Theon Greyjoy Novels & Stories

she says gently yet firmly, “it’s time to wake up, dear. Morning’s already here.” I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes to hide the heaviness inside. She places a bowl of porridge beside me, smiling. “You need to build your strength, little one. We’ll head to the market later to see what we can trade.” “Martha,” I say softly, looking up at her. “Before we go, I… I have to change something.” She freezes mid-motion, raising an eyebrow. “Change something? What do you mean?” I run my fingers through my hair—the same hair that once caught attention in every palace hallway. It’s crimson red, like embers—my father's royal crest's color. It is both a sign of power and a curse.

I raised my eyes to meet its owner, and my body stilled at the sight of stormy blue eyes I could never forget. Vaelor Blackthorn.

He said before disappearing into the darkness with the other vampires, until another war breaks out every supernatural realm would live in peace, Gray Eyes would remain asleep until she is needed again, wars always happen, how long would it last this time? Gage knew the time would come again, his memories of her and his love was already fading, he could feel the war and hatred of him and Jayden returning. He remembered the vampires who killed his family. His lust to kill Jayden and his bloodline returning. He would find his daughter and kill her. The game has begun again, who would kind Jade this time, the search for Jade begins now.

Arao stirred her slop with her spoon and opened her mouth to answer. “-Bloody old fool!” Kronos turned his head to see a well-toned and tall man with olive skin, shaved angular head, and an eye patch over his left eye. His right green eye was glaring at a frail elderly man who was crouched on the floor, trembling. He had a thick red beard tied into a knot. He wore a gray armored robe, gloves, and gray wool boots. By his scent of ash and salt, Kronos could tell he was from Ivaura Hydra Tribe. It looks like someone got on Kabil’s bad side again.

My home burned behind us, but my spirit refused to break. Three figures stood out among the crew, their presence commanding the very air around them. Jarl Ragnar Bloodaxe, the leader, was a giant of a man with braided blond hair, a beard woven with silver rings, and eyes the color of storm-tossed seas. His muscular frame, covered in furs and leather, bore the scars of countless battles. Beside him stood his brother, Thorsten the Stormcaller, leaner but no less imposing, with wild red hair and tattoos of ravens covering his arms—marks of his connection to the gods. And then there was young Bjorn Ironfist, the jarl’s closest shield-brother, with sharp features, dark hair, and a body honed like

"Come on. You can do it." She pulled herself forward inch by inch. Almost there. Almost— A shadow swallowed the street. Grey looked up. A dragon. It descended directly toward them. Its wings scattered burning embers across ruined buildings. Upon its neck… Sat a hooded figure. Grey's blood ran cold. The rider's face remained hidden beneath black robes. One gloved hand clutched an obsidian staff covered in crimson symbols. The other traced strange movements through the air while continuously murmuring under his breath.

Her dark eyes, once burdened by the anxieties of an uncertain peace, now reflected a quiet, untouchable serenity forged through decades of unyielding devotion to her people. Behind her, the heavy oak doors moved on iron hinges. Alpha Ethan Blackthorn crossed the threshold, his heavy boots striking the polished stone floor with slow, deliberate precision. He wore a simple yet regal tunic of dark charcoal wool, reinforced at the shoulders with silver-embossed leather plates. Over his broad chest rested the ancient mantle of grey wolf fur, secured at the collar by the heavy silver clasp of the sovereign lineage. His dark hair, touched with silver at the temples, framed a rugged face carved by d

Before Lord Vane could utter another desperate word, the heavy sound of thundering boots echoed from the gorge bend behind him. Gryfyn emerged from the smoke and darkness, his massive frame covered from head to toe in enemy blood. His dark wolf tattoos were pulsing bright across his broad chest, his dark golden eyes burning with a terrifying, wild Alpha aura. In his massive hand, he dragged the unconscious, bleeding body of Captain Garik by his neck armor.

I don't care if anyone sees me or if I end up on the news my anger will never let this man go free. "Listen, dude, I didn't come here to play. I came here for answers. Now quit playing and tell me what being a grey wolf means." His smile isn't there anymore, he looks as confused as ever. "I'm not playing with you Chloe, you were born a grey werewolf. Your father was a grey werewolf, you're a grey werewolf. Grey werewolves are more powerful than regular werewolves, grey wolves are also the only breed of werewolves to not be controlled by the moon. You all can turn at will and it won't even hurt." He chuckles. "Y'all are lucky bastards."

Grey was surprised to see Ares trying to steady himself against the side of the wardrobe. Ares' memories unfolded before his eyes. Keyara calling him "Gi." A name Ares initially thought was a term for Keyara's older brother until he later discovered that Keyara was the firstborn. Were there other Gi's besides himself? Ares had just now thought about it. However, the newly revealed truth formed a new reality for him. In Keyara's life, there were two Gi's. The first was Grey, and the second was himself. Realizing this simple fact somehow ignited anger within Ares. He then raised his hand, which was holding the weapon all this time.