Chapter 274

Felix

The past couple of months have been a blur. A brutal, somber, necessary blur

Grandfather briefly woke up. Just long enough for his clouded eyes to find mine, for a skeletal hand to pat my own. No words. Just a look of weary understanding, and a final, rattling sigh. Then the long, state funeral. A mountain of white lilies and solemn drums.

Then came the quieter, dirtier work. Cleaning up the rest of my uncle’s faction. My father in law happily took care of that for me.

Lumiya is gone. Married off to some foreign duke, left the kingdom.For the first time in centuries, there is no Snowfrost in the royal palace, no ice-queen-in-waiting.

So much has happened, each event a stone laid upon my back.

And Edith is pregnant.

The news should be pure joy. It is a complication of terrifying, wonderful magnitude. The weight on my shoulders is suddenly, tangibly heavier.

It is no longer just my crown, my life, my kingdom. It is a legacy. A future I must now build to be worthy of.

Today is the day that weight is made official. My coronation.

The pre-dawn halls of the palace are empty, echoing with my own footsteps. I pause before a tall window, watching the first grey light bleed into the sky over the capital. The city that will be mine in a few hours.

"You don’t have to do this, you should rest," I say to the empty air.

From the deep shadow of a marble pillar, Velesia melts into view. She is in full guard leathers, a silent statue of loyalty.

"No, Your Highness," she says, her voice low and certain. "It is my job."

I sigh and keep walking. I don’t know why I even bother. Velesia is like a stone with how immovable and rigid she is.

The silent, stoic protector beside me now makes the version of her I knew at the academy—the girl who blushed, who whispered secrets in the dark, who let me hold her, look like a figment of my imagination. A beautiful, bittersweet dream I once had.

I am dressed for the ceremony in layers of heavy velvet and stiff gold brocade, the Lion’s Mantle a tangible weight across my shoulders.

Attendants flutter around me one last time, adjusting a chain, smoothing the fur. I am led to the antechamber of the Grand Cathedral.

Edith is already there, waiting for me. She is a vision in a gown of ivory and platinum, far heavier and more ornate than anything she usually wears.

She looks regal, untouchable, and profoundly tired. The only sign of the life growing within her is the careful way she holds her posture, a hand resting lightly just below her ribs.

She meets my eyes and offers a small, solemn smile. I take her hand. Her fingers are cool in mine.

The doors open, and we walk together, hand in hand.

The ceremony is long. Interminably, bone-achingly long. We kneel on velvet cushions before the ancient, wizened Archbishop who I’m sure has been alive for atleast 5 coronations I just can’t prove it, who drones on and on about the divine origin of the kingdom, the sacred pride of the lion, the unbroken honor of the bloodline. Bla bla bla.

An hour passes in a blur of incense and chant. Finally, the old man’s voice shifts, rising to a crescendo.

"And now, by the grace of the Beasts and the will of the realm..."

Attendants step forward. On two pillows of deep crimson lie the crowns—the King’s Crown, a heavy, dark band of gold set with raw rubies like droplets of heart’s blood; the Queen’s Crown, lighter, more intricate, set with frost-pale diamonds. Another brings the ceremonial cloak of lion pelts, and the twin scepters topped with roaring lions.

The Archbishop lifts the King’s Crown, his aged arms trembling slightly. He holds it aloft, the rubies catching the cathedral light and throwing bloody dots across the stone floor.

He looks down at me, his eyes sharp despite his years.

"Do you, Felix Leonhart, swear to uphold the laws of this kingdom, to defend its people from all foes, to bear its burdens with strength, and to rule with both the mercy of the dawn and the justice of the claw?"

"I do."

The words leave my lips, clear and final, echoing slightly in the vast, silent space. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

The weight descends. Not just physical, though the crown is heavy, the band cool and unyielding against my brow.

They ask Edith a similar vow. Her voice is firmer than mine, a silver bell in the quiet. "I do." Her crown is placed, a lighter, dazzling circlet that makes her look both more and less human—like a queen from an old tale.

And then, it is done.

The Archbishop pronounces us.

We stand, turning slowly to face the sea of people—nobles in their finest, clergy in somber robes, commoners packed in the back, their faces upturned like pale flowers.

As one, they bow. A wave of submission, of acknowledgment, that rolls from the front pews all the way to the distant doors. A forest of backs and bent heads.

It feels surreal.

I am the king.

Me.

Felix. Who once was a Longear.

The crown presses down, a constant reminder. The mantle hangs from my shoulders, the fur of my ancestors. The scepter is cool and heavy in my hand.

I look out over the bowed heads, over my kingdom. The fear is there, a cold knot in my stomach.

But there’s something else there, too. A low, steady thrum. Confidence.

It wasn’t easy to get to this point.

I have earned this. Not by birthright alone, but by survival. By sacrifice. By becoming what the kingdom needed, even when it meant breaking the boy I was.

I deserve this.

I draw a breath, feeling the weight of the crown align with the new, solid weight in my chest and say my first words as king.

"All rise."