Mother of Wolves (Game of Thrones)

I Can Still Stand (Valyria)

When I woke up, my leg ached. I could not seem to remember why, but I saw that I was still wearing the green dress I had worn the night before, for the feast. In fact, the feast was the last thing I could remember right now.

I looked around and saw that I was in the castle infirmary. My dress, which was one of only two, was cut open at the side. When I sat up to inspect what had happened, I felt a dull pain, but I saw the blood on the bandage around my side.

Deciding that I wanted to know how bad the cut was, I removed the bandage. It was a shallow cut, more of a scratch than anything. After a few days, it would heal and be just a little cat scratch. The question is, how did I get it?

My leg was still hurting, even though it was become a thumping sort of pain. I saw that I had another bandage there, but underneath it was a lot of stitches, but the wound was hardly there. It was a stab wound, but that was all I knew and understood.

Was I stabbed in the leg? Had I been attacked? Why could I not seem to remember anything? Where was everyone?

That was when it all came back to me. I had been attacked by a crazy, hell-bent Targaryen supporter. He had been rambling on and on, holding a dagger to my throat. I knew I should have taken my sword, but I had decided on being stupid and not taking it!

***Two Day's Ago***

As I moved outside and sat down on a rock, outside of the Great Hall, I heard a rustling sound. I ignored it, expecting that it was Tyrion Lannister, finally showing up to the feast. How wrong could I possibly be?

A man put a dagger to my throat, and I had not heard any more than the rustling. Even if I could stop this man without hurting myself, this dress was too tight to allow me the movement I would need to pull it off. That, and the dress would get in the way.

"Pretty little Valyria Stark," the man said, sounding sickly sweet. "Such a pretty little thing. I see that the rumors are true. I suppose if it were not for me, you would get to fall in love again. Ser Waymar Royce, now, he loved you very much. Too much if you ask me. Such a shame I hated him. For you, of course."

I felt the blade move and it was suddenly pointed at the base of my throat. I tilted my head up to avoid the blade and to look at my attacker, just in case I survived this and he got away, which was proving to be unlikely, seeing how he seemed to know what he was doing. All he had to do was press the dagger into my throat a little and I would die.

The man's face was covered by a hood, but I could still see parts of it. He had black hair and dark blue eyes. That was all I could see of his face, but his hand was creamy white, with a long, pale scar that ran under his sleeve

"It would be such a shame to waste my prettiness, do you not agree?" I asked, trying to save myself. "Of course, I could understand if you wanted to kill me while Waymar was alive, but not now. He is dead, so even if you did not kill him, feel victorious. The man you hate is dead! There is no need to attack me. It is rather pointless, don't you think? Actually, that is not why you really want to kill me, so tell me the real reason why."

I was attempting to buy myself time, but I was unsure of how long this could last. Of course, I could talk all night to save myself, but he would probably get sick of me and kill me anyway. I needed to think of something better than this.

"Killing you is a victory for the Targaryen's!" The man yelled. "Your own father helped kill my King! His own daughter is named after my king's original home! I will end you and everyone like you! King Viserys Targaryen will return and you will die!"

Since the man had moved in front of me, and I could not think of a way to buy myself more time, I kicked my leg up and hit him in the balls. He went down, crying out in pain. I then kicked him again so he was looking up at me.