75

                                    

                                          
BRAN 
It was like people had somehow heard Bran's thoughts, that he planned to work on a future with Maria, and they—his enemies—had all set out to give him reasons why he couldn't have it. 
This was what Bran was thinking as he partially listened to what the man who had just entered his throne room, was saying.
"Can you just give me a summary of what you've been saying?" Bran cut him off, suddenly so exhausted. 
What he'd woken up to as a bright, beautiful, day—a day he'd felt the happiest he had in a very long time—had turned into one of the most disappointing.
And it was still morning.
The man's irritation was clear in his expression but Bran didn't give two fucks. He was the one that was being disturbed. Bran was the one that was being asked to give away his fucking mate, not this messenger—who was obviously a sorcerer.
Speaking of, 
"Who let him into the castle?" Bran asked the two guards standing by the wall, just now remembering that he'd placed a ban on the Sorceri entering his realm. "Who let him into this realm?"
The two guards looked at each other, then one spoke up, "I believe it had to have been the guards stationed at the gate, Your Majesty. As for him entering the realm, I do not know how." 
Bran's eyes narrowed in anger. 
Perhaps he had gotten too soft with his men. Or maybe it was his absence that had caused them to forget a few of the rules he'd given them. Whichever option it was, the plan remained the same—he was going to have a long talk with them soon. One that involved screams, bloodshed and a few broken bones.
Just a few.
In the meantime, he turned narrowed eyes at the sorcerer standing in front of him, noting that the man looked not the least bit scared. Because of his powers, perhaps?
Bran almost laughed at that.
If the man didn't tread carefully, then he was going to learn something today; that Bran wasn't scared to go after anyone, no matter the kind of powers they had.
"Did you not hear that there is a ban on the Sorceri entering this realm?"
"I did."
"And still you enter?"
The man shrugged. "You say the Sorceri is banned from entering your realm, yet a sorceress lives with you in this house so I'm assuming the ban doesn't extend to all Sorceri. If that, however, isn't what you mean, then maybe you should have been clearer." 
In a flash, Bran traced out of his throne-seat and appeared in front of the man. The sorcerer didn't see him coming until it was too late—until Bran lifted his hand like a whip and sent the sorcerer flying backwards with a backhand slap.
Bran's blood boiled with pent-up rage and frustration, and all he could think about was unleashing it on this man who had foolishly decided to make himself a scapegoat. 
He traced to the man before he could even push himself up on his elbows, turned him over, and sent three hard punches to his face in rapid successions. On the fourth one, the man's nose cracked, and Bran was about to land another one, happy to pummel the man to death, when he remembered—albeit angrily—that the idiot had a message for him. 
Unfortunate, really.
Dragging him up by his shirt, Bran shoved him backwards, not wanting the man's blood on his shirt. He didn't want to have to explain that to Maria when he got back to the room.