Welcome to Zarethrone, a kingdom built on Royal Sin, forbidden desires, and punishments that come with pleasure. This story contains explicit sexual content, including Boy's Love (BL), Girl's Love (GL), (Boy's/Girl's Love) heterosexual encounters, and dark fantasy elements that are not suitable for readers under 18.
Every chapter unravels layers of lust, power, control, and rebellion within a world ruled by twisted laws of desire.
Read at your own decision. This is a kingdom ruled by passion.
18+ ONLY.
King Aldric's CodeOfSinand Justice.
In Zarethrone, the sword was not the first punishment.
Desire was.
And the law was clear.
One only dies if they refuse to surrender their body or Male has an affair with the prince.
It was not a warning.
It was a vow.
THE POISONED BRIDE
The midday sun poured across the white marble court like melted gold.
Nobles lounged on silk cushions, their faces painted with false pity. Servants stood still, heads bowed, hiding the thrill in their eyes.
The King Aldric of Zarethrone Kingdom sat tall on his obsidian throne, his jeweled fingers wrapped around the iron armrest like it was a throat he was ready to crush.
Bring forth the wife, he ordered, voice low and sharp.
They dragged Maelin, the newly wedded daughter of a noble house, still dressed in her blood-stained bridal veil. Her lips were painted red, but her eyes were wild not with guilt, but fury.
She had poisoned her husband's wine the night after their wedding. The man had paid a heavy dowry to own her. He was older. And she had hated every inch of him.
He forced my body, and she spat. "I gave him back his death."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. But the King remained unmoved, only tilting his head.
Then you shall be forgiven. If you spend the night with my son.
Maelin flinched but her gaze lifted to Prince Kaelith, who stood cloaked in gold and shadow. His eyes met hers, indistinct, far too calm.
He is younger than you, the King added cruelly. "Perhaps he will taste sweeter."
Gasps and laughter from the nobles. But Kaelith did not smile. He extended a hand, and Maelin face tight with defiance took it.
She was led into the Silken Hall, where no witness ever entered.
What happened inside was whispered for weeks.
They said he touched her like a sacred vow, not a punishment.
They said his mouth made her tremble, even though her soul wanted to resist.
They said when she came out at dawn, her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, and her legs unsteady.
She had chosen pleasure over death.
And her eyes would never look the same again.
THE THIEVES AND THE BED OF SHAME
Next were the two servants caught stealing from the palace kitchen.
They knelt before the King, shaking.
You know the law, the herald announced. "You do not steal. You serve."
A royal bed was rolled into the courtyard, its frame gold, the sheets red like blood. The crowd leaned forward. Nobles fanned themselves. Some smirked.
"Undress," the King ordered.
The two men hesitated just a second too long. Guards stepped forward.
They obeyed, trembling fingers undoing buttons, peeling away clothes under the eyes of noblewomen and scribes. Then they were pushed down together, body against body, punishment turned performance, lips forced into desperation.
A woman with a pearl quill sat near the bed, Writing every breath, every shameful sound of pleasure recorded in ink.
One of them bit his lip to stop from crying out. The other didn't even try his body giving in, arching, gasping like a sinner who wanted to be punished again.
The law said they must be seen, or the punishment never counted.
THE ESCAPES
The final judgment came at dusk.
A man named Callen, a regular boy had tried to flee the kingdom. His hands were bound. His mouth bled.
He chose exile over submission, the guard said. "He refused our way."
The King stood, robes swaying behind him like wings.
Then he will be taught what he tried to run from.
He clapped once.
From the shadows stepped Lysaro, the King's most prized knights silken-haired, bare-chested, eyes like oil and flame. He smiled at Callen like a wolf about to devour a lamb.
Callen cried out as he was dragged away. His protest turned to shudders. And his shudders turned to whispers in the Chamber of Correction.
They said Lysaro made him beg until he wasn't sure if he was begging to escape or to stay.
The Untouched Prince
In Zarethrone, there was no such thing as silence. Every punishment was heard. Every sound was recorded.
Except one.
Prince Kaelith, heir to the throne, had laid with dozens
but no scribe had ever written of him. No witness stood outside his chamber.
They said he did not force. He simply looked into your soul and made you want him.
But there were rumors of one man he wanted but couldn't have.
Rumors of a secret so dangerous, it could unravel the entire kingdom.
King Aldric and Prince Kaelith
The Grand Hall was silent, the only sound was the slow crackle of torches burning along stone walls. Prince Kaelith stood beside the King, his gaze heavy on the empty floor where sinners once knelt, trembling, awaiting their fate.
"Your Majesty," Kaelith began, his voice steady but edged with concern, not everyone is enjoying this judgment. Some are scared. Others whisper rebellion. When will these judgments end?
King Aldric leaned back in his golden throne, a deep chuckle escaping his throat. "My dear son," he said, a sly grin tugging at his lips, "do you not think this is better than slaughter?"
He waved a hand lazily as if brushing aside the prince's worry. The deaths we've recorded this year are fewer than fifty. But the pleasures? The fun? Over eighteen thousand sessions of satisfaction and correction.
Imagine if those eighteen thousand had been executed instead. How many would be left in the Kingdom? To love and obey.
Kaelith frowned, eyes narrowing. But I'm not sure they're happy."
"Oh, they're happy," the King laughed again. "They break the law just to feel that pleasure.
They know the price. They choose it." Then he leaned closer, voice lowered to a teasing drawl. "Unlike you, Kael. The people say you aren't enjoying your duties."Kaelith stiffened, his cheeks warming.
From beside the throne, Darius the King's most trusted right hand let out a laugh, deep and mocking."They say Maelin could barely walk after your punishment, my Prince. That doesn't sound like someone who wasn't enjoying himself."
Kaelith shot both men a glare filled with quiet shame and stormed from the hall, his boots echoing on the polished marble floor.
The laughter of his father and Daisus followed him into the silence of the palace corridor.