Black and grey ornate crown tattoo with filigree detailing and a small cross on top, placed on the lower abdomen beside a navel piercing.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ornate crown on the lower abdomen

Other · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo of an ornate crown with a cross on top sits on the lower abdomen of a person wearing patterned shorts. The crown has dense filigree, scrollwork and fine shading that gives it a raised, engraved look. The skin is lit by warm daylight, and the tattoo is set slightly off centre towards the hip with a navel piercing visible to the right.

Other Crown Cross Filigree Scrollwork

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The engraver's daughter, Wenna, was sent down to the Mudlands with a commission nobody in Shoalmouth could afford. The reeve wanted a crown, though he had no kingdom to rule but a sea wall, three boats and a dog. She cut it from a scrap of old hull-plate with a graver she had inherited from her grandmother, working the filigree so fine that the lines seemed to stand proud of the metal, like frost on a window.

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The reeve came for it at midwinter. He turned it over in the lamplight, found no maker's mark, and asked why the cross on top was so small. Wenna said the cross was the only part she had made from her own hand. The scrollwork had come from her grandmother's pattern book, which the flood had taken years before. The reeve laughed and paid her in tins of peaches, and she walked home along the causeway with the tins knocking together in her sack.

In the morning the crown was gone from the reeve's house. Wenna found it on the sea wall, set on a bollard and facing inland, the cross turned toward the tide. Salt had crept into every curl of the scrollwork. The reeve swore he had locked it in his chest, though he admitted he had tried it on in the dark and felt nothing but its cold weight.

Wenna took it back, scraped the salt out with a bristle brush, and hung it from the lighthouse rail where anyone with notions of rule had to climb the stairs to look at it. Most of them, the old women say, came down again and went home to mend their own fences.