'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 MOVED SWIFTLY THROUGH THE LARGE CAMP. The ground covered in a thin layer of snow. Northern soldiers littered every turn and corner, all of them bustling about and waiting for battle. They had been riding for days, trying to think of a battle plan, most becoming frustrated with every waiting moment. But once they had finally arrived at the death trap that was Moat Cailin, the tension began to grow more and more between the Northern Lord's.
Lilith walked loyally beside Valencia, the two brunettes moving to the command tent where themselves, as well as the other Northern Lord's were called for a meeting.
Once inside, Valencia took her place next to Robb, Lilith remained at her side, pushing passed Theon who attempted to stand his ground but lost to the brunette handmaiden.
Robb stood at the head of his men, all of them looking to their Lord as he explained their current dilemma regarding Tywin Lannister's split army. "The River Lords are falling back with Jaime Lannister at their heels, and Lord Tywin is bringing around a second Lannister army from the South. Our scouts confirm its even larger than the Kingslayer's." Valencia glanced down at that map, inspecting the carved wooden lions and direwolves scattered amongst the Northern territory. "One army or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts 10 times as large," Greatjon spat, his eyes growing wide before standing to his feet, something was in his view, something that shocked him. Valencia's brows furrowed as she turned and met Lady Catelyn's eyes, her face clearly in shock as she saw her son.
Valencia somewhat understood what Catelyn felt, her son, her firstborn now a grown man, leading an army of roughly 20,000 men. Valencia had noticed his change also, how he wore his armour, shining and polished. He sword, clean also. His hair had also grown longer, the red curls pooling around his ears. A beard beginning to grow on his cheeks.
He looks like a true Northerner, she said to herself.
Every head turned and eyes widened at Lady Catelyn, with Ser Rodrik at her hip.
"Mother," Robb grinned moving closer to her. He sounded like a child excited to see his mother, he looked younger now than he had done in a while.
Catelyn looked at her son with what seemed to be a stone in her throat. "You look well," she spoke her eyes still wide.
"Lady Catelyn, you're a welcome sight in these troubled times," Greatjon beamed courteously.
"We had not thought to meet you here, my Lady," Theon chimed.
The mother of wolves turned to her Lord and Theon, "I had not thought to be here", she admitted, "I would speak with my son alone. I know you will forgive me, my Lords"
Lord Umber nodded without hesitation. "You heard her! Move your arses! Come on, out! Come on Greyjoy, you bloody deaf?" He bellowed, pushing the banner men from the tent, his eyes landed on Valencia. "You too, my Lady." Since she showed her clear dominance at the feast, most of the Northern Lord's grew a fondness of her, especially Greatjon who seemed a little nicer to her, while maintaining his brutish charm. But even with this fondness, still came distrust, for she was a Southerner, and no marriage would change what's in her blood.
