BLACKBIRD (Game of Thrones)

CHAPTER ONE

Grey Wind was weary of the Southern Princess, but soon began to warmup to her. They would sit in her tent for hours, Grey Wind's large furry head against her lap, her hand in his hair fur, gently stroking back to hair from his eyes and ears. Every now and then, Grey Wind's wet pink tongue would slip past his lips and lick her knee, his tongue meeting the rough fabric of her pants. But every time he would do so, Valencia would smile a little more than usual.

The dreams she had continued to plague her sleep, stirring her from her desperate slumber, earning the worried attention of Robb. She was quick to snap at him for worrying and spent her nights away from him. Just lying next to him flared her with anger.
Some dreams were of random people she did not know, some were of Sansa Stark being beaten by Joffrey, and some were of Arya crouching at the statue at the Sept of Baelor.

But her favourite dream, by far, was the ones of dragons.

She had seen Daenerys Targaryen, naked with soot smudges over her bare skin. She was crossed legged, sitting on top of a fallen pile, but what was strange about the sight was not her exposure. But the three dragons wrapped around her body.

One, the green and silver was sitting in the palm of her hand, hiding her sex. Another, the cream and gold one had slithered around her calf, his tail whipping around her thighs. And the last one, larger than his brothers was black as charcoal, standing tall on his mothers shoulder, commanding respect with his small screeches. She enjoyed seeing the magnificent dragons, wondering whether or not dragons used to look like that. And when she woke that following morning, wondering about the all-dead creatures, she saw the red-spiked comet running through the sky.

She had heard many tales of comets and their meanings, but this specific one she heard in many stories.

Dragons. They had returned.

"Your Grace, the Kingslayer wishes too see you," a voice said from behind Valencia, breaking her thoughts. She slowly turned around and met the strained face of Roose Bolton. Even when he attempted to be kind and offer a small smile for Valencia, she could see he was straining to do so.
She bowed her head and said kindly, "thank you, Lord Bolton." She turned away from him and cast a glance down to the direwolf in her lap, her fingers still gently stroking the soft fur of the enormous wolf.

"Would you like an escort?" Roose asked, his voice hoarse yet quiet.

Valencia shook her head, "no, I will be fine," she turned around once more and met his eyes. "But bring me a cup of water, and a roasted duck, even prisoners need to eat," she said gently pushing Grey Wind off her legs.
Roose Bolton frowned at her as if she was delusional. "Your Grace, Jaime Lannister is a prisoner, he is our enemy and you wish to feed him." His tone was slick with mock, his head slightly shaking at her words.

Valencia stood to her feet, annoyed already by the questioning Lord.

"Lord Bolton, do not question my actions. I do not care if he is a prisoner, or if he is an enemy. I know him, and I consider him to be an equal," she snapped,  "so do as I say, or there will be consequences." Roose nodded before leaving, grumbled whispers drifting passed his thin lips, Valencia ignored them and began leaving her tent.

The former Princess of the Seven Kingdoms hadn't changed much over the three months since Robb's crowning. While she transformed into a cold atmosphere, her beauty remained the same.  Her obsidian hair had become even longer, reaching farther than her waist, shining with life, her sharp features had become even more gaunt. Many seemed to admire her handsome features, her pearly white skin illuminating with the depth of the North. The Southern glow she once had was no dulled down to the paleness of the North, retelling her once almond skin to a porcelain white. She resembled a Northerner now, with her black hardened eyes, pale skin, and gaunt shaping.
She moved in a pair of leather pants, and a boiled leather doublet, her wolf cloak nestled nicely on her narrow shoulders. She gracefully moved through camp, heading for the makeshift cages, her destination; Jaime Lannister.