» 10/1/2020 - ivar x targaryen oc «
In the great City of Pentos, inside of the Magister's extravagant mansion, there was a young princess. Her hair, silver and silky, tumbling down her slim back in loose strands and untangled braids. She barely re...
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Visenya had reigned her small, cream-coloured horse to a stop on top of a sandy ridge. Beneath her, great, green plains stretched out, immense and empty; a vast flat expanse that reached to the distant horizon and beyond. It was a sea of grass. The Dothraki Sea just as it was described to her before. Past here, there were no hills, no mountains, no trees nor cities or roads, only the endless grasses, the tall blades rippling like waves when the winds blew.
She stroked the soft, white mane of her mare. Visenya had been travelling for a little under a week now, going by horseback from the cities beyond Pentos to great mountain ranges trying to get to the Dothraki Sea. Now that she was here, Visenya was more than halfway to finding her brother and sister.
The night Visenya had overheard the plot to marry her off to a cruel Yunkai master, the princess had raced back to the safest place in the mansion she could think of. To Memna. He had been surprised to see her again only twenty minutes after she had left. He was even more surprised to learn of the Magister's schemes. It was the same very night Memna had helped her escape Pentos.
Before she knew it, her mentor had acquired her a fine mare stolen from the Magister's stables and strapped her in the saddle. Riding a horse was the least of her worries. Visenya knew how to ride on horseback. It was that she had almost left her valuables behind. After a moments panic, Memna had gone to get them quickly whilst she waited with her mare in the stables. When he came back, they tucked the eggs in a leather sack and sheathed her ancestral sword, Dark Sister, in her belt.
"Remember to not lose this sword," Memna told her, his dark eyes boring into hers. "It will be like your own arm. Lose your arm you risk losing your life."
Visenya grasped his hand with her own. "Come with me," she pleaded, her lilac eyes wide with alarm.
He couldn't. Memna explained that he had signed a contract with the Magister, and if he broke it then he would be branded forever a criminal of the Nine Cities and enemy to Pentos. Knowing the Magister, especially after realising truly how two-faced he was, Visenya would believe that he would take it to such stakes if Memnos ran away with a Targaryen princess. An integral pawn in his game.
Then that was that. With her final promise of farewell, Visenya let go of his hand and rode out of the Magister's gates and through the dark, empty streets to go east, following the map Memna had given her to find her way to what was now the present.
It had not been an easy journey, moving east to get to the Dothraki Sea and then Vaes Dothrak. By the second day, Visenya thought that she was going to die. Sores on her feet opened, and hideous and bloody blisters appeared on her thighs. Her arse was chafed raw, her lips were dry and cracked from the constant sun, and she hadn't bathed in days. By the time dusk fell on the third day, Visenya had no choice but to take a break at some hot springs she found and find some soothing ointment from a nearby village a mile away.
