Charlotte was born a royal, a princess. A Lannister. Through the acts of thievery, she ends up in Winterfell, being raised by Lord and Lady Stark. As Jon Arryn's death has come to pass, King Robert needs a new Hand. Who other than her father, Eddard...
"When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the packs survives."
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Charlotte's POV
The coolness of the rocks creeps down my spine, sending a chill through my body as I push myself farther into the crumbled wall. I want nothing more than to shrink to the size of an ant and crawl away. Shadows began to appear around the rocks, covering the ground with darkness. Guards are surrounding my hiding spot.
From their shadows, I see the long swords gripped tightly in their hands. Would my father be able to save me? Was this the end?
"Show yourself!" A voice booms behind me, coming from the King. He wasn't going to kill me... I pull my cloak over my face, shielding my appearance as I stand up. I hold my arms out in submission, clear of weapons and rocks. "Turn around!"
I listen to his words and pivot my body around in a slow and steady manner. The gaze of the crowd pierces into my entire being, some recognizing me from the stray strands of blonde hair falling onto my cloak, while others wonder of the mysterious girl.
"Come forward!"
A member of the King's Guard approaches, and grabs me from behind. Both of my arms remain immobile as he drags me over to the King. "Please let me go... you're hurting me." My words disappear in the air as I shake with fear. The Guard's grip only tightens.
He shoves me onto the ground at the King's feet. The sheer force of the fall jolts my hood back, releasing the storm of strawberry blonde waves. My father spoke highly of this man, Robert Baratheon, and his defeat against the Targaryens. However, as a man standing in front of me, any previous knowledge of him is completely erased from my mind.
"What is your name?"
My green eyes search his circular face for any signs of remorse, but only find depravity through the depths of his very dark eyes. "Charlotte, Your Grace." He steps back slowly, one hand floating over his mouth. However, my attention focuses on the Queen standing behind him. Her pale face brightens against Winterfell's cold air. A reminisce of hope unfamiliar to me.
I hear my mother's voice parting through the crowd, and soon see her face as she stares at me on the ground. Fear, unlike anything I'd seen before plasters on her face. "Charlotte!" My father follows right behind her. He pulls me from the ground, embracing me with warms arms. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
"Father, I'm fine," I huff into the blowing wind.
The King and Queen approach. Rumors flew through Westeros, that the Queen no longer loved her husband. However, the shared pain in their eyes makes me think otherwise. "Ned, do you know this child?"
My father nods. "Robert, this is Charlotte. My eldest daughter." He pulls his arms away from me, and I jump behind my mother. My eyes remained visible as my head sticks above her shoulder.
The Queen steps forward, not caring of her gown dragging through the mud. There was something familiar about her, in her slow movements and constant staring that shocks me. "You do not resemble a northerner..." Under her scrutiny, she looks me over from head to toe.
King Robert breathes heavily, "Cersei, it's not her. There is no possible way that this could be her. You are giving yourself false hope."
My eyebrows furrow with question. Who her? Who in the seven hells are they talking about? The Queen turns back to him. "How do you know Robert? How do you know? I mean... look at her..."
My eyes are the size of saucers, frozen and huge. Everyone eyes continue to stare, even my family's staring remains unfamiliar. Did I do something wrong? Jaime, the Queen's twin brother, approaches his sister. "Come on. You need some rest." She pushes her brother away with unrelenting strength. "Jaime... I know it's her." Her words mix with pain and certainty.
I look up at my father. "What is she talking about?" My father's face holds a guilty expression, refusing to answer my question.
The Queen, by now, speaks in delirious mess as she argues with King Robert. Between whispered words and unspoken secrets, the two of them would glance in my direction. My mother stands closely beside my father and I, reaching for my hand and massaging it softly. I search her eyes for answers, "Stay quiet for now, my dear. Your questions will be answered."
The inhale and exhalation of breath remains the only sounds for minutes. Both of my parents' stature remain frozen, as if standing against the winds of winter. Surprising me, the King and Queen part and come to stand on either side of my family. Robert stands nearest my father, and Cersei stands directly in front of me.
She offers her hand to me in a slow motion. I look up at my mother for reassurance and she nods with regret hidden in her blue eyes. I reach for the Queen's hand, as if diving into the unknown. Of all of the times to share in royalty, and this is the circumstances that I'm given. Not a bountiful feast or dancing party, but the courtyard of Winterfell in front of strangers.
The Queen tries to pull me closer to her, but I only budged a few inches. The Queen places her hand on my cheek softly. "May I?"
I nod hesitantly, not sure of her intentions.
She reaches up and pushes away the curls gathering around my neck. As she reaches the edge of my cheekbone with her hand, she smiles softly, rubbing my birthmark with the edge of her thumb. "Robert... I told you. It's her."
