Gold Plated Prisoner Quotes

You can have all the gold in the world and yet lack everything of real worth.

He may wear the crown, but I was the one who made it gold.

Does it really matter if your cage is solid gold when you aren't allowed to leave it? A cage is a cage, no matter how gilded.

When you feel swallowed by the dark, may you become your own light.

You are worth more than all the gold in this castle. But I still own you, and I will spend you any way I see fit.

I promised her I’d be the villain on her behalf. So that’s what I’ll fucking be.

I don’t think gold’s your color, Commander.”  “I disagree. Gold has quickly become my favorite.

Careful," he says, baring his teeth in a wicked smile. "There's a saying about rocks and glass houses." "I don't live in glass, I live in gold. So I can throw whatever damn rocks I want," I snap.

How can we deserve to see the delights if we always close our eyes against the horrors?

If you turn a blind eye in the name of loyalty, then you don’t deserve to see.

Coincidence is just the excuse people use when they don’t want to acknowledge fate.

I love him with a fierceness that goes beyond the heart, and so I will ache and leak and grieve until he finds me.

A life lived in shades of gold casts its own sort of shadow.

Others might judge that. They might think grief should be determined by the amount of time you had with someone, but that isn't true at all. Grief isn't based on someone's length of presence. It's based on the impact of their absence.

I refuse to give them any more of me than they've already taken or that I've already given. They had my body, but so what? Hundreds of others can claim the same. However, they will not have my mind. I won't give it to them.

Because one thing that usually threatens a man is the thought of being replaced by a woman.

I’m not prey, so what I need to do is run with the predators.

If there is ever a choice between her or the world, it’s going to be her.

And for anyone going through a dark time, just remember a new dawn always rises. One day at a time. One step. You are strong, just like Auren, and you shine just like her too.

Grief isn’t based on someone’s length of presence. It’s based on the impact of their absence.

You're good to me, Mustard." Judd grimaces and rubs at his mustard-seed hair. "it's not, that yellow." I cock a brow. "Listen, I'm gold, okay? Don't whine to me.

Pair, you and I. Päyur, you and I.

Could you kindly fuck off?

Algae—still without a lick of rain on him—sneers at me. “You will pay for that.” I shrug. “I’m made of gold. I can afford it.

But I could’ve gilded you,” I repeat. “Then you’d be a statue stuck right here on the stairwell, and I don’t think gold’s your color, Commander.”  “I disagree. Gold has quickly become my favorite.

Instead… I break open. Slade’s rot smashes into mine, and I rupture from within. Time tilts. Distance thins. And something…collides.

It’s amazing what people will turn a blind eye to because of time and surety.

Gold and rot, intertwined.

Does it really matter if your cage is solid gold when you aren’t allowed to leave it? A cage is a cage, no matter how gilded.

But I’m not done. So I turn my rage toward Fifth Kingdom.

He may be the one on his knees, but I’m the one in complete submission.

He wraps one hand around my throat and tips up my head. “I’m your god.

If Midas ever loved me at all, he buried it beneath his love for gold and the love for himself. Buried it so deep that he doesn’t even remember what he covered.

It’s time I remind her and everyone else exactly why you don’t fuck with me and mine.

Who dares interfere with the crown’s justice?” “I fucking do.

Empty. You can have all the gold in the world and yet lack everything of real worth.

Be glad I'm not your god, for I would give you no mercy.

Some people are in your life for only a moment, like a shooting star. Quick and short, but they light up a part of you for a second, and their brightness lingers even after they're gone.

Again, I don’t know you. I respect your plight, but I’m not a face to be used,” I tell him. “I’m not a symbol, I’m a person. I’ve been gone for years, and I need to get my bearings and figure out where to go from here, not be pushed into doing something just because you say so.

I’m an oddity, a commodity, a rumor. I’m the king’s favored. His prized saddle. The one he gold-touched and keeps in a cage at the top of his castle, my body bearing the mark of his ownership and favoritism. The gilded pet. I’m the darling of King Midas, ruler of Highbell and the Sixth Kingdom of Orea. People flock to see me just as much as they come to look upon his gleaming castle worth more than all the riches in the entire realm. I’m the gold-plated prisoner. But what a pretty prison it is.

Auren is my priority. Our mother is my priority.

But it’s the consequences of her actions that pushed me to be the villain I warned I would be.

The gold castle sitting on the mountain in the distance must be like a thorn in their sides. A constant reminder of a horizon they can’t reach.

I purposely slow, just so they can land a hit. Again. Again. Again. And I relish in the punishment.

It’s strange to return to the place where your roots are, only to realize you’re actually a tumbleweed, cut off and drifting.

I sweep out of the cage like I’m shucking off a weight. I can’t imagine being trapped in there for hours or days. For weeks, months, years… How did she stand it?

It means it’s alright, Lady Auren. Because you’re home.

I can’t heal that, Your Majesty. There’s nothing to heal.

It’s going to take a fae to stop them. Fuck.

We loyalists call you the Lyäri Ulvêre—the golden one gone. The gilded girl who was lost in the night.

We know you, Lady Auren, because we’ve been praying that one day, you would return. We know you, because you are the Turleys’ last-birthed heir.

Because this is what she did to Auren, so it will also be done to her.

My trembling hands lift the ribbons beside me, and I feel them. Not just with my fingertips, but through the lengths themselves.

I have raged and paced and cursed endlessly, but none of it was heard. None of it seen. None of it mattered.

I think I’ll stay right here and stab you through the chest and see if my blade hits a chunk of ice instead of muscle and flesh.

You think the world owes you, because you are a proud, entitled bitch.

feeling gold murdery yet?” she asks. “Have the urge to make gold start pissing down the walls?” “Umm…no.” “See? You’re doing great.

Monsters never need anybody to believe in them. They come out to get you regardless.

He saw the fury in me, and the first thing he said was, "So, who are we killing?

I disagree. Gold has quickly become my favorite.” 

That I have always wanted to be a queen for the wrong reasons. That I’m spoiled. That I’m a cold-hearted bitch. That my people don’t want me. Just like my husband. Just like my father.

Because the seething rot still thumps beneath my skin. The raging wind thunders in my ears, and my fury clamors in a deafening roar. Because I can’t get to her. So I’ll take vengeance instead.

They might think grief should be determined by the amount of time you had with someone, but that isn’t true at all. Grief isn’t based on someone’s length of presence. It’s based on the impact of their absence.

In turn, the fae never forgot the way I burst through the sky like a broken-winged bird, and that is what they always called me. So, yes, I was scared to fall. But without falling, I never would have landed. And what a beautiful thing it was to land.

I don't feel regret or guilt", I admit. "I'm just fucking angry. Angry that I let it go on that long, that I let him take so much. I'm angry at everyone who ever wronged me or used me. And I'm angry that I didn't figure out how to save myself sooner.

I don't feel regret or guilt", I admit. "I'm just fucking angry. Angry that I let it go on that long, that I let him take so much. I'm angry at everyone who ever wronged me or used me. And I'm angry that I didn't figure out how to save myself sooner. All I feel is anger.

Golden Gold Vine Part One There was a miser who prized her, this golden gold vine. This sapling so gilded, her leaflings did shine. The moment he saw her, he let out a whisper of, “mine.” He’d found her in rubble, along a plain road. Unburied, he took her, in pocket he stowed. Back to his house, where he stared at her gleam. Hands curled to covet, want stitched to seam. What a chance this was, the chance for much more. So he planted her there, right outside his front door. Kept under secrets and hidden she lay. This old miser did find her, did steal her away. Brought to the yard, he planted her there. Fenced her all in to shelter her glare. Soon she grew tiny buds, glinting with gold. He plucked them by one, went to town to be sold. He paid off his debts, bought whatever he sought. But it wasn’t enough, whatever he got. For greed had been planted beside her thin roots. Want had leafed out, along with her shoots. Yet although he watered, soon she did wilt. Her golden did dull and worry he spilt. For his most prized possession looked right to be culled. She wasted away, while he fretted and mulled. It wasn't til so angry, he pulled out his hair. Brown clumps all fallen on the vine bare, that her color suddenly glistened, her vine did then surge. She grew ever much from his body he'd purged. Ecstatic, he knew, what he must do. So this miser clip-clipped, and gold flowers then bloomed. His hair he snip-snipped, gladly shedding his plume. For she would not grow without sacrifice. Only pieces of him would ever suffice. For her to keep growing, that was her price. This golden gold vine was the miser’s own vice. To be continued…

You’ve always had control. You just need to learn how to wield it. I think you’re scared. I think you’re holding yourself back, and that’s why your gold isn’t coming – because you’re blocking it.

Gold Copyright © 2023 by Raven Kennedy

I remember when I had gowns in every color and the dishes on the tables were white to match the Colier hair. I remember when the bell in the tower was copper, its chime light and clear. Things that were once feather-light now take several men to pick up. Parts that once carried the colors of age and history now glisten as if new. Even the roses in the atrium have been gold-touched, never again to sprout a new bud or fill the air with their perfume.

If the thought of me playing with you with my blade gets you hot, just say that,

Some people are in your life for only a moment, like a shooting star. Quick and short, but they light up a part of you for a second, and their brightness lingers even after they’re gone.” I nod, though I have to blink back

But what hooks my attention is the crack in the floor that divides the room, and a broken roof that seems to snarl up at the sky.

Joined auras. And that word, just below them. Päyur. My heartbeat rumbles. Resonates. “That explains the rot,” Cull says, his expression arrogant. Ecstatic. “Tell me, how long were you able to see my son’s aura? How long have you known you were fated to be a bonded pair?

I was scared to fall. But without falling, I never would have landed. And what a beautiful thing it was to land.

That’s what happens to some questions—to those unattainable truths. Sometimes, we ask and we ask, but there is no answer, no satisfaction. It leaves gaping holes that will forever drain us with its unsolvable query, and that’s all we’ll ever have. The ask.

Youth is wasted on the youthful.

And every day, a few more fae are out there in the field with me, watching.

His fingers dig painfully around my own. “You’re not in charge.” “I’m a queen,” I say, chin lifting. “You’re not a queen until someone willingly bows at your feet.” “Then get on your knees, assassin, and bow.” The cruelest, most wicked grin spreads up his face. “If I get on my knees, it will be for an entirely different sort of devotion that would have nothing to do with you being a queen.

I glare. He glares back.

That’s usually the last thing people want from me, and that suits me just fucking fine. I don’t want attention from anyone either. Except one person, and she still hasn’t opened her eyes.

One second, his skin is ruddy, his tunic stained, his cock purple, his eyes brown. And the next, he’s frozen in time, every inch of him, from the beads on his beard to the toes in his boots, all of it gleaming, resplendent, vindictive. Because I just turned the motherfucker solid gold.

Gold may gleam, but it doesn’t stand the test of time. It wears down, loses its luster, becomes nothing but a needy, malleable surface with no durability.

I am Queen Malina Colier Midas, and I was born to rule. White gown, white hair, white crown—and not a hint of gold anywhere. This is how it should’ve been. This is how it will

The dead spur us on. To live. To avenge. To honor. To grieve. It’s because of the dead that we live.

You think she has a gold cunt?” Joq asks abruptly, tilting his head as he looks over at me.

I may be queen, but chaos reigns.

More,” I order.

What do you expect me to do?” “How about take some fucking responsibility for starters?” he growls. “I told you. They were the ones that did this. They manipulated me.” “And you were just so quick to believe them, weren’t you? While they whispered about all these grand things you deserve. You never once stopped to question it, because that’s really how you think. You think the world owes you, because you are a proud, entitled bitch.

Every man I’ve ever opened for has always trodden on me. Burned my heart to ash and left me to scrape up the remnants. So perhaps my heart is made of ice, but if it is, it’s because I had to freeze it just to get all the flaked parts to stay together.

Malina.” I ignore him. I wish I hadn’t.

The royal guard’s head snaps to me, his furious gaze locking on my face, algae hair flung into his eyes. “Who dares interfere with the crown’s justice?” “I fucking do.

I fight them, but I’m actually fighting myself. My failure. I’m not even here, in this pit. What exists in me is the uncontrollable fury and fear that’s been grating down my ribs, leaving behind coiled shards. The helplessness beats out of me through my fists, pulsating up my spikes, seething down my veins as I throw myself completely into the brawl. I purposely slow, just so they can land a hit. Again. Again. Again.

Looking at you? No, I quite like that. It’s listening to you that I can’t stand.

It is him.

But I stare in shock because the blood…it’s not red. It’s gold.

I feel my memories, my self, tugging away too.

You have

The moment my hands are bare, I reach back and touch the wall, and Slade freezes when he sees my bare skin collide with it… and no gold comes. “Thank fuck.” In five long strides, he demolishes the space between us. He’s suddenly there, gripping me by the waist, hard lips fused to mine, and finally, we combust.

Because my new home, I’ve realized…is him.