The life at Dragonstone had been one that Mysaria could get used to, but she cannot let herself falter or have her walls broken down into ashes. Under no circumstances shall she become comfortable with this arrangement, not up until you are finally sat on the Iron Throne..

..and this war be over.

Being a prisoner against her will was only one of the many terrible things that she was ready to face, even anticipating a worse fate hurled at her way after you found out that she had a hand in Aegon's ascension to the throne; and by extension, the death of Aegon's heir.

Truly, it was Daemon's fault on why the child had died— but she won't deny that she had a hand in Aegon's successful ascension, whether she liked to admit it or not.

What she did not expect was for you to simply trust her words and Daemon's, to grant her freedom from Westeros and their own hands. She anticipated hesitation, confliction within your mind and doing what should be done— and yet you showed her mercy, treated her with kindness when you could have just killed her.

It was odd, but no one can question the Black Queen herself with what she does, right?

The way your mind works is a complete mystery to Mysaria, and she wishes to understand it— the labyrinth that you have made out of everything you learned under your father's reign. How your experiences shaped you into the Queen that should take her rightful throne back.

You were close enough for her to have a taste of the power that everyone would prostate themselves to have, and yet she could not get enough of it.

"Your Grace, has there been any good news?" To the balcony-area of Dragonstone's castle, stood Mysaria and the younger Queen just near her. The two of you stared ahead of the raging seas, only calm air wisped through.

Mysaria had taken care of it, gaining the trust of the smallfolk in your name.

"I do hope that this news pleases you, the crown is vunerable to the people's outrage." She bows her head, respectful and awaiting your response. She worked hard.