~~~
THE STORM QUEEN
~~~
VALENCIA AWOKE WITH THE STRENGTH OF A THOUSAND MEN. She could feel the electricity in her veins, the scent of smoke drifting from beneath the Keep of the Stormlands, and the pure fire that rumbled within her belly. She could hear the shuffle of men in their armour, and the small chatter of nervous voices. The purity of the sound drove her to stand on her balcony once more and looked out into the horizon.
Valencia wondered whether this would be the last dawn she would see? Would she live to see sunset or sunrise? Would she live to see her brother and sister again? Would she ever see Robb again?
Her belly still felt hollow at the tempting news from Lilith. Although Valencia did not love him...something inside her still yearned for him, and this distance had all but made the ache for him worse. It was neither physical or hatred, but inside Valencia longed to be at his side again. But she believed they would not reunite for many months yet.
The sunrise was a beautiful orange this day, rising above the ends of the earth and greeting the sky with a happy smile, in which the sky did not return. For days, the sky had remained its unnatural grey, building with heavy clouds becoming swollen with rain. Valencia knew in her heart that the water would spill this day, that the Gods would unleash the storm it had been brewing. Valencia could only hope that she would be victorious this day, and that everything she had done would be worth it.
Before long, she returned to her chambers and looked upon her armour. The same armour Robb had gifted her with.
She felt her heart sting once again at the possible betrayal, but she ignored it and called for Astraea.
The beauty from Volantis came with a mournful face, she knew something Valencia did not. But the Queen did not question it, she wished not to.
Neither said anything while Valencia stripped herself of her nightgown. She said no word, nor hid her naked body as she slipped on a pair of leather pants and a thin tunic, nor when Astraea sat her down and began braiding her hair away from her face.
She took a hefty amount of hair from the front of her hair, braiding it tight to her scalp before bundling it all up in a large bun of ebony hair, the rest of it hang below her shoulders and behind her ears in thick, curly waves.
Valencia rose to her feet once more, allowing Astraea to clip the chainmail around her torso, arms, and thighs. The chest plate came next, connecting at her shoulders before the layered vambraces were attached to her body. The rest of her armour came on swift and quickly, far quicker than Valencia would have liked. And before she knew it, Thunder and Lightning were attached to her hips, Renly's sword to her back, and her crown in her hair.
Thats when fear began to settle in.
In her first battle she had never been so frightened, but in that time she was more focused about earning her Lords respect, and of course she had been joint-ruling at that time. But now, she was alone. There was no one to guide her, all the Lords under her rule could not help her truly, Robb was not there to guide her, not even her own family.
She was surrounded by her people, and yet. She was alone.
"Your Grace?" A masculine voice spoke.
Valencia hadn't even realised that she was at the last command meeting with her Lords, her mind had seamlessly vanished from concentration. Swallowing thickly, she spoke. "Excuse my wandering mind, my Lords. I was merely thinking."
Many sent her a questioning look, but none followed up a question.
"We were discussing what is to be done with the fire line, Your Grace?"
Ah, the fire line. In the heat of arguing in another meeting, Lord Selmy had devised that they use Stannis' own weapon against him, a sort of ironic mockery. A line would be stretched across the battle field of dry leaves, grass, and wooden, along with thick oil coating them. Once Stannis' army would charge for Storm's End, they would meet a wall of fire. Valencia was rather proud of Lord Selmy for the idea and praised him on his skilfulness, though many Lords advised against it.
Many believed that the fire priestess would be able to conjure the fire to spread towards Valencia's army, but if Valencia knew her uncle, she knew he would not endanger her life by bringing her to battle.
"We will continue with our plan of the fire line," she spoke. "Has all the other arrangements for our defence been prepared?"
"They have, Your Grace." Lord Lomas replied. "The men are putting up the final barricades now, and the others are arming themselves with spears, shields, and bows. They only await your command."
It was if the world went silent, and the only sound was the muted muffled air around the Queen. She heard nothing, she felt nothing, even as her own lips moved, giving the order to prepare for battle. She had not heard herself.
I must be brave, she told herself. Like my father before me.
Walking alone the walls of Storm's End was incredibly daunting, especially since she could see her uncle's fleet approaching in the distance. But she swallowed her fear and grasped Thunder for support, her daggers would protect her.
"Get the men into formation," she spoke with a sense of regalness. "Stannis is not far from our shores."
It was if the silence of the morning was slowly drifting away, and the sounds of war, the beating of drums, and clanging of swords were becoming more potent the closer and closer Valencia made it to the battle field.
The barricades stood tall and sharp, made of wood in thick spike formation. No horse would make it through, and if the men came in heavy crowds surely most would lay victim to the thick spikes.
Valencia, on her horse rode to the front lines, seeing the fire line in the distance. Her Lords had been smart in hiding it, making a distinct line of future violence resemble mere debris. She only hoped Stannis would not pick up on it.
Within a few hours, every man who was stationed to fight outside Storm's End was behind Valencia, some on foot, some on horse back, and some carrying large shields or spears. She could see the bravery, fear, and cowardliness in some of the men. For there were always cowards in any army.
Beside her were Lord Lomas, and Dacey Mormont, both in their armour awaiting commands.
As Valencia came to the front of her army, where the shield men were, she finally saw the first glimpse of her uncle's army. The heavy banners of House Baratheon waving in the distance, the flaming heart mocking her family name. Valencia sneered at the sight, but felt her heart lift with the spirits of seeing it burn.
And she would see it.
"Your Grace! Stannis approaches!" Yelled Lord Lomas who was beside her, atop his own horse.
She looked forward seeing he was not far from the fire line, but still a great distance. Valencia looked to Dacey, who's grey eyes met her own. "Prepare to fire upon them," she spoke.
Dacey nodded and clambered down from her horse, taking a tight hold of the reigns and giving it to one of the archers behind her. Slipping her bow from her back, Dacey prepared herself to light the fire line.
Valencia glanced to the sky, seeing the first glimpse of lightning behind the grey swells of rain. The Gods were with them this day, they were with their Queen, and her men.
"Do you see that!?" Valencia yelled into the crowd, turning on her horse to face her army. She spurred the horse into a prance, beginning to trot up and down the lines of men. "Do you see the lightning that the Gods gift us!? They are here with us today, they wish to see our victory against the usurpers!" All their eyes followed their Queen. "Today! We won't be fighting to avenge my father or Renly! Today, we will fight so we can live tomorrow!" The heavy bangs of shields erupted into the air. "Fight for your lives! Fight for your families! Fight for the freedom of our home! Stannis wants to come here and enslave us all with his false Gods! But our Gods are with us today! You will be the ones who send his head to the Stranger!"
The loud cheers burst like an explosion through the air, cheers and screams for their Queen.
AWOOOOO!
The low blowing horn of Stannis' approach blew across the field; he was coming.
Valencia rode back to Dacey, who's shoulders were hunched as she bounced in anticipation.
"Light your arrow." Valencia commanded.
Dacey did as told, pushing her arrow down into the small fire pit awaiting further commands.
The rumble of Stannis' men drew closer, the stamping of his horses coming closer and closer to the fire line. Valencia glanced to them over her shoulder, watching and waiting for them impending arrival.
"Nock," she drawled, Dacey placed the arrow at her bow.
Just a little closer.
"Draw." She pulled back the strength, the silent pull filling the tension as the flaming arrow faced towards the sky. "Loose."
The sound of the string snapping back into place echoed through the air the flaming arrow rising higher and higher until...the entire line came alight faster than Valencia believed.
The screams of men, and horses echoed across the grassy field. The men cooking in their suits, and the horses bucking them off and racing for life. Valencia smiled.
"Well done," she told Dacey, before turning to Lord Lomas. "I need you to reside with the archers at the back of our calvary. Do what you believe is best." Lord Lomas nodded, bowing to her before snapping his horse into action, returning to the back of the 20,000 strong army.
"ARCHERS!" She bellowed out, they began to bleed through the shield wall, coming through in the mass of five hundred men.
"Prepare yourselves!"
The each took their stances on either side of their Queen, ready for orders.
"Light your arrows!"
The first two men beside her lit their arrows at the pit before sharing the flame with each and every man down the line. Once they were all lit, Valencia yelled again.
"Nock!"
They slipped the arrows from their quivers.
"Draw!"
Valencia lifted her arm high, pointing towards the sky as the lines of burning men continued to scream in the distance.
Each and every arrow at her service turned to the sky, ready to unleash hellfire upon Stannis.
"LOOSE!"
The five-hundred snaps of strings burst through the air, as the arrows flew and met their targets across the field. Valencia felt her heart stir with intense nervousness and enlightenment.
"Nock!"
"Draw!"
"LOOSE!"
Arrows flew one after the one, raining down upon Stannis' men. Their burning flesh rising into the air like smoke, their screams silenced by the onslaught of Valencia's arrows.
For a moment, she wasn't frightened anymore, she was proud.
Until, the fire that had enclosed Stannis' army was no more. It was as there was no fire, and all that was left was the charcoaled bodies of the men who had charged first.
"Its the fire priestess!" Dacey Mormont yelled beside her.
Anger filtered inside Valencia's bloodstream. "Archers! Return to your posts!" The men looked to their Queen with light confusion, but returned back through the shield wall, just as the men holding those shields reformed formation. "You will hold this line!" She bellowed, "hold it for as long as you can!"
BOOM!
The roar of thunder broke through the sky, turning every mans attention to the angered sky.
Valencia suddenly felt pure fire burn through her body, swirling her angered gaze away from the sky and towards Stannis' army.
She was the Messenger of Death, the Princess of the Storm, she was the Storm Queen! This storm was for her, and for her men who would send all those who opposed them to their deaths.
"Hold the line!" She yelled once more, sweeping back behind the shield wall, Dacey following suit she kept her horse at the front layer of the other soldiers on horses, just behind the spearmen. Stannis' men began to approach once more, and even harder this time. Some were on horse back, others merely on foot, Valencia could only hope that her planned worked.
She turned to the spearmen. "Any man who gets through the wall, kill him!"
Then...they waited.
The thundering of hooves approached, the heavy rift of angered souls, and heavy hearts of honourable men approaching as the sky turned black, and the clouds began to open.
It wasn't until the first man hit the shields did the sky crack open with thunderous laughter and the waves of the sky fell upon every man and woman on the field. The water was heavy when it trickled down Valencia's cheeks, it was cold and brought a shiver upon her, though she could not care. Her focus was on the thousands of men charging for her.
Their yells for death echoed in her ears, creating a whirlpool of dying men around her. She feared for the men sworn to fight for her, but as she saw her men push back against Stannis' soldiers, she felt no fear.
"CUT THROUGH THEM!" She yelled, raising Renly's sword high in the air.
"ARCHERS!"
The archers that were on horses came through yet again, they stood taller than the shields and could clearly see over the wall of metal.
"FIRE AT WILL!"
Each arrow hit its target, either killing or wounding a man.
For so long it went on like this, arrows plunging into men, as were spears for whoever got through the wall. But her men were growing tired, as she suspected. So in a final yell, she forced the wall to break. That's when all hell broke loose.
In the heat of the wall breaking, men carrying the fiery sigil ran forward, impaling themselves onto the long spears, but their sacrifice slowed down Valencia's spearmen, allowing the others to push through. Many had died as the shields opened, many of Stannis' men, and many of Valencia's, but still, both sides endured.
"RIDE!" Valencia yelled.
Just like that, the might of horses and their riders brought forth the storm of their land, trampling along the bodies of men in their suits of armour.
Valencia and her men rode into the heart of the battle, bringing their swords and arrows down upon Stannis' men, slaughtering man after man as if it was for sport. Blood splatted across Valencia's face and silver armour.
Suddenly, an arrow clipped through the air, landing in her horses neck. Buckling to it's knees, Valencia was thrown over the top of her mount, landing hard on the ground, breaking into a roll and forcing herself onto her knees.
Her chest ached from the lack of air, and as she turned to her mount, she watched as the beautiful horse died. She had never named it, she never thought to, but this animal had been in her possession for many years. She felt a sense of cruelty wash over her as she watched it heave it's last breath.
But her melancholy was sliced short as a blade stabbed beside her head, slicing the tip of her ear.
Seething, Valencia rose to her feet...Stannis.
He stood before her, bloodied and beaten, he looked exhausted and old.
But Valencia looked like neither. She looked almost angelic, radiating with a glow the storm had gifted her. The Gods were in her this moment, radiating through her like a beacon of death and hope. Every man her blade had touched had sent them to the Gods, and they were rewarding her.
Rising to her feet completely, she smiled at her uncle. "Hello, Stannis," she laughed feeling the whip of death around her. "You still have time to surrender."
The rain belted down harder.
The look he gave her, Valencia knew all to well. She had been given that look by every man she staked her claim before.
None thought her capable of leading a vanguard, yet here she was.
None thought her able to lead an army, yet here she was.
None thought her competent enough to become Queen, yet here she was.
Here she stood, and here she would remain. A beacon of strength.
"I won't bow to you, understand that now!" He brought his sword down upon her, but Valencia was quick. She reached for Renly's sword, yanking it from the ground and slamming it against Stannis'.
In her wilful strength she sneered. "Nor will I!" She barked, "you should have known that before you came here!"
She brought her foot forward and kicked at Stannis' knee, causing it to buckle backwards. In retaliation, he swung his sword towards her, narrowly missing her stomach as she yanked herself backwards.
Valencia took a hefty step back, narrowly dodging the men fighting around them. She glanced around her, in hopes of finding a spear to fight with him at a distance, but all she found was a shield. Taking her options, she grasped the shield, thrusting it in her arms as Stannis fixed his stance.
Valencia approached, with all the anger in the world. With her heart filled with rage, and her mind poisoned by revenge, she approached him with dangerous aggression.
She stepped left, then right, then left again before thrusting her sword forward narrowly missing Stannis as he brought his own shield up.
Valencia came at him again with animalistic charge. She thrusted her sword forward once more, slicing through the air as Stannis brought his own to meet hers. Valencia swung the shield for him, allowing Stannis to break his pressure of his sword to doge her attack, only for her sword to stab forward, narrowly missing his side.
Stannis bent sideways as Valencia approached, ready to raise her shield once again. But as she came close, he cut through the air with his sword, slicing across her chest plate. But he did not break through, and Valencia cut through air and sliced his arm.
Stannis bent down, dragging his knife along her ankle, only to find steel and her boot in his face. Stannis stumbled, but Valencia continued her onslaught, slamming her shield and sword at him in rage driven violence. She managed to hit him with her shield, staggering him away from her giving her enough space to run and jump. Using her height to her advantage, she leapt into the air, her sword high and her intentions harsh, she brought the sword down only to hit Stannis shield. It was then that Stannis made second hit on her.
His sword shot forward, and as it drew back sliced along side her arm, cutting through the thin material. Valencia seethed, yanking her arm back so her sword would rip across his throat, she missed.
Stannis, using his shield slammed it against her face. Valencia heard a heavy crack, pain and blood swarming her face, drifting from her nose. She cried out in pain, feeling tears pool in her eyes as Stannis pushed forward yet again. His sword landing at her side.
In shock, Valencia gasped and bent over, her sword slipping from her fingers. She could feel the coldness of the blade, how it ripped through her material and chainmail, the tip grazing her soft skin. But it did not break.
Valencia looked up to Stannis as the rain poured down her face, the thundering booms of lightning in her ears.
He had messed up.
In his foolish attempt at ending her life, Stannis had not only missed her, but he had lodged his arm into her shield. Valencia saw her chance.
Pulling away from the knife, she bent her arm with the shield upwards, bending Stannis' arm unnaturally. She did not stop pushing until she heard the satisfying pops of his arm breaking. Stannis yelled in pain, his arm holding his shield dropped at his side.
This was her chance.
Willing the last of her strength, Valencia snatched Lightning from her side and dove the tip of her dagger at him, it's destination; his heart.
But Stannis was quick, and despite his broken wing, his other arm endured breaking her violent intentions with the pull of his shield.
Angered, Valencia screamed at him, bringing her boot up and forcing it into his gut, pushing him back with a violent snap. Stannis stumbled into the thick crowd of his men, holding his broken arm and allowing his shield to fall.
"Come back here!" Valencia roared, straightening her shoulders as she walked with the strength of a thousand men.
The storm at her back, the lightning at her crown, and the ferocity of a wild animal, Valencia was a force to be reckoned with. She was pushed, disrespected, disregarded, and mocked. But who would mock her now?
Stannis insulted her, belittled her, told her that her claim was nothing. But as his life became more and more pathetic to Valencia, was she still as he said? Was she still a bastard?
No. She was her fathers daughter, and she was a Queen.
In that moment, in that single moment, Valencia was as strong as God. When Stannis approached for the final time, wishing the last of his strength while Valencia only grew stronger, he pushed his sword forward but was stopped midway.
Valencia finger's encircled the thick blade, the bite of it stinging into her soft flesh. But she did not let go. She yanked the blade forward, slipping it from Stannis' hands and throwing it to the ground. With Lightning she deceived, but with Thunder she struck true.
She spun herself around, pretending to dive deep with Lightning causing Stannis to aim low to dodge her. She slipped Thunder from it's holster and threw the strong, swift, and sturdy danger straight into Stannis' shoulder. The blade bit deep within the flesh, and Stannis cried out in pain.
He may die now, she spoke to herself. And I would become the rightful and last heir.
The throne was hers for the taking, all she had to do was kill her uncle, a man she barely knew.
But as she looked upon him as he fell to his knees, she saw the curve of her father's face, the blue eyes and ebony hair. She saw the blackened beard he had, and the strength her father had. She did not kill Renly, another did that for her, but now, as she stood in the pits of death she could not bring her sword forward. She could not kill her uncle.
Instead, she grasped the hilt of her dagger and yanked it free from Stannis' skin, water and blood splashing her.
"At my mercy, in exchange for your life. You will retreat with your forces, and leave me alone."
Stannis looked at her with shock and bewilderment. "Have you gone mad?"
She violently grasped his throat, squeezing threateningly. "Go. Now."
Stannis looked into his nieces eyes with unknown emotion and rose to his feet, with a final look, he yelled. "Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!"
The rain continued to belt down in violent waves, flooding the grass with mud as the seas ahead of them crashed into the bay. The battle was over.
Valencia headed back for her men, yelling for them to fall back to Storm's End. They did so with heavy questioning, watching and wondering why Stannis was falling back as well. Valencia would not answer them.
She found Lord Lomas with a young boy who was bleeding heavily from his leg. He was screaming and crying in pain, but there was nothing they could do.
"Lord Lomas," she spoke with a heavy breath.
Lord Lomas turned to her with wide eyes, he instantly rose to his feet, his eyes wide. "Your Grace, you're alive," he grinned. Valencia nodded and looked back to the young boy.
"Have him sent to healers, and every other man who needs their help."
Lord Lomas nodded in agreement. "We have won, have we not?"
Valencia swallowed thickly, "I suppose we have, my Lord."
She turned on her heel, seeing the field covered in fire and dead bodies. Her men.
"We have won."
~~~
FROM THE GREAT HALL SHE SAT. Atop a large throne she was, days after the battle, her wounds healing and her body still aching, but the euphoria of a victorious battle kept her shining with an angelic glimmer. The storms had dulled and the Keep had somewhat returned to it's calm demeanour. Valencia had only lost two-thousand men in the battle, thankfully, and had taken three-hundred prisoners. All were either to swear fealty to her, be let go, or die. So far, only few had taken the latter of the three options, but many had chosen to fight for her.
The throne she had been gifted was made by her Lords. They had taken the barricades down and carved them into a strong throne, fit for their Queen. It was tall and wide, made of the same darkened wood as the barricades, they had carved the large spikes into beautiful brown antlers embedded with sapphires. It was beautiful, and when Valencia first sat upon the throne, she felt a sense of completion within her. But she would not be fulfilled until she sat upon the Iron Throne.
She wore a beautiful gown of black with shimmering, silver details the glimmered as she moved. The dress ran along her throat, hugging it with a single slit along the base of her throat, at her shoulders burst silky, see-through black material that cascaded out in effortless waves. Around her waist was a single belt made of thick silver with beautiful detailing. Her feet were bound in lamb skin shoes, soft on her toes and soothing to her aching body. Her hair was down and in surprisingly straight waves thanks to an oil Astraea had gifted her with. However, during the battle, she had lost her crown, and it had not been recovered leading Valencia to believe someone had stolen it. But this loss only inspired her to create another.
Her new crown was not gold, nor silver, but an intimidating black iron that curved into antlers all around her scalp. It did not connect at the front as her old one did, instead it curled around the back of her skull where it extended into antlers like a halo at the back of her head. It weaved past her ears and extended at her cheeks before ending in an antler-looking spike. It was a beautiful crown entwined with red leaves of a weirwood tree. She had a moment of inspiration when she designed it, and found herself thinking of Robb.
But now, her mind did not belong with her husband, but instead the prisoner before her.
"Tell me your name," she demanded of the blonde-haired man.
He was older than herself, and his arm was missing, leaving a bloody stump behind. "Willum, Your Grace," he told her, shaking as he spoke.
"Where do you hail from, Willum?"
He swallowed nervously, his eyes on the floor. "A small village near Summerhall, Your Grace."
"You served my uncle, Stannis Baratheon did you not?"
He nodded. "I did, Your Grace."
Valencia inhaled swiftly, leaning lazily against her throne with comfort. "Tell me, Willum of a small village near Summerhall. If I were to let you live, where would go? To Stannis, to your home? Where?"
The man hesitantly, and with a shaking breath looked up to her, but didn't dare meet her piercing gaze. "I would like to go home, Your Grace."
"Why?"
"My father needs me to help farm our home, he cannot do it all by himself."
Valencia nodded, pressing her fingers to her lips. "And if you were given the choice to join my army, would you take it?"
He opened his mouth, but refrained from speaking.
"Speak your truth, Willum. For I value honesty above all else."
Willum, in his shakiness parted his lips. "I do not want to fight another war, I have lost my arm fighting for Stannis, I do not wish to lose another fighting for you."
A silence pursued inside the Great Hall.
"Then you will not," Valencia raised to her feet. "You are free to return home, Willum. I will provide you with a horse, and some provisions to get you there. I hope you live a long, happy life from here on out."
Willum looked at her with wide eyes, no doubt shocked by her kindness. "T-Thank you, Your Grace," he bowed before her and she dismissed him kindly, smiling to herself as he left.
"You are to kind too them," Astraea's voice spoke from beneath the throne, her head tilting upwards to her Queen.
Valencia raised a brow at her handmaiden. "They all need a little kindness," she looked to the door, "send the next one in."
For hours men pooled into the Great Hall, some choosing to fight for Valencia, others wanting to return home, and only a few chose death. But many who chose the latter were dying already.
But as the lines of three hundred men began to lesson, a man who was indeed handsome with heavy black hair, deep brown eyes and fair skin came into the room. Valencia saw his handsomeness, but she felt nor said nothing. He was her enemy until he declared himself otherwise.
"Come forth, prisoner," Lord Lomas spoke swiftly.
Valencia noted that he had heavy chains slapped on his wrists and ankles, he had put up a fight when he was taken captive. "What is your name?" She called, straightening herself up.
The man, who's eyes had not left hers smirked. "Elios, my Queen."
"Where do you come from, Elios?"
He took another step towards her, his chains rattling as he did so. Her guards tensed at his approach. "Dragonstone, Your Grace," he spoke thickly. "If I had known you were better looking than your uncle, I would have declared myself for you much sooner."
Valencia scoffed. "Flattery will get you no where."
"Then where will my body get me?"
"Excuse me?" Retorted Valencia, raising from her seat and standing at the steps of the throne. Many of her guards had their hands on their pommels, ready to strike. "I am a Queen, not a whore. Show me some respect."
He threw his chiming hands up in surrender. "I mean to only compliment you, my Queen. And offer my services...all of them."
"Will your head on a spike be one of them?"
Elios laughed a thick, manly laugh. "Only if it pleases you, Your Grace."
Valencia felt sick to her stomach, his shameless flirting irritated her nonetheless. "I tell you this now, Elios of Dragonstone. You will not be joining my army, you have the choice of life or death. Decide now."
Elios laughed once again. "I take it beside you is really out of the question? I've always wondered what it would be like to fuck a Queen, looks like I'll never get the chance."
"Hold your vile tongue," she sneered taking a few more steps down from her seat. "Choose. Life, or death." She approached him, with her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed.
Elios inhaled swiftly and nodded. "I choose death."
Suddenly, his chained hands were around her neck, spinning her around and wrapping the chain against her smooth neck. He pulled the chain deep into her flesh, beginning to choke the life from her.
Valencia gasped, her fingers clawing at his face.
She had forgotten the daggers at her hips, but Elios hadn't.
Before any of Valencia's men could stop him, Elios had grasped her dagger from her hip, unsheathing the beautiful dagger before burying it inside her body.
Valencia wailed out in pain blood spurting from her wound as he stabbed her once again, just above her heart.
"PROTECT YOUR QUEEN!" A voice yelled, but the pain in Valencia masked their voice.
Elios let her go, she stumbled forward and seethed as she fell onto her stomach. It was if her ribs snapped and blood flowed out of her body. She gasped and curled, her breaths coming out in heavy, ragged, tuffs of air.
Her teeth clenched in order to hide the hissing bursting through her teeth, just as her eyesight began to spin.
She lay there in agony, her body burning with unnatural pain.
She could faintly hear the drawing of swords, and the grunts of men. Just as hands curled around her arms, she whimpered as she was rolled onto her back. Through her darkening vision, she looked upon Dacey Mormont and Astraea.
"Valencia?" Dacey's soothing voice spoke, her eyes filled with heavy tears.
The corners of her eyes began to darken. "Fuck," she winced, "that really hurts."
Astraea's hands pressed tight against the opening, blood pooling onto her hands.
For what seemed like hours Valencia laid there, listening to her own heartbeat as it slowed. More people swarmed her, some she couldn't even tell were real. They were trying to save her, but Valencia could not even tell if they were truly doing that.
In her moment of her mind, she believed that she would die. She thought of all the cons of it, but then she thought, she would see her father again.
She would be released from this evil world and birthed into a new one. One where she could see her father, and finally her mother. She would not have to fight, nor murder. But she would never get her throne.
If she died, Joffrey would win. And she couldn't have that.
But her eyes had already dimmed by then.
A/N
Sorry for the cliffhanger, and I hoped you enjoyed this long-ass chapter.