Verkyra Targaryen, eldest child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, born within the darkness of the 7 realms, gods sole heir to eternal tranquility.
A child, destined for war, not for love.
Yet she loved, so love was taken from her.
Will she conquer the world...
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07. Serpents in the Keep
Stepping into the Red Keep felt like slipping into a suffocating prison, where every stone seemed to absorb the life from those who walked its halls. Verkyra Targaryen was no stranger to the sense of entrapment that the castle exuded, but today it felt more palpable, the weight of it pressing down on her with every step she took. The cacophony of the castle — the endless clatter of servants scurrying to and fro, the relentless clank of armor echoing through the corridors — filled her with a deep-seated irritation. It was as if the very air inside these walls conspired to strip away any semblance of peace she might find.
She often wondered at the sheer number of people crammed into this one castle. The Red Keep was a sprawling labyrinth of corridors and chambers, and yet it always seemed to be bursting at the seams with inhabitants. Most of the faces she passed in the hallways were unfamiliar, blurs of movement that barely registered in her mind. They moved like shadows, here on moment, gone the next. These were not the faces of friends or allies, but of strangers, each one a reminder of how isolated she truly was in this place. The court was a hive of activity, but it was also a cage, and Verkyra was a bird trapped within it.
As she made her way through the winding corridors, she was abruptly greeted by Criston Cole. His sudden appearance in her path was jarring, and she took in his disheveled state with a mixture of surprise and disdain. The normally pristine knight, always so composed, looked as though he had just emerged from a battle of his own. His hair, usually kept in perfect order, was mussed, strands falling into his eyes as he hurried past her. It was a sight that clashed violently with the image she had held of him, the ever-vigilant protector, the unyielding shield of the realm. But now, he was merely a man, hurried and imperfect, just like everyone else in this cursed castle.
The princess cursed the Gods silently as she began her ascent up the seemingly endless flights of stairs that spiraled upward, leading to her chambers. The journey felt like an eternity, each step a reminder of how far removed she was from the ground, from the world outside these walls. Whoever had decided that her room should be so high up must've intended to keep her as far from the ground as possible, a bird in a gilded cage, unreachable and alone, as though being closer to the heavens would somehow purify her of the burdens she carried.
By the time she reached her chamber, her body was protesting every movement. Her clothes, heavy with the weight of the day, clung to her skin, irritating it with each step. She longed for the soothing embrace of a hot bath, to let the warmth seep into her bones and wash away the grime and weariness that clung to her. The thought of sinking into steaming water was almost enough to make her forget, if only for a moment, the storm that was brewing outside these walls.
To her immense relief, the room was vacant. The absence of prying eyes was a blessing she did not take for granted. Only a few birds lingered by the window, their songs a faint echo in the quiet of the room mingling with the approaching dusk, a small comfort amidst the overwhelming tension that hung in the air. The soft twilight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow over the space, offering her a brief respite from the chaos that awaited her beyond these walls.
