GOT: A Story Of A Snow & A Queen

Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Call of A Queen

"We found a way for me to contact my people."

"Wait does this mean?"

"I don't know, I don't know." 

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Angie POV (FLASHBACK TIME)

What's a royal princess like me supposed to have?

Oh, perfection, charisma, submissiveness, flawless behavior, collectiveness. All of these words are supposed to make up me, the youngest princess of Winterfell. But, there's just a tiny problem. I know for sure that I have not a single drop of Stark blood, thus making me an outsider, but I had never fit in.

I remember mornings playing tea party with my sisters that were little toddlers at the time, though even when we had our stuffed toys and play dolls lined around the table in little chairs, it never felt like a real playtime. My five year old self would be overzealous, and instead of carrying on the happy mood like a happy child tune, I would find myself, with a touch of my hand, erupting the stuffed bear's limb. Sansa and Arya ran away screaming and running off into the distance, while my mother gave me a stern look, before rushing over to retrieve Arya and Sansa, sadness and guilt enveloping me like a sticky, thick syrup. It was just a one-time thing, so what's the big deal?

You thought right. Events like those kept happening and continued to grow worse, and my parents, of which I grew more distant from, their idea of the perfect little princess expanded like a large balloon. The droppings of love and empathy they held in their bodies for me drained out of their systems like a sink, until everything was overly formal as though I were talking to a strict teacher. My powers grew to the highest length I could ever have imagined, and my little eleven year old self, at the time being, had little to no control over my powers. Blindly, like a stray dog, I followed my inexperienced father's advice, and forced myself to believe being locked in a dimly lit dungeon cell, with chains and metal cloaked around my hands was exceptional as I heard the moans of distaste and excruciating pain of the other prisoners echo around the barren dungeon and fog my mind like an overplayed depressing song.

I felt so hated. So loathed. The only people I had were my vast number of siblings who, thankfully, still loved me. Sadness overwhelmed my figure and weakened me like a strong virus, my limbs shaky and my eyes filled with rivers of thick tears that swarmed my vision.

Until, that is, the death of Ned Stark and Catelyn Stark occured. Not really did I feel any sadness, nor did I feel anything at first few weeks as the fresh wound of their deaths was cut into me. All I felt was the ringing in my ears, the numbness that erased every single emotion. Eating, muttering a few words in monotone, consuming water, and resting was the only four things I did. But after, something shifted. A plant of happiness bloomed in my body like the most beautiful sunflower to ever exist, as my mind contorted around the wonderful, splendid thought I would dream about. Becoming my own, wonderful person. A loved, bold role model striving and battling her way through society instead of a beaten, abandoned wolf left for horrors in a dark, forgotten corner. And yes, I was able to control my powers somewhat, but at times situations happen, the only fact that can support this is merely "Sometimes things happen."

Until now, mother and father, I have recently lost my powers from such a long story that could not be mentioned. I managed to become my own person, in fact, I have a lot of friends that are specially gifted. In fact, they have powers too, of which I know you dislike. Each one of them are unique and extravagant in their own stunning way, mother and father, yet, I start to believe you only see bad and not a single particle of the good. I hope I was able to become your perfect little princess, but, quite frankly, I do not give a damn. I am my own, happy person that's connected with so many amazing people, knowing that my hands engulf my world instead of being chained in that horrible dungeon.