'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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FOR SOME TIME, DAHLIA WEAPT. Her eyes were run red, her nose itchy, and her cheeks stained with tears. Her sister, her beloved, beautiful sister...gone. What had been done to ensure her such a cruel fate? When it was announced that she was gone, Edric wasted no time in pulling Dahlia out of the crowd. They still had a job to do, if not for Valencia, than for her cause. They would still help Valencia's husband, Robb Stark in hopes of seeking revenge against the man who murdered their sister.
They had travelled for a number of days, and well into the night. Each day, Dahlia would find herself weeping for her sister, rubbing her swollen eyes and wiping her running nose. Valencia deserved better than to die the way she did. But over the days, due to her grief, Edric had not been as rude as he normally was...he was surprisingly kind and attentive. Regularly, he suggested they stopped so she could eat and drink before they'd continue, and at times he would allow her to ride on his own horse so that she may get some sleep. And once, he had given her a piece of cloth to rid herself of her tears. She had been grateful for that.
It was hard to find a distraction from Valencia, considering that herself and Edric did not speak much and the country was wide open for thought. The only thing she could focus on other than Valencia was Tulip, and the copper chain hanging outside Edric's armour.
She could see it now, peaking out and shimmering in all it's coppery rust, it was queer against his chainmail. She once again saw the etchings on the ring. She leaned forward on Tulip more, her neck straining to get a peak at the writing. Her lips parted, her grip on the reigns loosening.
Her eyes almost caught the gleam of a few golden words when she felt herself loose her grasp on the reigns all together. Her feet slipped from the stirrup, and her body hit the ground roughly within seconds.
Her eyes, which she had squeezed shut from impact opened as her lungs lost air. She gasped for air like a fish out of water, her ribs ached and her hip stung. She wrapped her arms around her knees, the feeling of tears prickling her eyes. She expected to hear Edric laughing at her clumsiness, but instead he was kneeling down, trying to coax her into sitting up.
She groaned and squirmed, Edric grasped her arms as gently as he could muster and pulled her to her feet. "Being winded may hurt, but we have to keep moving," he coaxed. Her head began to pound at the sudden impact, and her legs felt like water. Her side still stung, and she held a hand to the soft skin, knowing there was going to be a bruise.
"Come on, you can ride with me." She nodded without complaint and let him get her up on the horse easily, he then tied Tulip and the pack horses saddle to his own. He nestled in front of her, so she could hold onto him as they rode through the morning.
They rode all through the day, into the late afternoon, and the darkest parts of night. The only time they stopped was by a stream so they could refill on water, and release themselves.
