Hands of gold are always cold.

Gold. The woman had always wondered why humankind loved it so much. As soon as something was rare, as soon as something was unique, everyone had to have it. If rocks had been unique, they’d have gone for that. A ridiculous trait. One that caused people to hurt, even kill others. Simply to obtain what others didn’t have. She was lucky to have been born in Vanaheim, where people still lived off normal trading, where not everyone was blinded by gold. Yet.

When she heard singing, she walked towards it. Her horse slowly followed her, guided by her hand. She ignored the people who watched her, the people who thought she was out of place. All she did was simply walking towards the singing, where she came to stand still and looked at the person. With her black makeup and black horse, she stood out in the city of Gold. Yet, even when she heard the soft whispering, she didn’t care. She had always stood out, had always been gossiped about. She was used to being alone. All she cared about, was the actually interesting sounding singing that was still going.

When someone started talking to her, she expected it to be a guard. Her relationship with the Queen wasn’t too great now and she stood out between the common folk. But, apparently it was someone else. An older man. “The Queen asked me to come,” she said, slight annoyance dripping from her words. She disliked the woman. The Golden Bitch. “It’s treating me like it treats everyone. Showing off a heap of gold and hoping that we’ll fall for it.” She looked back to the guy singing and sighed.
“Their gold won’t protect them forever.” But their dragons would. Now, the woman wasn’t planning for a war of any kind. She wasn’t like that. But, she at least expected mutual respect, while Mrs Golden hands didn’t seem like she cared about anything but herself. If it was the most profitable thing to do, Lexa was sure that she’d stab her right in the back. She’d never strike a deal with someone like that. Never.