'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 SLEPT SOUNDLESSLY IN HER BED. Her face was pressed into her pillow, her lips gently parted and her charcoal curls fanning around her head like a halo. A single arm draped over her middle, Robb lying behind her, his face lying on the warm skin of her back while Valencia laid on her stomach. Although she hadn't grown fond of the cuddling, she didn't mind the warmth Robb brought her cool skin, especially on Winterfell's coldest nights. As usual, Robb would be the one to roll over and huddle against her while she normally slept on her stomach, facing away from him. But on nights like tonight, Robb would wrap and arm around her and remain close while they slept.
Though tonight was different, for Valencia's dreams came to play.
The heat was the first thing she felt within her dream. She stood in a long path, men and women either walking or riding past her. She became increasingly warm, sweat forming in thick beads across her brow and upper lip. There were men garbbed in leather, whips in their hands, the whips hitting the backs of the slaves. Long grass, double her height surrounded her, waving in the wind, the short wisps gently brushing her body. Horses passed her and her eyes followed them, but suddenly the khalasar halted.
She looked around the crowd, seeing them all turn their heads to a singular person. Valencia spun on her heel and pushed herself through the crowd before her dark eyes landed on a fair skinned woman.
Daenerys Targaryen.
The Targaryen Princess was seated atop a silver horse, the same colour as Daenerys' hair. She rode beside a withered knight Valencia had never met, nor knew of. His aged face was turned towards the young woman, he spoke words Valencia could not hear.
Then, the Princess turned and met Valencia's eyes.
Pain slammed inside Valencia's mind, scraping inside her skull like a hot knife in butter. Images scratched within her head. A man, with black, oily hair braided down his back with heavy bells and cooper skin invaded her view. Valencia stood on a cliff, beside Daenerys who was stripped naked, bent over and sobbing. Valencia felt pain erupt between her legs as the Targaryen Princess cried even harder. Valencia forced herself away from the cliffs, the pain ringing so hard through her head that sleep drifted from her.
Valencia shot awake, her breaths rigid and harsh. Sweat broke out onto her skin, and her body rolled onto her back before she sat up at an accelerated pace. Her breathing came heavy as pain continued between her legs. Wincing, she kicked the blankets and lifted her night dress, revealing blood pooling between her thighs. Cursing mother-nature, she forced herself out of bed, groggy with sleep and only now did she see the blood that stained the linens of her bed.
Her pain swept away the remembrance of her dream.
Embarrassment pulsed through her, she didn't want Robb to see her moon-blood, especially this early in their marriage. And now, those who would become aware of her moon-blood would realise that she was not with-child, which would become an embarrassment to Robb, for not getting her pregnant already.
