How she yearned to feel her magic again. The iron chains didn’t burn like one would expect, rather it repressed the magic that left her with the constant feeling of drowning. Even the strongest magic users found them impossible to break, if she even attempted to use her powers wearing them the pain that would radiate through her body was unimaginable, she learnt that from experience the first couple times. Their chariot of slaves were ransacked and now there were only five of them left, all linked together by chains, marching along horses for three days without food or water until they came to a camp, larger than any she had seen, covered with a blanket of snow. Daenerys knew those banners like the rest of the women with her, a few of them already shedding tears for what was to come. Of all the places she could have been, out of all the vile rulers she’d come across, the times she had disguised herself with slaves, Jon Snow was the worst fate any magic users could cross paths with and now it was the same of her and the other women his men captured.
It wasn’t long before the sound of their chains clinking together filled the silence as they were tossed down to the floor and the air shifted. For a moment she hushed the other women with their small cries causing their captors to laugh before they stopped abruptly which caused her to look up, only for a second capturing that man’s piercing gaze that rooted her to the floor. It was then she knew their fates here were sealed for good.