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Petals of white and blush-pink rained from balconies above, carried by the wind like blessings.
Gold banners fluttered from every spire, catching the early afternoon sun, and the carved marble steps leading to the ceremonial altar gleamed beneath velvet carpets.
Thousands of Elowen's citizens filled the streets and courtyards below — nobles in balconies, children on shoulders, flowers in every hand.
And at the heart of it all…
me.
I stood at the top of the steps, veiled in pale starlight, the rose-gold gown clinging to me like poetry.
My shoulders were tall, my back straight, my hands gloved in pearl-silk as I approached the priest.
My face revealed nothing.
But inside, my chest was a whirlwind.
I had prepared for this moment for years.
And I had never felt so alone.
The crown was lifted high — a creation of moon-gold and crystal leaves, once worn by my mother, my grandmother, the queens before them.
And now, by me.
I didn't fidget.
I didn't tremble.
But my fingers, gently clasped in front of me, curled inward ever so slightly.
The King and Queen stood on either side, regal and proud, their expressions unreadable.
The royal priest stepped forward, holding the golden circlet that had belonged to Elowen's queens for generations.
It was shaped like intertwining leaves, woven with rubies and starlight.
He held it high.
"In the name of Elowen, by the blood that founded this kingdom and the voice of its people," he said solemnly,
"We crown thee, Evelynne Caelis of Elowen…"
The crown descended.
"…our sovereign Queen."
The moment it touched my hair, the trumpets roared.
The room burst into thunderous applause.
A sea of cheers echoed beyond the palace gates — from the people gathered below, chanting my name like a sacred vow.
"Long live Queen Evelynne!"
"Long live the crown!"
I turned slowly to face the crowd, every inch a queen.
But not cold.
Not anymore.
Just… silent. Heavy with grace.
I stepped forward, lifting my chin slightly.
My voice, when it came, was clear. Bold. Soft as velvet, sharp as steel.
"My dearest people," I said, and the room quieted instantly.
"You have watched me grow. You've watched me fall. And now, you witness me rise."
My eyes scanned the nobles — Rye among them, glowing with pride.
"You do not need to fear change," I continued.
"Elowen will not crumble with my rise — it will bloom."
More cheers. Even tears.
More cheers. Thunderous.
I bowed my head.
But then—
A sudden shift in the air.
The cheering dimmed.
A ripple passed through the crowd, like a shadow falling over sunlight.
I frowned.
The priests paused. The King's brow furrowed.
And then—
The towering gates of the palace burst open with a deep, echoing roar.
The earth trembled beneath the stomp of heavy boots.
Military guards in dark armor poured through the archway, parting like waves around a single figure.
At the center was a carriage — sleek, black as midnight, drawn by two powerful stallions as dark as obsidian.
The royal sigil of Elowen was branded in silver on the side, but no one looked at it.
Because the moment the horses halted…
The moment the air stilled…
He stepped out.
Rowen.
Everything stopped.
He stood at the mouth of the palace court, framed by stone arches and sunlight — tall, cloaked in black military regalia, the crimson sash of valor across his chest, and medals gleaming like fire.
His hair was tousled, ash-blond, and shorter now.
His eyes, once warm and familiar, were steel. Cold. Distant. Burning.
He didn't smile.
He didn't wave.
He simply stood there — commanding the earth beneath him like it belonged to him.
And yet…
It was my gaze he locked onto.
Across the massive stone steps.
Across a sea of stunned nobles and guards and lords.
His eyes found mine.
And I stopped breathing.
My chest seized, like something inside me had snapped in half.
My fingers trembled. Just once.
I hadn't seen him in five years.
I had buried the ache. Taught myself not to look back.
But now he was here.
Real. Glorious. Untouchable.
The wind caught his cloak, flaring it behind him like the wings of a fallen star.
Every man bowed their head instinctively.
But Rowen didn't move.
He didn't bow.
He simply stared.
As if the rest of the world no longer mattered.
And I—
My knees felt weak.
The weight of my crown suddenly became too much.
My vision blurred, not with tears, but with something far more dangerous:
Hope.
The King's blinked, stunned.
The Queen's mouth parted in disbelief.
But it was Rye who clenched his jaw, fury burning behind his smile.
No one had expected him to return.
No one had told me.
And yet here he was — at the foot of my coronation, his aura devouring the silence, his presence a challenge.
Rowen had come back.
Not as a soldier. Not as my friend.
But as a man who never stopped loving me.
And I—
For the first time in years…
Felt alive.