The Targaryen Dynasty Books Novels & Stories

She added. "Why is that?" Katherine found it a bit relaxing talking to these ladies now that the men were gone. "No reason, in particular, it's just most of the readings and documentation of the old era were burned during the war so I found it refreshing studying the details of what led the kingdom to war." Not many people spoke about, let alone knew about, what happened in the old era. Though the teachings Lady Elizabeth had weren't in extreme detail, it was enough to grant insight as to what had happened in the era.

He bellowed, and the room went ice cold. Not just any cold either. A deep cold. A cold that chills you to your bones. This was something I had only witnessed a handful of times. No matter how many times I witnessed it, it never got any less terrifying. Tendrils of Shadow came writhing out of nothing and seemingly everything, lapping up the spilled blood then pooling down around Raziel’s feet. Even the Vampires were afraid. They stopped dead in their tracks, eyeballing the slimy creatures that surrounded my brother’s feet. Raziel looked like the god of the fucking underworld with his golden eyes and fierce glare surrounded by tendrils of Shadow.

“Queen Clareath married my mother’s brother, becoming Queen, and began her campaign against the fairy brethren in Uyan Taesil. My mother discovered Clareath’s foul doings, and sought help from the Fae Courts, however having a strain of Elvish blood meant that none of the normal trespasses that would gain her entry and audience would work. In the end, she sought a Seer and a good-witch, who directed her to seek dragon’s aid – my father.” “Ohhh,” Perditha murmured. “A brethren heir to mankind’s kingdom.” “Yes. That is Tarragon, my oldest sister. To aid my mother in taking back Uyan Taesil from Clareath, Prince Rivyn made her a sword, Intuin Desparen. To the daughters of our family, it reads ‘L

His red eyes deepened, indicating his desire to sort things out. "One of the book of history has gone missing last night. The Book of Creation. And then this morning, it is found on its shelf again. Not a piece was taken nor changed," Merko said. I had been to their library a couple of times and had seen that book. However, due to my very busy schedule, I could not read it since I have to prioritize knowing more about potions. "It is not allowed to take the books out of the bibliotheca. How come that it has gone missing? Who was patroling last night?" Yamiko asked.

For years, every kingdom suffered under the regime of tyrant King Elijah. He whipped women, took the men as nothing but drum fetchers. The entire eight kingdoms were under him and he did no good. He was a bad king to his own Kingdom, and a worser one to others. Until six years ago, when he was finally brought down and killed by Lord Alejandro, a child he had undermined so badly. As punishment for him not having a male heir, the Lords took his one and only daughter, Meandra, and declared that she suffers the sins of her father. She’s to serve each kingdom for a year, as a slave nonetheless, tortured and broken just like her father did them.

It wasn't just a copy, it was exactly the same. How did this get here? She puzzled over the familiar book, glimpses of a childhood she couldn't remember slipping into her mind. An old folded note tucked right in the middle of the book caught her attention, and she gently unfolded it. Somehow, she was sure she was meant to find the note. Her blood ran cold as she read the content of the note, cold sweat springing up on her spine. The contents of the note was simple but ominous. “The sins of the father live in the blood of the daughter.”

Scotch burned trail gold, obsidian devouring every swallow, power humming balanced edge. Night deepened, bodies orbiting with no collision, but collision was inevitable. His hand ghosted spine trace absent—shiver traitorous. "Sleep," he ordered, soft menace, pulling me into the lounge plush without resistance. No fuck tonight—torture purer, proximity dominance submission unspoken. Dreams twisted Rourke's snap, Darius's grin fading peace, Kenji's obsidian guarding shadows. Blood ties bound us, visceral, dark romance, an empire forged in violence and want.

“You cannot rule from a fortress of your own making.” “I rule perfectly well from there now.” “You administer. There is a difference.” The King leaned forward. “I have chosen these four with care. Each brings something valuable. A political alliance, a wealth of resources, a connection to an old family line.” “And the fourth? The one from the border? Valerius’s daughter.” Makil had memorized the dossiers. It was his way—to know the battlefield before he stepped onto it. “Leigh of House Valerius. A family so discreet they’re practically ghosts. What does she bring? A handful of mountain rocks and a reputation for silence?”

Taryn “Do you know the story of how I took my father’s place when I was only five?” Taryn shook her head. “Your uncle, the usurper, had surrounded our castle and taken one of my older sisters. He had given terms to my father, Lord of Sneaf, before me. Kneel down and proclaim me the only king of Elder and I will spare your daughter’s life, he had told him.” Taront shook his head and turned to look toward the open window. “My father was forced to obey him, my older sister was Sneaf’s heir. In our family, there has always been the custom that the firstborn, man or woman, would take command of our house. My sister, Tamara, was my father’s heir, and he wanted to save her at all costs.”

Ancient tomes, black sealed ledgers, scrolls bound in silks the color of dried blood, enough dangerous magic to get them both executed in a dozen kingdoms, spilled across the map. I arched a brow. “Please tell me you didn’t get caught.” Tarin’s smirk widened. “Please. We’re ghosts. Besides, the Restricted Archives barely noticed we were there.” Thessaly snorted. “A librarian noticed.” “Barely,” Tarin said with a wave. I set my tea aside and pulled the nearest tome toward me. Black Court: Lineage and Rise. The cover alone radiated old, foul magic, the kind that whispered if you listened too long. “How much of their shit did you take?”