𝘈𝘭𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴, ᴬᵉᵍᵒⁿ ᵀᵃʳᵍᵃʳʸᵉⁿ

Alchemy Of Lies

⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶Alchemy Of Lies⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍

[ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴꜱ]

"I wish you loved me a little more to escape this madness"

"What do you want more of me, I have already foolishly lost my heart to your gamble, haven't I"

"What would you know of gambles, when you have already lost me in it"

◦◦,'°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°',◦◦

𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞

The smell of blooming ivies was what had clung to her like the gentle breeze that blew the poisoned thorns silently. A patient being in its path of absolute destruction and she was sure that the being was her embodiment sent to destroy her.
In the dark lights of the stars and under the wondering eyes, Aemma Velaryon was born the moonlight above the raging sea, illuminated to attract the greedy moths for an escape, and a carved piece for madmen craving hued love.
Born a first daughter to a first daughter, a curse to a curse, a poisonous poppy to a sinning rose, a girl to a woman, and an heir to an heir, it was long before decided in the the constellations of what Aemma was bound to follow in the deep trenches of her soul—the burdens of being just that obliterating her in its way.
The realm seated deep inside her, molded her to be her mother's triumphs and yet somehow procured Aemma to be a memorized woe in the eyes of sodden vipers, ensnaring her in the venomous lies and whispers, dancing in an eternal struggle to break her skin all in the name of unnerving bastardy and a weak creature she was ought to be inside her heart for even in the end what was Aemma but a woman with too much power in her reach?
A pitiful sight it was to behold, but the gods played their games far more often with people closer to them than beings on this wretched earth. And therefore, it was set in a chamber of the Red Keep where a decision to end the strife that shrouded the name of Targaryen was given, it sealed a future that promised nothing but agony to Aemma. But how was she to know that throughout the vast mazes of grieving creatures, the bards began to compose a song of what would be named as a burned death of lovers entwined, preparing to sing it till their souls left with the Stranger, and yet the words would remain, for what were they if not a ballad of tragedy that came out of the great war?