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Writing - AUWriting - General
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game of thronessolojon snowsansa starkarya stark
Aegon Targaryen.
She remembered excusing herself and rising from her seat, knees struggling to hold her upright.
Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
She remembered passing several draughty hallways in her attempt to put as much distance as possible between herself and the great hall – and the blood-curdling revelation that still lingered in there.
Heir to the Iron Throne.
She remembered the walls closing around her with every step she took. She walked and soon began to run but without destination. She had nowhere to go.
A masterfully created lie the world perceived as an undeniable truth for years had just collapsed in on itself when Bran Stark along with Samwell Tarly took it upon themselves to reveal a secret so powerful it could shake the history of Westeros to the core. For so long, Kings rose and fell, bastard Kings who couldn't even swing a sword properly clung greedily to the Iron Throne, yet the man with the strongest claim fought battle after battle and war after war fearlessly and selflessly, all while knowing he would never be something more than a bastard. The bastard of Winterfell.
Arya's jaw hit the floor; her heart lost its steady pace. Daenerys' breath caught in her throat and her eyes tried desperately to meet the gaze of a frozen Jon Snow who sat beside her. But the man was lost. All he could do was stare at his younger brother and best friend with eyes empty, as if he didn't know them, as if they no longer spoke the same language. Sam's expression was warm and soft, almost apologetic as he witnessed his friend getting crushed under the weight of the truth about his parentage. It was an intense, painful sight that made everyone break; even Bran's eyes held a strong hint of sympathy in them, a stark contrast to his permanent apathetic posture.
As difficult as the moment was, Sam proceeded hesitantly to describe the nature of Lyanna Stark's relationship with the Targaryen Prince that everyone had come to acknowledge as violent and gruesome. They were in love, he remarked in a gentle, almost fragile tone, as if the words would shatter before they left his mouth. He knew he had made himself clearly understood when the revelation that Jon had been a product of love and not rape earned him a second round of gasps from everyone in the room.
It was the moment the dark-haired King pressed his eyes shut, as if he couldn't listen anymore. It was the moment Sansa stood and exited the great hall, hurriedly asking those who were present to forgive her for leaving. It all was so overwhelming.
She had been unable to get a moment's rest that night. Trapped into a cage of memories and emotions, she stared at the ceiling, trying to conceive the inconceivable. Ned Stark had been forced to create a lie that shaped the history of the Seven Kingdoms and put crowns upon the heads of men who didn't deserve them. He had allowed his loyalty to his wife to be tainted forever in order to protect Lyanna's son from the man who swore to wipe the Targaryen blood from the face of the Earth. The boy was a dragon and he raised him to be a wolf, raised him as if he were his own. And when death came for him in King's Landing and the cold steel touched the back of his neck, he knew he had kept his promise. He had kept the boy safe.
Sansa was drowning into a sea of emotions now. And there was one that overshadowed all the others.
Guilt.
She had played a major role in making her half-brother feel like a bastard when they were younger and ensuring he would never forget it. None of the Stark children had ever treated him in such a miserable manner. Robb had been both a brother and a reliable friend to Jon, Arya adored him, Bran and Rickon looked up to him, yet Sansa considered him a parasite in the Stark family and worthy of nothing. But life is not without a sense of irony and while the ambitious redhead dreamed of Knights and Princes and envisioned her future as a Queen, the legitimate claimant to the throne was right before her eyes, growing braver and wiser while she remained blind, lost in her perfect little world and big, unrealistic dreams.
She paid the price for her arrogance in the end. She demanded more and lost it all, her dreams gave way to nightmares, the Knights became monsters and the Princes she sang for turned out to be bastards.
Life. Always with a cruel sense of irony.
She remembered excusing herself and rising from her seat, knees struggling to hold her upright.
Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
She remembered passing several draughty hallways in her attempt to put as much distance as possible between herself and the great hall – and the blood-curdling revelation that still lingered in there.
Heir to the Iron Throne.
She remembered the walls closing around her with every step she took. She walked and soon began to run but without destination. She had nowhere to go.
A masterfully created lie the world perceived as an undeniable truth for years had just collapsed in on itself when Bran Stark along with Samwell Tarly took it upon themselves to reveal a secret so powerful it could shake the history of Westeros to the core. For so long, Kings rose and fell, bastard Kings who couldn't even swing a sword properly clung greedily to the Iron Throne, yet the man with the strongest claim fought battle after battle and war after war fearlessly and selflessly, all while knowing he would never be something more than a bastard. The bastard of Winterfell.
Arya's jaw hit the floor; her heart lost its steady pace. Daenerys' breath caught in her throat and her eyes tried desperately to meet the gaze of a frozen Jon Snow who sat beside her. But the man was lost. All he could do was stare at his younger brother and best friend with eyes empty, as if he didn't know them, as if they no longer spoke the same language. Sam's expression was warm and soft, almost apologetic as he witnessed his friend getting crushed under the weight of the truth about his parentage. It was an intense, painful sight that made everyone break; even Bran's eyes held a strong hint of sympathy in them, a stark contrast to his permanent apathetic posture.
As difficult as the moment was, Sam proceeded hesitantly to describe the nature of Lyanna Stark's relationship with the Targaryen Prince that everyone had come to acknowledge as violent and gruesome. They were in love, he remarked in a gentle, almost fragile tone, as if the words would shatter before they left his mouth. He knew he had made himself clearly understood when the revelation that Jon had been a product of love and not rape earned him a second round of gasps from everyone in the room.
It was the moment the dark-haired King pressed his eyes shut, as if he couldn't listen anymore. It was the moment Sansa stood and exited the great hall, hurriedly asking those who were present to forgive her for leaving. It all was so overwhelming.
She had been unable to get a moment's rest that night. Trapped into a cage of memories and emotions, she stared at the ceiling, trying to conceive the inconceivable. Ned Stark had been forced to create a lie that shaped the history of the Seven Kingdoms and put crowns upon the heads of men who didn't deserve them. He had allowed his loyalty to his wife to be tainted forever in order to protect Lyanna's son from the man who swore to wipe the Targaryen blood from the face of the Earth. The boy was a dragon and he raised him to be a wolf, raised him as if he were his own. And when death came for him in King's Landing and the cold steel touched the back of his neck, he knew he had kept his promise. He had kept the boy safe.
Sansa was drowning into a sea of emotions now. And there was one that overshadowed all the others.
Guilt.
She had played a major role in making her half-brother feel like a bastard when they were younger and ensuring he would never forget it. None of the Stark children had ever treated him in such a miserable manner. Robb had been both a brother and a reliable friend to Jon, Arya adored him, Bran and Rickon looked up to him, yet Sansa considered him a parasite in the Stark family and worthy of nothing. But life is not without a sense of irony and while the ambitious redhead dreamed of Knights and Princes and envisioned her future as a Queen, the legitimate claimant to the throne was right before her eyes, growing braver and wiser while she remained blind, lost in her perfect little world and big, unrealistic dreams.
She paid the price for her arrogance in the end. She demanded more and lost it all, her dreams gave way to nightmares, the Knights became monsters and the Princes she sang for turned out to be bastards.
Life. Always with a cruel sense of irony.