Throne Rhyming Words Novels & Stories

Dancing and swirling in the most enchanting patterns, carving themselves in the wood. The doors fly open and the vines and flowers continue to flow and carve the stone walls. The display of vines end on the black throne on the far side of the massive hall. People within gasp and cheer. Clapping and bowing as I walk with the master and take my seat upon the throne. The robed man stands and addresses the crowd. "YOUR QUEEN" he bellows and the crowd erupt "Long may she reign"

But that throne changed us all. Even me and him. He was once my guard, my protector. Now, he’s after my kingdom. The path to the throne is paved with thorns, pain and blood. To win, I’ll risk it all. I should risk all of that I have even if my heart is included. --- ETHAN ASH PENDLETON

I placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me again. “He can try,” I said softly. “But he’ll fail.” He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch for a brief moment. “Just… don’t let him separate us.” “I won’t.” I threaded my fingers through his and pushed the doors open. *** Inside the Throne Hall The hall stretched endlessly—columns carved with wolves, sharp metal banners hanging like spears from above, and a floor of polished obsidian. At the far end sat a throne of black stone and gold veins.

A dragon prince, giving a lycan king a lycan greeting, in front of both their courts. “King Darren,” he said, his young voice steady with rehearsal. “May the Moon Goddess light your halls and your hunts. Thank you for welcoming my family to your home.” The silence stretched exactly long enough for me to consider stepping on my husband’s foot. “Prince Thorin.” Darren’s voice came out lower than necessary. He returned the fist to his own chest, the smallest bow a king could give while still giving one. “Your halls and hunts as well. You are welcome here.”

On the day my fiancé, Raphael Moretti, and I were supposed to get our marriage license at city hall, I dressed with care. But by noon, he still hadn't shown up. Aurelia De Luca video-called me. "Sofia, where are you? Raphael's been waiting for you all day." Panic hit me. "Weren't we signing in Palermo?" Aurelia frowned. "It's Taormina, Sofia. Everyone's been waiting for a long time." I drove straight to Taormina. When I arrived, no one was there. When the video connected, Aurelia was crouched on the ground, laughing hard. "Sofia, don't tell me you actually went. We're already on Lipari. Raphael's setting up the wedding venue to surprise you." I left my car at the port and took a boat to Lipa

She reached her throne, the shadows wrapping around her like a living cloak as she sat. The weight of her crownless rule settled over her shoulders. This was not a victory seat. It was a war throne. And as she leaned back, exhaling slowly, she realized She did not feel like a Queen. She felt like a weapon. One that had been forged for war. And war was the only thing she knew how to win. Rhyne was the first to approach. His face was hardened with exhaustion, but his silver eyes were sharp. “They will come again.” It was not a question.

Became a roar that shook the marrow of the world. The flames burst from her skin in a ring of gold and violet, weaving through the cracks of the altar, dancing up the walls like justice remembering its own name. And the Chain of Thrones, Burned. Fully. Not with chaos. But with clarity. Each link flared once. Just once.

They wore crowns that interlaced, forming a single, unified circle. Beneath the carvings, words hummed in a language so old it buzzed in my teeth. The Strength of the Sun. The Wisdom of the Shadow. Two Thrones, One Pack. “What is this?” I breathed, hand brushing the stone. Warm. Like it knew me.

Thorian chuckled in response, his amusement clear in his eyes, causing Rolf to roll his own eyes in mock exasperation. Thorian, never one to shy away from a challenge, responded with a hint of bravado. "Now, we all know that's a joke, because you won't survive a minute on a battleground with me," he boasted confidently. Rolf frowned, acknowledging the undeniable truth in Thorian's words. Thorian's strength, inherited from his lycan lineage, was unparalleled, and he was destined to become the next king, overshadowing his royal lineage.

All I could think about was the irresistible pull of my body toward him. His gaze slowly met mine, and my breath hitched. "Who is this?" he asked, his voice low and commanding. Lex stepped forward, his demeanor shifting to one of pride. Wrapping his arm around my slender waist, he said, "Rune, this is Marliene Ashthorn, my betrothed." Rune. What a name. I wonder what secrets surround him for him to have been named that. He stretched out his hand to hold mine, and that little contact sent electric volts up my skin. There was something magnetic about him, something that sent my heart into a frenzied rhythm. I struggled to maintain my composure, reminding myself of my plan.