Golden Throne Novels & Stories

he chuckled. "Amazeballs! Let's go then," she tugged at his arm, leading them out of the canopy. She looked right and left, unsure of which way to follow. "Which way leads to the treasury?" she queried, looking at him questionably. "This way," he gestured towards the staircase. They climbed the stairs up to the third court which housed the Sultan's private quarters, the imperial treasury and the relics of the Prophet (SAW) which were kept in the Sacred Safekeeping room. They first went into the treasury which contained the Sultan's egg-sized rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, as well as thrones and cradles made entirely from gold.

He brought a gold tray covered with red cloth and bowed before leaving. “Guests have arrived, Crown Princess.” Outsiders could wait when I was in the middle of something important! Without any further delay, I removed the cloth from tray, “Do you know its meaning, Zayn?” Two new silver crowns instead of my dad’s ones perplexed Zayden, he thought for a while before speaking. “Gold represents power and prosperity in royals. That’s why the King and Queen’s crowns are made of pure gold. And silver is a sign of announcement of an heir.”

I quickly glanced away from it's eyes and was met, insead, with the imposing throne chair. I gasped. The throne chair. . . the revered throne chair. It sat resplendent, majestic, grand. Made of pure gold from it's wide arm rests to a wide leather seat that could comfortably sit three men to it's claw feet, it was a sight to behold and more. Two massive pillars also made entirely of gold, stood on either side, caging the throne chair and serving as a form of shield from the attack of enemies. That is if any enemy managed to get in through the palace, pass the North pilar, gain entrance into the palace and pass through the steel doors. The numerous guards were always ready to kill and be kille

The throne room had been rebuilt, though its stones were still raw from war and its windows still smudged by ash. At the centre stood the ceremonial seat, an intricate marvel of moonstone, dragon bone, and living crystal, gleaming like a relic unearthed from an older world. It waited, a symbol as old as kings, as old as empire. The court had waited, too, nobles in gilded robes, old generals in uniforms pressed and starched, even the palace ghosts seemed to pause in the shadowed archways, breathless, expectant.

"Your highness, all the horses are back in their stables for the night. Each stall has been cleaned, fresh water placed in all, and every horse brushed and fed," said Anthony, bowing to the mighty king that sat before him. George tapped his fingers against the arms of his golden throne. It was made of the finest metals from France, polished every day to maintain its elegant look. It matched the silver floors—so clean a person could see their own reflection in the tiles. Anthony's green eyes glared back into his soul as he looked down at the floor while he spoke to his trusty king.

And if, it was any other God, they would take it for treason which it is, but as it is, my flawed nature allows me to joke even at wrong moments, which baffles me, because at this point, anyone could have killed king Orrin. And all that we know, we can't do anything about it yet, until the end of the competition of Gods, to attain a new king to the throne. Such a competition that hasn't been held in the last thousand years. And such a competition which will begin from the 3rd day after king Orrin 's ceremonial burial. "Alec," My head snaps away from my journal to the voice calling my name. Odell stands at the open door, with two hands into the white suit trouser he is wearing.

I woke to sunlight streaming through massive windows and the sound of birds singing outside. For a moment, I was disoriented. This wasn’t Elena’s cabin. This wasn’t the wilderness. This was luxury: a king-sized bed with silk sheets, furniture that probably cost more than my entire life at Crescent Moon, and a bathroom with a tub big enough to swim in. Blackthorn Pack. Kade. My mate. Good morning,* my wolf said, stretching contentedly in my mind. Sleep well?

“Your Majesty,” a muscular man said, partially kneeling in front of the King to show his respect and utter submission. “Midas,” King Garlow replied, sitting in his own regal seat at the throne hall which was located on the third floor, center of the mansion. He wore a richly embroidered Persian gold cloth with a brilliant vermilion red fur surrounding his shoulder. His head was adorned with an extravagantly-decorated crown of precious stones and diamonds and around his neck, he wore a thick gold-plated necklace with an emerald pendant as its centerpiece. This emerald pendant was in fact the very heirloom of the Vhillana royal family. It was evident that he adored such a pendant for reasons u