Daenerys Targaryen Crown Novels & Stories

Not even the best restaurant back at Castings matches up to this one right here. "You're beautiful..." Charles says for the millionth time this night and I just smile at him. The dress I'm wearing is the gift I got from my dad. A red gown that hugs my skin and curves perfectly. It's also the same bright red color as my hair. And the shoes I'm wearing are light brown heels from my mom, the shoes match my eyes perfectly. I tied my hair up in a high pony tail and applied only mascara and lip gloss. Never really been a fan of heavy make up.

They mourned him and continue to do so. Someone had to take over now that the King was gone, and the young Crown Prince is doing an excellent job of carrying on his father's legacy. He's skilled at making snap decisions, and he's a natural leader. Not to mention that he's quite attractive. Anastasia isn't the only girl in the kingdom who fantasizes about him. When she sees him pass by, she can't help but steal a glimpse at him. If word gets out that she secretly admires the Prince, she'll most likely be beaten to death, but who can blame her? Despite the fact that he is rumored to be engaged, Anastasia smiles sheepishly whenever his name is mentioned. Even if he isn't enganged, a maid and a

Once Dominick had his release without going all the way in, he rested beside her while she gathered the sheet to cover her body from the ripped clothes. He placed a box over her stomach. “Here,” She was puzzled. “Open it.” It’s probably a piece of jewelry that could be wrapped around her neck like a collar for a leash. She sat up and stared down at the gold seal over it. The Emblem of the Kingdom Westeros. She opened it to find a gold necklace with a pendant of the emblem. “Why are you giving me this?” “It’s the family’s relic. It would protect you.” She stared at him.

It waited there, silent and claimless, an ancient burden cast aside. The Crown of Eldoria. Forged in the heart of dragonfire. Set with moonstone mined from the sacred caverns of the Frostpine Wilds. Passed from one ruler to another, generation after generation. Kings and queens had worn it, yes, but not as a symbol of glory. The Crown of Eldoria was a chain. A heavy, unyielding chain that demanded sacrifice and blood and obedience. Elara reached out, her fingers hovering above the twisted metal. She felt it hum faintly, an ancient pulse of power, a whisper demanding order, calling for submission.

Her presence alone twisted the air; the temperature seemed to drop, and the shadows leaned toward her like worshippers. “I wondered if you’d come,” she said softly, voice velvet over steel. “The daughter of the Blood Queen, the heir to the crown. You hold more than I imagined.” Bianca stepped forward, dagger drawn, her golden fire flaring in the dim torchlight. “I hold what you should have destroyed long ago. The crown chose me, not you.” Amara’s smile was slow, cruel, and patient. “The crown chooses, but it also hungers. You wear it, yet it is not satisfying. And now, you come to stop what I began.”

Evelina replied. Nora’s voice was calm when she spoke next, though the dragon beneath her words was unmistakable. “That means the relic is central to their final move.” Elias rolled the scroll closed slowly. “The Interregnum cannot activate the relic system without a stabilizing elemental anchor,” he said. “And they believe Iris is that anchor,” Rhett swore quietly under his breath. I didn’t say anything. Because I already knew what the next part of this conversation meant. If the Interregnum wanted Iris, they weren’t going to stop until they tried to take her.

“I know.” A small, breathless smile curved his mouth. “And I love you too,” she whispered. Below them, the lake caught the light and held it, and the forest around it carried that warmth inward—through root and stone, through corridor and heart—until it reached the quieter halls of the palace, where another choice waited with equal patience. Corren stood alone in the Hall of Roots, the Verdant Crown resting upon its living pedestal. It was not forged by fire but shaped by time—wood veined with gold, leaves eternally green along its arch. The chamber smelled of earth and rain, ancient and steady.

She obeyed, drawn to the comfort of his touch. In her vision, she saw Kai pressing a kiss to Darina’s neck, gently placing a crown on her head. He looked at her with worship, as if she were a goddess—his everything. “You never stood a chance,” Bred murmured. “The crown was always meant to be hers.” The scene shifted. She saw Darius approach a beautiful woman with long silver hair and large violet eyes. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“But I have a feeling he is the one responsible for all of this?” “Might be. Do you know anything about him?” “Nothing except he asked me to steal the crown before your coronation.” “Ah, it tracks!” “What?” “If someone steals my crown before the coronation, they can challenge me to a duel of life or death, challenge my crown and my position as the king. The crown also has magic, Vera, ancient magic. It gives power to the ruler of Draconia. It is not just an ornament. It is history, it is a source of power.”

“Daenerys Lee. Step forward.” She did steadily, no trembling. He placed his hands on her shoulders the same way he had with Daemon. “Do you swear to guard this land, to honor its people, to lead with the courage your mother taught you and the mercy I hope I showed?” “I swear,” Daenerys said. Her voice rang clear. Morris drew his own blade—the one he carried for the northern territory—and pressed it to her forehead, then her heart. “By choice and by bond, I name you Alpha Daenerys of the Northern pack.”