you pluck those strings so passionately with a flick of such delicate wrists the courts of all of Westeros fall under a spell as you play . They'd never know you were once a slave in the scrabbling filth of the capital hand picked by the late king for amusement . A foreigner ; from a far away land , with a title you've long abandoned . It pleases you enough that the queen Circe herself has brought you into her fold , a lady in waiting , though you still delight those ears of who hear you play . No one actually knows what you are , man or woman , so many think you should be burned a heretic , or be left to little finger ; and yet , the queen and her guards protect you . You can only be so grateful , for you know the horror of disobedience .
- JoinedNovember 24, 2021