#thrones

[tickfleato]

throne sketches (thrones are a creation of @spookygibberish)

[klaudia96art]

I finally finished a tribute to the fantastic @pastelpaperplanes art of and his fantastic au I missed doing a fanart of this couple I hope you like it 😊 your style has always inspired me

[spookygibberish]

Random hypothetical throne design warmups + dev

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Thrones

The throne is probably one of the first images that pops into your head when you think of royalty. It is that enduring symbol that is just as much apart of the monarchy as the crowns and the ceremonies. But what do we need to know about thrones?

What are thrones?

A throne is a chair at the end of the day - or a bench, if you're economising. it is where the monarch sits. It is the monarch's chair. When speaking of the throne, it is only the monarch's seat you're talking about. Yes, a consort might sit next to the monarch on something that looks like a throne and it may be called a throne but it actual fact, it is a chair. This is confusing, isn't it? Think of it this way: a chair is a chair until it isn't. The throne is a ceremonial chair used in ceremonies. It can be used during audiences, during investitures, coronations of course and during ceremonies at court such as debuts.

Who gets a throne?

The throne is only occupied by the monarch. Like I said above, sometimes the consort sits next to the monarch but this is not really a throne. It does not have the same status as the throne next to it. There will be a throne for the consort at their coronation if they have one and one at the place. Princes and Princesses would not have their own throne but they might sit in one if they are sent out on a duty by the monarch. Think of the throne has the boss's desk. Nobody - nobody - should ever sit on the throne unless it is the monarch even jokingly.

How many thrones is too many thrones?

There are usually multiple thrones at the monarch's disposal. There is the throne they are crowned on, usually purely ceremonial and they never really sit on it again afterward like St Edward's Chair. Every palace would have a throne room, this is usually where the main events of the palace take place and there is usually a throne for the monarch to sit on while they preside over the event. There even maybe a throne at a governmental building where the monarch can sit during the proceedings. In fiction of course, you can play fast and loose with the rules around thrones but generally a monarch will have two or three thrones.

Designing a throne

These are not your run of the mill Ikea chairs bought off the shelf. These chairs are symbols and if your monarch is to make a statement, they need a fine ass seat to do it from. St Edward's Chair is battered and defaced but it's age and history speak for itself. The Takht-e Padeshah of Persia is the same story. The Silver Throne of Sweden is flashy. The Peacock throne is the height of luxury. The Takamikura and Chrysanthemum Throne are ancient and stand for tradition. Thrones are usually decked out with carved wood or moulded metal, there might be jewels or fine inlay or upholstered in the finest fabrics, embroidered with monograms or the royal crests or perhaps it is made of some fantastical element that is super rare and makes it even more special.

Throne Room

Like I said above, within the palace there is a room where the throne resides. This is where the most ceremonial events are held, where the monarch will meet dignitaries, visiting royals, hold royal audiences and oversee the debuts. The throne will sit on dais, which is a raised platform. It gives the monarch a little more lift so they can look down on what's going on. There may even be a canopy, an awning that hangs over the throne. In the throne room, the consort may also have a throne.

[sporadicallysentient]

Crowns For Collars- Chapter 6 Consolidations

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My God, it has been a while. So I literally had the majority of this chapter done for the past.... ehhhhhh... maybe 2 months? But I have just not been able to finish the last, like 1/4 of it. So apologies if this comes across a bit disjointed, but i just needed to push through and post it so we can move on to bigger and ... better?... things.

I hope you enjoy, sorry that it is a bit of a filler, but I'm enjoying the guilt and anticipation too much rn!

Chapter 6- Consolidations

The gag pulled at the corners of Henley's mouth as he was manhandled across the pavilion to stand in front of the steps where the enemy's army, and the confused city-dwellers, stood awaiting the General's announcements.

He registered it dully, in the same way he felt only vaguely the pull of his shoulders where they were twisted and tied behind his back, and the harsh grip of the soldiers who forcibly moved him.

What really hurt was the look that had been in his best friend's eyes.

Ezra was looking at him with a horrified mix of pity and anger. The inner turmoil glinting from his irises was a mirror image of Henley's own, and it bit at him that he couldn't soothe the other man, couldn't distract him, couldn't strategise it away.

His arms hung limply at his sides, and he stared at the proceedings like he was watching a tragedy play out.

Henley had to admit that that was fairly accurate.

By the time, they finished marching the prince to the pavilion to stand behind the General, just off his left shoulder, Henley was struggling to keep tears from welling in his eyes.

The General did not even deign to watch him being dragged to his spot, and began to speak in a loud, commanding voice to the people gathered. Henley could understand now why all his troops followed him so strictly.

"People of Kelaoth, and those faithful to me, I would like to introduce myself, though I have no doubt you know me. I am General Jace, of Kelaoth myself, and the new Ruler of this glorious city. Though I am sure this will be a tremendous change, I am sure that we can rebuild this kingdom in a greater light, and defend the virtues of Loyalty, Resilience and Justice."

Though Henley kept his eyes on the sky behind the crowd, he could hear the quiet murmurings of the disquieted crowd, and found warmth blooming in his chest from the obvious distaste that they held for this man.

"I am sure that the years of this petty fighting have been difficult for many of you. I know many of you have lost loved ones to the ridiculous offense that this Royal family-"

At this, he gestured dramatically, in a flourish encompassing Henley and his parents.

"-have insisted upon, in order to keep the comforts of their gilded halls, and glamorous life. I am not like them. I did not grow up with everything I ever wanted brought to me at a moment's notice. My parents were humble traders, and when they fell upon hard times, they dared to steal just enough food to feed their starved son."

Henley snarled quietly, nose wrinkling at the false story that the General wove in order to captivate the people.

"My parents were caught, and executed without fair trial, at these people's command. That could have been any one of your parents, or your children, or your friends. What I did in the name of this revolution may not have been pretty, but it was all for the betterment of the kingdom that I love. Now here I am, willing to give myself to the service of running it."

General Jace turned, fisting his hand into Henley's shirt and dragging him forward, gazing at him gleefully as he spoke to the crowd.

"Now, dear Prince Aisling here made some deals with me, because the guilt of his family's misdeeds was consuming him, and he knew that he needed to accept the penance for his actions."

Henley glared furiously.

"So, our lovely traitor has offered to take on the blame for his entire family's wrongdoings. And I, as a gracious man, have accepted. So, merciful as I am, there will be no executions on this glorious day. Enough blood has been spilled. The Royal Family of Kelaoth, the Rowans, are hereby banished from this Kingdom, never to return or they shall forfeit their heads."

General Jace kept his eyes firmly on Henley's as he pronounced this sentence, feasting on the turmoil inside the bound prince. Gasps erupted across the square, and Henley felt more than heard the stoic silence behind him.

"All High Families are to pledge their allegiance to me, or follow the previous rulers in their banishment. Not a finger will be raised to stop them- I encourage all to make their own decisions. But think carefully. I hold no ill bidding to you, I wish for us all to thrive."

The General released the Prince roughly, and he stumbled back into the arms of the guards. General Jace turned to the crowd again, opening his arms wide, palms up, and smiling broadly.

"I invite you all to make your choice. I stand at your service, with an ear to your concerns."

It took less than a minute for the leaders of the high families to pledge themselves.

***

The General strode into the grand Throne Room of Kelaoth Palace with the air of someone who had belonged there since birth. It made Henley feel sick.

The prince was pushed along behind him, with his own parents escorted behind him, and the rest of the high families trailing after. The silence was deafening.

General Jace strode up the steps, and ran a hand over the arm of the throne before settling himself in it. The imposing form that he exemplified was enough to make Henley shudder as he watched the man observe his new subjects from its comfort.

Henley had never liked the thing.

Overly ornate, gilded with swirling shapes and plush red velvet cushions that screamed "rich" in every meaning of the word. It shone in the glow of the late morning sun that had broken through the clouds outside and streamed through the large, open doors.

Jace's dark skin gleamed atop it, offering a stark contrast to the bright colour, and painting him in a regal, commanding light.

The man clicked his fingers and gestured to the floor beside him.

The prince was dragged up the stairs and shoved to his knees, each guard pushing heavily onto his shoulders until they cracked into the floor. Henley fought to suppress a wince at the pain that shot up his legs as he felt the General's eyes weighing on him heavily.

Taking rapid breaths through his nose, Henley lifted his chin high, raising his eyes to look at his family, unwilling to let them see how broken he felt already.

He thought he heard a chuckle from the General, but ignored it and looked out to the High Families, and his own parents.

They were staring at him with something that resembled horror, but what hurt Henley the most was the…

Well.

They'd never looked more disappointed in him.

Not when he had cost dozens of men their lives in strategic fuckups. Not when he had lost another village. Not when he had recalled the troops. No, Henley had never seen them this displeased with him, and despite the situation, he felt a spark of irritation flare in his chest at how unfair their reaction was.

What had they done to help save the people of this country? What had they sacrificed for the cause? Had they not lived out enough of a life of wealth and glamour to accept a more menial retirement? Could they not feel one pinch of pity for their son, who was losing the rest of his life to a mad dictator?

Henley turned his eyes away, skimming them over the High Families and noting how even they had concern painted across their expressions, for the young crown prince who was losing everything. For them, it was a mere transition of power: a new mind to learn and grovel at the feet of. But it didn't prevent them from seeing him as he was, as he never would be again- the powerful, talented commander of a great army.

Henley knew he would receive nothing but sympathy from them, and though a kind smile can work wonders, it can't stitch the wounds that Henley expected to own by the end of the day.

As the prince finished scanning the crowd, his eyes snapped to the floor before they caught his.

Henley had known that would hurt the most.

And the way Ezra's eyes were pinned to him in fear and desperation was too much for the young prince.

He turned his gaze down, to the swirling tiles, studying them as he tried to take a deep breath. Slowly, he realised that he was hyperventilating, his vision fading in and out as he struggled to stay in his elevated position on his knees. The way his arms were pulled tight behind his back didn't help this, as he fought to take a calming, slow breath.

The ground was spinning before his eyes,and he blinked rapidly, feeling nauseous from the effect it was having on him.

The General began talking as Henley was still opposing the onslaught of this breathing difficulty, and the words didn't register in the prince's mind as anything other than a commanding babble of incoherent sounds.

Henley's breaths shuddered through his chest, and he closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head.

This was pathetic, the General wasn't even looking at him and he was throwing a dramatic performance. How could he expect to survive the punishments he would have to endure for himself and his family's response to the General's brutality if he couldn't even handle being knelt by his throne?

Though the world kept spinning and that commanding voice continued to ring out through the throne room, Henley was not present for any of it, registering the spoken words as nothing more than an irritating drone in the back of his head. He felt the weight of so many gazes on him, and yet he found anguish in only one.

He was still fighting not to look back up into those dark eyes, to see the pain and betrayal swirling through them. He couldn't handle that. He only hoped that the General would follow through on the banishment of Henley's family as soon as he-

Henley's mind came up short. His breath stuttered, after having just got it back under control.

His deal had not included Ezra's banishment.

His eyes slid shut.

He never wanted Ezra to see this.

***

It felt like an eternity before Henley came back into his own body again, to the sounds of shuffling feet and clinking armour.

He glanced up to see General Jace's guards herding his family towards the exit, and his eyes lingered on his parents, still desperately clutching their crowns like babies with a comfort blanket. Henley hoped it brought them comfort. It would no longer bring anything but hell to him.

The prince felt a shift in the air beside him and glanced sideways towards his captor to see him leaning over him, smirking.

"No final words, Princeling?"

The words were loud enough for the court to hear, and Henley watched the guards guffaw at the joke.

Biting down hard on the gag in his mouth, Henley grit his teeth at the suggestion and glared at General Jace with venom in his eyes.

"You're missing them…" The man mocked, and Henley's eyes flitted over to where his parents had now reached the grand doors of the throne room.

His brows furrowed- they may not have been the best parents, but they were his.

Just as the doors began to swing closed behind the party, Henley caught a split second glimpse of his mother's face, just as her eyes managed to snag on his own.

Henley had never seen his mother emotional.

And he would never be able to confirm what emotions were in her eyes, but love was there in abundance, for the first time since Henley was deemed old enough to wield a sword, and began to disappoint them.

But there was something stronger there.

Something Henley had never seen in his mother's eyes.

Fear.

And the doors slammed shut.

Taglist!!! @lord-margolotta @loreleiloon @hueningplushie @scoundrelwithboba @herstrawberrything @yellowcatcallshome @defire @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

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[ohsoromanov]

Moscow, May 1896 - Coronation of Tsar Nicholas II

Nicholas II is crowned Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias in the Dormition (Assumption) Cathedral of the Moscow Kremlin. Accompanying him are his wife, Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, and his mother, the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna.

The first photograph shows the three ceremonial thrones placed for the coronation rite. These were historic seats associated with early Romanov rulers and were used symbolically to emphasize dynastic continuity.

The thrones traditionally attributed to Tsars Mikhail I, Alexei Mikhailovich, and Ivan V were assigned respectively to the Dowager Empress, the Emperor, and the Empress Consort, following established court protocol.

This ceremony marked the last coronation of a Russian monarch. Though staged in the ancient capital and steeped in centuries-old ritual, it preceded a reign that would end with the collapse of the Romanov dynasty and the Russian Empire itself in 1917.

[ashmcgivern]

They're up there, among the stars, incomprehensible, and beyond our reach.