Sealord Of Braavos Novels & Stories

The pendant against my chest pulsed once feeling warm, then still. Outside my window, dawn painted the fortress walls gold giving off a sense of normalcy. But that was a lie. ‘Normal’ was the last word anyone would use to describe recent events. Somewhere beyond those walls, more girls were awakening. More bonds were stretching. And something ancient was beginning to remember. A knock interrupted my thoughts and I already knew who it was. “Come in.” Rael entered. He looked worse than yesterday. The exhaustion sat heavily on him now. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms and his jaw was shadowed with stubble. A man trying to hold together a kingdom that no longer wanted to remain whol

The warlord stood. He was taller than she'd expected. Broader, too. Built like a creature shaped for war, but moved like he could vanish and strike in the same breath. As a child, she had often wondered what a dragon might look like in human skin—a question whispered between old books and nursery rhymes, half-believing it was myth. But if you ever did see one, it was said to be the last sight your eyes would know. And now, here he was: terrifyingly real, terrifyingly calm. A dragon made flesh. And he was looking at her like she was already burning. "You are Sera of House Vaelir," he said, descending toward her with deliberate, predator-slow steps.

He looked like he’d been trained his entire life to carry himself as though he were a god. He stopped suddenly, causing me to run into him. “This isn’t your pack.” His blue eyes bored mine. “Don’t try anything rash, your life depends on it.” That was his last warning before he threw the double-lidded door open. On the throne sat a man, huge even on his throne, I couldn't make out his eyes from the distance and I immediately knew… Dalkhan. King of the Rogues. I was before the king of rogues!

"Boss, he carved the Crown! On *our* land! He has the Key! He—" "He answered a summons," the man stated flatly, cutting him off again. His glacial gaze swept past Silas, pinning me where I stood. "He came alone, into the heart of what he perceived as enemy territory. That takes either stupidity," his eyes narrowed slightly, assessing, "or a particular brand of courage. Which is it, Ace Reynolds?" The use of my name, delivered with that gravelly certainty, confirmed what I already sensed. This was the apex predator. Rogue. The leader of the Eagle Brothers. He knew far more than Silas.

Some bore the wounds of battle, others the hollow stares of those lost to time. A familiar face stepped forward. Tavren. The commander who had fallen in the siege of Dawnfire. His armor was shattered, his chest still marred by the fatal blow he had taken. He fixed Elior with an unwavering gaze. “You march toward the Final Seal,” Tavren said. “But what right do you have to break it?” Elior opened his mouth, but no words came. Another voice spoke, this one softer, almost hesitant. A young woman stepped from the mist. Freya.

She didn’t flinch. Then the guards grabbed my arms. “No—no, please, she’s pregnant! The child is innocent!” Liora’s voice cracked through the room as she rushed forward, her hands grabbing at mine. “Enough!” Ysara snapped. “The father is not. He is the Alpha of Obsidian—the man who has murdered our kind. You expect us to shelter his seed?” Liora dropped to her knees, hugging me tightly as they tried to pull me away. “Please, Mama, please… Selene is not a traitor. She didn’t know. She’s just a girl—”

Max asked as he had had signed on something greater than four places in the dictionary level paperwork. “Yes, we are. You can go and start your candle light ceremony.” Paul replied, affirming to his insinuations. He had sealed it in writing, Max was no longer in the mafia and now only an Alpha Lord. I was ecstatic because I wouldn’t have to be burdened by the aftermath of the war that had been showing signs of starting soon.

he conceded, feeling relieved at some point, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the white bandage. “You want me to speak to him or give out your orders?” “My orders.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed my lips this time, and it felt good, except for that disgusting man wrapped in scarves and black clothing. How do I let Brad know about Enzo’s orders? Brad barged into the room unannounced, wearing a sad look on his face. “Lord Stark is dead.” “What?!”

So, they did not dare to disrespect him lest they should get banned from ever taking a step inside the kingdom. Oakley waited another two minutes before he took a deep breath and started speaking. "I presume all the new merchants who are interested in trading in our kingdom are here. I am Jorah Oakley, a minister at Lord Eldrick's court. We have received complaints from some of our merchant friends here that they are not satisfied with the tax rates. Can anybody here tell me what terms and conditions of ours are they unsatisfied with?"

Gord said. "I knew this is what this is all about!" I said. "You should be happy that he does not wish to kill of deserters like you but he stil gives you a chance to be part of his army. I told him to give the order and at once I would finish you off, but he said I should leave you fools alive," Gord said and drank. "Gord, I would not want to believe that you actually thought you could bring down Iceland?" I asked. "If he had given the order I would have arrived with a thousand fleets, skilled swordsmen all from Westeros and Kingslanding.