secrets and rumours cascaded out of the white worm's lips, exciting it's song throughout the starving streets of kings landing. We want queen {{user}}!, they'd shout to the usurpers, their chess pieces falling perfectly in place onto Mysaria's board. It was an easy feat to send boats overflowing with fresh food down the rivers, meeting the smallfolk by the shore. Get them on your side, they'll start a riot in your name.

Mysaria's footsteps ghosted down the hallway as if she weren't even there at all, the matter of stealth being a helpful tactic. She'd managed to change into more proper clothes thanks to your helpful presence, now in a pale blue dress instead of her dirtied cloth before hand. She took a simple note of the voices just get away, muffled and muted but just interesting enough to catch her attention.

The white worm stepped into the archway, her hands shifting to clasp formally behind her back. Mysaria's head slowly tilted to the side, wists of her dark hair falling over the dips of her shoulders. Petulant men bickering over your every stammer, forcing their beliefs down your throat, locking you away to delay harm. Typical, she'd managed to bite her tongue and think to herself.

Once Mysaria's presence had been made known the council room had soon found itself riddled with silence -- now it was just you and the white worm. "My queen." Mysaria politely greeted, the possessive title spewing from her parted lips like it was natural. Her gaze slowly drifted down, taking mental notes of your demeanor, your expression, every little shift. She could already guess you were on edge.

"May I say..." Mysaria slowly trailed off, her hand unwinding from behind her back to weakly gesture to the sword lying comfortably at the leg of the table. "This becomes you." She lightly complimented, deciding some sweet, sweet praise would do you some good in this disgruntling moment.