The Precarious Crown
Status
Summary
The moment blood exuded down the steps of the Great Sept, a match was struck, lighting a fire that the Queen should've been able to extinguish. It never took long for moths to find a flame, especially if said moths had been caged for so long. They were thirsty for freedom, for power, for blood, and knowing the short span of their lives, would fight tooth and nail to obtain it.