❝ 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...
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
{ Malkym }
✧✦✧
𝕸alkym knew that there would be people looking for him and the princess, mainly because she was the heir to the Iron Throne. Ser Criston had caught up with them and told them so, but the pair had merely made a fire and happily settled down to sleep outside, needing the time and space away from the royal party and prying eyes.
Malkym knew that Ser Criston was growing more and more despairing with the pair. But, he was finding this most amusing. The man was easy to annoy.
"Princess, I must make a final plea to return to the camp." Ser Criston was staring at the pair, who were both stargazing.
"I rather prefer it here." Rhaenyra sighed, shuffling closer to listen to Malkym, as the man continued to point out stars, whispering their stories to the teenager.
"His Grace is certain to be worried by your absence, as your uncle will be, Ser Malkym." Ser Criston interrupted Malkym's stories.
"His Grace can worry himself to death if he so likes." Rhaenyra muttered, as Malkym squeezed her hand.
"My uncle is well used to me, Ser Criston." Malkym forced a smile at the man. "He will not be worried at all. He knows that I am plenty capable of defending myself."
The trio fell into silence, taking a moment to compose themselves.
"Tell me, Ser Criston. Do you think the realm will ever accept me as their Queen?" Rhaenyra questioned. They fell into silence again as Ser Criston tried to form an answer.
"They'll have no choice but to, Princess." Malkym leant back, before catching sight of the horses. They'd began to snort and shuffle around nervously, as both knights drew their swords. Malkym stayed by his betrothed, one hand carefully placed by her, and the other holding his sword as he settled into a crouched position.
"Malkym." He hushed his betrothed, staring around for the thing that was moving as Ser Criston advanced into the undergrowth. There was nothing for a second, before something came bursting from the darkness, screaming at the top of its lungs and flinging Ser Criston onto his back.
It was a boar, and a raging one at that.
It skidded to a stop, turning around for a second charge as Malkym batted it away from his betrothed swiftly, not wanting her to be harmed. It turned for a third run, as Malkym stepped to the side, before plunging his sword down into it's back, pinning it to the floor with a grunt.
