Daenerys Jon Novels & Stories

Anyone would drool from where I stood, and this god was Devyn. Devyn Tyrion.

He really loves me, or he only loves the memory of what I represent, but I refuse to be one more, and I deserve to be valued for who I am; I was not born for him; I am the daughter of an alpha and a princess by lineage, he is the one who has to prove to me that he is worthy of me and until he does I will not be his or anyone else's. I am Hannia Winter, princess of Vellentys, daughter of Alpha Hansen, and Luna Alania, princess of Zanaerys. I am not a simple wolf or witch waiting for his mate; I will not give myself to him; for me, he will have to fight as he has never done before. Chapter 1 FLASHBACK 5 YEARS AGO I still remember it as if it were yesterday, I was sitting in the garden, and lit

Daniel emphasizes. Ayden takes another sip of his drink and looks at him seriously. "Arya's mother doesn't have much time left, she's very sick," Ayden declares. "Jeff can't come, he's in jail, but Arya doesn't know that… she thinks he's still missing like always."

Humiliation clawed at my chest. I swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile. "Actually, I’m your new lecturer, Jorah." I stepped forward, extending my hand as if this was a normal, professional introduction. "Danielle Louis. You can call me Dany." He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. Instead, he gave me a slow, appraising glare—one so disgustingly condescending I felt like something he’d scrape off his designer shoes. Then he smirked. "Cute. Listen up, bitch."

Khloe asked, walking to the baby’s cot. “How are you feeling, by the way?” Davin asked her cousin. “ I’m exhausted, and I miss my bed so much.” Ida pouted like a child as Khloe carried her baby. She took her mother’s gorgeous skin and her nose. Then she took her father’s captivating and gorgeous eyes. “ She’s beautiful." “ Yeah, her aunt’s got good genes,” Alyona bragged, dramatically flipping her hair. “ Mhmmmmmm,” “ It seems she’s got everyone wrapped around her tiny fingers. What’s her name, by the way?” Zeke spoke up for the first time since they got there.

Lem, let go of her. "She broke my nose." Lem dumped her unceremoniously to the floor. "Who in seven hells is she supposed to be?" "The Hand's daughter." Harwin went to one knee before her. "Arya Stark, of Winterfell."

“Yes, liefhe (love). It is from the Song of Ice and Fire book series, which is what the show is based on. My father was obsessed with the books. When he found out that I would be a girl, he convinced my mother to name me after the high-born girl turned deadly warrior. He said that an alpha’s daughter needed a fierce name.” Both Devin and I startle and Arya covers her mouth with her hand. She looks more surprised than anything. “Alpha’s daughter?” Devin asks, his voice full of questions.

"Say that again," Demi said. "From the beginning." "I already said it twice." "You said it at your speed, which is faster than most people's thinking speed." Demi sat cross-legged on her bed, both hands wrapped around a mug gone cold, eyes fixed on Nora with the focused stillness of someone managing something large. "The crown prince of the Vael bloodline asked you to be his fake fiancée." "Anchor. The legal term is anchor." "I understand the legal term. I'm using the human one because I need to process this in a language my brain actually speaks." She set the mug down carefully. "And you signed it."

, all eyes, nose and ears were on her while she spoke, " but if you can be witty enough to cut off at least one of its legs, you will make killing it much easier for yourself " She was speaking English, but that definitely sounded like Greek, and I was sure that no other person in the room understood what she was saying. Nevertheless, she went on without interruption, " their Maester has a council, and in that council he has a hand by name Donaerys, a true born vampire sharing the same ancestors with him and the mastermind behind every successful operation he carries out, through him their pride has gained connections with the humans and their modern technologies, always making them one step