Tyrion Lannister In Books 소설 & 이야기

'No, this is real,' he exclaimed. Yes, I plan to make my intentions known in the forest. I feel something for her. Is she the chosen one from the bloodline to be my queen? Queen of the Iron Throne? He strolled past the maid quarters and into the royal Court, exchanging pleasantries with his council. The man holds out a white sheet of paper written in black. Kohl nods and accepts it. "Awesome," he says after reviewing the names on the list.

This man's eyes flashed red as he passed by my door. Were they the Alpha and the Luna Felix mentioned? What the hell happened that got them so mad? I could hear their enraged voices until they passed the whole corridor and entered another palace wing. I was about to close the door when the scent of lavender mixed with whiskey reached my nose. I was out in the corridor before I knew it. I walked out barefoot, wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and white panties. Tyrion's eyes met mine, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. He quickened his strides and stopped less than a foot away from me.

It bowed. Outside, the sky blazed with banners of white and gold. Crowds filled the plaza, tossing petals into the air until the wind carried the scent of jasmine and salt. At the palace steps stood the Iron Throne ancient, cold, and blackened by centuries of rule. It had witnessed empires rise and rot, and had drunk the blood of kings and queens alike. Now it waited for its burial. Bianca approached it alone, her long coat trailing behind her like a shadow that refused to fade. She placed one hand on its armrest feeling the chill, the faint pulse of memory that lived in the steel.

An old man, clad in tattered robes, stepping forward with slow, measured steps. He stopped a few paces away, his gaze settling on Elior. “I know you,” the man rasped. “You are the one who shattered the Throne.” The man’s name was Orris, one of the last survivors of Dawnfire. He had seen the sky break, had felt the change ripple through the land. “The First King built the Throne for a reason,” he said. “It was never just a seat of power. It was a cage.” A chill ran through Elior.

He stopped before he could continue. I knew that face. It just keeps getting worse. “How could that be the face of a man.” I heard him say as he raised his head to look at me. He stood and walked around the table. Slow. Controlled steps. Of course I’d remember him anywhere, I’ve seen too many drawings not to recognize him. Those sharp golden eyes I’ve heard of. The black dragon ring he wore. Only one person wore it in the whole four kingdoms. “Of course.” I said almost in a whisper. That’s how he was able to take down the two kingdoms.

The entire world appeared to be frozen at this precise moment. Tyr’s thoughts were drawn once more into the chaotic world. Inside that chaotic world, Tyr was suspended in the air like the God that created this world. There were two books suspended above Tyr’s head. One of them was golden in color. It was the Song of the Empire that helped Tyr refine his tyrannical vitality energy. The other book was in blood red, and it was the Souleater Grimoire.

Whatever Maeve had bartered had to be worth it because Kaida doesn't do favors; she was a lone wolf kind of girl. At this point, Tyrion made his way into the hall, and he looked dashing in his plain shirt as he smiled at something Sun said to him. He made his way to his seat next to me, and I couldn't help but breathe him in. He smelled clean and like himself, no signs that he'd been busy. Like I cared. The relief I felt at that realization was something I immediately buried. I turned away as a voice boomed in the room, announcing the presence of the Royal Lycan King. We all stood up to pay our respects.

“The crowning flame knows no years, The crowning flame knows no tears. The crowned is one with a soul so bright, Plunged in a curse to douse every speck of light. For your wolves’ great fortune, you shall bear the bane, Misfortune, misery, an eternal chain.” The crowning flame knew no years. It had chosen a ten-year-old unshifted pup to be the Alpha Naturale. The crowning flame knew no tears. It forced the pup to grow up too fast and take over the pack completely at the age of sixteen. And the curse? As if her life wasn’t cursed enough! Misfortune and misery were her constant companions.

"I trusted in his wisdom and your wiles, and what did they avail me, smuggler? The storm lords sent you packing. I went to them a beggar and they laughed at me. Well, there will be no more begging, and no more laughing either. The Iron Throne is mine by rights, but how am I to take it? There are four kings in the realm, and three of them have more men and more gold than I do. I have ships . . . and I have her. The red woman. Half my knights are afraid even to say her name, did you know? If she can do nothing else, a sorceress who can inspire such dread in grown men is not to be despised. A frightened man is a beaten man. And perhaps she can do more. I mean to find out. "When I was a lad I fo