There has been many a tale about knights and maidens. Tales about gallant knights who've crossed the Wall or those who have ridden with the Dothraki, meeting beautiful women to share their stories with and hold through the night. However, no hero's stories could begin to compare to the legend of Rose Lannister.
The southern beauty had long strawberry blonde hair, that flowed down her back like a golden waterfall, and soothing chocolate brown eyes that were unlike the rest of the Lannister family. Her dark eyes clashed with her light hair with a deep scar running down her forehead and beneath her eye, the streak-like scar was joined by many more that ran down her arms and legs, intimidating to those who saw her. The imperfect woman was beautiful, yes, but there was so much more to her than that.
She was smart. Even from a young age, she was clever. Filling her mind with a plethora of books as she observed the workings of her father and the men who worked for him. The southerner also had a wild side, one akin to a northerner. She was full of dedication and loyalty. No matter how much her lady-like lessons were told to her, she would always find her way back to a sword. She became a warrior, arguably the greatest fighter in all of Westeros and Essos.
She knew the world wasn't perfect, that the world held unimaginable horrors. She had seen the terror in the world and the happiness, but she never cared. While everyone tripped over themselves for the Iron Throne, she was amongst the wildlings and the outcasts. Rose knew the world better than most.
Though, who wouldn't know of the Game of Thrones.
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Fanfiction'Rose pulled them close, forcing them to look at her. The life fading by the second as they met with their killer's chocolate brown eyes. "I want you to look at me. You've caused Westeros so much pain, I wish you could feel every heartbreak you...
