King Triton Throne Novels & Stories

The throne room of the Pirate King was inside the hollowed-out hull of a massive, ancient Leviathan-class battleship that had been beached on the highest peak of the island. It was opulent in a savage way. Tapestries of stolen Imperial flags hung from the ribs of the ship. The throne was made of melted-down cannons. Caspian Thorne sat on the throne. He was a handsome man, with skin the color of teak and hair like spun gold. He wore a coat of red brocade and enough rings to sink a swimmer. A massive cutlass rested against his knee. He watched Tristan and Saoirse approach. "The Viper," Thorne said, his voice smooth and rich. "I heard you were dead."

Or that it was a resting place for her kind. They finally entered another room, this one smaller than the others, but with high, vaulted ceilings, and natural light pouring in. This room had stark, stone floors, and in its center sat one remarkable piece of furniture: a throne. Mounted high up on a pedestal, at least fifteen feet high, sat the wooden throne, a chair which was extra wide, with arms that sloped upward, and a back that angled on a triangle, coming to a point in the middle. Beneath it, on its corners, sat two golden lions, designed to look as if they were holding up the chair.

Time slowed as her heart rate increased. In her vision, the golden interior of the throne was woven into threads that could potentially be tied around her throat. Willow stood in the middle of the room, not to be scrutinized in this manner. The golden throne room exuded an aura of opulence and grandeur. The walls were adorned with intricate golden filigree, depicting mythical creatures and elaborate patterns that catch the light and cast a warm, inviting glow. The centerpiece of the room was a majestic golden throne, elevated on a dais and embellished with precious gemstones. Its tall backrest is adorned with golden motifs, creating a sense of authority and power.

Blackthorn Pack territory was nothing like Crescent Moon. Where my old pack had been comfortable and modest, Blackthorn was magnificent. The pack house rose from the forest like a fortress, all dark stone and towering windows. Guards patrolled the perimeter with military precision. Everything spoke of power, wealth, and absolute authority. The warriors escorting me led me through gates that could withstand a siege, past training grounds where dozens of wolves sparred with lethal efficiency, and into the main building itself.

“Rios, we have been involved in the affairs of the Knights for a long time. They have long been pondering the history of our family, the roots, and the end. The history began in the first generation, in the era of our former chairman’s grandfather.” I swallowed hard, but a waiter approached, so I smiled and thanked him as he took the champagne and drank it because their conversation was too heavy. “Many have asked why you didn’t take the throne when Grandma designated you to hold all the wealth left by the Knights, even the wealth Lady Josephine has. You know Carter is not suitable for that position because he has his properties and business. Grandma entrusted the throne to you because you a

And his very presence was solid, unflinching, unmovable. She could tell he was tall from the size of his throne, which resembled his crest, a mountain with three peaks and a seat had been molded within, as the rock towered behind him. But as far as Sephora was concerned, he held the biggest presence in the room. His shoulders looked like he could carry the weight of the world and his arms and legs told Sephora that he was a warrior born and bred, a warrior that would sacrifice his life for his people, and destroy any threat.

Triton shrugged, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "No games, dear princeling," he drawled. "Merely stating a fact. It’s been clear since the beginning that the Blood Moon banner flies the highest, no matter what propaganda has been spread. I was only hoping to get Oren’s head permanently corrected." The tension in the room began to ease, replaced by a murmur of hushed whispers. Oren's outburst, David's swift response, and Triton's words had sent shockwaves through the gathering. David shook his head.

Then he turned back to Trevor, his voice growing firm with determination. “However, I will never succeed in changing my path as long as Gamma Jeff is still around.” I had never imagined Tristan had so much turmoil in his life. I had always assumed his world was perfect. But now, for the first time, I realized he was just like everyone else…fighting his own battles like everyone of us. “I finally understand the weight of this throne,” he said. “That’s why I came here in peace.” He leaned in slightly, “That’s why I need your help, Trevor.”

embarrassed smile on my face then I scratched my head "you knew that I was staring?" She nodded and said "we are sirens and I am guessing that you are an elf" I pounded if I should tell her, I have enough strength to run if they decide chase me like the army did. So I told her "I am the tribrid prince, I'm an elf,dragon and kreo" she looked at me with amazement "your highness" she teased i laughed and said "but I can't be a prince without a castle or kingdom to rule can I?" She laughed and that was all it took to and I started starring at her again "stop staring at me like that you eyes look like they can eat me up" she said then hit me playfully on my shoulder, I blushed and looked the oth

My own reflection looked back up at me from below — small and pale and very alone in the middle of all that darkness. And at the far end of the room, raised on a dais of black stone steps, was the throne. It was not ornate the way thrones in stories usually were. There was no gold, no jewels, no canopy of rich fabric. It was simply a massive chair carved from a single piece of black rock, its back rising to a sharp point, its arms wide and carved into the shapes of dragon heads. Functional. Dominant. Built for someone who did not need decoration to communicate power.