“BLL’HH!! Wssssh uurrr nnnnggghhhfff!”

Where [i]did[/i] she learn to talk like that? Was it the servants? Or was she always like this behind her mistress’s back? Sneering once Dany’s back was turned, calling her a sl— a very inappropriate name once her back was turned?

Redana inches along on her good leg like a crawling worm. She flops over and scrabbles blindly in broken tiles. Her fingers slip and she hisses into the wet leather. Healing doesn’t come. Are all of her little soldiers under siege within her torn leg, fighting off invaders that want to burn her up from within? Or are they being somehow suppressed? Has she lost her father’s favor for her failure to be the leader that Bella needed?

There. Her wet fingers curl around a sturdy enough shard with a blunt enough handhold. She inserts it within the chain and twists, hard. The chains tighten agonizingly around her, but she keeps twisting.

They’ll give way before she does—

She fumbles it. She bleats something pathetic and frustrated as it slips out of her bloodied fingers, knocked ever so slightly askew by the touch of Hera.

She looks up into the face of the goddess she could never, ever please, no matter what she offered, beaten and helpless. What does she see there?