» 10/1/2020 - ivar x targaryen oc «
In the great City of Pentos, inside of the Magister's extravagant mansion, there was a young princess. Her hair, silver and silky, tumbling down her slim back in loose strands and untangled braids. She barely re...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
═════ ╫ ═════
It had been days on the open sea, and the Targaryen princess had been tied up since the raid. Her arms ached terribly to be free, but she did not dare to try and communicate with any of the raiders who had taken her and all these innocent people. In fact, she and the other captives remained in a silent vigil, only speaking in whispers amongst themselves, and using rags doused in salt water to clean each other's cuts and scrapes.
A part of Visenya was glad that she at least wasn't alone in all of this, as selfish as it sounded. She had made two friends on the boat so far, which was a comfort. One of them was a girl named Tyene. A Westerosi name, which was strange for someone born and raised in a Dothraki settlement. Tyene was a girl Visenya's age (seventeen summers) who was beaten and raped during the raid, but she had a strength about her that made her keep her head held high. Visenya was not sure if she could live with herself if she were ever sullied in such a way, and admired Tyene's strength.
The other woman was older and wiser, an old maid named Melda. She was kind and quick-witted. She was one of the few women who were not beaten nor raped but had been taken anyway for her skills in herbal medicine. Something these raiders apparently valued. Melda had been the first to talk to Visenya since the raid.
"The one who took you is named Bjorn Ironside, it is said," Melda claimed in Old Valyrian, the Targaryen mother-tongue, and held a hand over Visenya's shoulder. Melda's heart-shaped face wrinkled up in a smile. "He is the leader of these people."
Visenya stared in shock. Her eyes then darted around to make sure no one was listening before she shifted closer to the woman. "You know Old Valyrian? And you know the language of these savages?" she asked in a hushed whisper.
The old woman smiled warmly at Visenya. From then on, Melda was Visenya's constant company, answering her questions and teaching bits and simple phrases in what she called 'Old Norse'. According to Melda, a Nordic man once travelled to Essos in search of adventure when she was a young girl, and he taught her his language before he left to travel further inland.
Time passed since then with Melda and Tyene, and the journey was hard, but at least it wasn't lonely. Visenya remained stoic under the eyes of the savages. She made sure her leather pouch was tightly tucked away within her tied-up arms. Despite Bjorn not taking the eggs, it didn't mean she trusted him not to take them later like he had with Dark Sister. These people have proven to be quite unpredictable.
Another day went by and they were still on the open ocean, and none of the captives have been fed or watered since the raid. Visenya's lips were parched, and her skin was turning a light pink in the sun and began to sting. She was too pale to stay in the sunlight for too long, she didn't have the tanned skin and black hair that the others were gifted with. One of the men, some random raider, on the ship seemed to catch on though and threw a scratchy blanket over her head while laughing.
