Jace Targaryen Novels & Stories

I growled. "It’s not!" Jace said quickly. "I was born out of wedlock. My mother was a maid in the palace walls. My father—your uncle—was ashamed of me. He never spoke of me, never claimed me, but I exist." I folded my arms, unmoved. "I don’t care for sob stories. If you want me to believe you, show me proof." Jace reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver necklace. The moment my eyes landed on it, my expression turned to a look of disbelief.

Zoe tried to calm Luka down. “Alpha is right, am sorry Zoe, I just want to know who Jace is?” he asked calmly this time, the calm before the storm because one was brewing inside him waiting to be released. “Jace is the hybrid.” Answered Luka. JP chuckled shaking his head in disbelief. “So, you even had time to get to know the bastard who killed my mate?” Zoe figured calling Jace by his name was not such a good idea after all but at the time she did not think about it.

he responds in a very firm voice and drops one knee to give a more warrior-like bow. I now feel very positive that we are going to be able to not only save Jace, but also get him back his throne. It is still strange in my mind that Jace is loyalty and a werewolf. At some point I wish this was a nightmare and I will just wake up and everything will go back to normal but I really want Jace to get justice for the murder of his parents and the trauma he went through as a child. Dwayne deserves to pay for his evil deeds.

Rogues. At their center stood a tall man with dark eyes and a jagged scar across his throat. He smiled. “Lyric? It’s nice to see you again.” Her expression didn’t flicker. “Who are you?” “It’s a shame you don’t know me,” he said, his voice smooth and sharp. “Because I know you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Speak now before I lose my temper and order your head.” He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “I am Kade. The second son of Alpha Marius. And the rightful heir to the throne of Obsidian.”

Have a care, Lorath, he'll hit you with his stick "A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry," the handsome one said. "This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. Would that he were home. This man's ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge"—he waved his tankard at the noseless man—"and Biter." Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. "A man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed

Who was this? “My name is Alaris De Vontia! Son of the Past King and Queen of House Zoter, Bearer of the Death Gem and the Heir of the Lost Throne. I am the Saviour that was promised. I have come to bring you freedom, and rain fire on the armies of the White King! Vengeance will be ours! We will take our rightful place in Vestros and all our enemies shall bow at our feet! I am your Prophecy!” He paused, looking around, his eyes zeroing on Nyka. “If any of you wish to challenge me, then declare it now. I just might be merciful while granting you death.”

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 ahead of us. Donaerys has a son who will be next in line to become the Maester since the current Maester has no true born offspring..." Her voice grew deeper as she widened her eyes, " if we can assassinate Donaerys and his son, we will not only be rendering their Maester helpless and preventing a war, we will also be de

Her dark hair was pulled into a tight braid, the scar slicing across her cheek giving her an edge of brutal beauty. Valerie lounged with her boots kicked up, blonde curls a stark contrast to the glint in her eyes. She twirled a knife in her fingers like it was a paintbrush. Jace was quiet, unreadable. He sat nearest the wall. Barely out of his teens, with his fingers dancing across a tablet, he was the hacker prodigy who could crumble governments from behind a screen. Damir sat beside Jace. The sniper. Icy blue eyes. A face like winter’s wrath. He didn’t speak.

Allison almost begged her friend who widened her eyes. “No.. Don't say. Ali, nobody takes his name openly. He is the Dark walker. He is the most powerful man on this earth and can create the bloodbath in seconds around you by his bare hands only.” Nora voiced out, recalling the words once her father said to her. “Who?” Allison dared to ask. She was not ready to lose her family by that damn man’s hands. Nora stared at her and uttered silently. “LYCEON, the dark walker, the last original Lycan blood from the deadly kingdom in the whole world.”

He bent forward instinctively, practically bowing, his face plastered with flattery. Before the apocalypse, he had been Jace's lackey. After the apocalypse, nothing had changed. He didn't even need to practice—servility had long since become second nature. Jace had decent looks and stood about five foot nine. His hair was neatly combed, not a single strand out of place—something exceedingly rare in the post-apocalyptic world. His whole appearance gave off a clean, tidy air, unlike most people, who looked as though they hadn't bathed in weeks.