Personal Narrative: A Hero's Journey

Change is inevitable. Whether it be positive or negative, change is constantly happening. More than often change can take you from the known world and spit you into the unknown, where you return a changed person. While embarking on the journeys provoked by change, you are on a hero’s journeys. The hero’s journey was popularized by Joseph Campbell. When describing what prompts hero’s journeys, Joseph Campbell said,

Emmeryn received the crown of her dead father for her 10th birthday. Silently she took the throne, still wet with the blood of Plegia, and savored that instance of dread. And with a vow, she swore that upon her life, Ylisse and her people would know peace once more.

Another example of an event in her life that added to her loss of innocence was when she returned home from London and fought to be queen. During the fight, Aylss fought against her former subjects and had to watch them be killed. Amidst the battle, Alyss fights head on against her aunt, Queen Redd. Her new found strength can be seen when Alyss comments, “I’ve finished running from you, Redd. It’s time for you to run.” Page

Standing inside a tent close to the lake, Freya smoothed her hands over the most exquisite wedding gown she’d ever laid eyes on, a diaphanous, silver garment, but what was more incredible was that she was wearing it. She had not dared to dream of love, not with her being cursed, but her days of transforming into a Bastet and unwillingly slaying the innocent were nothing but a memory now. Thanks to her betrothed’s powerful magic coupled with the Druids’, Freya had been released from the shackles of her curse and was free to live and love.

Isolde did not bother to lift the bottom hem of her dress as she slogged through the mud, ankle deep after days and days of punishing rainstorms. She paused for a moment to adjust the satchel strap digging into her shoulder, promising herself she would not glance back at the castle where her husband, King Mark, slept. He would find out she had run off soon enough, and what then? What then…?

At the border, in the shadow of the southern spine of the mountains, the flotilla passed beneath the Wyverns of the West, immense monoliths of stone and iron that kept a vigilant watch over the border of Éres. Doubling as deterrents and keeps, the Wyverns were a symbol of the cold estrangement between the men of the east and those of the west, always ablaze with myriad torches and bristling with thousands of soldiers. The entire inland armada, a full two dozen warships, had accompanied the empress’s flotilla to the border, to counter the threat of the Wyverns; as they passed below them, Hunter noticed no torches, no guards, not even a horse left behind. There, on the empress’s orders, the armada had turned back and left them to continue into an empty and hostile country. It was folly, thought Hunter, and their solitude made him doubly

“I never agreed to wed Jon upon our return home.” Alayna hissed as she stabbed at potatoes and root vegetables on her own platter, “You’ve barely given me any time to get used to the notion. I haven’t gotten any say in the matter. You’re being unfair, Mace.”

After Alayna had finished dressing all of Lyanna wounds, the Stark girl insisted that Alayna come with her to meet her elder brothers and the friend who’s honor she’d defended. For some reason, Alayna found herself unable to refuse the strong willed woman, whose arm was now threaded through hers as Lyanna led them towards her family’s tents.

Sitting down for the evening meal in the dining hall, the members of the Tyrell family were more subdued than normal. The loss of Lord Luthor was still taking it’s toll on them. Only the sounds of a fire crackling in the hearths and silverware clinking against the porcelain plate were audible. An palatable tension filled the air after Mace announced Alayna’s betrothal to Jon Fossoway of New Barrel. Olenna had done her best to right things between her eldest and middle children, but Alayna continued to glare at her brother from over top her wine glass.

At the onset of her arrival, Alayna was greeted by the Lord of Griffin’s Stone. Jon, accordingly, offered her a formal greeting before taking her by the arm and sweeping her over towards their usual cohorts. The pair partook in the typical shallow conversation, Alayna had become accustomed to whilst at court. There was often much to do about nothing. She lacked a forbearance for gossip, unless she could use the gained information to her own advantage.

All Alayna can do is laugh as the knight shook his head and offered her his arm. She took it without hesitation, knowing these moments between them would be few and far between. Once again they found a comfortable silence as the pair sauntered through the still living village of tents. Laughter and shouts surrounded them like a shroud, allowing for them to make their way towards her tent without anyone noticing. Everyone was too busy enjoying themselves and celebrating to really pay a Kingsguard escorting a lady any mind.

The sound of dripping water caused Kiara took look up from her desk. It had been raining and drops of pooled water were dripping onto her window. The Princess sat in her private chambers while gazing lazily at a stack of treaties that her father had told her to study. She had a long time before she would become Queen, but her father refused to let her enjoy her spare time. He always wanted her studying up on the latest information from all of the neighboring kingdoms. More specifically the kingdom to the northwest. A kingdom filled to the brim with demonic beings. She had seen them before. Her father liked to entertain traveling nobility. When she snuck out of the castle to wander the market she would sometimes see them as well. The market

Life in King’s Landing fell into its usual routine once the royal party returned from Harrenhal. Although it was not without tension as most of the court still whispered about Rhaegar’s actions at the conclusion on the tourney and who could blame them? Alayna most certainly didn’t seeing as she had yet to speak with the crowned prince any more than necessary since her return to the capital. At the moment, Elia’s health and well being ranked above Rhaegar and his needs as far as Alayna was concerned. Anything else would have to wait for the time being.

That was all it took to cause Cali had rode off to the Palace on her horse. Even as she arrived to the main gate, she was not sure why she was going or what she would say. The guards at the gate did not question her as they opened the gate, only nodded in acknowledgement that she was still their Captain. She climbed off her horse, climbing up the steps two at a time. Even looking around a place she once called home, she felt disconnected. While the extravagant decorations and the golden décor still were all in sight, she never noticed how much she did not fit in with this life. This palace was built for a Queen. Her Queen. She always thought of them as Zula and Cali. Not the Queen and her Captain. But that was how Zula felt, Cali thought to herself as she continued towards Zula’s quarters, hoping Zula would be there.

Alayna smirked in response and pulled the sharp edge of the knife across her neck, leaving behind a trail of hot, red blood. A scream of pain was smothered as Wenda began to choke on her own blood. Releasing the mortally wounded woman, Alayna noticed the fray around her. Watching a golden headed boy save the life of a man bearing the sigil of House Crakehall, she realized him to be Jaime Lannister. Any sane woman would’ve fallen immediately for his beauty and the prowess he displayed as he crossed swords with the Smiling Knight. But she only had eyes for the man who intercepted the robber.