❝ If there was ever two people who deserved a happy ending, it would have been us. ❞
The Fates were against Malkym Thorne and Rhaenrya Targaryen from the start. No matter what decisions they made, or paths they took, it all lead to the same end. But...
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{ Malkym }
✧✦✧
𝕬lterwoode had never been a quiet place.
In all the years that Malkym had lived there, the corridors and stone walls of the castle had never truly been silent. He supposed, in some way, that was what he loved about his childhood home. He liked the joy and the familiarity it provided, the laughter that echoed through its halls. He enjoyed spending time in the library and great hall, or sparring with his brother in the courtyard.
Alterwoode was home, something that Malkym Thorne would not give up if he could so help it. This was the place he was born, the place he would become lord of and most likely, the place that he would die.
But whilst that was what Malkym wanted more than anything, it was not what the gods willed for him.
Malkym was the oldest of three brothers, each one just as unruly and wild as the last, raucous and childish in all aspects of their life. However, despite their attitudes, their reputation was one of calm, unwavering ruthlessness. The Thorne house was renowned for producing fighters, ones who were sworn by loyalty until their dying days through the ancient practice of blood bonds, and the three boys did not stray from their ancestors.
They would not disappoint the past in that regard, nor stray from their house words. Loyal to blood.
Even with the youngest merely being twelve, it was clear to see that he would follow in his elder brothers footsteps if not for being a warrior, then for not learning when to keep their mouth's shut. Their father believed that the words of their house should be changed, especially with his three sons involved, for he was more worried they'd be loyal to their emotions that their blood.
"If it is wrong to kill others, then why are we trained so?" The middle of the three boys, Calym, cocked an eyebrow at the maester, who seemed to be growing more frustrated with the trio who had not stopped asking questions since he had sat them down. "Is that not hypocritical?"
"No one likes a smart mouth, Calym." Malkym hid a laugh, sharing a conspiratorial look with his brother as the maester spoke. "You are warriors, trained to fight only in battle. In day to day life, it is a grievous crime to kill another, even more so to kill kin or your king."
"Michayl, you'll live to see another day then." Malkym snickered, grinning at his youngest brother, who moved to smack him in return. His hand caught Calym instead, and the three young lords began to bicker amongst themselves, poking at eyes, smacking at arms and kicking at the backs of knees.
