Cirilla was a girl bedevilled. All her life, she'd been plagued with terrible nightmares of fire and blood. But as she twisted and turned and burned, Daemon Targaryen smelt the smoke and smiled.
daemon targaryen x fem!oc
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ HOUS...
RECOMMENDED SETTINGS black background, size 13, times new roman
CHORUS: Woman, be sure your heart is brave; you can take much.
CASSANDRA: None but the unhappy people ever hear such praise.
─── THE ORESTEIA, Aeschylus
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𝕴N THE ANCIENT WORDS of House Ashryver, one was reminded of their birth, of their heritage, and of their end. It began in a great white city to the east—Cintra. It was the shining beacon of the Stepstones, capital of the Narrow Sea. Like a light aglow in the vast darkness—for Cintra was always closer to the sun than to earth—all manners of twilight creatures came to its shores. First, the warlocks with their slanted eyes and blood-encrusted nails (hailing, it was said, from Asshai, the city's dark sister), then the spellsingers and godswives. There, they found a home, and for many, it was their first. They need not hide in the cloak of darkness, shrouded from the eyes of lesser men. They revelled in the light. For a hundred years, Cintra was reigned by Chaos—and it was good. Snake bit snake and poisoned naught but the land. Their nests were not trampled by soldiers, nor were they cast out by kings. Each man was their own monarch. Until (it was always until), Chaos delivered a new regime. A high order, a coven, to take its seat in the city's marvel which was the Tower of the Sun. This Coven was an oligarchy of warlocks, the more ambitious counterparts to their spellsinger friends. Together, they exalted Chaos, let it become their bride, and smiled as the city bowed to them both.
𝕬S RELIGION SOWED RELIGION and the city became riddled with the arts (some blacker than others), one circle began to stand out from the others. The Red Priestesses of R'hllor were beautiful and lambent and they needed to be dealt with. The common folk were drawn to them like a moth to a flame. The Coven Beneath the Sun was losing its long-earned veneration and Jealousy set her foul claws into their veins. What was the answer? Murder. It always was when it came to the whims of powerful men. A string of erratic killings culled the Red Priestesses from the streets. The people of Cintra saw R'hllor as a cursed god and turned away from his embrace. The Coven was victorious. But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The surviving priestesses prayed to the Lord of Light for an intercession and when the sun rose the next day, the rivers had turned to ash. Shock gave birth to panic and panic to awe when it was revealed that only the handfuls of cinders blessed by the priestesses were turned into water. Women in possession of this much power would not do, but neither could the Coven live without water, so they came to an impasse. It was Stevan Blackcrow, a visionary and formidable warlock, who offered up a solution. A kingdom divided would fall, poisoned by its own ambition. But turn that venom against their enemies and they would ascend the food chain to unsung heights. A marriage between their parties was the bargaining chip. The priestesses were bitter, but the allure of power was too sweet to pass up. Stevan wed the dark-eyed Titania Moran and, united, they went on to conquer Lys, most of the Undisputed Lands, the Orange Shore and the Stepstones.
