𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 [𝗥𝗼𝗯𝗯.𝗦]

20

THE DRAGON

                          

VISENYA walked behind Daeron. And Ser Barristan couldn't be all the more happier in that, the protection it granted his charge was far more preferable. But Visenya had never taken kindly to following the schemes or orders of others, she could protect herself. After all, that was why she had spent years learning how to use a sword. And it wasn't all for nothing. And following the form of her Uncle Daeron while in a long pale cotton dress felt far too submissive for her liking. She could only continue to glare at the two men. Sexist bastards.

Or Visenya certainly thought they were. But she supposed it was easier to escape from the lustful eyes of Kraznys when she had them to hide behind. The man positively revolted her.

"The master says they are untested. He says you would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Should you take captives, the masters will buy the healthy ones and for a good price." Missandei spoke with little emotion, and Visenya wondered how she could speak upon the subject at all. It was utterly horrid!

Heavens above, I miss Winterfell.

They came to a stop where the field and the thousands of Unsullied stood, waiting patiently for the orders that had destroyed and slaughtered countless of families.

"And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys you send them may be Unsullied in their turn. Thus all shall prosper."

Visenya watched in barely concealed horror as her uncle led Drogon to the wretched man who was cruel beyond recognition. For he had to be, with the courage to own a business that was brought up around the building blocks of slavery and such other forms of condemnation. Drogon screeched, as if he were as horrified with the prospect as Visenya was. Kraznys simply smiled with such bitter greed that it hurt the heart of a young girl like Visenya. But there was nothing she could do on the matter. The deal was done. Visenya swallowed the bile that continued to rise.

"And I have the army? Your army!" Demanded Daeron. A stubborn look upon his rather pleasant and handsome features.

Visenya shook her head in dismay.

"It is done," smirked Kraznys.

"It is done," said Missandei.

"He holds the whip."

"You hold the whip," spoke Missandei.

"The Prince has his army," chuckled Kraznys as he admired the beautiful beast that was upon the chain he held tightly clasped in his hands.

Daeron smirked at Visenya, his hand brushing gently across her pale white skin as he passed her by. She supposed it was meant to be comforting. But her Uncle Daeron didn't manage much by it.