Roman Crown Novels & Stories

The Lunari chair stood empty, draped in black. I looked around, I seen my father sitting at the head of the table, our king, a towering figure in both stature and presence, exuded an aura of cold, unyielding ambition. His eyes, sharp and calculating, gleamed with an insatiable hunger for power an appetite that could never be sated, no matter how many kingdoms he claimed or how many crowns he added to his collection. His face was lined with the marks of age and experience, but there was no softness in his expression, no trace of kindness or warmth. The people who looked upon him saw not a father, but a ruler, a king forged from iron will and relentless desire for control.

With his attire and the way he stood with the crown and staff in his hand, one could tell it was their warlord in flesh and blood. He stood among them in his full glory. A crown on and a staff which looked like that of kings of the ancient times. "All hail the king of old!!". "All hail the king of old!!". The crowd chorused with their heads bowed onto the floor, hailing their warlord who stood with a hand folded into a ball at his back, and his face looking cold with no emotions in them. They bowed their heads and the king olor with his daughter, princess Lucy kneeled bowing as they sang praises hailing their warlord.

I scrolled down and started reading the article. 'A curious announcement from the royal house of Medora, a kingdom north of Scotland. The king announced today that a contest will be held to find the crown prince a wife. Medora is known to be secluded, with not much news coming in and out of the country. They announced a test will be put online for whoever has any interest in becoming a queen. It does not matter what your nationality is, as long as you are above eighteen years old.'

Whatever noble refinement he had spent years cultivating shattered like cheap glass. Sebastian let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His polished, hand-made leather shoe came down, pinning Lorenzo’s palm to the floor with agonizing precision. "The head of the family? Lorenzo, you seem to have forgotten who anointed you to that seat. In this city, what I bestow, I can reclaim whenever I please." Pinned and helpless, Lorenzo twisted his head, staring up at me with eyes saturated in pure venom. "Joanna, you make me sick. I can't believe how fast you crawled into the Don’s bed."

The only thing keeping her standing was the sheep's curiosity about what kind of relationship they had, for her to be at his private villa so early in the morning, and her use of such a nickname to refer to him. She’d expected to watch from the sidelines, but what she didn’t expect was for him to walk towards her. “Good morning, Ember. Did you sleep well” She was glad to know that from the shocked expression on Isabella’s face, she hadn’t just hallucinated. Roman stood as impeccably handsome as usual, he was dressed in a suit, which Aria assumed meant he would leave for work. The way the word " ember " rolled off his tongue was so sensual. It was as though he gave it its own meaning.

It was something that made him feel sad, and thankful in a way. "Is Lord Alex a werewolf?" Roxanne found herself shaking her head even though she had promised herself she wouldn't. Ariel's tone had softened and with it, so did her anger and annoyance. She was overreacting. "This ring isn't just any ring Roxanne. What's the crest of the royal household?" Roxanne smirked. "Which one?" She had all of them memorized. "The Lycan king's." She frowned and cocked an eyebrow up at him. Why was he asking her such a cheap question?

“I want you honest.” She turned to Vow again. “And what happens if the Crown lies?” There was a beat of silence. Then—for the first and last time—Triarch Vow spoke. “If the Crown lies,” the voice rasped through the hood, genderless and sharp as glass, “then the city burns.” Later, in a room without screens, without files, without exits—he handed her a coat. Black. Fitted. Cut like armor. “You’re inside now,” Domenik said. “You dress like it.”

Roman slowly turned his entire body to face me, his grey eyes tensing as he analyzed my features in the moonlight. "You are playing an incredibly dangerous game, Cora," Roman whispered, his large hand reaching out to cup my cheek. "I am playing to secure my survival, Roman," I whispered back, actively controlling my respiratory rate. "If I return from Baltimore with Arthur's head, you will be the undisputed queen of this syndicate," he murmured darkly. "I do not require a crown, Roman," I lied seamlessly. "I just require you to honor your parameters." Roman leaned down, his lips brushing softly against my cheek in a rare, surprisingly tender physical gesture.

I repeated, “I thought our blood was the same as anyone?” Luke shook his head, “He’s talking about your ancestral line. They are noble houses that you might descend from. Roman obviously has a higher percentage it’s something like 98% whereas I am a mutt and come in about 52%. Roman rolled his eyes, “Luke exaggerates, I am only 94%.” I blinked, “You have 94% pure royal blood?” Roman nodded, “Cian, of course, has a higher concentration at 99%. There is no one alive with a higher percentage, and therefore he is king.”

I was going to add that the royal diamond is the best bet, but I felt something fishy is going on here. The way he looked wasn't pleasing. ~ Anisel ~ HOW DOES THE CROWN COST LESS THAN THAT FUCKING DIAMOND!! HOW!! My goal has been set– I need to become king!! It is the only way to pay off the debt. I calmed myself before facing Mia who was shivering from the cold. I took a dusty blanket and wrapped it around her. Hope she doesn't mind. “Here. It is not the best but it's something.” I stated.