"You will need to take it easy for a few weeks, months at the most." He instructed, "apply this cream to it every day, it will keep the wounds clean, and always have fresh bandages every two days. You should not engage in any sparring while you are healing, internally, you are still gravely injured and if the skin continues to tear, it will cause more damage."

Valencia nodded to his words, and soon after he gave her some Milk of the Poppy to soothe her painful body. He left soon after.

She excused Dacey and Astraea to clean themselves up, considering some of their clothing still had her blood on them, Dacey more than Astraea. For some time of the day, she ate and regained her strength and soon had Lord Lomas brought to her, they had things to discuss.

"The people are happy you are in good health, Your Grace," he spoke entering her chambers, he pivoted around her, keeping his usual smile on his face. "They all wish you a quick recovery, so that you may rule as you did."

"Thank you, Lord Lomas for taking care of things while I recovered," she closed the door. "This keeps me ing great confidence that you will do well while I return North."

Lord Lomas frowned. "North, Your Grace?"

"It is time I return, the longer I sit here, the more vulnerable we become."

Lomas nodded. "I understand, Your Grace."

"I will need some ships built in the meantime," she strolled over to the table where a map resided. "We received two hundred ships from Renly, I would like another hundred, so that when the time comes we can take Kings Landing."

"Is there any particular ship you desire?"

"A personal ship, supply ships, and galleys. I should hope they will be done as quickly as possible." She then pointed her finger at the map. "We will sail for the Crag, I believe Robb is still at Riverrun, from the Crag I will take some of my men and ride for Riverrun. I hope we will regather our forces further South."

Lord Lomas listened to her commands. "Do the other Lords know of this plan?"

"No, I was hoping you could tell them," she admitted. "I will only trust you to ensure they listen, for my injuries have left me open with weakness."

"The Lords love you, Your Grace," he assured, "you are their rightful Queen."

Valencia smiled and looked to her feet. "Thank you," she raised her hand and patted his shoulder, "you have served me well, Lomas."

~~~

SHE SAT IN THE GREAT HALL ONCE MORE. Sitting on her throne of dark wood, in a light dress of violet fabric, and her crown she stared down at the man who attempted to take her life. He was dressed in rags, filth covered him from head to toe and he smelt of sweat, piss, and shit. Valencia held no sympathy for him.
His dark hair was matted with mud and blood, his face swollen from a heavy beating no doubt from her guards. She noticed he had a heavy limp when he first arrived, and he was clutching his ribs. Still, she held no sympathy for him.

"You stand accused of attempted murder, and treason against Valencia of the House Baratheon. How do you answer these charges, Elios of Dragonstone?" Astraea's voice called out in a tight firmness, her eyes shooting daggers at Elio. Valencia also noticed the tight grip Dacey had on her sword. It made Valencia feel safer than ever before.

Elio began to cough, spitting out a spat of blood. "Guilty."

Valencia rose to her feet, swallowing her pain and unsheathed Renly's sword, allowing it to hang by her side. "I, Valencia of the House Baratheon, First of my Name. Princess of the Storm, Queen of the Stormland's and the North, rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the Andals, and the First Men, sentence you to die." She turned to Dacey, "take Elios of Dragonstone outside."

Dacey smirked and stomped down the steps leading to the throne, she slammed her fist into Elio's gut, he doubled over immediately as she grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the floor.

Valencia felt nothing.

Astraea came forward next and grabbed him by the collar, dragging his sorry ass outside before throwing him to the cobblestones, Valencia walked slowly behind.

She began to hear his cries for mercy, as some of the guards began to beat him senseless.

They were completely surrounded by the soldiers of Valencia's arm, and the folk that lived inside the walls of Storm's End.

"Put his head on the block," Valencia ordered, pressing her hand to her shoulder, preparing it for the heavy swing she was about to deliver.
The guards grabbed him by the arms and slammed him on the wooden block, jabbing his throat at the same time so hard Elio began wheezing for air. None showed him mercy. No one would ever show mercy to those that harmed their Queen.

Dacey and Astraea stood at her side, but far enough that they wouldn't get nicked by the sword.

Valencia looked down at Elio, watching him look back at her. "I only did what was asked," he admitted. "Your uncle, Stannis asked me to do this. I swear it."

Valencia's face did not show any emotion, the pain in her body was the only thing fuelling her rage now. She said nothing, but instead...lifted her arm, and brought her sword down.

THUD!

Pain ripped through Valencia's shoulder as she brought the sword down and cut his head clean off, she could feel the tearing of her stitches, and the leaking of blood. She swallowed her pain and watched as his head bounced on the cobblestones, blood spurting out everywhere and getting on her shoes.
She watched the light fade from his eyes, the headless body fall from the block, and his head roll onto the ground. One of the guards proceeded to kick it back to her.

Valencia bent down, and grabbed him by his hair, lifting it high, her men screamed for her. "Bring the spike!" She bellowed, and without hesitation, one of her guards brought forth a large spear. She took the head in both hands and stabbed it onto the spear with a hideous crunch.

"Take it onto the walls," she grumbled, "and feed the rest of him to the dogs."

The guard holding the spike nodded, "yes, Your Grace."

"Valencia?" Astraea's voice called over the hollering of her men.

The Queen turned and look to her handmaiden, who's eyes were narrowed in concern. Valencia glanced to where she was looking, seeing a darkening pool of blood staining her gown. The Queen said nothing and left the courtyard and moved back inside the Great Hall.

She no longer desired to be worried after.

~~~

IT WAS THE EARLY MORNING ON THE THIRD MONTH WHEN HER SHIPS WERE FINISHED. She was brought from breaking her fast in the Great Hall and brought to Shipbreaker Bay, where all of Renly's two-hundred ships resided, along with the new one-hundred ships Valencia had commanded be made.
They were to sail on the morrow, but first, she was to inspect every ship. Only a quarter of the ships weren't galleys, the rest were supply ships that would transport all the supplies the Tyrell's had left behind in their haste to leave. The galleys however were long stoic ships, built for war and the rough sea of the Stormlands. The sails were a crescent white, long and wide, arching high around the mask. The wood was carved with delicacy, and the banner of House Baratheon flew high on each ship.

When it came to Valencia's personal ship, she was flabbergasted none say the least. It was the largest and the fasted of all ships. The wood had been painted black, the quarter deck stairs railings were rimmed with silver vines, the wood a deep ebony also. The sails were a bright white, so bright it stood out amongst night, she had combined the sigils of House's Stark and Baratheon for her flag. It looked somewhat odd but still stood together. But what made her extremely happy, was at the front where the bowsprit was, the carpenters had carved the head of a stag and a doe into the wood. The stag's antlers were wide and strong, it's eyes filled with emeralds. The doe was the most intricate, it seemed like they had carved fur into the dark oak, lines embedded within the wood, giving it a elegant look. It's eyes had been decorated with shining sapphires, clearer than the bluest ocean.

Valencia had named it, 'The Black Doe'.

She was more than happy with the vessel, and she finally felt like a Queen.

A Queen ready to conquer.

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