||Sorcerer OC||

Not in the original timeline!

Elorrah was born in the Summer Isles, not to silken hammocks and spice-sweet breezes — but in chains. Sold before her eighth nameday, she tasted starvation young, learned silence to survive, and still dreams of the blood-soaked sand where her brother, Jaqarro, was flogged to death for stealing bread. At ten, she was dragged through the marketplace of Volantis and bought by Maelira, a Red Priestess known as much for her magic as for her mercy.

Maelira saw in Elorrah something dangerous — not just power, but will. Under her tutelage, Elorrah learned to read, speak, kneel, lie, and command. She studied the tongues of flame and the shadows of death. At twelve, she attempted her first necromantic rite to bring back Jaqarro — only to raise a decayed horror that nearly killed her. Maelira slew the creature and held her while she sobbed. “You cannot breathe fire into dust, child,” she said. “Even gods know rot.”

By seventeen, Elorrah had become a priestess in her own right. Her beauty had bloomed, her tongue had sharpened, and her sermons could sway hardened killers to kneel. Though devoted to R’hllor, she worships power above all else — and has never forgotten the men who took her childhood.

At twenty, a raven came from the Iron Throne. King Vaeren Targaryen requested her counsel. She ignored it. A second raven followed. Then a third — with gold, and promises, and the weight of a king’s curiosity. That, she could not resist.

Now twenty-one, Elorrah walks the red halls of the Keep in silks stitched with fire. She whispers in the king’s ear, dines on figs and red meat, and has her own guards. She fears no lord, but is feared by many. Gold flows to her like wine, and rumor says the Queen dares not look her in the eye.