The day of Emily's coronation had finally arrived. She stood before the grand mirror in her chambers, her breath catching slightly as she took in her own reflection. The gown she wore was a stunning masterpiece, crafted from the richest dark blue fabric she had ever seen. It was adorned with intricate gold embroidery that shimmered under the soft light, tracing delicate patterns along the bodice and hem. A cape of the same regal blue flowed behind her, sweeping the ground like a river of midnight. The weight of the gown was oppressive, a physical reminder of the day's significance. Her hair had been meticulously styled into an elegant half bun, with soft waves cascading down her back, giving her a graceful yet commanding presence. The jewels that adorned her neck, ears, and wrists were heavy, glimmering with the wealth of the kingdom she was about to claim.
But despite the beauty of her attire and the grandeur of the moment, Emily's heart was heavy. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of the crown that awaited her. The coronation should have been a day of triumph, of celebration, but instead, it felt like the final lock snapping into place on the prison that King Niklaus had crafted for her.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the atmosphere in the room shifted. Niklaus entered, his presence filling the space as if it were too small to contain him. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, the fabric hugging his broad frame with precision. His dark hair was swept back, and his features were sharp, almost dangerously handsome. He was the embodiment of power and control, a king in every sense. But to Emily, he was the man who had stolen her freedom.
Without sparing him a glance, she continued to stare at her reflection, her face a mask of calm. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort.
"Is she ready?" Niklaus asked, his voice smooth and commanding.
"Yes, Your Highness," Morgana replied, her tone deferential. She and the other attendants stepped aside, allowing Niklaus an unobstructed view of his queen.
Emily's pulse quickened as she felt his gaze on her. She saw him watching her in the mirror, his eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hunger in his gaze, a possessiveness that sent a chill down her spine.
"Leave us," Niklaus ordered, his voice firm.
The attendants quickly obeyed, leaving the room in a flurry of quiet steps. The door clicked shut behind them, and the silence that followed was thick with tension. Emily's heart raced in her chest, and she fought the urge to flee. She didn't want to be alone with him, not today. Not ever.
Niklaus moved closer, each step deliberate, until he was standing just behind her. His presence was overwhelming, and the scent of jasmine, emanating from her, mingled with the air between them. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"You look beautiful, princess," he whispered, his voice soft but edged with something darker. "But then again, you always do."
Emily's jaw tightened as she turned her head slightly, refusing to meet his gaze in the mirror. She felt the warmth of him behind her, too close for comfort. Every inch of her screamed to get away, but she was bound to him now, bound by a marriage she never wanted.
Niklaus chuckled softly, sensing her discomfort. "How long will you give me this cold shoulder, I wonder?" he mused, his tone almost playful but laced with a dark amusement.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single red rose. With deliberate care, he tucked it into her half bun, his fingers brushing lightly against her hair. The soft petals of the rose contrasted with the sharpness of his touch, and as he did so, their eyes met in the mirror. His gaze was intense, holding hers captive.
"There," he said, his voice soft but commanding. "Now that adds beauty to you."
Before Emily could pull away, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. The touch was brief but left a lingering heat on her skin. It was a gesture that, to anyone else, would have seemed tender. But Emily knew better. She could feel the possessiveness in the way his lips lingered, the unspoken claim he was making.
"You're a beast," she spat, standing abruptly, putting distance between them.
Niklaus only smiled, unfazed by her outburst. "And you, my dear, are the beauty. Isn't that what everyone says? Aren't we the perfect match?" His smile widened, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back towards him. His hold was firm, a reminder of his control, though not painful. Yet.
Emily struggled, trying to push him away, her voice low and full of rage. "You forced me into this marriage," she growled, her eyes burning with defiance.
Niklaus raised a brow, his voice dripping with mock hurt. "Oh, princess, it was you who screamed you would marry me. How can you now place the blame on me? I am deeply wounded." His tone was teasing, as though her anger was nothing more than a game to him.
"If only you hadn't kidnapped my brother," she hissed, her heart racing as she thought of Aiden. She had agreed to this marriage to save him, and every day she lived with that choice felt like a betrayal of her own soul.
Niklaus chuckled, his grip on her waist tightening just slightly. "Kidnap? Aiden enjoyed his stay here. If you ever meet him again, you can ask him yourself... soon." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, and Emily's blood ran cold.
Before she could respond, Niklaus straightened, his eyes flicking to the pocket watch he pulled from his jacket. "Shall we go, my queen?" he asked, his tone shifting back to business. "It's nearly time for your coronation."
Her eyes fell to the watch in his hand, the same kind of watch he had once gifted her before their marriage. A gift she had destroyed in a fit of fury. Niklaus smirked, clearly aware of the memory.
"I heard you destroyed the watch I gave you," he said casually, his voice light as if discussing the weather. "No matter. I have another one prepared for you. Consider it my first gift as your husband, after your coronation."
Emily felt bile rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his words cut. With a cold, composed expression, she allowed him to place his hand on her waist once again, guiding her toward the door.
Each step felt like walking towards her doom. The weight of her gown and the crown that awaited her were nothing compared to the weight of the future she now faced as Queen of Emberlyn, a future bound to the man who had stolen everything from her. But as they walked through the door, Emily's mind churned with thoughts of escape, of vengeance. One day, she would break free. But for now, she had a role to play, a crown to wear.
For now, she was the queen.
As they arrived at the grand royal court, the vast chamber was already filled with ministers, nobles, and dignitaries from across Emberlyn. The room was a breathtaking spectacle, lined with golden banners and tapestries symbolizing the Mikaelson reign. All eyes turned toward the massive doors as King Niklaus and Queen Emily entered together. The rustle of fabric and soft murmurs fell silent as the royal couple made their way to the thrones at the head of the room.
Emily's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her head high, her expression calm and resolute. She walked with Niklaus, their hands loosely intertwined in a display of unity, though she loathed his touch. Her gown swayed elegantly with every step, the gold embroidery catching the light of the chandeliers above, shimmering like fire against the deep blue fabric. Niklaus's presence beside her was equally imposing, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, confident and authoritative. The contrast between them was striking—Emily, a picture of regal grace, and Niklaus, a king exuding an air of danger and dominance.
The royal priest stood at the center of the raised dais, his ceremonial robes trailing behind him as he began the coronation rites. His voice was deep, resonating through the hall as he spoke the ancient words that had been recited for generations. Soon after, Niklaus and Emily were guided to their thrones, massive seats carved from dark mahogany and adorned with gold. As she sat, Emily felt the weight of history and power radiating from the throne beneath her, as though it pulsed with the energy of every ruler who had ever sat upon it.
For a fleeting moment, her resolve wavered. The enormity of what she was about to become—Queen of Emberlyn, a kingdom that both feared and revered her husband—pressed down on her. But then she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and steeled herself. Whether she liked it or not, these people were now her people, and she would be their queen. No matter how twisted her path to this throne had been, Emily Aurora Mikaelson would not falter.
As the ceremonial music began to swell, her tiara was carefully removed by one of the court attendants. Her heart raced as the priest stepped forward, holding a glimmering golden crown encrusted with sapphires and diamonds—her crown, the symbol of her sovereignty over Emberlyn. But before hers was placed, Niklaus's crown was first lowered onto his head. Though he had been crowned long ago, the ritual demanded that the king and queen be crowned together in public to signify their shared rule. The royal announcer, a man whose voice boomed louder than any in the kingdom, spoke the words with great pride: "King Niklaus Mikaelson and Queen Emily Aurora Mikaelson!"
The hall erupted in a chorus of applause and cheers, echoing against the walls. Emily could feel every eye in the room on her. She wore her crown now—the weight of the gems and gold a stark reminder of the burden she had accepted. The title "Queen" settled over her, not as an honor but as a heavy mantle. Forcing herself to remain composed, she glanced to her right, where Niklaus sat, watching the room with that same dark glint in his eyes.
Among the sea of nobles, ministers, and lords, Emily's gaze suddenly caught a familiar face. Her breath hitched as she spotted her brother, Adrian, standing among the crowd. His familiar features, a mix of pride and sorrow, brought a rush of emotions that she quickly suppressed. But a small smile escaped her lips, just enough for Adrian to see. He smiled back, reassuring her without words.
Before she could dwell on her feelings, Niklaus's hand found hers, clasping it firmly. She stiffened slightly at the touch but didn't pull away. He leaned closer, his voice low enough for only her to hear, though there was a smirk playing on his lips. "You thought I wouldn't call your family on such a precious day, princess?"
Emily forced her face to remain neutral, knowing that any show of emotion would be seen as weakness. She had assumed Niklaus would have kept her family from attending, using their absence as another means of control. But here they were, and her heart ached with the bittersweetness of seeing them in the midst of this triumph she hadn't wanted.
Niklaus stood, guiding her up beside him. With their hands still intertwined, they made their way down the long aisle that led out of the royal court. The applause was deafening, the nobles murmuring amongst themselves about how regal the pair looked. Whispers of admiration floated through the crowd—how they truly were the power couple of Emberlyn. To them, Emily and Niklaus embodied power, beauty, and dominance, two rulers who would lead Emberlyn into an even greater era.
As they stepped outside the castle, the roars of the villagers grew louder. The courtyard and streets beyond were filled with people, all of them craning their necks to catch a glimpse of their king and newly crowned queen. Children waved flags adorned with the Mikaelson crest, and men shouted cheers of allegiance. The people of Emberlyn adored their king, and now they would adore her too, she thought with a pang of resignation.
Emily took a deep breath, the fresh air of the open courtyard filling her lungs. She stood tall beside Niklaus, her crown gleaming in the sunlight. The scent of jasmine, roses, and the excitement of the crowd filled the air. She lifted her hand in a regal wave, knowing the gesture would solidify her image as their queen. Inside, her emotions were a tumultuous storm, but on the surface, she was every bit the picture of poise and grace.
Niklaus leaned down slightly, his lips barely brushing her ear as he whispered, "See, my queen, they love you already."
Emily's lips pressed into a thin line, but she continued to wave, knowing she had no choice but to play the role she had been forced into.