Mumford Sons Broken Crown Novels & Stories

The great doors close with a sound like breaking bones, leaving me alone with the ache of this cursed crown and the weight of a kingdom built on graves. The crown itself pulses against my temples, its once-brilliant gold now tarnished to the color of old blood. It used to shine like captured sunlight, a beacon of hope and righteous rule. Now it hums with an endless network of hairline cracks, each fracture a spider's thread of corruption spreading deeper into the metal and into me. Each break is a reminder that nothing in this world remains unbroken: not thrones built on noble intentions, not bloodlines stretching back to heroes of legend, not oaths sworn under starlight with hearts full of

“Of your silence. Of your neglect. Of a world you walked away from.” The Crown lends weight. The Reverent witnesses. Midnight roars its agreement through the land. For a heartbeat, the figures hesitate. Then— One of them raises its hand. Reality folds. A force slams into me like a collapsing star, ripping me off my feet and hurling me backward. I crash hard, pain detonating through every bone as Ethan shouts my name. The bond between us tears. Not severed. Stretched beyond limit. I scream as the Crown fractures again, a deeper, uglier break ripping through its core. The Reverent surges desperately, trying to catch the collapse—

All she needed was one look from him to pull herself back together. But Jim had already made his choice. He stayed close to me, like a loyal pet that had found a new owner. I reached up and lightly patted his hair, playing along. I said almost casually, "I won't hold the office thing against you, but that antique was something my dad bought specifically for me. Someone has to pay for that. You broke it, so who's covering the cost? Maybe the two of you should figure that out." Jim didn't hesitate for even a second. He pointed straight at Violet.

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

Hopefully, this new one would do at least as well as the last and she would be financially savvy enough to put some money aside, unlike last time. “Probably not though,” Emily uttered, shaking her head as she made her way to the kitchen and the cheap coffee pot she had since college. She was topping her cup off when she heard a small sound from the front door. At first, she wasn't sure that she heard anything at all. Pink Floyd's The Piper at the Gates of Dawn was playing at maximum volume from her computer's speakers. The noise could have easily been some odd sound effect she had never noticed before. She smiled and had all but dismissed the noise when it happened again.

"But... I'm broken and messed up and have pieces of me all over the place. That's not something anybody should have to deal with, Noah." I shrugged softly, "I don't care, Tiffany. I want you and if that comes with pieces all over the place then I'm okay with it. You don't get it," I chuckled softly, moving the hand that was cupping her face back to her hands to hold them gently in mine. "I can't unlove you. I can't forget the feeling of holding you when you sleep next to me. I can't forget how your eyes would get a bit bigger every time something surprising would happen in Prison Break. I can't forget the dreadful look on your face every time you walk in to math class, wanting it to be over

For some reason being here with these people, the riches of the rich, made me nervous beyond control. After a few comfort words from Cory, I relaxed a little. We finally joined the dancers just as the second song played. It was a rendition of Chandelier by Sia. I recognized the following song by Bruno Mars. Somehow this magical woman with a magical violin made every song sound really good. I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. That is until Cory got called away for the seventh time tonight. Just before we started dancing to the next song. As soon as I heard the sound, I began to think it might be better that he was being called away.

Then we can dump him in one of those underground fight clubs for the real freaky clientele to use as a punching bag. Marco's eyes bulged, head shaking in panic. "No! Please no! Elena, just kill me!" I turned a deaf ear, shifting my gaze to Rosa. "And for my dear sister… She's all about beauty, right? Always snatching what's not hers? Bring every mirror from this basement. Let her stare at her ruined face every day, at that mangled hand. "Oh, and I've heard those freak shows in the Isles are scouting for talent, send her over. Let her pay off her debts with that body of hers."

They’d throw my dying father out of his bed just to watch me break. “You bastards,” I whisper. My voice is shaking but the word slices anyway. “Language, Miss Rowe.” Morrison smirks. Smirks. He’s enjoying this. I look at Kaelen. He stood there like a stone, unshaken by what was happening, white-knuckled fists, jaw locked, eyes burning like he wanted to light the whole council down to ash. For once, he didn’t look untouchable. And for once, he looks trapped too.

When he heard the news, the crystal glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. A violent rush of joy, tangled with regret, struck him all at once. To him, Noah was his only redemption and the last bridge that could reconnect us. Immediately, in the name of the Alpha, he sent an endless procession of gifts. A magnificent gold-trimmed cradle, the softest animal furs, and a dazzling array of jewels and ornaments. The convoy stopped outside my door in grand formation. I didn't go out, and I couldn't even be bothered to look.