'When you play the Game of Thrones,
You win.
Or you die.
There is no middle ground.'
In which the Princess of the Storm is spun into a whirlwind of chaotic events, all beginning with a single choice to choose Lord Eddard Stark as the new Hang to the...
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VALENCIA SOBBED UNCONTROLLABLY. Viciously, she hacked away at her bed post, not caring what anyone would say once they discovered the violent act. She dropped her dagger and grabbed her bed sheets, remembering the way Jon and her laid on them, kissing and laughing. She tore them off the mattress and dumped them in the middle of the room. Next she tore off her underdress, throwing it on top of the sheets, leaving her naked. She went into her wardrobe, grabbing the two dresses she knew Jon loved and tossed them onto the pile before slipping on a night dress so she was clothed. Angrily, she approached the fire which was blazing as her anger was, she grabbed a hot poker and began stabbing the fiery iron into the pile of clothing, sheets and memories of herself and Jon. Soon enough, the entire thing caught fire, it wasn't large which she was thankful so she could contain it.
"Valencia! What are you doing!?" Lilith's voice wailed as the door slammed shut. Luckily, Lilith had come along with some of the servants, readying her for her bath, each of them held large buckets of water.
Spinning on her heel, Valencia saw the servants frantically throw the water onto the burning mementos, all their faces alight with fear.
"What in the Gods name is wrong with you?!" Snapped Lilith taking a strong hold of Valencia's arm.
"Don't touch me," the Princess snapped, tearing her arm out of her grip and storming passed.
She went to her wardrobe, grabbing a thick cloak and a pair of boots, she threw them off and was out without another word, ignoring Lilith's yells for her. Valencia ran through Winterfell, her destination, the stables. She wanted to leave Winterfell, if not forever, than for a few hours. Her destrier stood proudly in it's own stable, it neighed in happiness when seeing her. Valencia opened the gate and grabbed her saddle, frantically tying it on before climbing on top. Just as she heard the calls of Lilith, along with her father.
With a quick snap of her reigns, Valencia was free of Winterfell's walls. Racing along the heavy moors, she travelled far from the towers of her future. She couldn't restrain the tears stinging her eyes, though none fell. Inside, she was screaming, and cursing at Jon. She truly believed he loved her. What he said hurt her, more than any wound could do. For a moment, for the smallest moment, Valencia felt genuine and pure happiness, she believed it was all real. She blamed herself for falling for him, because that was the truth, Valencia loved Jon. But he didn't.
She should have known.
But how could she? Everything he ever did or said was so true and heart felt, but now, even when she tried, she couldn't see any falseness about his actions over the past month. Valencia was blinded by the idea of love, rather than see it as some poisonous snake bite, she dressed it up in horse riding, long summer swims, and curling up by the fire. She had never expected the poison Jon would bite into her with five words.
