For almost her entire life, Daella Targaryen has lived as Mellara Rivers, the bastard daughter of Arnold Arryn and cupbearer of Lady Jeyne Arryn. First and trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daella had but slight contact with her fami...
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T E N
We are not just art for Michelangelo to carve He can't rewrite the aggro of my furied heart ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Daella held the torch in front of her, watching the trembling shadows it cast in front of her. She had managed to glip inside the Dragonpit easily enough, for the Shepherd holding watch was sound asleep, by favour of the Gods. Daella could not blame him, for she could not imagine there was much to do as a Shepherd during the night, and she had made use of that fact gratefully. She had managed to pull the iron door open by sheer will, creating a gap just big enough for her to slip through, after which the door immediately fell shut again, nearly crushing her in the process.
Now she was walking through the corridors leading to the cave, a big bag filled with meat she had stolen from the kitchen resting over her shoulder. Daella might not be good at dancing or horseback riding and she might not be a dragon rider yet, but if there was one thing that she could do with her eyes closed, it was making her way through secret passageways and always ending up at the right spot. After walking a certain route once, whether it was through a castle or on the streets, it remained in her mind for a lifetime.
Hearing deep breathing in the distance, Daella held her pace for a moment, seriously debating whether she wanted to go through with this. Immediately giving herself a mental slap, she continued walking, holding the torch out in front of her. At last, she found the cave, at least four times the size Dreamfyre's had been.
Holding her breath, Daella stared at the two dragons in front of her. She had thought Dreamfyre was large, but bronze Vermithor was at least twice her size and Silverwing, though smaller than Vermithor, was still bigger than Dreamfyre. In perfect unison, the two dragons suddenly opened their eyes, revealing their reptile-like eyes as they took in the invasion of a stranger in their home. Both had become riderless over twenty-five years ago with the death of the Good Queen Alysanne and the Old King Jaehaerys, and their last ride had been ten years before that, making Daella wonder if they were even used to the presence of men besides the Shepherds.
Taking a deep breath, she started humming an old song in High Valyrian and knelt down to lay the torch on the ground. "Not too long ago, a girl was born in the Old Valyria," she sang, flipping open the bag at her side with the utmost care. Vermithor and Silverwing followed her movements as she dug into the bag, her hands clenching around a piece of raw and bloody meat. Cautiously, she held it up for the dragons to see, Vermithor letting out a huff that sent clouds of smoke up in the air, and threw it in Silverwing's direction. "She had the prettiest of smiles, the whitest of hair and the bluest of eyes. She grew up to be admired by many, but loved by few and longed to fly the skies."
Daella felt the cold sweat drench her clothes at the sight of Silverwing opening her jaws and roasting the piece of meat with a sea of flames. The rise in temperature could be felt immediately, causing Daella to let out a nervous chuckle as she found a new piece of meat. "She was a Targaryen, of the lesser dragonlords in Valyria, but oh, she would ascend," she continued gently, throwing the piece of meat in the direction of Vermithor. The great beast lowered its head, sniffing loudly at the piece of meat, before he suddenly drew back and lit it afire too. "Of dragons, there were many, though few were bound and one night, she decided to make one her friend."
