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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~͓̽~͓̽~
42 | ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ
𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀
𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒. The first week was the worst. She'd been left alone in the cell with Celesse, after having just chosen her to die. She'd apologized countless of times, but Celesse wouldn't even look at her.
Malaeya couldn't blame her. Not even if she never spoke to her again. Afterall, she'd chosen her to die. Yet, she also couldn't say that she regretted it. She was sorry, that was a fact. But not regretful.
It might make her the most rancid person in the world to sacrifice a living adult, her best friend, for a tiny human who was likely no bigger than an apple, but to her, it made perfect sane sense.
Already, she had never loved anything or anyone more than she did the small being in her stomach. She would do anything for it.
Cross every line. Betray every soul.
On the second week, she realized that perhaps she was crazy. Crazy for even wondering if Celesse would show up to visit her. She hadn't of course. She probably wasn't even in the keep anymore.
No doubt she'd been moved to Maegor's Holdfast, now that she was a member of the royal family.
The thought made her happy. Celesse deserved everything in the world and more.
Now, on the first day of the third week since finding out about her pregnancy, Malaeya wondered where Robb and Viserys were.
Had they taken The Reach? The Stormlands? The Rock? Were they only hours away from sacking the city and saving her? Or worse, had they been defeated?
Surely not, or she would have been dead already. Not locked up in her old red chambers.
She missed them so much. Her father, Viserys, Robb, Arya, Rickon, and Celesse. She even found herself wondering what Arianne was up to. When she was finally free, she'd hug them all and never let them go. If Celesse permitted it of course.
When footsteps stopped outside of her door, she weakly placed her palm onto her abdomen, still sore. It had already become a natural reflex.
