The Lost Dragon | Game of Thrones

Chapter Forty-Five

Fire met ice as the cold snowflakes drifted into the pyre that was burning heavily. Men who had fallen during the battle for Winterfell lay amongst the burning wood and smoke. Daario had also been laid among the men, and Violet grieved silently by his side. Blood still tinted her skin, her braid was now a mess around her head like a crown, and her Valyrian steel sword still hung limply by her side. 

Violet had experienced loss throughout her entire life, but nothing sent a chill down her spine and a fire in her heart like losing the man she loved with every piece of her. The men who were responsible were long gone, but Violet still felt the need to burn everything in her path, nothing could quench her thirst for revenge. 

Rhael stood obediently by his mother, his claws digging into the snow covered ground. He would roar to the sky every few moments, feeling the pain that was embedded deep in Violet's heart. Many of the men who were still standing looked to him with worry, but they could only hope he wouldn't release his pain onto them, as they stood grieving on their own. 

Once the fire had started to die down, and Violet could no longer identify skin from bones -- she whistled lowly, and Rhael took to the skies to hunt. The gusts from his large green wings, knocked several men off their feet, Violet walking past them stoically -- her eyes on the castle behind them. Her home. 

~

Violet stood in the doorway of what was once the orphanage of Winterfell. What once housed the abandoned children of the north, now became home to a second brothel -- several whores were seen meandering inside. Violet shook her head in disgust. What had the Boltons done to her home? This was something she would change while she was here, it was where she grew up once upon a time. 

"Violet?" A soft voice whispered from beside her, she slowly glanced over to see Sansa towering over her. Violet gave her a weak smile before pulling the young woman into her arms. Sansa had grown so much since she saw her last, she now had to look up to properly see the eldest Stark daughter. 

"I'm so glad you're okay." Violet whispered, squeezing her tightly within her arms. "Is what Theon told me true?"

Sansa nodded her head once they pulled apart, "I couldn't have escaped Ramsay without him." 

Violet would forever be angry at Theon for betraying the people who called him family, but she was grateful he helped Sansa when she needed him to. 

"I'm happy for that." Violet mumbled, turning so the pair could walk through the courtyard. 

"I never properly thanked you, Violet." 

"For what?" Violet asked through a snort. Violet hadn't felt she had done anything worth mentioning for anyone lately. She couldn't even protect Daario, she had brought him to a foreign country to die. 

"I wouldn't have been able to escape Kings Landing without your help. You gave me the first bit of hope I had once I lost my family. Before you arrived and became so determined in helping me and seeking revenge, I had contemplated throwing myself from the top of the red keep." Sansa's voice quivered as she spoke, and she took in a sharp breath as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Violet frowned deeply at her confession, and quickly pulled Sansa back into her embrace. She had lost so many people, she couldn't fathom losing her as well. It was bad enough she had no idea where Arya or Bran were, at least there was some bit of hope they were okay. If Sansa Stark had turned up dead in Kings Landing, Cersei and Joffrey would have thrown parades in the streets and had a mocking feast in her honor. Violet's blood boiled at the very thought of it. 

"You've been so brave, Sansa. And you're home now." 

"So are you." Sansa said with a smile. 

Violet smiled back and nodded her head. "Yes, I am." 

"I should thank you as well." Jon's gruff and tired voice spoke from beside them. Violet turned her head to see him along with the remaining northern soldiers and free folk standing in front of her. "We would all be dead if it wasn't for you." 

Every man nodded their head in thanks, they looked like they were on the precipice of falling over but they kept fighting on --like northerners did. 

"I wouldn't have known to come if it wasn't for Sansa." Violet told them, motioning to the red head beside her.

Jon's eyes shifted between his sister and Violet before nodding his head once more. "Then we owe you both." 

The men cheered as loudly as they could, they were all happy to be alive and have Winterfell out of the clutches of the Boltons. The free folk were still reeling from an exciting battle, and all Violet wanted to do was curl up with Daario in her uncomfortable bed back in Meereen. But she would never be able to do that again. 

Her eyes misted at the thought of him, and she quickly turned to walk towards the castle to not show weakness in front of everyone. She was a fighter, killer, and a soldier -- she could not let anyone see her as anything less than that. 

Just as she thought she had gotten free of the prying eyes of everyone, they had all started chanting something that made her whip around, suddenly not caring if anyone saw the tears streaming down her soot covered face. 

"Long live the Queen!" They shouted, every single one of them. Even the free folk were chanting it and thrusting their swords into the sky, ignorant of it's meaning. "Long live the Queen!" 

Violet sobbed as she saw every man take a knee in gratitude to their Queen. A title Violet didn't want, and knew she didn't deserve. It had felt so much different than when Stanis' army swore to her, they were standing in what she knew as home, were battle hardened, and stubborn as northerns were. And they looked at her like the leader they wanted, the warrior Queen as so many had called her. 

And for the first time in her life, she actually felt like a Queen.