Throne Room Undertale Novels & Stories

I’m back again. The scent of old wood fills the air. The darkness closes in around me. I can feel the rough splinters digging into my palms. I don’t even need to open my eyes to see where I am. I’m inside the cupboard, the same one where everything always begins, on the third floor of the palace tower: the chamber of heirs, which later became the chamber of death. I force my eyes open and press against the tiny crack in the wood. There they are, my brothers, my blood, lined up, trembling, with fear and confusion etched across their young faces, and in the midst of them is Niall.

His creatures followed, howling and chanting, their clawed feet scraping against the stone floors. Every step made my heart sink lower. We reached the throne room, and my breath caught. The massive chamber was carved from dark stone, lit by rivers of molten lava that flowed through channels in the floor. The air was thick, hot, and suffocating. At the far end sat a towering black throne, sharp and jagged like it had been grown from the very bones of the earth. The cheering grew louder. Caleb raised his hand, and silence fell instantly. “Bring her a gown,” he commanded. “Fit for a queen.”

In times like these, it made me feel small and blind. Thor got to his feet with ease. "Pardon me for a moment, Bella. I have an urgent matter to attend to. Please settle in. I was left alone in the large throne room as he and the soldier left. I exhaled deeply and surveyed my surroundings. I had anticipated that the location would be eerie, dark, and full of shadows and skulls, just like in the horrible tales. However, it wasn't. Beautiful carvings of wolves and historical combat scenes adorned the room's lofty ceilings. The chairs were cozy, fresh flowers were arranged in vases on the table, and warm lights gleamed from golden lamps. In fact, it felt pleasant, almost inviting.

The door she was standing outside was the one that had been Lucian's nursery. I looked away. One goal, I told myself. Eyes forward. One goal. Castiel's hand squeezed mine once, just above the pressure of reassurance. The throne room doors appeared at the end of the corridor. Enormous. Dark wood banded with iron, the Ketharan crest carved into both panels. I had walked through those doors hundreds of times. I had sat in the room beyond them beside Valerius at formal court and listened to petitions and passed judgment and performed every function of a Luna Queen with the precise competence expected of me.

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.

“Ok, Summer, you can come with us but do not let go of my hand.” Summer nods and starts pulling me down the tunnels until we reach the entry that leads to the throne room. She lets go of my hand and runs across the room, waving for Skyla and me to follow her. There's a hidden door behind the throne; she opens it and motions for us to follow her. When we catch her, I grab her arm and snap, “I told you not to let go of my hand.” Tears glisten in her big blue eyes when she stammers,

Daddy, I went to meet archangel Gabriel one-on-one, and he told me that our throne had been soiled, and he asked what I was going to do about it, and I promised him I would restore the throne to its former glory. I accepted his gift and traveled to the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I realized that with the help of the almighty, fifty-five people had been sacrificed on the throne. So, before we can do anything, those people's lives must be returned, and I've been able to bring the fifty-five souls back. Now we must go to the throne room and make some sacrifices. When may we walk to the throne room, His Majesty sighs and says, "Thank you, my son, elder sister."

The silence after was loud—just panting, the crackle of a dying fire, and the low growls vibrating in our chests. I gave a nod. We moved again—deeper through the pack grounds, every step tighter, heavier. Past crumbled walls and shattered relics, broken bones and blood trails smeared along stone. This place was rotting, twisted. Then we saw it. The throne room, finally. Time to finish this. I stepped in first. Trevor right beside me. The others at our backs. My hand pushed the door. It creaked open. And there it was. Dark hall. Fire pits lit along both sides.

The castle was breathtaking, so when Jamira went to open the blue doors, I felt like my lungs were empty. In the room was silver all around. The black sun shone above the middle of the room. The roof, a circular hole. In the center of the room were 3 thrones. Two big ones, and a smaller one in between. The one on the right was red obsidian, the one on the left was a bright silver crystal that was see-threw, and the one in the middle was a blue azurite. I knew that the one in the middle was for me. It was the same color as my eye. As gorgeous as the room was, no one was in it.

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.