Dragon Throne Novels & Stories

she says gently yet firmly, “it’s time to wake up, dear. Morning’s already here.” I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes to hide the heaviness inside. She places a bowl of porridge beside me, smiling. “You need to build your strength, little one. We’ll head to the market later to see what we can trade.” “Martha,” I say softly, looking up at her. “Before we go, I… I have to change something.” She freezes mid-motion, raising an eyebrow. “Change something? What do you mean?” I run my fingers through my hair—the same hair that once caught attention in every palace hallway. It’s crimson red, like embers—my father's royal crest's color. It is both a sign of power and a curse.

Nora picked up the folded paper. She didn't open it. She held it. "You want the throne," she said. "Yes." "And you want me to trust you." "Yes." "Those two things are going to conflict at some point." "Probably," he said. "When they do, I'll tell you." He held her gaze without wavering. "I want the throne through legitimate succession. If Caspian fulfills the anchor requirement and succeeds, the succession is his by right and I'll accept that." He paused. "What I won't accept is the succession being built on an arrangement that's being managed dishonestly. But then. if the anchor is being kept in the dark about the terms of her own arrangement

The Draygons in the training ring had made it abundantly clear what they thought of me, of the females in general. It was extremely hard to want to be with someone who couldn't see my worth. Though Tohr had mostly treated me with respect, even if he was bossy, I still had to refuse the bonding with him for now. I just couldn't do it. Treddian's led us inside the castle and into the large gathering area with the thrones. Tohr sat on his high-backed golden chair, the single diamond shown above his head like a crown. Right next to him was the infamous Queen's chair with its ruby topper shimmering in the sunlight, almost beckoning me. I resisted it and stopped short of running away from it.

The elderly vendor, with weathered hands that spoke, held forth an exquisite piece. Intricate links of gold, meticulously wrought, formed an elegant chain that draped seamlessly, creating a delicate framework for the centerpiece. At the heart of the necklace rested a sizable blue gemstone, capturing the essence of the deep ocean in its rich hue. The gemstone, cradled within a golden setting, emanated a mesmerizing brilliance that danced with every movement. Its facets catch and refract light, creating an ever-changing play of colors that evoke a sense of desire.

“Is it true what’s on the news? That the black market was involved in Sir Dominic’s death? I can’t believe it! Demons!” Chaos and noise broke out in the conference room because of what they heard. The Knights didn’t know how to calm their allies down. “Who’s going to sit on the throne now? There will be war again if the new chairman is still missing in action! Our company sales will drop if the throne remains empty! A lot of people are also asking if Knights Empire is involved in the chaos happening!” Jacques glared at one of their board of directors. The man looked away and apologized.

He scrutinized it for a long time before saying, "I wouldn't have expected any less of a proper lady of the Chapman family. Your embroidery is top-notch." Something occurred to him, and he pulled out a green moonstone pendant from his sleeve. He gave it to me. "My mother gave this to me, saying that it would keep me safe. I've kept it with me all these years while battling our enemies. I'll give it to you now if you don't mind having it." I saw streaks of blood on the pendant and knew that it had been with Gideon through many life-and-death situations. How could I possibly accept it?

⸻ Three days later, Emmy stood inside the old throne room. The throne remained. Black dragon stone. Gold. Ancient carvings. Symbols of conquest. Ignisvath stood beside it. Emmy looked at him. “What?” He stared at the throne. “I don’t want it.” Emmy waited. “I thought I did.” “You did.” “For centuries.” “Yes.” “I thought being king was what remained when everything else was taken.” Emmy said nothing. Ignisvath ran his fingers across the carved arm. “My father sat here.”

I couldn't make out any words, only the low hum of a room full of people speaking about someone who doesn't belong here. Red Dragon climbed the steps at the far end of the hall, and I followed his movements with my eyes until I finally understood what stood at the top. A chair. Not just any chair. A throne rather. It was a massive black ancient throne designed for kings… Sitting so high above the hall, it was obviously built for one man alone; whoever holds the ring of power in the Durango Cartel… The second Red Dragon sat down, the entire room dropped to one knee. All at once.

I sit in my throne, it’s black and guilded with a floral pattern in the wood very grand, very regal. I’m slumped with my legs hanging over an arm of it, a glass of blood in my hand. I’m listening to an “advisor" drone on and on about several treaties and relations and blah, blah blah, blah. It’s agonisingly boring. I want to run away and play with one of my toys. My favourite toy is a witch. She crossed me long ago but I spared her life. She is useful to me. Very useful.

It made him panic. Darryl cracked a smile when he noticed White Tiger King’s flustered expression. "White Tiger King, this is called the Trap Dragon Thorn. These Trap Dragon Thorns were specially invented by humans to deal with the Green Dragon clan. Once being stabbed, any powerful dragon will inevitably lose the ability to fly. I believe it is very painful. Even the Green Dragon clan could not bear the torture of the Trap Dragon Thorn. Would you like to try it?” Darryl said slowly to make himself clear as he had a relaxed expression on his face.