A/N- Here we go. Sorry for the delay but my studies were a bitch, plus I had writers block for this chapter but the next update won't take nearly as long, I promise.
Also, I now have a Kalijah drabble series called If Only.

It was surreal.

One moment there was nothing but the sounds of laughter, eager conversation and the rattle of carriage wheels over the stones. Bright sunlight dancing through the leaves of the ancient trees as they made their way through the garden and around to the front of the palace.

Katherine sat by the window and twisted to look over her shoulder as the royal carriage carrying the future King stopped, waiting for all the nobles who ranked high enough in privilege to ride in the procession of carriages to pass before continuing. She tried to wave but the carriage moved on too quickly and Elijah's attention was on Stefan.

Still, she kept him in her line of sight until the sounding of the trumpets surprised her and they exited through the gates into the public streets.

The cheers of the crowd hit them in a wave.

"Wow!" Caroline reached up to cover her ears, "It's worse than being at a concert!"

Katherine looked out the windows and saw the citizens behind the barricades, waving their arms and their flags, holding up their phones and cheering as the carriage in front of her, carrying Kol, Rebekah and Henrik rattled forward. There were journalists as well, presenters shouting into their microphones in front of cameramen and she hears her name as they move past.

Katerina Petrova.

King Elijah's fiancée.

The future Queen of Valhalla.

One day, she would be riding in the last carriage, beside her husband as they rode towards her own coronation.

She would become one of the most powerful women in the world.

And could change it for the better.

She smiles as she imagines the tiara on her head becoming heavier as it morphed into the Queen's coronet.

She looked down at her fingers, stroking her engagement ring as she pictures the wedding ring Elijah would slip behind it, and the signet ring that would have to be placed on her other hand.

Esther had made her wear it once, for an entire day so that she could understand the physical and metaphorical weight that she would have to carry around for the rest of her life.

At the time it had frightened her but she hadn't even been eighteen years old and terrified of her future.

Now, she was excited, her years at college had given her the workings of the knowledge needed and she and Elijah would fill their Council with experts who would guide them to the best decisions for their country.

She had so many plans.

Tossing her head back, she turns to the crowd and waves at them, smiling as they respond with enthusiasm.

These people loved her. She was young, beautiful and the media articles painted her as a woman that cared about the people of Valhalla.

Besides, who wasn't excited by the idea of a royal wedding? Even those opposed to the monarchy would appreciate the public holiday.

"Are we there yet?"

"You ask me that question again and I'll turn this carriage right around and nobody will be going to Disneyland!"

Elijah frowned at the repartee between his brother and future brother-in-law,

"Correct me if I'm mistaken but I thought we were going to my coronation?"

Both men laughed, "Remind me to sit you down and have you binge watch American television at some point," Niklaus said, patting his shoulder, "It'll be good for you."

He rolled his eyes and turned to the window, his view partially blocked by the cavalry riding beside his carriage. Stefan cleared his throat nervously and started a conversation with his brother in low tones while Elijah tried to distract himself by looking up at the sky.

He couldn't see it.

As per tradition, the Royal Procession left the palace and moved to the outskirts of the capital city before re-entering through the main road, which became the royal mile when they reached the old town. The journey was five kilometers long and in the ancient, slow moving carriage, felt like ten and a half.

Right now, they were still in the business district, where the high rises and skyscrapers blocked out the sunlight and any light that was reaching the carriage was from the hundreds of flash cameras going off.

The cameras being held by the crowd of people.

His people.

Millions upon millions of his citizens had descended upon the capital to see him crowned, full of expectations. They wanted him to usher in a new age, to bring youth and energy to the monarchy and to the land, to bring prosperity and hope to all.

But he was just one man.

With the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The blood red, ermine lined cloak across his shoulders feels unbearably heavy for a moment before he closes his eyes and exhales slowly.

He is the King.

He has been trained and educated for this role his entire life.

He is ready.

By the time his carriage reaches the Temple, the entire Court is already inside, along with visiting dignitaries from across the world. A bright red carpet is rolled out to the steps of his carriage and the cavalry form a guard, waiting until Stefan and Klaus climb out before drawing their swords and holding them over his head as he slowly sets foot on the carpet.

The crowd is chanting his name and he looks over his shoulder with one final nod before walking determinedly into the Temple.

There is a trick known only to the priests, although there are few windows and usually not much allowance for natural light into the building, on special occasions, they somehow placed the candles and silver on the walls in such a way that the area was bright as the day outside.

He pauses in the entrance and allows his eyes a moment to adjust before sweeping his gaze over the crowd. He keeps his face passive as everyone turns to face him and a cameraman forgets himself enough to nearly overstep the boundary line as he pushes the camera closer to his face.
He keeps searching until he sees Caroline's blonde hair and looks to the left to see Katerina, her face shining and she's visibly fighting to keep the smile from her face.

The high priest steps from the shadows to the altar, two priests beside him who take their hands from their sleeves and cast them to the silver fonts either side of the fountain, flames erupting and roaring merrily. Men with their faces painted in the royal colors and the traditional drums tied around their neck with rope silently file out to stand against the wall and wait, their sticks poised, ready to begin.

The high priest takes a deep breath then issues a resounding cry in the ancient tongue,

"Elijah, King of Valhalla, come claim your crown."

The drummers sound a beat as he moves forward, and there is a clatter in his wake as the heads of each house throw a coin bearing their insignia behind him to show their loyalty and support. Genevieve manages to aim hers at his ankle.

He reaches the altar and lowers himself to one knee before the high priest, and raising his head to meet the man's eyes.

"Are you Elijah Aaron Daniel Mikael of house Lothbrok? Son of the late King Mikael, descendant of Bjorn, the founder of Valhalla?"

"I am he." He answers firmly, his voice seeming to echo through the chamber.

"Are you the King of Valhalla? Monarch of our island, leader of our nation?"

"I am he."

"Are you the one who claims the crown? The right to rule and to uphold the traditions and laws written by our gods?"

"From this day unto my last." He swears and the priest nods before addressing the audience,

"This man has declared himself our King, will you accept him and give him your loyalty, your lands and your lives?"

"We swear on Odin himself." The crowd answers in unison and for a moment, Elijah is sure that they mean it, that they would follow him into battle, into death, out of love for him.

The high priest moves behind the altar and Elijah senses someone behind him, reaching around his shoulder and removing his cloak, when he whispers,

"My King." He realizes that it is his brother Niklaus carrying out another one of the hundred traditions required of him that day.

The stag is brought to the altar, his head positioned over the surface and the killing is quick, a silver dagger slashes his throat and his blood is poured into a bowl.

"The stag is a dignified creature, strong and grounded. May the nobility of his sacrifice and his vitality give you strength and the power to rule."

Elijah stands and holds out his arms as the high priest approaches and stretches up to pour the blood over his head, his shoulders and chest. He closes his mouth and eyes, waiting until it stops dripping down his forehead before opening them. He then places the bowl back on the altar and reaches to his side, where a priest sweeps forward, holding the king's crown.

It is placed on Elijah's head, seated on his crown and the priest keeps it in his hands for a second to ensure it is placed right before he steps back and kneels.

"My King."

Elijah turns to face his nobility and they kneel, bowing their heads down and he is nearly overwhelmed with his power. He lowers his arms and they rise back to their feet.

Niklaus waits for a full minute before he moves forward, into the aisle, with the cloak still folded over his arm, he bows before him,

"I, Niklaus Erik James Lothbrok, swear allegiance to you, King Elijah, to your heirs and successors, as long as I shall live."

A manservant comes forward, holding a pillow on which the sovereign ring sits, shining in the light and Niklaus takes the pillow, holding it up towards Elijah who slides the ring onto his finger, the blood making it slip on even easier.

Niklaus takes his hand and kisses the ring, before standing and moving behind him to clasp the cloak back around his shoulders.

Each of his siblings step forward, in order of their place in the succession and his half-siblings follow after Henrik.

Then Katerina comes forward. Had she already been his queen she would have been first to make the pledge of allegiance but as his fiancée, has to follow after his immediate family.

She steps forward with a smile on her face and every bit aware that the eyes of the world are on them. When she reaches him she hesitates and he sees a rebellious glint in her eyes.

Lovingly, he holds out his hands and she takes them, letting him draw her forward and he lowers his head, kissing her chastely on the lips, when she leans back he sees that some of the blood has stained the corner of her mouth. She laces their fingers together and takes their left hands, holding them up and pressing them to his heart, over the brooch she had gifted him.

"I, Katerina Maria of house Petrova, swear allegiance to you, King Elijah, as my king and as your future Queen, I pledge my loyalty and life to you and you alone."

When she steps back she gives an exaggeratedly graceful curtsy, sweeping her skirts wide in a very image of propriety, as if they hadn't just flaunted millennia of tradition together. He grins and bows his head, winking at her as she turns and steps to the side to join his family.

Her father follows in her footsteps with a disapproving look in his eye but kneels, his knees cracking with age and gives the allegiance without incident, as does her family in quick succession, followed by the Salvatore's, Stefan handing him his knives and Nadia approaching after her mother.

She has clearly practiced the pledge and when she kisses his ring, he chucks her under the chin,

"Thank-you." he mouths to her and she beams before walking towards her grandfather.

It takes an hour and a half for the nobility to take the oath and Elijah has to wonder whether they should have sanitized the ring between kisses, or whether half his court his going to have mono in a week or so.

When the ceremony is complete, he leads the way to the doors of the Temple, waiting for the Master of Ceremonies to announce him before stepping out to face the world.

The roar of the crowd is almost like a physical blast that hits him as he emerges into the sunlight and fresh air. The carriages have been taken away, after all, it is only a short walk across the square to the Palace where the celebrations shall take place.

He lifts a hand, waving in acknowledgement and the screams get louder, they are chanting his name, and he smiles, ignoring the blood drying on his face and clothes as he walks through the path created and held for him by the barricades. Behind him, his siblings fan out, walking behind him in triangle formation and Katerina walks with her family. He looks over his shoulder as she goes to speak to a child in the crowd, being held up by her older sister and then moves away with her head held high and a proud smile on her face, she reaches his side and he offers her his hand, which she takes with only a moment of hesitation- it is sticky with blood.

The walk to the Palace seems to take no time at all and when the doors close behind him, with most of the cameras on the other side, Aiden comes forward immediately,

"Your Majesty, we have a clean suit waiting."

He smirks and holds out his arms, "Let me hug you in gratitude," he teases the man, laughing when he literally jumps backward.

"Go the celebration," he tells him, "I shan't need anyone to help me dress."

He turns on his heel and climbs the stairs to the private apartments as the Court and visiting world dignitaries begin filtering out to the throne room where champagne and hors d'oeuvres will be served before the formal dinner and ball. Ansel quietly follows him, moving so silently that doesn't even notice him until he steps forward and clears his throat, "Majesty." he murmurs and Elijah jumps, "Are you trying to scare me?"

Ansel shakes his head, "No, I just wished to remind you that your things have been moved to the King's rooms."

Elijah blinks and realizes that out of sheer habit he'd headed to his old suite and grimaces, spinning on his heel and taking the corridor that led to his new chambers.

He strides through the sitting room, receiving room, throne room, antechamber and to the bedroom as quickly as possible, surprising a few servants who immediately make themselves scarce and close the doors behind him. He looks down for a moment, takes a breath and then brings himself to face the bed where his father had slept for so many years.

But it is no longer the same bed.

The curtains are gone and the frame has been changed, the sheets have been stripped and when he moves forward he sees that the mattress is so new it still has its tag and there are folded duvet covers of different design set out with a note atop them,

'Your Majesty,

Lady Petrova informed me of your wish for new bedding, please choose from the selection and the changes will be made.

Your humble servant,

Lorenzo Salvatore,

Master of the Household,

Kattegat Palace.'

He drops the note with a lopsided smile on his face and studies the choices in front of him before settling on the black cover with silver leaves embroidery and attaching the note to it. He steps into his dressing room, strips, leaves his clothes on the floor and pads to the bathroom.

The bath has already been filled when he gets there and the water is still quite warm, with his toiletries sitting on a chair awaiting him. He sinks into the steaming water gratefully and submerges himself, running his fingers over his skin and through his hair until the water is discolored with the blood and he rises again.

To find that he has company.

Katerina is standing by the chair, watching him avidly, her shoulders visibly rising with each breath she takes and he can't take his eyes off her.

"My King." She murmurs, licking her lips and he mirrors the motion,

"My Queen."

"Elijah," she sobs and darts forward, falling to her knees as he leans out of the bathtub and their mouths fuse together in a passionate kiss, his hands grabbing her dress and searching blindly for the zipper or clasp or buttons as the water laps over the edge and soaks it through.

Her hands are everywhere, his shoulders, his hair, his back and chest, and she pushes forward when her knee slips and he has to catch her so she doesn't fall and lose several teeth on the porcelain rim.

"Up," he orders and stands, making sure of his own footing before grabbing his towel and throwing it on the ground for him to walk on.

She cautiously stands and hurries into the dressing room, turning her back to the mirror and looking over her shoulder, reaching for the zipper. He is by her side in an instant, his feet loud on the wooden floor before they are muffled by the old carpeting. He takes the zip in hand and draws it down, to her lower back before he pushes the dress out of the way. She isn't wearing a bra but plastic covers which she peels off and tosses onto the counter and he finds himself hard imagining her not having worn a bra during the coronation. She spins back towards him and steps into his embrace, kissing his lips as she rakes her nails down his chest, pressing her lips over his heart. He puts his hands on her waist and she murmurs in protest,

"Touch me with your fingers," she orders, "Feel how wet I am!"

She's wearing white silk panties and when he slips two fingers in, he smirks at finding the silk soaked through, he pushes his fingers into her and she moans in delight and arches up onto her toes before sinking down again, clinging to his shoulders as she rides them.

"Elijah," she moans, kissing him fiercely, possessively, "Hmmmm…yes."

She gasps as he curls his fingers, and takes her right breast in hand, squeezing it and pinching the nipple and she trembles against him, her eyes fluttering shut as she bites her lip.

When she comes he uses his fingers to draw her forward, against him, pressing his erection against her stomach and teasing her by lowering his lips to hers and pulling away at the last second.

She chuckles and grabs his wrist, drawing it out and giving the newly washed signet ring an open kiss,

"I should pledge allegiance to my king," she whispers, putting her hands on his hips and turning him around, pushing him towards the velvet couch, sitting him down and sinking to her knees.

"This is how it's done right?" she teases in a sultry voice before licking the tip of his penis and taking it into her mouth.

And Elijah could only groan and fumble blindly for her hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing while marveling at his beautiful fiancé.

Looking down at her, her beautiful curls and the tiara still in her hair, he finds himself remembering how she'd been at the beginning of their relationship. She'd been a young virgin then, nervous and eager to please and prove herself but clumsy in his arms. Now, she was confident and unafraid to ask for what she wanted, and seeing her as a sexually confident woman was amazing.

She hollows her cheeks and glances up at him and that image alone is close to undoing him, so he reaches down and strokes her cheek, drawing her back until she releases him.

He bends down and grabs her under the armpits and she climbs up onto the couch, straddling his lap, and kissing him before he lays her down across the velvet and shifts onto his elbows, hovering above her, with one foot on the marble floor. He stares into her eyes and she nods, licking her lips and hoisting her legs up, locking them around his waist before she reaches down to guide him inside of her.

He enters slowly and gently, as he had always done, and when he's at the hilt they both close their eyes and moan at the sensation,

"Move." she whimpers and he smirks, stealing a kiss from her swollen lips.

"As you wish."

He gives a quick, hard thrust, testing her response and when she raises her hips to meet his, he takes that as permission to set the pace. Her hands grip his arms as he moves above her and she murmurs sweet nothings under her breath to him, encouraging him, moaning his name, her thumbs stroking his skin tenderly as he seeks her release.

Suddenly she swears and grips him, pulling him down on top of her and burying her face in his neck.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks worried and she shakes her head, "No…keep going, quick, I'm close!"

Her feet are drumming against his thighs and he readily obeys her, thrusting deep until her walls clench and she gasps, tilting her head back and gripping his arms tightly as she climaxes.

He finds himself coming almost the same second and groans as he finishes inside her, their sweaty bodies sliding against each other and he has to lift his foot off the floor and onto the couch so he doesn't fall off the small seat.

Katerina chuckles in his ear, "Whoops, guess I can't wear white on our wedding day."

He laughs and lazily lifts his head to kiss her, "It'll be our secret." He promises and shifts down to rest his head on her right breast, closing his eyes and listening to her breathing,

"I didn't hurt you did I?" he asks concerned as she begins playing with his hair,

"No, I'd have stopped you if you did." She promises, "Why?"

"You didn't used to swear when we were…well…"

She giggles and shifts slightly, spreading her legs so that he's lying between them,

"I'd forgot how good, how strong an orgasm can be when it doesn't come at the end of a wand, especially when you're with someone you're connected with."

He allows himself a proud smile and turns his head to kiss her nipple, "Good."

Elijah feels himself beginning to drift off and Katerina tugs on his hair,

"Rise, my king," she beckons, "Your duty awaits."

He jokingly looks down at his penis, "Another five minutes, Katerina."

She clicks her tongue and begins to sit up, leaving him lying on her thigh, "I'm going to run the bath."

She gets off the couch and pads to the mirror, leaning in to examine her make-up and she pulls a face when she sees the tiara tangled in her hair, meanwhile, he rolls onto his back and stretches. "Let's go to bed, try out that new mattress."

She raises her eyebrows, looking at him in the mirror, "And what should we tell the Court and all the visiting dignitaries?"

He shrugs, "That you're practicing your queenly duties?"

She rolls her eyes, "Nice try. Up! Go call Aiden and tell him to bring me a change of clothes, actually, we should both change, make it look like a fashion statement rather than me doing a walk of shame."

He reluctantly pulls himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his hands over his face,

"We could stay here until it's time for the ball?" he tries, "Claim I was resting or we were seeing to matters of state?"

She laughs, and begins rifling through his drawers, "Don't be an idiot, it's your coronation day. You should be seen dancing until dawn, especially because of that documentary crew Rose allowed into the palace."

He's watching her and suddenly she doesn't seem like his fiancé, his love Katerina, but a queen, concerned with appearances and opinions more than her love for him.

"'Let's go out into the crowds." He suggests spontaneously and she drops the brush in her hand,

"No!" she bursts out and he stares at her until she explains herself,

"Setting aside the fact that Ansel would have three different heart attacks and my father would have to spend the night following him around with a stethoscope, do you know how dangerous it would be? One idiot with a knife or a gun, or someone causes a panic and a stampede or…" she waves her hands helplessly,

"Elijah, you're the king now, you can't take the same risks you did when you were only the prince."

"Why not?" he demands with a shrug, "The people love me, they love us and if there is a maniac with a gun…well, there's another four Lothbroks to take my place, really, the only person to lose out would be you."

She glares and picks up the hairbrush as if she wants to throw it at him,

"Don't ever joke about that! I've already lost enough just getting to this point, I'm not going to lose anything more just because you're being an idiot!"

Her harsh tone, her raw voice stuns him and he opens his mouth instinctively to apologize but she's turning away,

"I'm going to bathe, when you call Aiden, ask him to also fetch my make-up, if I don't see you downstairs, I'll see you at the ball tonight."

She strides into the bathroom and though there's no door he still senses something slamming closed between them, leaving him sitting on the velvet couch in the chilly room with their juices drying on his cock and thighs.

He feels alone.

A/N- Well, at least I gave you smut.