zcldrizes:
There were few things in this world that the mother of dragons could not abide. Slavery was the first – to wear a chain, to be caged, to be treated as naught more than chattel for the abuse of those who pleased. Perhaps above all others, that was what she loathed above all others. But betrayal was not far behind. To place one’s trust in someone, to have that trust torn apart, to be made a fool for giving it in the first; well, that was unforgivable in most circumstances. And in her young life, the Targaryen had known the bitter taste of it all too well – had more to come, if prophecies told the truth.
Still, the day would bring what she never thought to expect.
Petite frame rested on the throne she might once have sat on, in place of the one her family treasured so much so far from here. Chin raising, at the announcement that someone had come for her, she beckoned with a hand. “Let them come.”
The great hall of Dragonstone was just that; an impressive structure built to intimidate both captive and comrade and Doreah certainly wasn’t the latter. She’d come of her own volition, no captive by any telling but how easily that could would change.
The doors swung open on heavy hinges, a dull creak resonating through the hall and suddenly she was there. Daenerys Stormborn, ever the queen Doreah remembered and more, seated upon a throne of black stone, the stark contrast of her white hair making her all the more regal. This was a mistake. She would be cut down before words ever left her lips.
Doreah stepped forward into the room, boots padding softly on the stone floor as she slowly came to stop before the throne. She would be recognized, she knew. Nothing of her appearance had changed. After a brief hesitation, the Lysene girl lowered to her knees, hoping the act might strike pardon from the Targaryen queen. “ Khaleesi... ”
