Gothic Names Novels & Stories

The name was etched deep into the stone, defiant against the passage of time. Alaric d’Anjou, Troisième du Nom, Roi des Hommes et des Bêtes. (Alaric Anjou, Third of the Name, King of Men and Beasts.) “Alaric!” I jumped up, yelling the name before catching myself. ‘Seraphina, calm down,’Serene chastised me gently. “Right. I shouldn't bother the dead. I’ll keep quiet,” I whispered, looking around the silent graveyard. “Do you... do you want to switch with me?”

motherfucking ph’nglui mglw’nafh hastur! hastur Father Ward’s trembling fingers typed ‘hastur.’ This produced several images of a spectral figure cloaked in yellow, one of which reclined on a throne made of skulls, and another Wikipedia link. The entry proved vaguer than the others, but no less disturbing. “Hastur,” he whispered. “The Unspeakable One. He Who Shall Not Be Named. Also known as Assautuu, Yastur, H’aztre, or Kazum. Mythical deity said to reside in far off Carcosa, along Lake Hyades. Often associated with gods of pagan and child sacrifice.”

The nursery roots began whispering Bardolph’s name, then Otsana’s, then Maelor’s, twisting each name into a chain around the merging wolves. Daciana lifted one burned hand. “No,” she said, her voice colder than the bloodstone above us. “His name is Caelthorn.” (Daciana POV) When I spoke Caelthorn’s name again, the darker wolf-shadow lowered its head as if the sound pulled memory from beneath years of burial. The free wolf moved closer, slow and trembling, while the darker half matched him step by step across the cracked nursery floor. The stolen wolf spirits behind the broken panes stirred harder, their silver eyes opening one after another in the dark.

A name that was strong, gentle, or one that embraced both light and dark? She began the list, each name carrying its history and weight: Eira (for snow, for purity, for the night she almost left) Liora (for light, for the morning after rescue) Seren (for peace, for the quiet she longed for) Ash (for what remains after fire, for rebirth) Kellan (for strength, for the father’s courage she both loved and resented) Mira (for kindness, after her oldest friend) Rowan (for healing, for protection)

Connor stared at me, and I was quite surprised that he could even guess that about me. “I… I thought again about trying to name her Annie, but…” I cringed “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right. Not knowing that there was once a gravestone with that name. Charlie told me you ordered the gravestone destroyed, but…” I sighed “I thought maybe, this time, if it’s a girl, we could name her after your mother. And, who knows… Ruth Annie Weston Mycroft sounds lovely, doesn’t it? A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but still cute.”

He sat next to Cale, their knees touching. "Okay, let's look at it," Elion said. "'Mother's Maiden Name'. What did we use last time?" "Smith," Cale said. "That's boring. Can't we give her a cool name? Like... Storm? or... Weaver?" "It is statistically probable," Cale argued. "Smith is the most common surname. It raises the fewest flags. Boring is safe." "Okay, stick with Smith. 'Place of Birth'." "We used 'Unknown, Rural Kentucky'."

A garden bloomed wildly out back, and a fireplace crackled to life with the push of a button. Sophia made tea while Adrian unpacked. Neither said much. They didn’t need to. Later, they sat by the fire, feet bare, a blanket draped over them. Sophia rested her head on Adrian’s lap as he read from a weathered baby name book. “Still against Magnus?” he asked. “Strongly,” she murmured. He smirked. “What about something Latin? Something meaningful?” “Like what?” He turned the page. “Aurelia. Light. Or Leonis—strength.”

The only other options were Your Highness, and Your Grace, both of which I guessed she would love, but would seem rather foolish. “Call me Sephy,” she said in that smooth silky tone. “Everyone calls me Sephy.” “Sephy?” “It’s short for Persephone,” she replied, and took another sip of her champagne before straightening the book in front of her. Persephone? It was such a weird name, reserved only for people who had an obsession with Greek mythology, or who were so wealthy that they wanted their name to stand out. I groaned internally at the name. She must have either changed it when she got married to Aiden’s father, or she came from a family just as wealthy.

"Now, to your question..." “Sorry,” I interrupted. Forget I asked. "I'll be quiet and try not to disturb you." I've only been supernatural for seven years, a fleeting moment for these two men. Sometimes this knowledge hit me in the face. “No, no, I didn't mean to scold you, I just wanted to explain how reticent you often come across when asking about our stories. Underfoot is a common name for gnomes. Dwarves used to live underground; some are still living. So, Underfoot is a surname indicating the place of residence. This is similar to the human nicknames Carpenter or Weaver, names that indicated the person's occupation. This is all."

Surely, King Davos had no idea of the significance of that to Beatrice and to the humans, and once again she was struck by Beatrice's sheer deviant genius. “Okay, but what about the name people know you as? Nikolai? How about if we hyphenated it? I could be Akari Kingston-Nikolai. Do you like how that sounds? Everyone would know I’m your wife then. You could go by that name too. The Kingston-Nikolai part. Like your father took part of Beatrice's name.”