Daemon Targaryen Books Novels & Stories

As if his whole life depended on that decision and in a sense it was so. Taryn had done nothing but wait and read huge tomes that Elhias had made her bring by the servants. They said that those books came from the Bochus of Althea and that it was the king himself who took them. Not that Taryn understood the reasons. She did not know what would be the use of reading the ancient legends about the creation of the world, certainly it would not have been useful to her in a war against the usurper. They wouldn't argue which story was more truthful than the other.

There was so much knowledge and research just lying about how would he condense into one small pack, plus food, water, and a bedroll. Urgency wouldn’t allow him to linger, war was coming, and with it...death. The Army of Darkness had been making their way through the land, setting it ablaze, leaving nothing behind. Albian knew the one behind it all would also be there, directing and choreographing every moment of destruction. "I hope we find her first, Foxfire, or all is lost" he murmured before turning his thoughts back to the task at hand.

“Convergence, bridge of realms, you seek the blade. Prove your worth, or perish.” My wings unfurl, lunar light flaring, but the construct’s gaze pierces me, and the forge shifts. I’m no longer in the citadel—I’m in a Conclave chamber, centuries ago, Elara’s lunar mark glowing, her voice pleading. “Don’t trust Taryn,” she says, her amber-silver eyes meeting Jorah’s. “His Veilbinder pact with Voren will doom us.” Jorah’s aura, primal and steady, falters as Taryn steps from the shadows, his blade striking Elara’s heart. She falls, silver blood pooling, and Jorah roars, claws slashing, but Taryn’s shadows overwhelm him. I scream, my claws slashing air, but it’s a vision, a memory, and the constr

Khaleesi's pov; "Please! Khaleesi please! You can't do this to me. We've known each other for years and have shared the same thing! Please don't kill me. Spare me!" Dan's cowardly cry and plea to be spared was like the sound of a bug in my ears, pestering me and asking to be let go. One sniff and all I could smell was blood. The blood of his fallen warriors and not even one of my mine or neither Aodhàn's around us.

Scotch burned trail gold, obsidian devouring every swallow, power humming balanced edge. Night deepened, bodies orbiting with no collision, but collision was inevitable. His hand ghosted spine trace absent—shiver traitorous. "Sleep," he ordered, soft menace, pulling me into the lounge plush without resistance. No fuck tonight—torture purer, proximity dominance submission unspoken. Dreams twisted Rourke's snap, Darius's grin fading peace, Kenji's obsidian guarding shadows. Blood ties bound us, visceral, dark romance, an empire forged in violence and want.

The lengths that we would go for each other had been set in stone. I was sure now, that regardless of anything that could or would happen in the future, I would always have her by my side. The End The Reaver Chronicles: Book 1: Raziel (Complete) Book 2: Raphael (Complete) Book 3: Ramses (Complete) Book 4: Rowen (Complete) Book 5: The Keepers (Complete) Book 6: Rayne (Complete) Obsidian: (Spinoff based in the same universe)

The city awoke to red banners. They hung from half-burned towers and broken cathedrals, painted with the sigil of the Queen — a serpent biting its own tail, coiled around a bleeding sun. Her followers called themselves The Children of Bloodlight. They prayed at the ruins of embassies, lit fires beneath her name, and spoke her decrees like scripture. “Her blood was our birthright. Her fire, our redemption. The world ended, and she began.”