πππ¦π π¨π ππ‘π«π¨π§ππ¬ || πΎπππ πΎπππππ πͺππ πΆππ
"ππππ'π π΅ππππ," their father always called it. Could make a man or woman wild in a sense, unpredictable, and powerful. And when a violet-eyed twin born to the Lord Eddard Stark, all knew that the boy would have it. And he did.
Beside his twin, Jon, Benget Stark was raised a Wolf, with the Tully fish, Catelyn, deeming them as bastards to Ashara Dayne, even as their Lord Father claimed them legitimate with the Lady Ashara. And by the laws of Gods and Men, under the New and Old, Benget Stark held claim to both the North and to Starfall, to Ice and to Dawn, but he had to fight to earn such rights in his own eyes of violet.
Secrets were something Benget despised, even as he kept his own from the world around him. Silver hair he kept hidden behind black was one such secret. One that would follow him to the end of his days.
"ππππ'π π΅ππππ," the Lord Eddard had said it was, but Benget only believed it to an extent. Blood wasn't what made someone special--what made them better than others. That's what he believed, but as his life moved along, as opportunities presented themselves to him, when struggles and hardships beat him, when all the cards were on the table, Benget started to think about what was flowing through his veins and what it meant in the grandscheme of Westeros.
A singer and a fighter, a warrior and a brother, a wolf and king, Benget Stark lived a life of tragedies and triumphs that could be compared to nobody's feats other than his own. But as was his belief, he had to fight for every inch of what he was given, and for every foot for all that he lost.
"ππππ'π π΅ππππ," as it was, flowed through his veins. So too was there drive, but so too was there divide. Between the duty he held to his word, and to oaths to the people he loved, Benget Stark was torn, beaten down and would have just been another notch on the door to the Commander's tower. But there was a greater plan
