Throne Rhyming Words Novels & Stories

With Melvin being an Alpha and our daughter’s mate, it made sense to hand them our titles. “I agree, Bryan,” Prince nodded, laughing again, causing everyone to stare at him questioningly. “I bet you’re secretly hating this. We’re part of your family now. Excited to live on the same territory as me in a few years? We could be neighbors.” “You certainly will not be my neighbor. You’ll be on the opposite side of my territory, the furthest away you could possibly get.” “Well, if this goes ahead, it will be our territory,” Prince teased further as Bryan’s facial expression dropped into a death glare.

] I just pocketed my phone when a voice, both familiar and pretentious, rang out: "Welcome, everyone, to the wedding of Sebastian and me." I turned to see Sebastian, sharp in a tailored suit, standing by Rosa in her bridal gown, playing the perfect hosts. They stood before a rainbow archway, their oversized wedding portraits smiling down. Catching sight of me, Rosa rose on her toes and planted a kiss on Sebastian. The crowd erupted in whistles and cheers, and Sebastian, a bit sheepish, dabbed at his mouth. He glanced up without thinking, and our eyes locked in an unexpected standoff. Sebastian, caught off guard, shoved Rosa aside, his awkwardness bordering on comical.

She was after her father’s position as the Master of strength and the Alpha’s enforcer. Myria was built differently. Unlike most girls who preferred dolls, dresses, and looking pretty, she had broad shoulders shaped by years of discipline. Her presence didn’t demand attention—it claimed it. Her gaze was sharp, calculating—not cruel. She didn’t talk much. She didn’t need to. When Myria Throneclaw walked into a room, strength followed. And tomorrow, she intended to prove it. I didn’t look at Raven again—not when the feast resumed, not when plates were passed, not even when she finally lifted her cup.

“If you don’t show, they’ll see it as weakness.” “And if I do show?” “Then you make a statement. That you’re powerful, allied with Blackthorn, and not to be trifled with.” He pulled me close. “I’ll be with you every step.” “This is getting complicated.” “It was always going to be complicated. You’re royalty, Aria. People are going to have opinions about that.” His hand cupped my face. “But you’re not alone. You have me. You have Blackthorn. And apparently, we’re about to have Mountain Ridge too.”

The creature lunged. Chaos erupted. Elior’s blade met shadow, sparks flying as the creature absorbed the blow. Bram swung his axe, but it passed through as if cutting through mist. Myrra’s daggers struck true, yet the wounds sealed as quickly as they formed. Then its gaze locked onto Rael. A surge of heat exploded through him as the book’s pages flared to life, the ink twisting, forming words that burned into his vision: SPEAK AND CLAIM. Rael’s voice shook as he forced the words past his lips. “The Hollow Throne does not grant power. It takes.”

He chuckled. “Thought you choose the design,” he said. “I did, but the trolls decided to spice it up,‘’ I said. Silver throne is shaped like a wolf. I chose the design, and the trolls did as I said, but they made the wolf look vicious and not to talk about using pure gold to design it. The worst part is they decorated it with gemstones. Trolls are great at designing thrones and crowns. That is basically what they do and you can’t even imagine how expensive his throne is. Anybody who gets this throne is forever going to be rich, so that is why it’s enchanted. If anybody tries to steal it, I can only imagine what will happen to them.

The throne cracks. The wolves howl. Their eyes begin to weep ink. The sky above splinters. I raise my hand and snarl, not as a prince, not even as a warrior....As a mate. “Zenith,” I whisper. The illusion shatters. The grove returns in a burst of dry wind and dust. I fall to one knee, drenched in sweat. Breathing hard. The Lunacrown Thistle sways gently, undisturbed.

The arms were made of silver on the white throne, of wrought iron on the black. Randey couldn’t keep himself from gaping. He recalled his parents telling him they had once visited the Throne Room, but he had been too young to appreciate what they had described. Their words could not do it justice. Particularly the fact that beyond the thrones, on either side of the immense back wall, were a pair of huge rounded openings, leading into darkness. As was the prevalent theme, one had black stones around the edge and the other white, matching the thrones they flanked. Randey swallowed as he realized what they were for. They stopped at a motion from Captain Cyros while Randey continued to stare. He

The throne was built on the ashes of the seven humans who initiated the war and the skull of their leader mounted on top, a reminder of what's to come if the humans try to go to war with them again. Walking up to the throne, I pause and look at it, a remainder of all the responsibilities I had on my shoulders, the weight of the world. My crown rested on the armrest, gleaming under the sunlight filtering in from the windows, the crown has 10 gems, each representing a pack. With a sigh I sat on the throne and waited for the arrival of the humans as they were led in. Lyra walks in not long after offering me a curt nod then taking her sit in one of the four chairs in front of me.

The sound was deafening. Emmy screamed over it. “A person is not a door because somebody built them to open!” The throne split. DESIGN REQUIRES COMPLETION. “People aren’t designs!” Ignisvath’s dragon fire struck the throne. Gold cracks spread. Emmy raised both hands. Violet power exploded. “A mating bond is not permission!” Crack. “A bloodline is not ownership!” Crack. “A prophecy is not a command!” Crack. “A crown is not a person!”