𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 [𝗥𝗼𝗯𝗯.𝗦]

8

THE POINTY END

ALYSANNE, Visenya, had given up quite quickly at throwing her sword around as if it could cut through the air with no trouble in sight. Perhaps it was foolish of her to do so, but her anger got the best of her. It didn't last forever, and in the end of all things, she could only be grateful that her uncle had taken her in. Hiding her away from a man that would've only intended to kill her. She could be glad that such a thing as that had been done. She didn't even want to think on the possibility of what could've happened if he hadn't. Visenya couldn't help but doubt she would even be alive. King Robert's hatred was great and well known, nobody would've saved her.

Her rage had slowly dwindled into what she knew could only be acceptance. Visenya collapsed on one of the soft plush seats that decorated parts of the room. They certainly looked Targaryen, with carvings of dragons and red cushions decorating them thoroughly. They were comfy to sit on, Visenya would give them that. She honestly didn't know what to think of her father's family. The Targaryens had quite the brutal family history. She honestly didn't know whether to applaud or run for the nonexistent hills. Perhaps the latter would be more preferable.

The room was silent, and perhaps, in a sense, Visenya despised it more than she thought possible. Her mind was a mess, as was her identity.

She leaned back, her pale white silvery curls caressed the soft chair in which she had relaxed upon. Visenya looked every bit of a Targaryen, on a chair of red and black. She didn't stay there for long, restlessness was a trait that had been hard to remove , even as a young girl. She couldn't truly sit still for hours. It had always made her rather uncomfortable, as a bastard she had gotten away with it. For nobody truly paid attention to the natural born daughter of Eddard Stark. Although, with her obliviousness, Visenya had yet to realise that was a personal lie. She was admired by many of the northerners. Beauty was a tragic thing indeed.

Visenya smiled slightly as she walked towards the numerous shelves of items, and they were all beautiful in their own right. Truly, they were. It was a shame they had to be hidden down in this cold room, away from the treacherous greedy hands of King Robert. A man who knew nothing of kindness, and had little generosity within his heart. This couldn't have been anymore obvious.

The glinting blue gems that decorated some of the old books were not to be admired. In most cases, they would. But Visenya had found herself despising the mere thought of blue. It was the colour of Lady Catelyn's eyes. And Visenya hated the mere thought that the woman was her aunt. She'd never look upon her in the same manner again, should she feel sorry her uncle had deceived his wife? Perhaps. But even then, it was Catelyn who had taken it upon herself to verbally abuse her stepdaughter. There was cruelness in the world, and Visenya learnt that from a young age when she carried the mere name Snow.