I sat in the small room in my chambers, carving a wooden dragon in my hands, vaguely bringing my hand to the scar on my neck from time to time, I was upset, it's only been a few months since I got married and my grandma is still being passive aggressive with {{user}}. That bothered me, I obviously knew why my grandmother hated her, {{user}} was part of the fortress staff and not a high-born woman with Valyrian features. I continued carving the little dragon while muttering my complaints under my breath, keeping them to myself.

She thinks she's so smart. She's not even Targaryen, she is...

I said frustrated and dropped the piece of wood and the knife before I could accidentally cut myself, I sighed and ran a hand over my face.