✓ | POOR JUDGMENT (A.FORRESTER)

Sundown. Chapter Twenty Two.

"Do you know how many men have stood before me with false tales of my dragon. Desperate men. Hoping for wealth. Protection. Liars. Every one of them. And I expect you are no different. You don't want to see what I do to liars. Especially those who seek to waste my time." And all of a sudden, the curtains lifted and there she stood. She was prettier than Cynthia first anticipated, but by no means less regal than had been expected. She wore a blue dress, that matched her pale skin tone and contrasted with her fair blond hair. Hair that was only marginally lighter than Cynthia's, when she thought about it. Perhaps she'd gained that trait from her mother's side. That made her shiver, the idea of having Targaryen blood in her veins. But at least it meant some, small, shred of family remained on this earth. It was a shame Daenerys' brother was not still alive today, so Cynthia may meet another sibling. But it was probably for the best that she hadn't, considering what she'd heard about Viserys. "I wouldn't lie to you. You have my word." Asher's voice was so soft, and well presented, Cynthia only ever heard him talk so smoothly when he was comforting her, or one of his siblings. He never raised his voice around Mira, or Talia, never. He was so gentle with them. And with Cynthia. But his sentiment meant nothing to the queen, she only seemed to grow more impatient. "Your word means nothing. Not when it is so easily bought." Daenerys, despite her impatience with the situation, smirked, and spoke just as faintly as Asher had done. She held herself like royalty, and Cynthia envied that about her. She did not doubt for one minute that a role as Khaleesi would be difficult, and hard to maintain. Yet her sister looked immaculate.

A loud screech tore through the settling quietness, pulling a smirk upon Daenerys' perfectly sculptured face. The loud cry had Asher and Beskha quaking, but Cynthia didn't move. She could already tell, by the look on her sister's face, that it was nothing to fear. Daenerys, vaguely, noticed her lack of surprise, but said nothing of it. "Oh shit." Asher mumbled, as Beskha went to her hilt. Asher's hand was not, sadly, intertwined with Cynthia's in that moment, but she could still feel the warmth radiating off of his skin from where he stood, only a few inches away from her side. He didn't appear to want to be any further from her, at any given moment. And then, sawing in from the horizon, flapping it's wings with effortless grace, and intimidation, was a bronze dragon, his shimmering scales and beastly spikes crowning it's reptilian head. Though scary as it was, Cynthia could not deny that it was a beautiful sight to behold. "Are you frightened?" Daenerys asked coyly, "I'd thought you'd seen a dragon before." There was something so sophisticated about her presence that made Cynthia want to kneel before her, something undoubtedly respectable. She was just a child, and she became a queen. Remarkable. "Your reaction says otherwise." The dragon edged closer to it's mother, purring almost as it's claws scraped the stone floor. "Viserion, it's alright." She hummed quietly, placing an affectionate hand atop the beast's large head.

"He's, uh...He's much smaller than the other one." The dragon hissed at Asher's observant words, tugging the smirk further up Daenerys' face. She scoffed, a smooth hint of a laugh escaping her fine lips, as she raised an eyebrow towards the Forrester. It would have almost been considered flirtatious, had Cynthia not chosen to idolise her sister upon meeting her, instead of hating her for even looking at Asher. "Would you like to touch him? Go ahead." Her alluring tone was questionable, but no one seemed to flinch at her voice, or the invitation laced within it. "Unless you are afraid." She was taunting him now, pushing her luck with the only living family member she had left. Not smart, even if she didn't know it at the time. "Of course, a man who has really faced a dragon before may have reason to be afraid." Her voice had lost it's sultry flare, and was now a flat challenging monotone that Cynthia recognised in her own voice. Voices emerged from over Cynthia's shoulder, but her attention remained fixed on the reptilian creature before her. Something about it seemed...appealing. And she was sure the same could be said for her sister.