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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~͓̽~͓̽~
25 | ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʀᴇᴅ
𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 HARRENHAL
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒. That's how far a horse could ride in a day. Fifty miles. That's how far away she'd been from Harrenhal. It should have been a two-day trip, but she'd made it in one.
She'd ridden day and night, not stopping once. Her wrists were still chained, and her palms were now bleeding. Her thighs hurt from the ride and her horse was depleted. Her hip hurt from the sword pressing into it. She was thirsty and hungry, but she could barely feel it. She couldn't feel anything besides fear and adrenaline.
Fear for Robb. Adrenaline kicking her body into overdrive.
She'd only had one thought the entire ride.
Save Robb.
But when she finally made it to the gates of Harrenhal, she had another.
Find Robb.
Malaeya pulled on the reins, stopping the steed suddenly and almost throwing herself to the ground. Before her, she saw red. Red blood. Red flames licking the tents of a camp. Scorching the ground everywhere that it could and only stopping at the stone walls of the ruined castle.
She saw the Stark banner burning in the distance, and her heart dropped. She had a feeling she was too late.
Malaeya hopped down from her horse, immediately running through the camp and to the castle.
The heat of all the fire surrounding her made sweat appear on the surface of her skin as she narrowly escaped the flame, and perhaps if her body hadn't been flooded with adrenaline, she might have felt the flame that caught her ankle.
But alas, she didn't. She didn't pay attention to anything. Not the bodies hanging from the walls of the castle, not the flayed sigil thrown over the walls. Not even the screaming of the burning bodies behind her.
She barely paid mind to the two soldiers who rushed at her, weapons drawn. Bolton men. Suddenly, hot wrath consumed her. The kind of anger she'd never felt before.
Malaeya held her arms up, blocking the man's blow and catching it with her chains. She twisted it until she heard his arms painfully pop, and she ducked, hoisting his body around so that his companion's sword drove straight through his skull.
Then, she dropped him to the ground, not sparing another glance as she pulled against the dead man's sword, breaking her chains and freeing her arms. The man tried to get his sword from his friend's cranium, but he never made it past her.
