The Throne Of Honor And Blood Novels & Stories

And there it stood. The Blood Throne. It was carved from obsidian, veins of red crystal pulsing through it like a beating heart. The floor was cracked around it, as though the throne had erupted from the earth. Before it knelt a man. Or what was left of one. He was bone and ash wrapped in black robes. His hair was silver, his skin like charred marble. He did not look up—he only whispered in a language none of them understood. Aelin whimpered. “He’s trying to bind to me. To make me sit.”

The honor a knight earns in battle, defense for the weak, and even standing bravely where no one will and can. THE CROWN. A royal blooded title, pride, and the entirety of their lives deal, where their world revolves and is only known for. Taken as the highest in the towering pedestal of their lives, it is the throne where blood and sins were covered. With its brightness and fame as the ruler and ruling stance of their lives, it is the dark and menacing life that only cares for power and luxury, that even the purest one can be tainted with its darkness.

The throne was still waiting, and the cost of claiming it was now stained with something that felt dangerously close to blood. ------

“Is that what this has all been about? You disrupted my wedding and kidnapped me, bringing me here so you could feel important and rub it in my face that you killed my family.” Sergio didn’t speak. “You let me believe I was nothing. Then you chained me to your side, gave me knives, maps, riddles... like I was a pawn in some twisted game.” He finally stepped forward. “You are simply here as payment for a debt owed to my family... You were never a pawn I chose.” “Then what am I?” she asked bitterly. He looked at her sadly. “You're the queen that was never meant to rise.” ************************************************** Suddenly, the manor’s alarm pierced the quiet.

He is the worst. The witch king enters and immediately casts a spell, moving Thorne away from me. "You will take your hands off my lady" The witch queen and I both turn towards him. The same expression. "Counter proposition. You become my mistress, providing you with a new home and all you desire" His hippy hand caresses my face. If I wasn't in cuffs I'd rip his heart out. Fuck peace. Thorne may have his hands bound but that won't stop him. He lunges forward biting the witch king. Tearing the flesh off of his neck and spitting it at his feet. "MINE" he roars. The Witch King, Screams and collapses to the ground.

“Lies!!! that’s a damn lie and you know it.” “Shut up! The throne never belonged to you, Thorne, because father wasn’t the original heir to it. My mother was.” His mouth fell, eyes staring searchingly. “What?” “You heard me right. My grandfather had only one child, my mother. Upon his death, he passed the throne to her but then she met father, I guess they fell in love and got married, and for whatever reason, she decided to pass the Lycan king crowning staff to him. So it wasn’t a throne that father got as an original heir, he was basically only acting as the king in place of my mother, which meant the only heir who could’ve taken over were the ones directly from her.”

"Esme, we have to move! The floor is giving way!" He was right. Cracks were spider-webbing ou, glowing with that same haunting purple light. Dominic was still slumped against the pillar, his face twisted into a mask of triumph despite the blood trickling from his mouth. "You can't stop it now," Dominic wheezed, his voice rattling in his chest. "The Queen has claimed her throne. The blood has spoken." "Shut up!" Killian roared. He looked at Thorne, who was standing frozen near the entrance, his eyes wide as he watched the destruction of his father's legacy. "Thorne! Get Lily out of here! Now!"

“What?” The Alpha’s maw curled back, exposing teeth like jagged moonlight. “The throne you sit upon was never yours. Never theirs. It was ours—caged, stolen, and forged from our bones. The Shadow Rulers were cowards who bound us to feed their hunger. And now you dare wear their crown.” The words hit like a blow. Serena’s chest tightened, her hands trembling as the truth cracked open beneath her. The throne wasn’t her inheritance. It wasn’t even her curse. It was a theft.

And at the center of it all— A dark throne made of bones and iron. Upon it sat the Bloodfang Alpha. He was massive. Armored in obsidian plates. Eyes glowing the color of molten ember. His presence filled the air like poisonous smoke. Tiara tried to move...but her feet sank into the ground as if rooted. She could only watch. The Bloodfang Alpha rose from the throne and lifted a black blade dripping with wolfsbane, tainted blood. “Moon’s child…” his voice rumbled like thunder. “I know you see me.”

Blythe enters at that moment. Blythe (startled): “Going somewhere, daughter?” Ceres (eyes sharp): “Someone just sent me a message in blood. About the throne.” Blythe (tense): “What kind of message?” [Ceres holds it out. Blythe reads, lips tightening. Her face pales. Blythe (barely a whisper): “…He told me once. Long ago. The throne was never built for peace; it was carved from bone, not stone. And fed with betrayal.”