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53 | IF I COULD MELT YOUR HEART
WINTERFELL sat at the edge of the Enchanted Lake playing with her magic. She allowed it to twine through her fingers, the girl watching the dark blue wisps.
It is quite curious — her parents both had light blue magic while she adorned a proper dark blue, close to the ocean in physical appearance.
The Enchanted Lake had not yet frozen over, but she was about to change that. She used her magic to throw a small rock into the water watching as it splashed in and caused ripples to form on the surface.
Her thoughts ran rampant, she could not believe herself. A random freakout? In front of dozens of people? Someone could have easily got hurt had they been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then again, a small part of Winterfell wishes to believe that it was her own subconscious that did not want any bystander to get hurt.
She highly doubted that was it; however.
It was not hard to shake off her friends seeing how busy it had been — plus Winterfell was fast when she wanted to be. Also ... she may or may not have used the wind.
She clutched her head in her hands and released a frustrated groan. She was confused at this point — confused with herself. Winterfell felt as though she did not know who she was anymore. And perhaps it had been that way for her entire life: the future Ice Queen ... a Protector of the Realm?
She sure as hell did not feel like any protector. Protectors are meant to be strong and she is not.
Winterfell scoffed a laugh at that — she may have had powers but she could not even pick up a sword correctly. Then she remembered that when she had to wield a weapon without using magic, a staff was her go-to. A staff was just about the only weapon that she could handle, and that was simply because her father taught her. He did wield Twinetender on the daily, after all.
Winterfell stood up, brushing the snow off her bottom. She wanted to scream.
As she walked closer to the lake stopping just before the water's edge she considered a dream she had quite a few weeks back. One where she lay in the bird's nest of a pirate ship. Harry Hook's pirate ship to be exact.
A tingle went down her spine at that aspect. That was freedom at its finest, to be free on the ocean, to explore lands and peoples and cultures ... an adventure every day...
It was a nice thought sure, and her parents could surely handle remaining the only two protectors of the realm. Actually no, because who was to say that she could not protect the realm from the ocean?
