Hodor Bran Stark Novels & Stories

Darren stroked my hair gently and said in a calm voice, "Lisa, don't be afraid. I'm here. Master's coming back as well. We won't allow anyone to hurt you." I shook my head and held his arms, "No, you don't understand. He's a very bad guy. He's the Alpha of the White Walkers and he kills people for a living like farmers cutting off crops. He's watching me all these days and he's preying on me!"

Brand's brother turned to him, seeking guidance, just as Brand became aware of the stickiness on his hand. He at first ignored it. He had been in too many bloody brawls in his lifetime for blood to bother him overmuch. But when his mate gasped and tensed in his arms, a wave of dread washed over him. He realized that the stickiness was not merely the expected aftermath of the fight but something far more sinister. His elskede, his alt, Ulfhild, was wounded.

I was somewhere else. A battlefield. Blood soaked the earth. Bodies lay scattered, warriors with torn banners clutched in lifeless hands. The sky above swirled with black clouds, lightning flashing in jagged streaks. At the center of it all stood a man. Tall. Dressed in dark armor, his face obscured by a crown of jagged bone. The Hollow King. His eyes burned like molten gold, the same way the Revenant’s had. He lifted a blade—the same dagger Rael had just taken.

he growled. The rouge in the black cloak laughs sardonically. “Oh, you can’t kill me, alpha. I’m the key to your heir’s life…” the rouge smiled wickedly, and a small bottle appeared in front of him at some point. “Does it ring a bell, alpha?” Drake and Beta Dillon look disappointed. “How dare you!” Drake growled.

Would she be punished or sent to some dungeon deep underground? I really needed to stop watching Game of Thrones. I had to stop overthinking because I had an early morning and couldn’t afford to anger any more of these people. I showered and went to bed. *** The next morning, I prepared myself and made my way to the kitchen. “Well, if it isn’t the troublemaker.” The chef glared at me as I entered. “I’m sorry, what?” I said, taken aback. “You sent Catrina for the worst punishment. She was my best girl,” he replied.

The green monster wailed loudly as its eyes shed blood drops but his mourning couldn't last long a minute when Lyceon butchered its head from its animalistic body and it hurled around at the corner. Allison’s breath hitched seeing his cruel end. She was not someone who was immune to violence and obviously staying behind in the pack during wars to take care of injured members didn't let her experience any sort of fights on the battlefield. But today, this small or not so small combat left her into the abyss of swarthy brutality. She realised the saying was true. He is called the Dark Lord for a reason. She tried to rub her chest to avail a greedy breath, meanwhile her teary eyes raised up see

He noticed it and said, “Grey of Dark Knight, 18. A black belter and master of martial arts. In charge of training new agents and expert in face to face fights. Aikon Advincula outside but just call me Aikon. I’m Stargazer’s bar tender and Polaris’s barista. Hope we can be friends.” “Ai.” JD-hyung muttered as he nodded and shook his hand. Then finally, he turned to Sean-hyung with a smile I can’t explain. Sean-hyung spoke. “Mist of Dark Knight, 18. Number one in handling arnis, chako and sword. The intelligence officer who has contacts anywhere you go. Sean Madrigal but call me Sean. Stargazer and Polaris’s cook.” He stopped and smiled. But instead of shaking his hand, JD-hyung pulled Sean-h

"Ah, my hand! My hand… Dad, she cut off my hand!" Darius was enraged. He shouted and said, "Ms. Leyton, even if you're the heiress of the Leyton family, you can't just cut off my son's hand for no reason! The Stark family is also a respected family in this city!" Harriet wasn't scared at all. She looked coldly at Darius and said, "Darius, your son was just insulting the daughter of the Griffin family from Janover! I was saving his life by cutting off his hand!"

My eyes were completely glued to the wet, dripping Greek god standing right in front of me, nothing but a low-slung towel shielding his waist, his dark hair plastered to his forehead from the shower. “You know, Brielle Parkman,” he murmured, stepping deep into my space until his chest was practically in my face. “For a second there, you were driving me absolutely crazy.”

I want to tell him who's the real enemy. Stark turned his head back at me. I can see the silver color of his eyes which glaring back at me. His wolf-like head looks scary but I can see the sadness in his eyes. He snorts when he felt the pain in his arms. He was hurt to think that he killed his wife Arcella while he was under the possession of a hybrid incubus demon.