A vision of the North

"Mysha," the man moaned as he entered her, her dragons roared and she moaned. Dirty fingers dug into her pristine skin. He thrust forward, she cried out in shock, pain, and pleasure.

And then they were gone. She was now standing, her torn dress was gone replaced with thick furs. The dry summer air and hot sun replaced with a bitter cold and seeped into her bones.

"You will give them everything and they will take it all and throw you away." A voice said behind her, sending a shiver down her spine. She pulled on the fur line coat she wore and looked down at the mud-covered castle courtyard where people were argued.

"She's an outsider."

"She's not one of us."

"She shouldn't be here."

She didn't quite understand how she heard them, but she had, she turned to look outside at the funeral priers where thousands of her people laid, dead and burning.

"You give them anything and they will take everything." Kraznys voice returned. She squeezed her eyes closed.

"This isn't real," she muttered to herself.

"Isn't it?" Krazny said, this time in Valyrian.

Behind her a door opened, and a sudden dread overcame her. Somehow this was even worse than her previous vision, she'd rather be surronded by a horde of men ready to rape her than here in this place.

Someone approached and she closed her eyes. She didn't want to be here, anywhere but here.