Novel & Cerita Dragon Throne

The third time he did not ask. “Young prince,” someone began. Thorin roared. Not a shout. A roar, a true one, dragon fire under it, impossible from a body that size, and it hit the chamber like weather. It rattled every goblet on the long table and blew the arguments out of all the rulers mid-breath. Silence slammed down. And into it, absolute, eyes blazing molten silver, the heir of the dragon throne delivered his intelligence to the war council of the world. “We are talking about my mate! My mate is ALIVE.” His voice rang off the banners. “She is afraid and she is angry. She is so angry.” Something that was almost a laugh and almost a sob went through him. “

Fenris was calming down, simply because I was in the room. Beside the throne stood Beta Thorne, Draken’s trusted right hand. Thorne was a huge man, his face had scars from a dozen wars, his arms crossed over his chest with an expression of pure, unyielding loyalty to his King. Draken’s jaw clenched, but he didn't break eye contact as Kael led me to the center of the stone floor, stepping back to take his place beside the throne.

A colossal dragon throne in front. A man draped in golden robes appeared escorted by two guards clad in dazzling red armor. He had long silver hair with blue eyes. His horns on his head had a slight tint of gold to them. A humbled golden crown sat around his head resembling more a Laurel wreath than a majestic crown. The Drakon speaks.

“Dragon Cell.” As Damon was dragged off, his eyes never left Derek. “This isn’t over,” he vowed. “The crown will taste blood.” The gates slammed shut behind him. The silence afterward was deafening. Then Drake stepped forward. “I won’t fight this,” he said quietly. All eyes turned to him. “I wanted the throne,” Drake admitted. “But not like this. Not at the cost of my family.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Elise. For everything.”

“Hey. Look at me.” I did. His presence anchored me—but the pull didn’t stop. One of the Thrones glowed brighter than the rest. Different. Older. Its markings were fractured, incomplete, as if it had once been destroyed and rebuilt poorly. “That one,” Kaelith breathed. “That’s new.” Ashael’s expression hardened. “No,” it said. “That is repaired.” The Absolute the Old Standard intended to crown. It wasn’t empty. A shadow sat within it—unformed, restless, waiting for a body strong enough to survive it.

The company's elders, watching us lock horns, stood their ground and tried to smooth things over: "Take a breath, will you? Don's just under the weather. As his wife, you oughta be his rock, not blocking his every move." Sebastian's lips twitched into a smirk, but he played it straight. "My wife calls the shots. Cross her in this family, and you'll answer to me." With that, he slapped his gun down on the table. The elders, taken aback at first, then chuckled and closed in around me. "Elena, Don's still head over heels for you. He's just got a short-circuit in the memory department, mistook someone else for you, that's all," they said.

“Let’s not waste time pretending this is a misunderstanding.” Darion swallows. “You don’t understand what Malrec is offering,” he says hoarsely. I stop directly in front of him. “No,” I reply. “I understand perfectly.” His eyes brighten slightly, as though he believes he has found a sliver of sympathy. “Then you must see reason. Dragons ruling both realms again, restoring our rightful dominance—” My fist strikes him before he finishes the sentence. The crack of bone against flesh echoes sharply through the chamber. Darion slumps forward against the chains, blood spilling from his mouth.

A pause. "He is the last of the Draconis bloodline. His father died in the Border Wars, his mother — nobody speaks of his mother. He has ruled alone for four years and in those four years no kingdom has dared challenge him." She spoke quietly, like the walls might be listening. "He does not take a council. He does not explain his decisions. He has turned away eleven brides from eleven noble houses and nobody knows why." "Eleven." I met her eyes in the mirror. "What happened to them?"

“With your drugs that you thought could control me? Or with your body that serves both Angelina and me?” “No way…” His lips trembled uncontrollably. “You clearly took them every day…” Angelina’s face instantly turned red. She slammed the table and shouted, “Throw this madwoman out of the family!” I ignored her shouting and slowly removed the glove from my right hand. I raised my hand. On my thumb was an ancient, heavy black-gold ring, engraved with the family emblem—a phoenix in flames. The don’s ring was the symbol of the family’s highest authority. The entire room fell silent.

When his eyes met mine, he looked away quickly. Guilt. Something was wrong. Vania woke slowly. When she learned she was pregnant, her hand flew to her belly. For just an instant, panic flickered across her eyes. Then she smiled. A wide, triumphant smile. This was not right. Before I could think further, Drakon's voice thundered through the hall. "The gods favor me!" he roared. "I will father a golden dragon!" King Theron was overjoyed. He ordered chests of the finest treasures sent to the Crown Prince's chambers.