Love and Control - A Game of Thrones Fan Fiction

Chapter VI - Arienne

I think that I should probably specify to those of you who have read the books now that Arienne is NOT supposed to be Arianne Martell. I understand the similarities between them, but no, they are not connected in anyway.

Sorry, just remembered that.

Anyway, please keep reading and thanks!

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The first thought that enter's my mind when I set eyes on him is that his portrait doesn't do him justice. He is handsome, very handsome in fact, with clear blue eyes and blonde hair cut just above his eyebrows. He's tall, he must be near to 6ft, and though he isn't broad shouldered like Zach, you can see that he is strong beneath the expensive garments he wears, fit only for a king.

As we waited outside of the Iron Throne room, I've never been more petrified in my entire existence. Not even when I was hiding in the Weirwood, all those years ago. I'd been scrubbed and polished, primped and perfected until I looked more beautiful than I ever had done before. The sea air had been scrubbed violently out of my hair by Dafina. She insisted that she didn't mean to hurt me, but my aunt had told her if she wasn't satisfied that I was clean enough, she would wash me herself. I'd endured silently, knowing that Dafina's touch would be gentler than my Aunt's talons ripping out hair.

I'd been nervous anyway, but seeing the man who'd been in the chamber before us dragged out, that brought my fear up to new heights. The man was a beaten, bloodied pulp. One of his eyes was swelled so much that he couldn't open it. That is how I know he must have been tortured mercilessly.

He was dragged past us by two men, neither of whom looked at me. But the man they were dragging, like an animal they'd shot on a hunt, bringing it back to be skinned and eaten, he gazed up at me through his good eye, and I see all of the pain and hurt that he has suffered at the hands of Joffrey. He did this, the man tells me, and he begs me silently to be careful. I nod, showing that I understand, and then he looks away.

As the doors open, I realise that i'm quivering slightly. Then there's a sharp, painful pinch on my arm. I jump, and spin around, seeing my aunt is the culprit. She's glaring at me. "Stop shaking!" She snarls. I turn back around, and stop myself from shaking instantly. I fight the urge to rub my arm as we are called to enter the room.

I try to walk with confidence, but I keep my eyes down, not wanting to set eyes on the monster who was responsible for so much damage to this world. I expect him to be an imposing figure with malevolence in his eyes and hatred in his heart.

But as I get closer, I feel his eyes upon me, watching me as I draw closer. I dare myself to look up. And I lock gazes with the King.

He is handsome, as I said. But in his eyes, I see something that I can't explain. I don't know why, but I get the idea that there is something more to him, that he hides from everyone else. A King musn't appear weak, at all costs. That means other's will try and asurpe him. My uncle taught me that.

He also said, in secret, that Joffrey feels he must live up to the reputation of his father, and show his power in a way. He does this through cruelty and injustice, proving that nobody may touch him. He is, in a way, invincible.

But I know that he is not, every man can die.

We stop at the end and I bring my gaze down again, staring at the polished floor. I can see my own reflection in it, the dark hair, the red lips, the violet eyes. Maybe that is what he finds so entrancing, it's not uncommon. Many people stare at my eyes because they are such a strange colour. It gives me a small amount of comfort to convince myself that it's only the shade of my eyes that he is looking at.