The Lost Stag

Valar Morghulis

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                    Valen sat at the edge of her bed as Grand Maester Pycelle carefully bandaged her left eye. "You are fortunate, princess. Had the blade gotten closer, you would have lost that eye to the gods," he explained.

                    "It wouldn't have happened at all if you had returned with your brother," Cersei spat from her spot by the fireplace.

                    "I will not run from a fight! I am a Baratheon, not a coward," Valen gritted out.

                    "And if you don't grow up, you will meet the same end as your father," Cersei reprimanded in a cold tone, then walked out.

                   "Would you like something for the pain?" Maester Pycelle asked.

                   "No, I no longer need your services Maester," Valen said tiredly. Pycelle bows his head, then turns and leaves. Valen stands from the bed while removing her armor, that's still covered in mud and blood. Out of nowhere, her bedroom door is thrown open, revealing a heavy-breathing Sansa. Before Valen can ask what's wrong, Sansa runs forward, throwing herself into the brunette's arms and kissing her. Tears of relief run down Sansa's cheeks as Valen wraps her arms around her. "Sansa," Valen whispered between kisses. The young Stark couldn't help but love how her name sounded on Valen's smooth lips.

                    "I'm sorry," Sansa whispered, but Valen shut her up by brushing her lips against Sansa's.

                    "It's in the past...what matters is right now," Valen whispered as she ran her thumb over Sansa's lower lip. Sansa didn't understand what she felt for Valen, but she didn't want to ignore it anymore, not when she could have lost her tonight.

                    The next day in the Throne room, Lord Tywin Lannister rides a white horse through the gathered crowd. Tywin is a tall, slender, broad-shouldered man in his fifties. His arms are thin but muscled. His once blond hair was now white and slowly receding with age. It matched his rough white beard. Even though Tywin's pale green eyes flecked with gold, they didn't shine with grandfatherly love. No, they were as cold and emotionless as his heart. From the throne, King Joffrey Baratheon addresses the room. "I, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, first of my name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby proclaim my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the savior of the city and the Hand of the King," he announced. A page bows before Tywin presenting a pillow with the Hand's brooch laid atop it.

                    He accepts the brooch, "Thank you, Your Grace," Tywin says, then turns his mount and rides out of the room.

                   "Lady Valen Baratheon, step forward," Joffrey ordered, surprising his sister. She stepped out from the crowd and kneeled before her brother. "For your bravery and honor in the battle of Blackwater, I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Storm's End and the title Lady Paramount of the Stormlands. You will hold all its attendant lands and incomes along with your future sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time," he announced, surprising everyone.

                    Valen bowed, "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, then walked back to Sansa's side.

                    "Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward," Joffrey ordered. Petyr Baelish steps forward and kneels before Joffrey. "For your good service and ingenuity in uniting the Houses of Lannister and Tyrell. I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes to be held by your sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time," he announced.