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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THE GRAND HALL WAS NOTHING SHORT of absolutely enchanting. The vaulted ceilings had been adorned with hundreds of hanging candles, as their flickering flame cast a warm, golden glow over the dark hall.
Lanters and chandeliers had been draped with delicate string of pearls, and precious stones that caught the candelight, sparkling like the most divine of stars in the night sky. Taenysa admired the vast walls, draped with rich Westerosi tapestries — and at the far end of the hall, a troupe of musicians played a lively tune, the string melody that brought many a nobleman and woman onto the central floor, arm-in-arm.
Despite herself, and her immense exhaustion; with no gratitude given to her new court ladies earlier during the day, Taenysa could not resist the joy she felt as such a beautiful sight. She gravitated towards a sumptuously laden table, a marvel of opulence that stretched from one end of the hall to another.
There were platters of roasted venison, glistening with a sweet glaze; pheasants that had been stuffed with almonds and figs that spilled out onto the platters, and an array of fruits so vibrant, they simply must have been plucked from the very gardens of the Gods. She eyed the goblets of cool, spiced wine flowing freely between the hands of all the nobles who passed.
If she had believed the Red Keep to be a dying man in the cold daylight, the behemoth of a fortress had certainly alive under the light of the moon.
Taenysa did her best not to contemplate of her home, of what her own father may have been doing at this very moment —half a world away, on another continent. She could imagine the grand corridors of the estate, now silent and empty, with the braziers unlit; devoid of Tycho's contagious laughter or the musicians who would play such sweet tunes for her ladies.
Still, here she was, amidst the splendour of the court in King's Landing, surrounded by innumerable strangers, in a land most unfamiliar to her.
Taenysa did not have a greater chance to ruminate further, for a cold hand had gently grasped her sleeve, pulling her from a deeper, melancholic reverie.
Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Queen Alicent Hightower. And she looked absolutely resplendent, and her beauty was only magnified by the rich garment that she donned; crafted from sheer layers of the deepest blue and green, piled on each other until they formed a thick, opaque gown. The Queen appeared to be a precious stone, plucked with gentle hands from the depths of the ocean's waters, and her burnished curls had been artfully pulled into a long plait, adorned with delicate gold filigree that matched the domes dangling from her ears.
"Lady Taenysa, I had wondered when you would arrive," the Queen's voice was deep, melodious but quiet, "I would introduce to another member of the household." And she swept her hand gracefully to the unfamiliar man who stood only a singular pace behind her.
The man was strikingly handsome, almost absurdly so — with a face that Taenysa privately thought would only be appropriate from the verses of a romantic ballad. He wore the heavy, broad silver armour of the guard, but a thick, white cloak was draped over his shoulders; and his expression was quite reserved.
