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THE DEATH OF A KING
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VALENCIA DRIFTED FROM THE DREAM. She opened her eyes in her bed, feeling the stinging of tears, and the ache of a lump in her throat. She couldn't be sure if this was real or not, her father couldn't die, he just couldn't...he was all she truly had. Valencia attempted to sit up and stir herself from her deep sleep, only to pulled back into the depths of her own mind.
She was back in her fathers chambers, standing at the bed post with Eddard Stark sitting next to her father's death bed.
Tears pooled in her eyes and she let them fall, her body felt strange. Her stomach felt empty, her throat stocked with sobs, and her heart was hollow. She wanted to call out for someone, but no sound came
"Write down what I say," Robert said, his voice rougher and just over a whisper.
Only Robert, Valencia and Eddard were in the room. Everyone else had cleared out, and she had missed the single most important conversation of her life.
"'In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of...." He cut himself off having a fit of coughs, "you know how it goes, fill in the damn titles. 'I hereby command Eddard of House Stark' title, titles. 'To serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death, to rile in my stead until my son, Joffrey....'" He paused for a moment and Eddard stopped writing hoping Robert would name someone else as his heir.
"It should bloody be Valencia to sit on that throne, not that boy," he choked hoarsely, he coughed before continuing. "Until my son Joffrey comes of age' give it over," Robert commanded holding his arms out for the parchment and quill. Eddard pursed his lips hoping that Robert would not see that he had in fact, not named Joffrey the heir.
Robert thankfully signed it without a glance. "Give it to the council after I'm dead. At least they'll say I did this right, this one thing. You'll rule now. You'll hate it more than I did, but you'll do it well. The girl ... Daenerys. You were right. Varys, Littlefinger, my brother... worthless. No one to tell me 'no' but you. Only you. Let her live. Stop it, if it's not too late."
Valencia's eyes went wide. Daenerys? What did she have to do with this?
"I will." Eddard vowed.
"And my son...help him, Ned. Make him better than me," Robert begged his voice becoming more strained and quieter.
"I'll do everything I can to honour your memory."
Robert scoffed. "My memory. King Robert Baratheon, murdered by a pig...." He trailed off as his head rolled to the side, a look of self-disgust in his eyes. "Give me something for the pain," he wheezed, "then let me die."
And so Valencia of the House Baratheon watched with teary eyes, as maester Pycelle ventured into the room, followed by her uncle Renly and witnessed Pycelle give her father Milk of the Poppy, soothing his pain.
She watched as her father's ragged breaths eased into slow, painless ones. His younger brother, Renly watching after he dismissed Pycelle. They exchanged no words, except an agonising silence with Valencia sobbing without sound beside them. She observed as her father's dimly lit ocean eyes became as empty as a bottomless pit, turning to grey stones of lifelessness.
And with a final breath, the King Robert Baratheon fell limp, his soul vanishing from this world.
Valencia shook for a moment. Her skin trembling on her bones, her bottom lip quivering as if she was freezing cold, she felt the flood gates inside her fill to the brim, begging to be released. Then, the gates burst.
A strangled cry left her lips, her screams echoing throughout the room, Kings Landing, and Winterfell. The South and the North combined through her pain, they all heard her, the pained wails of a grieving daughter. The gods could hear her, and they smiled, they painted this in the stars, the beginning of Valencia Baratheon, and everything she would become.
As she wailed, her body in Winterfell thrusted forward. Tears fell down her face in buckets, her eyes wide open in fear. Her hands shook, not knowing what to do with themselves. Valencia trembled, as an arm wrapped around her back, leaning her into his side. She sobbed until her throat ran dry, her nose dripped and her head pounded.
Valencia's clouded eyes adjusted to the darkness around her, seeing Robb's arms wound around her while he whispered things that she couldn't hear. Her skin felt like pure ice, her nose ached, and the first few licks of stained cheeks brushed her skin. Her tears froze on her face, making her cheek feel stiff. But she didn't stop crying.
She sobbed uncontrollably tears pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, "Valencia, what is wrong?" Robb asked as her hearing began to form normal once again.
"I saw him," she gasped out. "I saw him die, he was right there." Her sobs became louder.
Robb reached up and grasped her cheeks pulling her head away from his chest so he could meet her eyes, he noticed the coldness of her normally warm flesh. "Who? Who did you see die?" He asked, a crease forming in his forehead.
She took a deep breath, her breaths shuddering, "my father."
Robb sighed and shook his head, "Valencia," he began. "Your father is in Kings Landing, perfectly alive. It was just a dream." The Princess frantically shook her head.
"No, it wasn't, I saw him!" She exclaimed beginning to squirm around. "It was a boar! It struck him in the side, believe me, please."
Robb cupped her cheeks firmly and gently shook her, trying to find stir some sense. "Valencia, it was just a dream," he coaxed gently stroking the side of her face soothingly. She merely shook her head and sobbed.
"No, no...I saw him," exhaustion strangely began to fan over her, drifting through her bloodstream and drying up her nerves. Her tears slowed before stopping all together, but despite the sudden tiredness of her expression, her voice continued out in tiny whimpers. "Believe me, Robb. Please...I'm telling...the truth."
Robb pressed her close to him once more, gently kissing her forehead and coaxing her back into a peaceful slumber. This time, without any dreams.
When word finally arrived two days later sounding of the King's death, Valencia had never been more distraught. And Robb was more confused than panicked, for his wife had somehow predicted her father's death.
And after the raven came, Valencia would not speak, nor eat, and she barely slept. For days the only noise that would leave her chambers were the heavy sobs from her throat. Her food had not been touched, and she refused to leave her bed.
She had swept the curtains to a close, the windows drawn, leaving the room with a musky smell. Her routine consisted of waking, weeping, and sleeping once more. Most of the time, she couldn't sleep. Her mind was plagued with memories of the past, and slamming into her violently. Servants came and went, they would leave her food, sometimes a bath. But once they returned, her food would be untouched, and the bath water run cold with bugs littering inside. Sometimes, they would attempt to open the curtains or windows. Valencia would then scream at them with whatever voice she had left.
In her slumber, her dreams were her only comfort. Sometimes, she would grow confused and think it was real. Her father as the way he was, showing her how to shoot a bow. Or to pick up a shield while a sword slashed her way. She dreamt of when he brought her to Storms End for the first time, telling her tales of the men before her. But her dreams wouldn't last long, she'd wake once her brain realised it was indeed a dream. There, in her bed she would lie awake all night. Staring at nothing but the ceiling.
At times, maester Luwin would come in and see her. He would talk to her, offer his condolences, check her to make sure she had not grown sick. And often, he would get her to eat, what little she could eat. When Robb would come, he would hold onto her as she weeped. He stroked back her hair, and brought her water, but she remained still and void of emotion. He hated seeing her like this, it was the first time he saw her so torn, and it was completely out of her character.
Lilith had attempted to help, and had got her bathed. Despite that she had carried Valencia to the bath and bed. She managed to get some food into Valencia, though she refused more than a few bites. Lilith jested and told stories whether they be true or not to lift the Princesses feelings, but none worked. And she remained in her bed longer.
It was on the fifth night when Valencia had sat up from her bed by her own free will. It was on that night when she swallowed her tears, closed her eyes, and opened her mind to the memories she had of her father.
He wasn't the best, but he was still her father, her blood. Her family. He taught her many things, and spoiled her, and dotted on her more than any of his other children. The others, her half-siblings and their bitch mother who hated Valencia and her father more than anything in the world.
Then, something clicked.
The Lannister's.
Hate field Valencia's body, pooling like a deep river and boiling like meat on coals. Cersei, she did this, she must have. She was apart of Robert's death. The Lannister's thirsted after the throne far before Valencia was born, and they continued to do so after she came into the world. And now that Valencia was out of the picture, of course something would happen to Robert, leading to Joffrey being King. And with Joffrey being King, Cersei held the Seven Kingdoms in her grasp.
Then the door to her room opened. Valencia turned her head and met blue eyes. Robb offered a comforting smile and moved slowly towards her.
"How are you feeling?" He asked. Valencia allowed the corners of her mouth to pick up for the first time in days, for now, she had a purpose. She outstretched her hand, wiggling her fingers,
"Come to me."
Robb, unsure of how to proceed slowly made his way to her. He moved in front of her after taking her hands. She slowly stood to her feet.
"I should have listened before," she admitted, a new look in her eyes.
Robb's brows furrowed, "what do you mean?" He asked as his hands ran up her arms, trying to comfort her.
"The Lannister's had something to do with Bran's fall, and I believe the same goes for my father's death," she explained softly, her eyes locking with his.
"How are you so sure?"
And then, she explained everything. From Cersei wanting the throne, to the hatred between the women, to the undeniable characteristic that Cersei only wanted her eldest son of the throne. It didn't take much convincing for Robb to believe her.
Robb swallowed thickly once she was done. "If what you're saying is true, then it's treason."
Valencia nodded, "I want to declare war on the Lannister's, I want to kill Cersei," she began fiercely. "You and I will take everything they hold dear, Casterly Rock will be burned, their Lion banners will burn. Their legacy will be torn from our history. And we shall kill every Lannister there is."
Her eyes had turned into black, narrowed slits. Her voice low and threateningly, for a short moment, Robb feared her anger. But it was swept away quickly as she spoke the words.
"Winter is coming for House Lannister"