King Edward Vii Love Chair Novels & Stories

"She joked and I smiled nervously. As though Luciano realised that I was nervous,he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.I looked at him and he smiled at me, assuring me that I can do it. The queen's throne room had a golden chair and it looked so beautiful. The chair was there to symbolise power. However, it didn't mean that the queen was supposed to sit on it all the time.I remembered Luciano telling me. The only time that the queen can sit on the throne chair is when she is talking to guests from other kingdoms. My fingers itched to touch the queen's throne chair.However, I took a deep breath to calm down. I have all the time in the world,will not only touch it. I will seat on it as well becaus

It didn't take a second look to know it was Edwig and Edmund. Edmund never remembered their painting there, for neither he nor Edwig had ever been crowned king. While the painting is made every time a new king is crowned. Edmund forgot the matter for a moment and looked around the other room. The gust of wind sounded familiar, but also so strange as if it was quieter than before. The man entered the living room, much smaller than the other rooms, but warmest because there was a fireplace burning and a wooden rocking chair. Something prompted Edmund to sit cross-legged in front of the chair, then felt a strange pain in his heart that his hand had to touch his chest trying to get rid of the fe

His gaze swept the room, acknowledging no one individually, and came to rest on the single, glaring point of focus: the chair at the head of the table. Joe’s chair. It was a massive, high-backed leather throne, worn smooth in places by the pressure of its former occupant. It was positioned at a slight, commanding angle to the table, a king’s perspective on his court. It had been empty for months, a sacred relic no one dared to occupy, a tangible manifestation of the power vacuum that had nearly torn the empire apart. Now, it waited for him.

I tried to tell myself that I should believe him, trust that everything would be fine, and nothing would happen, but since I had not lived this part of life, I had no idea what would happen, but I held my head up high and let him lead me forward to the center of the hall. At the center of the hall, beneath the celestial dome, were two ornate chairs that resembled thrones. They were side by side, and their high backs were carved with celestial motifs of moons and stars. They were separated from the guests by a velvet rope. It was at the center to ensure all eyes would be on us.

VI The throne room was empty that day, nobody entered, and nobody exits. Lord Iritain and Lord Gertan looked at the throne, an uncomfortable wooden chair. That chair was used as a throne for three generations. There must be secret to why it is used. “I still don't get it, why they use this chair?” Lord Iritain looked at the arm rests, they were ordinary arm rests. They was nothing strange about them. “It keeps them focused on the speaker.” Lord Gertan said behind him.

“She’s going nowhere till I say so.” Phillip sighed “Fine. But at least give her a decent chair. She’s exhausted and that stool is as hard as rock. It’s not fair to have her sitting on it for hours on end.” “She wants a comfier chair?” The High King replied “All she has to do is ask…” He clicked his fingers and a servant disappeared only to reappear moments later with a chair that almost matched the High King’s. “That’s the Queen’s Chair.” James said carefully looking at Uther.

We sipped and waited for what she had to say next. “What you are sitting on is older than this entire building. These particular chairs, the chaise there in the corner, and this sofa, all come from England. The wine and champagne come directly from France, some of it aged over one hundred years.” She took another sip of the champagne before she continued on. “But I know that isn't what you want to know. Wyatt, you are a history teacher?” I nodded no. “Archaeologist, ma'am. I do a few lectures a year around the country.”

The blue-white light from the panoramic windows made the room look clinical, stripped of any warmth. Edward sat at the head of the table. The CEO position. His tablet was already open in front of him, his posture straight but tense. He looked up when I entered. Our eyes met. Held. He looked exhausted. The skin tight over his cheekbones, his eyes bloodshot. But he didn't look away. Neither did I. "Good morning, Ms. Valentine." Edmund, the Board Chair, stood from the seat to Edward's right. He was a man of sharp angles and grey hair, the institutional memory of the company. He didn't offer the patronizing smile he usually reserved for family members.

Suddenly, fire engulfed the chair, which was fully consumed by the flames. Some phrases flashed in my hands, stating that the chair was a taming chair, and that if you sat in it, you would understand whatever the monarch said, and that you could not leave the valley. The King gave a brief nod. He recognized I wasn't a soft knot that needed to be cracked with a soft stone. Prof, why are you in our world? He inquired.

“Where’s Red?” “He set this meeting up for me.” I wave to a chair in front of the lone table. There is only one table in this windowless room that Red uses for all his “talks.” The walls are padded with red velvet, and there’s a well-stocked bar along one wall. The floor is concrete, but under the table is a hand-woven rug that is rumored to be from Versailles during Louis’s reign. There’s not a spot of blood on it, as Red boasts. That says more about the quality of tarping that is used during his talks than anything. Edward scowls at the setup and refuses to move. “You have something that belongs to me, and I want it returned,” he demands.