Thread: A Ruler Of Worlds (RoleplayMaster & darkangel76)

Margaery tilted her dark head, blue eyes wide as she stared into eyes deep set on a face unlike one she'd ever seen. Heshe was certain the creature before her was some sort of manwas strangely beautiful as if he'd fallen from a distant star high up in the heavens. Perhaps the seven gods had sent him to her, to guide her as she woke from the flames encircling her body. She'd heard rumors of the 'dragon mother', 'the storm born' living in exile across the sea. Dragons could not burn...yet, somehow she did not burn despite her lack of Targaryen blood. This was a sign that she belonged on the iron throne, that she was destined to rule. She knew it with all her heart. The starman stepped closer, dark eyes blinking as his mouth began to move. Margaery took note of how his muscles rippled and moved. He was pure strength and fluid grace. His voice was soothing, so unlike Tommen's. Where was Tommen? She licked her lips, her eyes flitting toward the ground as she listened to the strange speech, which suddenly became understandable. Her cheeks reddened when she realized she was naked, bare and vulnerable, exposed to this strange being's scrutiny. The only thing remaining was the necklace she'd found, a small trinket she'd discovered before coming to Kingslanding to be wed to Joffrey. She'd delighted at the find, flaunting the precious pendant any time she could. Loras had often teased her about the jewels, finding her in bed wearing nothing but the pendant and chain. Most might have thought it improper for the two to see each other in such a state, but she had no shame and the bond she'd held with her brother was strong. Loras! Where was he? Margaery felt her eyes prick with tears as the memory of what had happened began to set in. Loras had just confessed, one of the High Sparrow's most devoted having mutilated his flesh in front of all to witness. She'd sensed the danger then, everyone else oblivious...even Loras. How had she survived? How had she become a dragon? She hardly knew as she stood there before the starman, a hand reaching up to touch the treasure about her neck. Queen? Margaery asked, her hand falling to her side. She'd thought the necklace a simple indulgence, not something from afar, that set her apart. Slowly, she approached the strange, yet beautiful man, her eyes glimpsing more of his kind kneeling before her. Behind the man who held her attention was a glittering palace. She'd never seen anything like it. Is that my palace? she asked pointing toward the craft. Am I to stay there? She had so many questions, her head swimming with this new reality set before her. Not one to let an opportunity go, she reached out her hand toward the starman. Take me home. Three months later... The sky was pearly gray, a damp chill in the air. Winter was coming and it hardly mattered how far south one traveled. The bitter air followed along with the fear. Sansa sat close to the crackling fire, though she'd been told not to let the flames get too high. They called attention to unwanted things and she'd unfortunately dealt with her fair share of the unwanted. A shiver ran along her spine just then, as she rubbed her hands together and tried to stave off the cold. Just a few feet away, Sansa watched her new guardianan unlikely protectoras he set about their modest 'camp'. Suddenly, she heard a soft rustle, her head turning quickly at the sound. She pushed her fiery hair out of her eyes and immediately caught sight of a monster! They'd been nearly everywhere, stopping at nothing until they fed on your flesh, gnawed at your bones. The thing gurgled and sputtered as it approached, causing her to gasp and try to move away. Sansa tripped over a fallen branch, landing with a hard thud against the cold, unforgiving ground. But the monster didn't hesitate, didn't stop. It's lifeless eyes were trained on her body, on her pale skin as her dress hiked up about her thighs. To him, she was nothing but warm blood coursing through veins as her heart pumped and her chest heaved. S-sandor! she cried, tears already staining her cheeks, tiny hands pushing at the frozen dirt, while she tried to get away. But the monster was nearly upon her, his rotted mouth gnashing at the sight of her pretty flesh. Sansa whimpered as a decaying hand grabbed her ankle, desperate to get her close enough so his teeth could sink into her porcelain-pale skin. He was strong and his breath putrid. Suddenly she felt stupid for asking for the small fire. Ser Sandor! Sansa sobbed again as she covered her head and braced herself to meet the inevitable, to meet the only thing welcoming her in such a dire momentto meet death.