𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

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‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾  ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙

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‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾  ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
















Her mother used to tell her that she had the face and body of a Velaryon but her soul and mind where Targaryen. Always with a look on her lilac eyes, that screamed fire and blood.

Nevertheless, she would never call herself a Targaryen, a Targaryen would have a dragon, and she did not, but she longed to feel how it would be to ride a dragon, to mount it to in the blue skies with the wind caressing her face and flowing through her hair, after all she was half Targaryen even if her father liked to pretend she was not. Unfortunately for her, she never had the chance to since her egg had cracked open when a maid had misplaced it.

Sereia always had a cold soul, she didn't cry when she was born nor did she laugh when she was a toddler, the Velaryon girl had seen more things than girls her age did not have to, she had lived them and realized she did not want that future and she was going to change her for herself. Realizing this she ignored men and jumped over their rules, but while still keeping an intact reputation and quiet exterior, they were still going to be tempted though, she was aware of her own beauty after being named the 'siren of driftmark' by the sailors that managed to catch a glimpse of the daughter of their lord, their eyes grateful for such a sight after the horrors of the sea.

The girl had mixed emotions about kings Landing, she hated it because it was full by of mercenaries, the stench of shit and the heat was unbearable. But she would take all of that for the few seconds she got at seeing the dragons fly above the capital.

As her mind grew older so did her ambitions, she no longer wanted dresses and pearls, she wanted power.

But not the power you gain from being the quiet wife of a powerful lord, she wanted the power of a man, especially of the man that sat in a throne.

So, she learned from the lords in Kings Landing, they thought her many things in the meetings where she innocently volunteered to fill their cups, secretly and slowly but surely she learned how to play the game of thrones. Sereia did everything she could to increase her possibilities of one day sitting in that cursed and ugly throne.

She was in simple words a wolf dressed in lambs clothing.

And nothing will stop her from getting what she wanted, what she has worked for-for years. Not even the rogue prince, a man she may or may not have long for since she was a child, not that she will ever say it out loud.

The first time she had ever talked to the Targaryen prince was when she was only two and ten years, a scrawny little thing that spouted unladylike curse words under her breath, furious that her cousin Rhaenyra had her own dragon while she walked around in the gardens.

He had silently joined her in her stroll, retaining a smirk as her younger self didn't realize the heir to the throne walked besides her, but when she did realize she wasn't faze at his presence like somebody else would have, instead she rolled her eyes and kept walking. However, that didn't stop the Targaryen prince instead following her and asking her why in gods name was a child angry at his house.

She didn't answer instead she ignored him, that didn't sit well with him, no one had ignored him before, and certainly not a spoiled child. So, he kept asking her and asking her, acting like a child himself. Instead of responding him, she signaled his behavior in a calm manner,

He didn't bought it one bit, he was the first person to not fall for any of her tricks, instead he laughed and saw right through her, that made him different for her in her eyes. He was not a prancing fool like everyone here, and he certainly cared enough or maybe it was just him. But she didn't care, so when she finally turned to him and told him the truth he grinned and asked her if she would like to fly on his dragon, Caraxes, a beautiful red scaled dragon big enough to cover a mountain.

Before she could say yes however her father arrived with an angry frown and excused her away, apologizing to the prince for her horrible daughter's manners.

Her father had explained the prince was cruel and unhinged, he didn't seemed cruel to her, not in her child mind and not in her grown mind either.

They were the same she realized. Both wanted power, both were misunderstood, both wanted to be looked beyond their siblings.

They had conversations every time he showed his face around Kings Landing, they were mainly where she asked of his adventures and he happily obliged, being able to boast was his favorite activity after all.

Weirdly she enjoyed their strolls for as short as they were sometimes, but she couldn't afford enjoying those type of things. It would distract her from her purpose.

Because no one powerful was ever really happy, and no one happy was ever really powerful.

If she had to choose one, right at the start she would choose power over anything, at the end of this adventure however it is unclear.















‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾  ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙

























She speaks!My prologues are always kinda shitEDITED

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She speaks!
My prologues are always kinda shit
EDITED

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐒, d.tWhere stories live. Discover now