Chapter 10 – The Naming Ceremony & The Slave’s
769 Words
The palace had never looked more alive.
Crimson banners hung from every tower, silver flames embroidered in real fire that never burned the silk.
Thousands of wolves from every allied pack filled the grand courtyard, their howls shaking the Himalayan peaks.
Today was the official Naming Ceremony of the royal heir.
Even though our daughter was still four months from being born, Crimson Moon tradition demanded the name be chosen under the first full moon after the gender reveal.
I stood on the imperial balcony in a flowing crimson gown stitched with real diamonds, the fabric hugging my five-month bump like liquid fire.
Ryan stood behind me, arms wrapped protectively around my waist, golden claws gently resting over the swell.
Below, every Alpha knelt.
Even the ones who once laughed at me.
And in the front row, on his knees in chains, was Aarav.
His prison uniform was clean for once—my order. I wanted him to look presentable when the world saw what became of the Alpha who rejected an Empress.
The Royal Healer raised the ancient silver bowl filled with moon-blessed water.
“Empress Riya, Alpha Ryan—declare the name of the heir.”
I lifted my chin, voice carrying without effort.
“Her name will be Aarohi Anya Knight.
Aarohi—because she will rise higher than any wolf before her.
Anya—because she is grace born of fire.”
Ryan’s grip tightened.
“Aarohi Anya Knight,” he repeated, pride booming.
“Future ruler of Crimson Moon and Knight empires.”
The crowd roared.
Silver and golden fireworks exploded in the sky, courtesy of my flames and Ryan’s power combined.
Then I did something no one expected.
I descended the marble stairs alone.
Every step echoed.
The crowd parted.
I stopped in front of Aarav.
His chains clinked as he tried to bow lower.
Fresh burn marks circled his wrists—punishment for speaking without permission yesterday.
“Look at me,” I commanded.
He lifted his head.
His golden eyes were bloodshot, cheeks hollow, but something new flickered in them.
Hope.
Stupid, fragile hope.
I crouched, gown pooling like blood.
“You heard the name.”
I let silver flames dance across my fingertips.
“Aarohi. My daughter. Ryan’s daughter.”
He swallowed hard.
“Yes, Empress.”
I leaned closer, voice soft enough only he could hear.
“You will never speak her name. You will never write it. You will never dream it. If I ever catch you whispering ‘Aarohi’ even in your sleep…”
The flames flared, singeing the air an inch from his face.
“I will burn your tongue out.”
His hope shattered.
Tears fell silently.
I stood.
“But today is a celebration.”
I turned to the guards.
“Remove his chains for one hour. Let him serve wine to the guests. On his knees. With a smile.”
The guards obeyed.
The heavy silver fell away.
Aarav stared at his free wrists in shock—then scrambled to his feet, nearly falling.
For one hour, the former Alpha of Silver Claw Pack carried golden trays through the crowd, pouring wine for wolves who once feared him.
Every time someone laughed or looked away in disgust, he flinched.
I watched from the throne, Ryan’s hand on my shoulder.
“Cruel?” he murmured, lips brushing my ear.
I smiled.
“Merciful. I could have left the chains on.”
Exactly one hour later, the guards dragged him back.
The silver snapped around his wrists again, tighter this time.
He didn’t fight.
Just bowed his head and whispered, “Thank you, Empress.”
I didn’t reply.
That night, Ryan and I stood in the nursery—still empty, but already painted in crimson and gold.
A tiny crown sat on a velvet pillow, waiting for a head small enough to wear it.
Ryan wrapped his arms around me from behind.
“Aarohi Anya Knight,” he said softly.
“She’s going to be unstoppable.”
I placed my hand over his.
“Just like her father.”
He kissed my mark.
“And her mother.”
Far below, in the dungeons, Aarav stared at the new burn marks on his wrists.
For one hour, he had tasted freedom.
For one hour, he had carried trays instead of chains.
And now he would remember that taste for the rest of his life.
Because the next time he was unchained?
It would be to dig his own grave.
The Empress had spoken.
To be continued…
Drop a ❤️ if Aarohi already owns your heart!
- Writer
