The Little Wolf

Forgive Me

King's Landing

As King's Landing lay under siege, her Maester lay dying - a victim of a godforsaken act Lyra could not figure out. 

She had never seen an injury worse then a nosebleed closely, so all she could think of doing was holding his wound and telling him he would be okay, though she knew, despite her limited healing knowledge, it might have been a lie.

Her Maester coughed, "It has been a privilege being a part of your destiny, my dear child", in between splutters, and gurgling of blood, but Lyra just concentrated on keeping her head down and keeping her hands firmly on his chest - though even she could tell it wasn't rising nearly as frequently as it should, and his skin was turning whiter than it had ever been in the past. 

He waved his hands frustratingly at her, and eventually she conceded and let go of his chest, instead placing her head on his shoulder, and whispered, "Hush, my friend, may you find peace with the Gods". And before his final breath, he spoke his final words, emphasising with a last burst of energy, "Never forget: Your Soul is one thing, your heart is another".

And then he died. Not peacefully, not void of suffering, but surrounded by the one he loved so desperately. Lyra lifted her head and howled to the moon, a wail of desperate sadness, oblivious to the guards' attention being drawn. Off in the distance an Eagle became a butterfly, the symbol of freedom, and departed from the world, floating in the breeze - his Soul was free.

Quickly, she remembered that she were not free, she was hunted. She gave her Maester a kiss, held the necklace he'd gifted her tightly, and stumbled off, occasionally having to stop as the tears stung her eyes. At a set of gates she found herself, and to her surprise, her own Soul returned to her. Lev looked to be a small mouse, but Lyra identified him as a Pika - the Outsider symbol of using one's weakness as strength. 

There was a gate, a gate marking her escape, that loomed several metres in the distance. She looked at the gate - wide open, but two guards standing sentry near it - and she noticed the rope that closed it. It hit her - she would cut the rope and slip through as it closed, causing a brief distraction, but long enough to get through and hide on the other side of the stone wall.

She drew a knife, and aimed slowly, before throwing. It missed the rope horribly and hit the stone wall behind. Lev did the closest thing to a cheeky scoff  a small critter could manage, and Lyra madly told her Soul to "shut it!". She snapped back to reality and decided cutting the rope from such a distance was too ambitious, and she would have to get closer. Her decision was poor though, as now one of the guards was holding her knife and alerting the other of the attack. 

Lyra sneaked from behind the wall she was presently behind, to another several metres ahead. She slipped back into the shadow and held her breath, praying to the Gods the guards had not seen her  - thankfully, the Gods answered.

She drew another knife, and flung it at a larger target this time - a barrel filled with Gods know what, but she prayed her plan would work. Starting at a dribble, the water emerging from the barrel soon became a steady stream - and it worked, one guard rushed over, while the other remained by the gate, but deeply distracted. She seized her opportunity, and dashed out into the sunlight, drawing a sword out of the corpse of a dead soldier nearby. The guard saw and immediately screamed, "Seize her!", before his companion called back, "We need her alive!". 

Her knees knocked together, but she rampaged like a bull toward her target, swinging the heavy sword and slicing the rope. In an instant, the iron gate bellowed as it slid toward the ground, and Lyra slid through, the guard reaching for her like a hungry hound at her heels. She dropped to the ground and slid through, but hearing a dreadful scream and crack behind her - she'd escaped but the guard had been less lucky. She felt guilt and sadness mix in her gut, and it rose to make her retch. The blood oozed out of his mouth and eyes and any other opening, and his finger twitched posthumously. Through the thick iron bars, another guard approached, roaring with anger, and she seized Wolf - her only remaining knife- a flung it. It hit the man in the neck, and he staggered backward, before dropping to the ground. She squeezed between the bars, closing her eyes as she pried Wolf out of the corpse's neck.

The little girl whimpered, "Eternally, I beg your forgiveness", and it took all her strength not to collapse and cry at the men she had just sent to their graves.

Perhaps she was a monster. She staggered toward a wall, disguised by shadow, and retched and heaved until bile spilled on the ground. "Forgive me" she sobbed, to no one in particular- perhaps the Gods, perhaps her dead Maester's Soul, perhaps to the dead men in the land beyond. Perhaps to herself.

"Forgive me".