It is said that when the gods threw a coin at the birth of the last son of Viserys I, it mysteriously went to join that of the second daughter of the king, Maela.
The world knew the story of these two dragons who felt the strongest love for each ot...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IF THE WORD, activate, could have a space of its own, it would certainly be the rooms of Princess Maela. Inside, a figure with hair as white as snow was busy picking up all kinds of objects, assist by a much larger silhouette, dark hair and has armor as bright as a jewel.
— Be careful Ser Jarad, this material is worth a fortune.
— You are the Princess, it is worth nothing to the crown, the guard announced, holding a large canvas bag in his hands.
— I correct. This material is worth a sentimental fortune. These are the tools that Daeron gave me for my birthday, she said while sticking brushes in the bag.
— Am I always obliged to be alone with you, Princess, in your chambers ?
— Come on, we are among friends, laughed Maela at the embarrassment of the Kingsguard. You always ask me the same question.
— I would be very sorry if a rumour were whispered.
Maela smiled at him, assuring him that nothing from him would ever taint her. Jarad was loyal to both, his oath and his Princess. Raising the young woman's easel under his arm, as always, he watched her push a secret door, revealing tunnels lit by torches, which seemed to never stop burning.
Thanks to the passages, the duo quickly arrived in the streets. The sun was high, so outside the cape that covered her shoulders, her hair hung down her back, like the fluffy clouds in the sky, some braids clearing her sight.
While her eyes sought like an animal the rare pearl, the thing, the object, the human, the animal that would light the spark in it. The landscape that would inspire her a thousand and one things, the eyes of the people analyzed her, their Princess walking with her guard at her side, ready to defend her, and carrying her equipment.
Maela strolled, even glancing at some stalls, filled with jewels and precious stones.
And suddenly her eyes stopped on a man. An old man sitting idly on the ground, his body resting in the mud. The mud she would turn into gold.
