the dragon must eat the serpent. the serpent will poison the dragon.
❪ blood moonlit ❫ in which lady taenysa of qarth is thrown to the maws of the great targaryen dragons, and she must fight if she is to survive.
⁺ warning : typ...
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IT SEEMED THAT THE BEAUTIFUL LADY BRIANEL had led Taenysa through yet another set of winding corridors in the Red Keep, the echoes of Taenysa's heeled boot clacking off the stone walls.
Here, in this part of the castle, the air was cool; carrying the scent of damp stone alongside the faint smell of charcoal from the burning torches that lined the walls. The corridors and chambers in this wing of the Red Keep were far more opulent than those of the Great Hall, each archway etched with intricate designs of great, winged beasts alongside each other in the heat of war.
And finally, Brianel had placed a singular, pale hand on a set of doors, creaking them open to reveal a spacious, albeit, stark room. Taenysa took note of the bare walls and the large set of windows that allowed the cold daylight to stream through. The room was chilly, with an unlit fireplace standing in one corner, and the floor was covered in simple, stone tiles.
It was a stark contrast to the lush vibrancy of her beloved quarters on her father's estate, behind the Great Walls of Qarth. For as long as she could remember, her chambers had been adorned with jewel-toned tapestries, cream mosaic tiles, and slender columns draped in silk and gold leaf.
But already, servants had begun to bustle in and out of the chambers, heaving under what she presumed were large chests of her belongings.
Brianel had grasped Taenysa's hand, leading her to a group of girls — who seemed to have seen the same number of winters that she had. They sat on flimsy divans, with the glorious weight of their gowns threatening to swallow the furniture whole.
Collectively, the eyes of the girls turned to her, and Taenysa had never felt more self-conscious. That was surprising, given that she had also been trembling under Queen Alicent's touch not an hour earlier. Each girl clearly hailed from a noble, or at the very least wealthy family, their gowns a sea of greens, blues, and the most beautiful violets, with gold and silver dripping from their hands and necks.
Taenysa's dark linen dress, crafted by the finest tailors in all the Free Cities of Essos, seemed threadbare in comparison, doing nothing to stop the hair from rising on her arms due to the cold weather. Her silver cloak itched, and she could feel her slip falling from her shoulder beneath the dress.
Yet there was no malice in the girls' eyes as Lady Brianel spoke. "Lady Taenysa, may I introduce you to some of the ladies of the court? They were quite eager to meet you."
Had Taenysa been less exhausted, and the weather warmer, she might have curtsied as was custom in Westeros, offering a charming greeting. Instead, she ignored the pounding pain in her head and ears, managing only a stiff smile and murmuring a quiet, "How lovely to meet everyone."
For a moment, no one spoke — and Taenysa wondered if it was too late to take the next ship back to Essos.
Well, Taenysa was almost surprised with the startling speed at which she had seemed to disappoint the noble women of the Targaryen court, gathered to glimpse the girl destined to become a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms.
