Game Of Thrones Elia Martell Novels & Stories

*Part 1: Palace – 9:00 AM, Throne Room* Ellis Marr knelt in chains. Around him stood the council. Elara on the dais, Darius at her right, Aria and Elias to her left. Lord Kael had been invited but declined. Lady Thorne watched from the gallery, arms crossed. Lady Lyra arrived last. She walked in without guards, green cloak unpinned, face like ice. Her eyes went straight to Marr. “Explain,” she said. Her voice could have frozen fire.

One drop, two, three, fall into the bowl. The liquid inside writhes like it is alive, turning silver, then white, then a light so pure it hurts to look at. Gasps ripple through the hall. Malphas lifts the bowl high. His blind eyes weep tears of rapture. “Behold!” he cries. “The soul of Elara Wynne burns brighter than any in a thousand years! She is chosen! She is pure! She is the bride the Serpent has waited for!” The cheering is deafening.

Every laugh, and every word was probably just a thread meant to unravel me, just another way to keep me under his control. “Are you ready, my lady?” Lyra asked me and I nodded my head. I wanted to ask Darius why I was in charge of addressing the women of the stronghold. They were female warriors and enforcers and honestly, I knew this wasn’t just a role. Darius was doing everything to rile me up. To go against him, but, he must have forgotten who I was. I am Elena. I survived the human mafia world for four years, so this?

My eyes instinctively search for him. Nate. I don’t want to see him, I tell myself this over and over again, but I also can’t help it. My anger simmers just beneath the surface, and the thought of confronting him again tugs at my mind. “Good morning, girls!” Flavia greets a small group of women gathered on yoga mats, her voice cheerful as ever. “Morning!” they chime back in unison, waving at us. “Elara, you probably remember them,” Flavia says, gesturing to the women. “This is Fara, Maria, Catherine, and Isabella.”

The elderly healer who'd saved my life after Eleanor's poisoning attempt now trembled in her grip, her healing robes stained dark red from a shoulder wound. "I gave them everything," Eleanor rasped, her voice breaking like rotten wood. Her eyes, once sharp as emeralds, now swam with madness and something darker veins of inky blackness radiating from her pupils. "Your routines. Your secret passages. Where you hid the children during drills." She let out a wet chuckle that turned into a cough, flecking her lips with blackened blood. "Did you really think I wouldn't find where you kept them during your precious training sessions?" The world narrowed to the dagger's point at Marta's throat, then

"Damn. Beside we are nothing talking about him marrying you. We need him to take responsibility" I keep calm. "You see too much movies. But don't worry, his mother is different" I look at her. "How can you tell?" I ask. Sighing, she face the laptop and began pressing again. I roll my eyes but decided to keep calm and listen. "I have gone through all of these write ups about the Martins family. His mother is Elma Martins. Guess her background" I furrow my brows at her. "Come on guess" "Beth you know I suck at guessing"

Bile rose in Maria's throat at the mention of his name. "Oh, oh. Okay, got it." Let's get this over with — that was the only mantra that rang in her head. They were met by the friendly reception of Theo and a couple of other house workers. This time, the blue in the sky had a silver lining to it, giving Maria hope of things going better than the last time. She stood before the towering buildings and the endless lush of greens that the Jones inhabited — she wasn't less awed, it was far from it. Her agape mouth was only shut close when she felt Jackson's hands slip into hers, pulling her towards the entrance — another show of faux intimacy, anything, just anything that made them believe their

"I'm sorry... I don't have anything left... I can't push anymore." "You will," Marta said, her voice devoid of sympathy but full of iron command. "You have two more inside you. You don't have a choice." She positioned herself, her hands waiting. "Now, Elara. With everything you have. This one is coming fast. Don't let it stall. Push!"

Celine walked in with a faint smile, dressed in a pale pink gown that clashed sharply with the room’s cold atmosphere. Liam didn’t turn around. “You came without permission.” “This is your office, not a prison,” Celine replied lightly. “I’m just surprised. It’s been two months, and you’re still obsessed with a woman who left without looking back.” “She didn’t leave,” Liam said coldly. “She’s just lost.” Celine raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” Liam turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Elara is used to being protected. She’s never made a major decision on her own. Sooner or later, she’ll run out of money, run out of courage—and then she’ll come back.”

she was handed over to a team of kind-eyed women who treated her with a reverence that made her want to hide. ​"Please, you don't have to do all this," Elara whispered as she was led into a bathroom the size of a small house. The tub was carved from a single piece of black marble, filled with steaming water that smelled of jasmine and honey. ​"Nonsense, Lady Elara," a woman named Martha said gently. She was a middle-aged wolf with a motherly scent. "You are a Thorne. You’ve been away from your throne for far too long. Today, we wash away the Ashwood dust."