Roman Crown Novels & Stories

Roman frowned not understanding what they meant by being happy for Rose. "I know right! Me too!" Echoed another voice. "And that ring is just so beautiful. It looks so expensive." The same voice that said I know right me too said again. The frown etched on Roman's face deepened. He didn't understand what they meant by liking the ring. He was confused by their words. What did a ring have to do with all of what they were saying. Roman still had his briefcase with him and a hand on his pocket.

Kael protested. "You need titles for formal occasions," she insisted. "Traditional or innovative?" Through the bond, we considered. "The Broken Crown," Lyra said suddenly. "That is what we are. Five pieces of what should be singular authority, shattered and reformed into something new." Silence. Then slow nods. "The Broken Crown," Queen Elara repeated, testing the phrase. "The Council of Five, known as the Broken Crown. I approve." She stood, and the Court stood with 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.

"My name is Dante Romano. And I didn't break in. I walked in legally." Dante reached inside his tailored jacket. Lucian's finger tightened dangerously on the trigger, but Dante only pulled out a heavy, sealed manila envelope. He tossed it onto the glass coffee table. It landed with a heavy smack. Next to it, he placed a small, crumbling piece of yellowed parchment. It was covered in faded, centuries old ink and sealed with the dark red wax of the Valerius crest. "You showed the world your birthmark, Princess," Dante said, his voice dropping to a lethal, arrogant purr. "You claimed the throne. But you clearly didn't read the ledger before you put on the crown."

“It’s neither.” Ronan swallowed, eyes fixed on Lyra. “It’s the Crown. It felt the shift. It knows the Trial is broken.” Lyra exhaled slowly. “Not broken. Changed.” Aethren stepped forward, the white glow in his scars brightening. “The Crown of Marrow is older than kingdoms. It was forged when the first wolves stood upright. It answers only to two things: obedience… or defiance.” He looked at Lyra with something close to reverence — and fear.

It belonged to my father, King Maximus Majere. “Your brother chose to have his own made,” Eleanora sighs. “A big mistake if you ask me. He should have worn this one to honor his legacy and remind the council who really makes the laws in this kingdom. Alas, we cannot correct the past mistakes.” Slowly, she removes the lid and hands the base to me. Glowing in my hands is a crown of burning red carnelian, tipped with blood-red rubies and edged in the purest gold. As the sunlight hits it, the stone glows red, staining my hands in blood made of light.

He says smiling at her. She smiles back at him. “I guess I am because I missed you while you were gone” “Sorry sweetheart. But here I am now, with a gift for you” King Roman said placing the present on the table. Celine was surprised to see that. “What is this?” She asks him confused. “Open it and find out” he said chuckling. Celine did as told and was immediately amazed by what she found. It was a beautiful crown with gold leaf and jewels. It reminded her of the crowns from her ancestors when they used to live in this land.

Entering Avalon Palace, Arthur says to William, "My clothes are still wet; I need to change. Wait for me." King Alexander, Arthur's elder brother, had finally reclaimed the royal power from their mother, the Dowager Queen, four years ago. It was during that tumultuous period that an assassin from the Ravenwood family severely injured Alexander at a banquet. In the midst of the tumultuous and disorderly situation, Archbishop John Blackwood emerged as the central and crucial figure, effectively countering the imminent threat posed by the assassin's critical strike and subsequently retaliating by eliminating the assailant. Furthermore, Archbishop Blackwood displayed his exceptional leadership b

The crown Liam mentioned was the one I had, the one my father gave me. “Nikolas? The crown you hold dear to belongs to Rose and not you. What belongs to you is the amulet,” Liam explained with a smile. “So, where is it?” “You have it?” Cullen asked with a frown. “Yes,” I mumble, “I have what they have been looking at all along.” “The crown?” Alpha Maximus asked, surprised. “Yes, I have the ruby crown.” I couldn’t believe it all along. I had what it was supposed to be from Gaels. But how if my father gave it to me?

“I think I can teach her what it means to wear my crown.” By nightfall, Amara summoned her war council. Cassian arrived first, a bruise darkening his jaw. Then Dante — alive but ragged, fresh from a mission in Istanbul. Mateo stood near the back, silent, his loyalty uncertain since the blood oath had been broken. On the table before them lay a crown — the black crown Damien had once sent her, forged from fragments of soldiers’ skulls. It glinted faintly under the light. “This is what she’s after,” Amara said. “She believes the crown will make her sovereign. But a symbol without blood is just a decoration.”