Born of spite, fostered in pity, shrouded in fear.
Malaeya Lannister was a mystery to every soul in the Seven Kingdoms and far beyond. Many a song written in her name, yet few eyes had laid upon her. Locked away in the Red Keep, a need budded within...
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~͓̽~͓̽~
02 | ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ
𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 THE NORTH: WINTERFELL
𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄. It felt like home. It felt like the sparkle in the blue of his mother's eyes. It felt like the snow flurries that kissed the top of his fiery brown hair. It felt like him.
Robb was a true Northman. A true Stark. He liked to think that he lived up to his father's code of honor, and his mother's code of family. Family, Duty, Honor. As the next lord of Winterfell, he shaped his life around those three words, hoping to one day rule with them.
He hoped to one day teach them to his own children. Though he did not plan on having children anytime soon. He was only one and seven, yet a boy. He had his entire life to worry about marriage and children. For now, he would simply enjoy boyhood.
"Go on. Father's watching." Jon's brooded voice interrupted Robb from his thoughts. "And your mother."
Robb shifted his eyes above, finding his father and mother watching them from the walkway. Though he didn't look for long, as Bran's arrow whooshed past his face, completely missing the mark as it embedded itself into the wood.
A laugh left his and Jon's lips, neither sparing their flustered younger brother the courtesy of keeping quiet.
"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Ned asked rhetorically, halting both Robb and Jon's laughter. Keep practicing Bran." He watched his son hesitate. "Go on."
Robb crossed his arms, now having had a good laugh. "Relax your bow arm." he advised. He remembered when Ser Rodrik had helped him to hit his first bullseye. He'd been one and three, and he had run through the entire castle, alerting everyone of his triumph with a wide smile of pride on his face. He hoped that he could help Bran do the same.
But to his surprise, it was Arya who sent an arrow straight to the mark from an even farther spot than Bran.
He knew that he shouldn't have been surprised, as he often saw her practicing when she thought that no one was around to see. His littlest sister had a fire within her, and he had a feeling that it would only burn brighter as she grew.
The Young Wolf smiled as his younger brother chased after Arya. "Quick Bran!" he spoke along with Jon as Arya made her escape from the courtyard. "Faster!"
