touch it yet. This wasn't the simple crown he'd given me for our claiming ceremony—this was a statement, a declaration of my status as Alpha Queen.

The one who holds my hand when he is scared. "Give me the crown," Darius says. He moves closer to me. "The letter from the lawyer. The DNA proof. We will burn it together. You will go back to being my wife. My good wife. My obedient wife. No one gets hurt. No one needs to know." "What crown?" I ask him. He smiles. The same smile from this morning. From our wedding. From seven years of lies. "I know you are the Princess," he says. "I found you first. Before anyone else could. I made sure you stayed small. Stayed grateful. Stayed mine."