'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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*WARNING! POSSIBLE TRIGGER OF SEXUAL ASSAULT!*
PRINCESS MYRCELLA WAS DEPARTING KINGS LANDING. She was to marry Prince Trystane of House Martell when they both came of age, but despite the somewhat happy news of an alliance between House Lannister and Martell, it took a toll on Myrcella and Cersei. The family of lions, along with members of the court and their guards all stood in the harbour of Kings Landing, giving the weeping Princess her farewell. Dahlia had been put in front of Sansa Stark at the ceremony of Myrcella's departure. Joffrey had enforced she stand with him, with his Lady standing behind him. The Hound was on her right, whereas Joffrey her left.
The High Septon of Kings Landing waved an oil lantern, his hand making gestures as he muttered gentle words of the Seven. "May the Seven guide the Princess on her journey. May the Mother give her health. May the Crone give her wisdom. May the Warrior give her courage..."
For some reason, whether it be by boredom or not, Dahlia couldn't pay attention to the Septon's words, or the crying Princess, or the sobbing Tommen. Her mind was elsewhere, residing on the sheer comfortableness she felt having the Hound standing so close to her, protecting her as he was ordered.
Though it hardly felt that way anymore.
Her mind was soaring with this beast of a man. For weeks he had been her guard, escorting and guarding her wherever she went. He had spoken to her a little more, but kept up with his stand-offish attitude, not that Dahlia minded. But as time went on, Dahlia began to see him more than he let on. She could tell that his strong facade was not real. If anything, it was to hide the anguish in his heart. Dahlia could see in his sad eyes that he wore his pain on the inside, as many did, but his pain had been building for a long time. He held in so much rage it terrified her of the things he could do to others, and it seemed killing was the only way to release his anger.
But Dahlia prayed one day that would change for him, that it was no longer anger and hate that drove him. That some day, he would find love in his heart for another, and they would return it.
Dahlia occasionally glanced over to the man with the sad eyes, taking a long look over him. She knew he was handsome, take away the scowl and he would be the most handsome man she had ever encountered. Dahlia was well aware of the burns, but she did not care. His coarse beard was enough to make her knees weak, his shaggy brown hair, sharp eyes and strong nose were also contributing factors. She found herself wondering what her favourite part of him was. Was it his eyes? Or his nose? Perhaps his height? Perhaps his burns?
She picked his height, she enjoyed how he towered over her. How his large body stood against hers, he made her feel so empowered whenever she stood with him. And even though she didn't know how to fight, she felt as if she could standing with him.
