|Book 1 to the Reign of Fire duology series.| FEATURED ON WattpadGoT!|
Daemon Targaryen x Oc.
"You stole the lion's bride, and you expect to walk out and declare mercy upon your soul? My boy, loving her has started a war you won't win."
Twenty-four...
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CHAPTER 2.
❞𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒...❞
THE SOUND OF RUSTLING CHAINS embarked the sound of episodic waves, against the hull. Golden threads of morning light glisten through the deck's floorboards above, occupied by busy men. A bitter fog clung to the bounteous waters of the sea. Gentle rays cascaded amongst her porcelain cheeks. Celeste's eyes gently fluttered open, and her hand shaded the warm rays that kissed her eyelids. She inhaled deeply, her opposite hand brushed over a bristle-like material; straw.
Celeste ignored the small, translucent, droplets that trickled through the floorboards above. She propped herself up, using her elbows. Slow and shallow breaths exited her nostrils, as her eyes adjusted to the cramped cell she sat in.
Other women, both in different variations of sizes, and shapes, accompanied her in a cell opposite side of the room. She jumped to her feet, aproximently almost losing her balance.
Her head felt heavy, and her eyes momentarily closed. Celeste's hand gripped onto a cool, metal, bar. She kept her palm rested against her forehead until that heavy feeling retreated. A piercing cry startled her, making her heart skip a beat. Across the room, was a cell with four other women and a young boy. The child was aproximently four years of age, his shallow wails made her mind finally comprehend her whereabouts.
Unease swelled inside her chest, like a pathogen amongst a healthy tree. Celeste could feel the rhythm of her heart exceed its speed. Her palms gripped the bars, and panic settled within her chest. She couldn't recall her last desperate attempt to hold onto her freedom. In wine there was wisdom, and the sweet fragrance carried freedom amongst Westeros. In a strange paradox, she despised the saying. Henceforth, she no longer had faith in the saying her father; Corlys, once told her when she was young.
"Where are we heading?" the words spilled from Celeste's lips, as she replayed the thin thread of events she could recall.
"We're on the Albatross, en route to Mereen. Where we'll be serving our new masters. I didn't think you were going to make it when you arrived." a dark-haired woman confessed.
By appearance, she was younger than Celeste perceived. Only a teenager, she clutched onto the young boy, who was easily intimidated by the slightest sound or the sight of the men on board.
Obsidian waves draped over the sides of her face, concealing the beautiful features of her face. Her golden-hued skin was coated in a small layer of grime. The woman kept her eyes lowered to the straw below her, hoping she didn't upset Celeste with her confession. Celeste rubbed her raw wrists from the cuffs that kept her wrists bound.
