'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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The following chapter will differ between perspectives.
ASTRAEA'S P.O.V
BLOOD, HOT STICKY BLOOD. It coated Astraea's hands as they shook uncontrollably, her warm, brown eyes glaring down at them in shock and fear. Then, she looked to the ground where her Queen lay, barely breathing, small whispers of air pressing past her lips. Her Queen, the woman who was neither cruel or harsh to her, she had not known her long, but she saw the kindness with Valencia's heart and soul. The Lord of Light had spoken to her, whispered that Valencia had an important role to play in the future. But what future would that be now that she is dead?
The moment she had been grabbed by the prisoner, everyone had leapt into action. But no one was quick enough to stop the blade from piercing through her flesh. Astraea will never forget the way her friend screamed, how she gasped, winced, and whimpered before she hit the floor. That soul-sickening thud that would forever haunt Astraea. Dacey Mormont was barking orders at the guards to take the prisoner back into the dungeons, so he would be executed later, for all attention must be on their Queen.
Their dying Queen.
A wheezing noise drifted from Valencia's mouth, her eyelids shut, and blood continuously oozing out of her body in warm, lava-like pools. Astraea couldn't move, nor could she look away from Valencia. Even as the maester arrived and pushed her out of the way, she did not move.
For what resembled hours, in a jumbled daze Astraea watched her Queen struggle to hold onto breath, and life. Twice the maester began pounding on her chest, breathing into her mouth, and gently slapping her cheeks. But she would not open her eyes.
The Queen was dying.
"Astraea?" Spoke a soft voice.
She turned her head seeing Dacey standing before her, her hands and armour splattered with crimson. "You should get yourself cleaned up," Dacey continued. "I'll watch over her."
Astraea turned back to Valencia, noticing the sweat that had begun to weep down the sides of her face, her beautiful skin paling a sickly grey the longer the blood flowed from her. For a moment, just a moment, Astraea swore she saw Valencia's eyes open. Her eyes were bloodshot as tears leaked from them, blood staining her chin and jaw from the spurts, and her body began to shiver.
"I will not leave her," Astraea spoke, her stubbornness and fierce compassion for Valencia rearing its head. "Leave her some dignity, for Gods sake," she hissed at the maester.
The bodice of her gown was split right open, and her so had her underclothes, exposing her breasts. Astraea knew Valencia would hate being seen like this.
"I am only trying to help," muttered the grumpy maester, his bald head shining in the light.
Astraea glared at him, but looked back down to Valencia. She saw the bloodied wound of the knife, the leaking of blood, and the ghastly wheezing of their Queen. A sickening feeling burst through Astraea's belly, the Lord of Light lied to her, to both of them. It angered her grief.
