❝ 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 }
✧✦✧
𝕮old air tugged at Malkym's cloak, threatening to pull him away from the graves that he stood in front of. To his left, stood Calym, now a man grown. Just like his brother, he shared the same dark curly hair and gloomy expression though with eyes of Northern grey from their mother. Beside Calym was Michayl, who had grown to tower over both of his older brothers, eyes downcast and fiddling with his fingers. The ten and five year old did not know what he was supposed to do now that their father was gone.
Their mother had not been able to leave her room.
The maesters had explained that a disease had taken their father during the night, one that their mother was still suffering from. It left the three boys to carry out their father's burial with the maester and their uncle.
"As tradition goes, to you, Lord Malkym, I pass a sprig of Apple Blossom. May all of your father's wisdom pass to you and may they watch over you for as long as they need to." The maester pressed a barely blooming sprig into Malkym's hand, testament to how quickly this sickness had taken his father. His grip tightened, heart stopping in his chest as he stared down at it.
"I accept their wisdom." Malkym echoed the words he had been taught since the age of five, "and I hope they guide me well, as their ancestors did for them. I hope they watch over my brothers too."
"They will protect us all." The maester nodded, before motioning for the body to be buried deep beneath the ground. Malkym clutched onto the sprig of apple blossom, as the three men watched the dirt grow and grow, forming a raised pile on the ground. The remainder of the graves surrounded them, and Malkym was sure that they were watching him now, wondering what he would do.
Malkym took a deep, shaking breath, before turning and walking away with Calym on his heels.
"Brother, what happens now?" Calym's voice trembled, despite how desperately he tried to hide it. He was trying to remain strong, but it was not fooling either of his brothers. "What do we do?"
"I shall have to call in the lords under our command and have them swear fealty." Malkym recited, making a list in his head of all the things that he would do. "I have to swear an oath before the Weirwood tree, secure my lordship, make sure that all is ready, check in with the soldiers."
His brain did not give him what he needed to do next, still focused on the father that he had just buried in the ground and the fact that his mother could soon be next if she did not get better.
"I-" Calym turned to Michayl, both of them thinking of how they could say to their brother what they needed to say. "What happens when you marry?"
