Heirat. Novelas e Histórias

Margaret sneered. "Get a grip, Felix. That Vivian girl was just some commoner trying to marry into money. Getting rid of her bastard child is nothing but a benefit to this family." "Bastard?" Felix shot up, his eyes bloodshot. "Mom, do you have any idea who you killed?" He stood, trembling with rage. "Vivian was carrying the one and only heir to the Blackwood family!" Margaret's wine glass froze mid-air.

Well, it’s hers now since Dad gave his half fortune to this ungrateful brat. As soon as I reached the gate, Fiona came out and dashed towards me, wearing an annoying smile. “Catalina, hi! Uhmm… a-about the company–” “Clean it.” Her smile faded. “W-What?” “Clean the mess, Fiona.” I coldly said. “You're the heiress, right? Prove to them that you are.” Her eyes quivered and held the steel bars of the gate. “Catalina, please, I can't…”

Perhaps Harithen could have inherited the crown as was his birthright and taken a sister’s first-born as his heir. He did not miss the irony that his own goals in the alliance with the Greibrons had been based in his seeking to create his own heirs for the throne, despite a culture that had advanced to the stage that a royal household was more a sentimentality than a necessity, his pride had refused to let him surrender the idea that he would have something to pass on to his young. Whilst his marriage into the Greibrons might not produce heirs, he could still use it to make peace. “I have decided,” he said firmly. “That if Harithen will have me, I will take him as my bride.”

He wore the traditional leather armor of a Crescent commander, a dual-headed silver axe strapped to his back. "What is the meaning of this?" Kaelen’s voice thundered over the gallery rail, making the Southern elders scramble backward. My uncle stepped forward, his voice dripping with venomous pride. "The wedding cannot proceed, Warlord. The treaty demands a union between the sovereign lineages of the North and South. But Leah is not the sovereign heir. She is the daughter of a secondary branch." My uncle pointed a shaking finger at the young man beside him. "This is Julian Crescent. My son. The true-born male heir of the main line, hidden in the eastern sanctuary since the night his mother d

He patted my hand gently and knelt beside me. The royal herald unrolled the parchment and read aloud, "By the grace and command of His Majesty the King. Whereas Crown Prince Charles Crane, heir to the throne, is a man of honor and valor; and whereas Catherine Lindon, daughter of the late General Lindon, is a woman of virtue and grace; the two being well matched in character and breeding, it is His Majesty's joyful command that they be joined in holy matrimony. Given under our hand this day. Long live the King."

"The seers found more than a solution in their calculations tonight. They found a prophecy, buried in the ritual's own shape, that none of us expected." "Tell me." "One day," the king said, "a descendant of my own bloodline will be born carrying the ability to reunite what we are about to shatter. Not to strengthen the curse—the ritual will not allow that. To *choose* its fate. To decide, once and for all, what should be done with what remains of you, after everyone alive tonight has long since died and been forgotten." He held Fenrir's gaze, steady despite everything burning around them. "They will call that descendant the Heir of Ash."

The picture was crude but sweet—three stick figures holding hands, standing in front of a tall building labeled ‘Blake Home’. Ethan crouched beside her, his voice low. “Looks like he already knows who runs things around here.” Maya laughed. “He sure does.” Liam climbed into Ethan’s lap, his big brown eyes curious. “Daddy, what’s an ‘heir’? Uncle James said I’m one.” Ethan chuckled. “It means you’re going to take care of everything Daddy built when you’re older.” Liam thought for a moment. “Like my toys?”

Her son and granddaughter were heirs to the Hall family. That was already very satisfying.

"My father has officially announced that I'm to be named his Heir. Officially named Heir. You and I are going to be the next Luna and Alpha." I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about the Alpha Heir Naming Ceremony. Marcus has told me that I won't have to be involved in the ceremony myself, as we're not actually married yet. I'll sit beside him and wear the ceremonial crown, but I won't have to memorize the oaths or make any speeches.

I gasp and stagger back, hot blood trailing down my skin. She’s fast. “You think you can just come here and steal my legacy?” Kira yells. Her eyes shine—not with anger, but with something more dangerous. “My place in Fenrath? In Hulen?!” I grip my sword tighter. My arm aches, but the confusion in my chest burns hotter. “What are you talking about, Kira?” I shout back, breathless. “You’re the heir. You’re getting married to Zev. So tell me—what exactly do you think I have taken from you?”