48. Time For A Crown & A Disaster
CHAPTER 48
Time For A Crown & A Disaster
Hawke Stormblood
As the last echoes of applause from our wedding vows fade away, my father stands from his throne. "Honored guests, you have witnessed the joining of souls and now I ask you to witness the end of an era and the beginning of a new for the Fae people."
The two royal seats dominate the dais, ancient and majestic. Carved from trees from the island where Camelot used to reside on Earth. The swirling patterns in the wood moves subtly in the light as if alive.
My mother, Queen Isolde, stands from her throne as well and moves to the opposite side of hers. Both seats they’ve occupied for centuries are empty and waiting for us. The sight sends a jolt of nervous energy through me. This is happening. I'm about to become king of the Fae, responsible for leading and protecting our people.
For countless nights, I had dreamed of this moment, imagining the weight of the crown, the responsibility it represented. But never, in all those fantasies, had I pictured a partner by my side. As my father beckons, I give Melinda's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
We move in perfect synchronicity, as if we've rehearsed this a thousand times. Melinda glides towards my mother, while I approach my father with measured steps. The soft whisper of fabric and the collective intake of breath from the crowd are the only sounds in the cavernous hall.
As we turn to face the sea of expectant faces, the gravity of the moment crashes over me like a tidal wave. My heart thunders in my chest, a primal drum beat echoing the significance of what's about to transpire. I steal a glance at Melinda, finding strength in the love and determination shining in her eyes and through our bond.
My father's voice rings out, clear and strong, carrying centuries of tradition in every word. "Hawke Stormblood, you stand before us today to step into your birthright and accept the sacred duty of kingship." The words wash over me, each one a mantle of responsibility settling on my shoulders. "Do you swear to uphold our values and traditions, to protect the Fae people, and to rule with justice and wisdom?"
I draw in a deep breath, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. The air itself seems charged with anticipation, tingling against my skin. In this heartbeat, I'm acutely aware of everything—the ornate carvings on the throne behind me, the slight tremor in my hands, the proud gleam in my father's eye.
"I swear all these things before mortals and gods alike." My voice carries, strong and unwavering, belying the whirlwind of emotions surging within me. As the words leave my lips, memories flood my mind—grueling training sessions under the merciless sun, battles fought and won or lost, nights spent poring over ancient texts of law and lore. Each sacrifice, each hardship, has led to this moment.
And now, with Melinda at my side, our souls entwined in a bond I thought impossible for me. A surge of readiness courses through me. It's as if all the pieces of a complex puzzle have finally clicked into place. The responsibility no longer looms as a burden, but as a calling I'm prepared to answer.
My father lifts the crown—a breathtaking masterpiece of intricate silver filigree studded with blood-red rubies. As he lowers it onto my head, the cool metal rests against my brow, its weight both physical and symbolic. The rubies catch the light, sending crimson flecks dancing across the room like embers from a sacred fire.
With reverence, my father retrieves the scepter from its resting place on a velvet pillow. The attendant holding it bows deeply, his movements deliberate and practiced. As the scepter passes from my father's hands to mine, a jolt of energy courses through me. Whether it's magic or merely the power of the moment, I can't be sure.
I turn my gaze to the assembled crowd, my people—now more than ever. Kellan stands tall among my brothers-in-arms, his face solemn, but respect gleaming in his gaze. I didn’t like him at first. I was jealous of the connection he shares with my wife, but over the course of the last few days I’ve really seen his value and come to respect him as an honorable man.
To Kellan's right, Ares grins broadly, unable to contain his excitement for me. There will be teasing about debauchery later for sure. His black curls glisten like a raven’s wing and there's a mischievous twinkle in his eye that tells me he's already planning something. Despite his carefree demeanor, I know the depth of his commitment—and how hard he struggles with the darkness and wrath that threatens to overwhelm him. To call him friend has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.
Wraith stands to Kellan's left. His golden eyes shine and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He’s the one who has always seen more than he says. Given me hell about being king and responsibilities that come with it. He’s older than me by a few centuries, and had we not been called to be knights together, we likely would never have become friends.
Boaz, the quiet professor of our group, always knows the right thing to say. His green eyes are soft, filled with a warmth that reminds me of all the times his strength—both physical, mental, and emotional—has been our group's foundation.
And finally, there's Fenrir, standing slightly apart as always. His lean frame is coiled with tension, alert even in this moment of celebration. But as our eyes meet, I see a flash of fierce joy in his wolf-like gaze. Fen is the type of man who is first to pick up a sword to fight for those he loves and would be the last man to ever put it down.
As I take in the sight of my most trusted companions, a wave of gratitude washes over me. These knights, my brothers in all but blood, have been instrumental in shaping the king I hope to become. Their strengths, their weaknesses, their unwavering support—all have played a part in preparing me for this moment.
Their loyalty and friendship warms me as I continue to scan the assembled crowd, acknowledging the nobles and dignitaries with a slight nod. But amidst the sea of faces, a discordant note catches my attention–Destrien.
For a fleeting moment, I catch a shadow crossing his features—a darkness that sends worry creeping through my mind. Is it envy twisting his expression, or something deeper, more insidious? Before I can decipher it, his face smooths into a mask of neutrality, leaving me to wonder if I imagined the whole thing.
I push the thought aside, refocusing on the monumental task before me. With Melinda by my side and the crown upon my head, I stand ready to lead my people into a new era—one of unity, strength, and hope.
It’s Melinda’s turn now and I don’t want to think about Destrien’s anger or jealousy. I want to think about the next chapter of my life as king and husband.
The coronation ritual for Melinda mirrors mine, yet watching her accept the vows brings a new wave of emotion over me. This remarkable woman, who came into our world so unexpectedly, now stands ready to rule beside me. As my mother places the queen's crown upon her head, I see Melinda's shoulders straighten, chin lifting slightly. She looks every inch the amazing queen I know she will be.
"I now pronounce, King Hawke Stormblood, King of the Fae, Lord of Camelot, and Protector of Earth and Avalon." The pride in my father’s voice threatens to bring tears to my eyes. "And Queen Melinda Mayweather Stormblood, Queen of the Fae, Lady of Camelot, and Protector of Earth and Avalon."
I turn to Melinda. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, there is nothing else in the world but my wife. Her face is radiant. There’s a mix of joy, nervousness, and determination etched across her features. A stray curl has escaped her elaborate updo, softening her regal appearance.
Slowly, I extend my hand to her. As our fingers intertwine, a jolt of electricity courses through me, our bond humming with shared emotion. Her hand is warm, soft, yet there’s a slight tremor—a reminder that she's as overwhelmed as I am. I give her a reassuring smile, hoping to convey all the love and support I have for her.
Together, we raise our joined hands high above our heads, a symbol of our unity and strength. The applause that follows is deafening. The cheers and clapping reverberate through the hall so strongly they vibrate through my chest.
Once the applause has died down, we sit in the thrones and the formal presentation of arms begins, a procession of Fae nobles from the other cities approaching to swear fealty. Julius Darkwood, representing Lunaris, is the first to approach. He kneels before us, his head bowed low. "I, Julius Darkwood, pledge my loyalty and the loyalty of Lunaris to King Hawke and Queen Melinda Stormblood. May your reign be long and prosperous." The words are formal, rehearsed, and without sincerity, but they are spoken nonetheless.
One by one, the lower nobles of Lunaris come forward, each bending the knee and pledging their loyalty. My brother and his new wife are among them.
No one has come from the city of Sigilford. Not a single noble.
As the last noble of Vandimoor and Lunaris rises and steps back, I steal a glance at Melinda. Her posture is perfect, every inch the queen, but I can see the slight widening of her eyes, the almost imperceptible quickening of her breath. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. We've done it. We've made it through the wedding and the coronation. Everyone has accepted the shift in leadership, bowing before us as their new monarchs. Well, all but one city. That will be dealt with later and harshly.
My parents step forward one last time, and I'm struck by the mix of emotions on their faces. My father's chest is puffed out with pride, his eyes shining with unshed tears. My mother's smile is radiant, though I can see a hint of wistfulness in her gaze—the bittersweet acknowledgment of an era's end and a new one's beginning.
"People of Vandimoor and guests from all the eight worlds," they proclaim in unison, their voices ringing clear and strong, "now we invite you to celebrate!"
The hall erupts in excited cheers once more, the atmosphere shifting from solemn ceremony to joyous celebration in an instant. The air itself seems to vibrate with energy and anticipation. As the festivities begin, I lean closer to Melinda, whispering in her ear, "We did it, my love. Are you ready? There’s nothing quite as spectacular as a Fae wedding celebration."
The doors of the Great Hall swing open, and I'm momentarily overwhelmed. It looks so different than it had this morning. Banquet tables line the edges of the room, forming a U-shape around a wide-open space in the center.
The tables are filled with every type of meat and delicacy imaginable. Whole roasted boars, their skin crisp and golden, sit alongside platters of iridescent fruits. The aroma of spiced meats mingles with the sweet scent of honeyed pastries, creating a mouthwatering perfume that fills the air.
At the far end of the hall, a group of harpists sit on a raised dais, strumming soft playful tunes. Garlands of living vines and flowers wind their way up the towering pillars, blooming and changing colors in time with the music. The vaulted ceiling above has been enchanted to appear as the night sky, complete with twinkling stars, the moon, and the occasional shooting star streaking across the inky blackness.
"Your majesty?" The herald at the door waits for my signal, his voice low and deferential.
I pause. This is it—our first official entrance as king and queen. A thrill of excitement courses through me, mingled with a hint of nervousness that catches me off guard. I've attended countless royal functions, but never as the crowned monarch.
I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs. The scent of polished wood and fragrant flowers wafts around me, grounding me in the present. With a slight nod to the herald, I give him permission to announce us.
"King Hawke Stormblood and Queen Melinda Mayweather Stormblood."
The herald's voice booms through the hall. A hush falls over the crowd inside. My heart quickens its pace, a drum beating out a rhythm of anticipation and pride.
Only then do I turn to Melinda, curious to see how she's handling this moment. I drink in her awe-struck expression, feeling a surge of tenderness. Her eyes are wide, darting back and forth as if trying to memorize every detail of the scene before us. The nervousness I'd felt moments ago melts away, replaced by a fierce protectiveness and love.
"Ready to make our entrance, my queen?" Seeing her like this—vulnerable, excited, a little overwhelmed—only makes me love her more. It's a reminder of how far she's come, how much she's adapted to this world that must still seem so strange to her.
“Yes.” She flashes me a nervous smile.
“Relax, my sweet girl. This is just a party.” I guide Melinda to the center of the dance floor. The music shifts to a slow, haunting melody as I draw Melinda close. "Follow my lead." I begin to move in time with the music. And as we dance, the world seems to fade away until it's just the two of us. Her initial nervousness melts into joy. And that is exactly what had hoped for.
After at least an hour of making rounds and hearing congratulations from dozens of people, I finally guide my queen to the head table. Exhaustion tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but the warmth of Melinda's hand in mine keeps me grounded. As we approach our seats, my eyes fall on the familiar faces already seated, and a knot forms in my stomach.
My parents sit to my right, their presence a comfort. But beyond them, the sight of Destrien, Vencia, and Julius Darkwood sends a surge of irritation through me. The memory of Destrien's earlier expression—that fleeting moment of darkness—flashes in my mind. Vencia's simpering smile does little to mask the calculation in her eyes, while Julius exudes an air of smug satisfaction that sets my teeth on edge.
I clench my jaw, fighting to keep my expression neutral. This is my coronation, my wedding feast. They have no right to taint it with their presence. A part of me wants to order them removed, to banish them to the far corners of the hall where I won't have to see their faces or hear their voices.
But I'm king now. I can't afford to make a scene, to let personal grievances overshadow the significance of this day. I take a deep breath, willing the tension from my shoulders. I've faced far worse than them. I can endure a few hours in their company.
I pull out Melinda's chair, using the moment to compose myself. As she sits, I lean in close, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. It centers me, reminding me of what truly matters. When I straighten, I've pushed away the unease their presence brings, locking it behind a wall of determination.
This is our celebration, and I won't let them ruin it.
With practiced ease, I slip into my own seat, nodding cordially to each member of the table. My voice is steady as I raise a toast, not a hint of my inner turmoil showing. I am King Hawke Stormblood, and I will not be rattled by whatever games they think to play.
Tonight is about Melinda and me, about our future together. I let my gaze drift to my left, where Melinda sits, radiant in her silver-white wedding gown. The sight of her soothes my agitation, replacing it with a warm sense of contentment. Beyond her, I see the familiar faces of my brothers in arms, their presence a comforting buffer between us and the rest of the court. We'd tried to convince Kellan to take a seat as well, but the man stubbornly refused to leave his post behind her chair.
A server approaches our table, a small tray balanced carefully in his hands. The sweet aroma wafting from it immediately identifies its contents, bringing a smile to my face. They are her favorite. The server pauses next to Melinda, his voice respectful as he offers, "More honey cakes, your majesty?"
“Yes, thank you.” She plucks a cake from the tray and takes a big bite out of it, flashing a bright smile at the serving boy. The boy blushes red and hurries off.
“Those smiles are for me, my love.” I pull her closer and press a kiss to her lips, tasting bits of the honey cake.
She rewards me with an even brighter smile. “I was just being nice. He brought my favorite.”
“Hmmm, very well. I’ll spare him this time then.”
“I’m glad.” She laughs, full and deep, and I think it’s one of the very first times I’ve really heard her let her guard down and laugh. And now that I’ve heard it, I can’t imagine not hearing it every day. I will do anything and everything to make sure she’s safe and happy and treasured above all else.
A sudden hush falls over the Great Hall, broken only by the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as guests rise to their feet. The harpists' melody shifts, their fingers dancing across the strings to coax forth a lively tune that seems to breathe new life into the very air around us.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the herald's voice rings out, "it is time for the Faelight Reel!"
A ripple of excitement passes through the room. Half the guests move toward the center of the hall, their smiles wide and their eyes bright. The Faelight Reel is the favorite and the last dance of the night at a Fae wedding.
I stand, offering my hand to Melinda. "Shall we, my queen?"
Before she can respond, Ares materializes at Melinda’s side with a roguish grin. "If I may, Your Majesty.”
I bare my fangs and hiss at my friend.
“You know the rules.” He holds out his hand to her. “Tradition dictates that the new king and queen dance with others for the Faelight Reel." He bows low. "Your Majesty the Queen, would you grant me the honor?"
Melinda's eyes dart to mine.
I push down the flare of possessiveness. "It's true, love. Go on."
Melinda takes Ares’ hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. I watch as they take their places in the forming lines.
"Hawke, would you dance with me, son?"
I turn and smile at my mother. She’s saved me from dancing with anyone else. "It would be my pleasure."
As we step into the circle, I catch Melinda's eye across the floor. She gifts me with a brilliant happy smile. The music swells, and as one, we begin to move.
I guide my mother through the steps with practiced ease, but my attention keeps drifting to Melinda. She moves easily, the dance pattern is an easy one to catch onto. Ares, ever the showman, elicits delighted laughter from my queen.
I’m paired with Wraith’s sister for this turn. She glances up at me and smiles, but it’s sad. “The feeling is amazing, is it not, King Stormblood?”
“It is, Queen Sahsa, but why do you look broken-hearted?”
“Because if we don’t find a way to fix what was broken my children will never know the joy of a soul mate bond. No one's children will.”
She speaks the truth and it is a painful one. I myself never thought I’d have it, though I thought I’d likely be executed for going mad as well.
I give a quick bow before Queen Sahsa steps to the next partner in the reel. As she twirls away, a pang of longing shoots through me. The pattern repeats, partners changing in a whirl of color and movement, yet through it all, my awareness of Melinda never wavers. She's the center of my universe, the sun, the rest of the dancers mere planets orbiting around her radiant presence.
Each time she laughs, the sound carries to me over the music, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Her happiness is infectious, and I find myself grinning, even as I execute the steps of the dance with practiced precision.
As the music builds to a crescendo, a pull tugs at my chest, an almost physical need to be near her. My skin tingles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive and hyper-aware. The final notes of the song approach, and I know that soon, very soon, she'll be back in my arms where she belongs.
With a final spin, the crowd parts like a veil, and I find myself face to face with Melinda. Time seems to slow, the world narrowing down to just the two of us. Her cheeks are flushed from the dance and wisps of hair frame her face. Her eyes, bright with exhilaration, lock onto mine, and I'm lost.
In that moment, the need to touch her, to hold her, becomes overwhelming. It's as if every fiber of my being is crying out for her. I pull her into my arms. Her body against mine ignites a fire in my veins.
I kiss her hard. Her lips part beneath mine, soft and inviting, and I'm undone. I slide one hand to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair at her nape. My other hand finds the small of her back, pressing her closer, eliminating any space between us.
As I deepen the kiss, plunging my tongue into the warm sweetness of her mouth, the rest of the world fades away. There is nothing but her. Her warmth. The soft press of her body against mine. The intoxicating scent of her skin. Our bond sings with my desire for her and hers for me.
I trace the curve of her spine with my fingertips, relishing the small shiver that runs through her. It's a heady sensation, knowing I can affect her this way. Melinda's hands tangle in my hair, pulling me even closer, as if she shares my desperate need to eliminate any distance between us. Our tongues dance a reel all their own.
When we finally part, both breathless, I rest my forehead against hers. The Great Hall has fallen silent, but I barely notice. All I can see is the sparkle in Melinda's eyes, the flush on her cheeks, the smile that seems to light her from within.
"I love you." The words are woefully inadequate. How can three small words possibly encompass the vastness of how I feel for her? This woman who has changed my world, who has become my world.
Melinda's smile widens, and I swear I can see the reflection of my own love and adoration in her eyes. "I love you too, my king."
I am not just a king crowned. I am a man completely, irrevocably in love, and there is no power in all the realms that could make me let her go.
I lean in close to Melinda's ear. "Later, I plan to show you just how much I love you, my queen."
Her eyes dilate and she offers me a sultry smile that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to our rooms. But I don’t. We can’t leave yet.
Melinda’s hand is soft in mine as we make our way back to the high table. We’re almost to our seats when we come face to face with Julius Darkwood. His cold and calculating eyes lock onto Melinda. Every Instinct in me screams that he’s a threat, and I turn us away, stepping forward to go around him.
A fearful shout pierces the noise of the room. “He has a blade!”
Time slows, each heartbeat stretching into an eternity. I see it all in agonizing detail. Darkwood's body collides with Melinda's. Her fingers are wrenched from mine as she stumbles. For a split second her eyes, wide with shock and fear, meet mine before she’s pushed backward into the panicked crowd.
I’ve lost her.
"Melinda!" I lunge for her.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a blur of motion. Kellan vaults over the tables, his face a black mask fury. He races to reach her too.
The scrape of steel against scabbard sounds across the room. Guards rush forward from every direction. Two grab me up from the ground and pull me backward. “Your Majesty, we must get you to safety.”
"Melinda!" I wrench my arms loose from my guards, my heart pounding frantically in my chest. "I'm fine," I growl angrily at them, eyes scanning the fleeing crowd for any sign of my wife.
Fear grips my heart like an icy fist, making it hard to breathe, but I push through the sea of bodies, desperately searching for a glimpse of silver-white fabric or the glint of Melinda's crown. I reach out through our bond, a tendril of thought laced with fear and concern. Melinda, where are you? Are you safe?
For a moment, there's nothing but silence, and my blood runs cold. Then, like a beacon of hope, her presence returns to my mind and she speaks. I'm here. I'm safe. Siva protected me.
Relief washes over me, so intense it nearly brings me to my knees. She's alive. She's safe.
I spin around, ready to navigate through the panicked crowd to reach her. But a bloody sight freezes me in place. Destrien stands there, chest heaving, a bloodied blade clutched in his grip. At his feet lies Julius Darkwood, motionless, crimson spreading across his ornate robes like spilled wine.
A heart-wrenching cry pierces the air. Vencia's anguished scream almost makes me feel pity for her. Julius may have been a horrible man, but he was still her father. She pushes past me and drops to the floor beside her father’s body.
Where had Destrien come from? Darkwood had come for Melinda, hadn't he?
"Destrien. What–"
"I took the blade from him. He was going to stab Melinda. I... I killed him first."
I search Destrien's face, looking for any hint of deception, but find only shock and a grim determination. The blade in his hand drips steadily onto the polished floor, each drop pushing me away from thinking my brother is jealous, petty, and power hungry.
"I–" Words fail me. But if he's telling the truth, he just saved my mate’s life.
A feral growl rips through the air–unmistakably a wolf's growl–followed by screams of terror.
Fucking hell. Panic claws at my chest. Where is Melinda?
"Ares! Boaz!" I bellow. "Get Fen!" I shove through the crowd, desperation lending me strength. I catch sight of Kellan's head above the sea of bodies. "Melinda!"
I push past a few more startled guests and finally spot her. She's pressed against the wall, her wedding gown torn and Siva, her guardian dragon spirit, hovers protectively in front of Melinda. Her wings are spread wide, making the small ethereal dragon appear far larger than its actual size. The knife of worry that’d been lodged in my heart evaporates.
Siva dissolves a moment later and returns to her tattoo form on Melinda’s arm.
Melinda raises her arms and I step into them, tucking her close to my chest.