Alchemisland

House of Dragons how I’m willing to wait a season

Before anything major even happens

I’m a respected major, with twenty captains at hand

My cup is never far from my hand, slowly inuring myself to toxins 

All who abjure my rule, or talk treacherously, I have immured

Those interned suffer muchly, as they deserve, just desserts

My dungeons are a gallery of new hurts

Stone floors dirt strewn, names of dead men carved like runes

Barely legible in the gloom, by the time your tongue is removed

You too had reconciled it, deciding you had spoken too soon

In the end, you gained wisdom from that paling remove, proving jailing’s justice.