Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
09/ THE EYE OF THE STORM
When Ser Erryk walked beside her in the halls, Maelora felt like she was walking on clouds, sinking yet falling. There were many burning gazes fixed on her figure, whispers from ladies and lords echoing in the halls. Maelora wasn't sure if it was due to the wildfire gossip or the fact that she was wearing man's trousers underneath her dress because part of it was burnt by Vhagar's flames and trousers were the only available thing in Dragonpit. Frankly, this was one of her least worries right now. Her mind was still clung to Moonfyre's condition and the searing pain on her cheek.
Ser Erryk scanned her chambers before he let her get inside; he locked the windows and said it was for her own safety but Maelora suspected it was to prevent her from running away.
Maelora doubted whether she could trust Ser Erryk enough as her guard, that he would not run to her mother or grandfather with her little secrets. Still, she guessed the man must have been loyal enough as he was Rhaenyra's former sworn-guard and kept all of her secrets.
"Ser Erryk," Maelora spoke softly before the guard left the room. "Do you happen to have any information about Ser Corren's where beings?"
The man tensed, hesitancy gleaming in his spheres. "I do. Yet, I have been instructed not to tell you." He admitted slowly.
"I see." Maelora mumbled sulkily.
"And yet, it would not be my traitorship if you happen to hear your old guard's voice from the dungeons."
Maelora widened her eyes. "Dungeons?" She repeated, her voice high-pitched from the shock. She wasn't sure which one surprised her the most: the fact that her mother put Corren in the dungeons or Ser Erryk's loyalty to her.
Ser Erryk offered a tiny smile. "I do not know where you heard that, Princess, I have no information about this matter." He feigned innocence before making a perfect curtsy to her and leaving the room.
Alone, Maelora was a victim of her dark thoughts. It felt like the walls were closing in to crush her. It was ironic because all she wanted to do was to wrap herself in a bubble wrap and protect herself from the cruel reality waiting to devour her.
Maelora wanted to keep herself busy by trying to get to the bottom of it yet the fact that her own mother didn't believe her split her open. And she didn't even want to remember anything about the slap. Although the word whore was carved into her cerebrum by now, she would like not to think about that either. Her soul felt like nothing but black mold spreading to the walls of an abandoned house.
