Romans & histoires Yoren Game Of Thrones

“But you—’ Yoren raised a hand slightly, signalling her to stop. “I didn’t save you out of pity.” His voice was flat, yet there was something deeper beneath it—a weight, a finality that allowed no argument. Eirene’s confusion grew. Her heart trembled. “Then why?” Yoren slowly set his fork down. The faint clink of metal against porcelain echoed softly, making the air itself seem to still. He looked at her again, this time without his calm facade. His gaze was sharp, reflecting the candlelight like two blades of cold silver. “I won’t sugarcoat it,” Yoren said plainly, his tone carrying an allure that made Eirene’s breath falter. “I want you to be mine, Eirene.”

“Stop acting cool. You are one of the enemies I have, and you know that.” Before I could say more than one word, I felt a surge of energy in me. I shut my eyes as I was unable to get over it. It was stronger than that of a beta like him. “I felt this surge of energy when I woke up in the hospital. It's an Alpha energy and not a Beta." I thought and opened my eyes. “I believed it was Prince Kelvin—and Tyrion is a Beta and not an Alpha.” I blinked as he took away his palm from my body….his perspirations dropping on the floor.

The maid quarters were a beautiful representation of the kingdom of Ghandor. In the early morning, a cold air blew back and forth, causing shivers. Multiple groups of men practice swordplay, as usual, with distant metal striking metal. He remembered the maidens and the over ten contenders who are getting ready for the second round, battling for His affection. Prince Kohl reached out of his bed, glanced out the window, and heard a silent whisper, a voice echoing,'she is the queen of the iron throne'. He looked around his bedroom and wondered whether he was having a hallucination. 'No, this is real,' he exclaimed.

Nine was their sacred number since it connected the nine realms that existed within Yggdrasil. “I choose Gungnir, the great spear of Odin, Angurvadal, the stream of anguish, Gram, who brought death to Fafnir, Freyr’s sword, to fight when I am weak, Dáinsleif, to inflict wounds that never heal, Lævateinn, so that my step will never falter, Skofnung, the supernatural blade, Hǫfuð, the great sword of Heimdall and lastly Mjolnir.” Malachi chose his nine gifts and the rest were returned to the vault. These gifts would be sent to his house in Seward and he knew Jessica would banish them to his study.

Yenn said. “But isn’t it too much? Making us live together and even put a task note challenge” Karin says so. “Maybe, he’s here and one of us?” Hailey asked. “Yeah, we thought so too” Byul answered looking at Jiwoon. “But who is it?” Karin asked. “I think Its Yenn” Jiwoon pointed at Yenn which made him taken aback. “What the fuck dude?! Do I look like I can create a game?” Yenn glared at him.

"What's your true name?" "Gendry," he said, like he wasn't quite sure. "Don't see why no one wants neither o' you," Yoren said, "but they can't have you regardless. You ride them two coursers. First sight of a gold cloak, make for the Wall like a dragon's on your tail. The rest o' us don't mean spit to them." "Except for you," Arya pointed out. "That man said he'd take your head too." "Well, as to that," Yoren said, "if he can get it off my shoulders, he's welcome to it."

A pile of used sweaters and jackets gathered on a chair in front of a homemade study desk, and a bunch of card games, building blocks, and Lego pieces scattered all over the floor. “Grandma?” a sleepy young voice calls for her. “Yes Giddy, what is it?” she sweetly smiles as she says his nickname. “Grandma it’s Gideon, not Giddy.” “Of course it is. What were you going to ask?” She tucks him in closer in bed as the cold breeze blows into the room, “If Frey hated pure humans so much, what happens if they get in Yord?” The boy yawns but waits for the answer before surrendering to sleep. Grandmother Willows sits on his bed and brushed the falling strands of hair away from his face.

Then he gave a slow nod to his men. He looked at Sergio with unbridled hatred. "This isn't over, not by a long short. I will be back to claim what is mine." One by one, they backed off. Fading into smoke. Into retreat. ************************************************** The silence that followed was deafening. Rosana stood alone in the center of the destroyed hallway, her dress streaked with soot and blood. A shard of broken mirror leaned against the wall nearby, reflecting pieces of her—sharp, splintered, unrecognizable.