BROKEN CHAINS Rhaenyra Targaryen & Daemon Targaryen

. c h a p t e r f o u r .

. Chapter four Proof of Worth & The Death of The Queen .

. " she was a strange, hostile,
dominant thing " .

The problem about being in a new environment is the lack of sleep, Makaria had stared at the ceiling in her bed chambers until she couldn't bear it any longer.

It had only been two days since she arrived in this cursed place and she still hated every moment of it. She hated how empty the castle was, how the servants were like frightened mice. Avoiding eye contact, using formalities, and acting as if she would hit them if they made the smallest mistake.

Which did not earn her trust of this place, if anything it made her hate it even more. The food though, oh, how she hated the fucking food. It was so bland, as if the cooks didn't know what spices were. Embarrassingly enough, she almost cried when the food her uncle gave her was gone, and she was forced to eat the food here.

She stood in her armor, which she had made with her father, using their finest leather, and dragon scales from her father's dragon, and Yvaine's sheds throughout the years. A tradition in her family, it had proven to be more sturdy, and lightweight than any metal.

With her dagger securely placed in its sheathe she had attached to her mid section. She also chose to place one of her swords on her waist, while the other remains on her back.

Her hair was in intricate braids, she made sure to braid in the handmade beads she brought with her, all of them held a great deal of importance to her.

Stepping out of the carriage Makaria exhales.

Much to her displeasure, Makaria had to sit and listen to the two young women flirt with each other, and the subtle touches were nauseating. She barely tolerated Rhaenyra, the Targaryen had a staring problem, one that irritated Makaria to no end.

And Lady Hightower, oh. Lady Hightower made her feel a new type of hatred. One Makaria did not know she even possessed, everything about the red haired, green eyed woman made her feel this way.

Feeling the familiar surge of energy fill her, Makaria tilts her head up. Yvaine was close. Feeling the sun against her skin had always calmed her, especially now since she has been cooped up in the castle. Visery's kept his daughter almost locked away, something Makaria couldn't wrap her head around.

Sooner rather than later Rhaenyra will want to escape the confines of the castle walls and explore. The young Princess had a wild spirit, that much she could tell, even after a few days of being her guard. She could even grow to admire, and respect it, an unlikely possibility but not impossible...

Listening to the dragon keepers and Rhaenyra speak to one another in a language she did not understand, Makaria chose to focus on the energy that emits from Yvaine. Her dragon was restless, she did not like it here.

Hearing the sound of a dragon grumbling Makaria looks towards its direction seeing a small golden dragon, well, small in Velkyri standards. A beautiful dragon she would admit, an innocent one. Part of her was jealous, Rhaenyra had not seen the middle of battle, barred no scars, or memories.

Her skin had not been stained with blood, then again. The rest of her was glad the Princess had never been on a battlefield. It was a dark place, and the blood that stains a person never truly washes away. Mistakes can be made. and they follow you for the rest of your life.