The Broken (Bran Stark x Reader)

Chapter 23: The Game of War

One of the most damaging things one could do is to shut the door behind them, and allow the feeling of bitter isolation consume their every thought. As loneliness is the only thing left in that room when you leave everyone on the other side of the door. Loneliness that breeds anger and resentment. To find comfort in the empty dark is like finding comfort with your own destruction. Though, maybe that's the only way she could cope.

She can only cry into her blanket until her tears run dry. Then she would scream into her pillow until her voice gives way. Her eyes could gaze upon the ceiling, puffy and sore from all the sadness, but give no physical reaction or emotion at all. But, that did not mean she wasn't feeling them every aching moment. Her chest felt empty. Her heart was breaking.

Has anyone been able to explain how the world works in such an unjust way? Is that why mankind took it upon themselves to make it just? It so, it has only grown more corrupt in our hands. Only most cruel and unforgiving and unfair and-

Daenerys stops her thinking and closes her dry velvet eyes. It would do her no good to pity herself now. If man was the one to make unjust then maybe it was woman who must fix it. She has done her duty to claim what is rightfully hers. She has been sold, a slave, a victim, and a killer. She has led armies and tamed dragons and sailed across an unending sea. Now, she will fight the dead, and win, then she will destroy those who have done far less than her for the crown.

To her- it does not matter if you are a Stark, a Lannister, or even her own blood. She will take what is hers, by force or otherwise, and she will be queen of the new world. No one would stand in her way and not be burned to their knees. Not anyone. Not even you.

A fake wide smile and a few head nods was the extent of her pleasantries. She would snap back to Sansa, all the while looking at you as you sat at the end of the dinner table. How fitting- Daenerys thought to herself- that you sat on the head of the table across from her. As thought you were a Queen yourself. A Targaryen Queen, without a dragon of course.

And, you only had yourself to blame for that. Though not even Daenerys was sure she really meant what she said when she promised you it. If you could really have given her the North and she really did take the Iron Throne, she might have considered it. Or, she might have just burned you alive when you asked. It doesn't matter now, because only the latter is the option for you.

It seemed as though you knew that too. When you looked at her you hadn't given her the same shy awkward eyes you had when she first arrived. You looked at her dead in her face, with no emotions. She wondered what you were thinking, though it had looked like there wasn't a readable thought in your face at all. She wasn't good at picking up nonverbal sighs or signals, so to her she assumed you meant the worst. As did she.

"May I be excused." You ask in your soft call voice. Everyone looks up at you, everyone but Daenerys who had been looking the entire time.

"You've barely touched your food again." Sansa points out. "You need to be strong for the battle."

"Where exactly will I be in this battle?" You finally ask what you've been thinking this whole time.

"Maybe the crypts would be best for you, as a woman." Daenerys suggests with a smile.

"As a woman?" You repeat with disgust "if it weren't for you Dragons you'd just be a woman too." You remind her.

"Yes, but luckily I have dragons. What do you have exactly?"

"I know how to work a knife, and swing a sword, I'm not exceptional, but I know how to." You argue "what do you know how to do besides ride your Dragon? I'm sure I'd kill a thousand more wights than you with a Dragon and a sword in hand."