Born of spite, fostered in pity, shrouded in fear.
Malaeya Lannister was a mystery to every soul in the Seven Kingdoms and far beyond. Many a song written in her name, yet few eyes had laid upon her. Locked away in the Red Keep, a need budded within...
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~͓̽~͓̽~
21 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛᴇᴅ
𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄
"𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋." Roose Bolton said to his King. "Or the Kingslayer. If I had to guess, I'd say they've been gone since the early night."
Celesse was surprised when the King in the North had summoned her to his tent, insisting on speaking with her. It was going on the better half of a year now, and in that time, they'd only had two conversations - both of which Malaeya had been present for.
They were strangers. She was a peasant, and he was a king.
So, it seemed only common sense for her to curtsey when she approached him. She hated to admit that she wondered if anyone would ever courtesy to her one day. Or address with highborn titles even though she was a bastard, and not even an important bastard. Just the common, run of the mill person. She hoped so.
One day, she would make her own house. A grand noble house to rival the others. And she wouldn't change her bastard name to do it. No, she'd keep it. So that when other bastards from the Crownlands told people their names, people would wonder if they were nobles of her house and would treat them with the respect they deserved.
"Your Grace," she greeted, stepping aside Roose to curtsey.
Robb shook his head politely. "There's no need to courtesy. 'Your Grace' is fine."
Celesse's cheeks heated in embarrassment, and she straightened up, clearing her throat. "How can I be of your service?" In other words, she wanted him to get on with why he'd summoned her. She hoped it wasn't about whatever she'd overheard Roose saying upon her entry.
"Yes," the king glanced at his bannerman, giving him a nonverbal signal to leave them alone. When they were aloe, he poured her a cup of hot tea. The rain had frozen into hail in the night, and they were all cold. "Have you seen Malaeya since last night?" he asked her, not sipping his own tea. She quickly realized that it was because his cup was almost empty. He poured himself another glass, adding whiskey to it.
Celesse sipped her tea, enjoying the hot liquid as it cascaded down her throat and warmed her belly. The porcelain cup thawed her hands. "No. Not since before the sun set yesterday." She saw the disappointment on his features, and she furrowed her eyebrows. "What?" she asked him, recalling Lord Bolton's past statements. "Is she missing?" A knot gathered in her throat.
Robb pinched his nose and sat down in his chair. "You are Malaeya's most trusted confidant, and her sister in all but blood. It is for that reason, that I won't lie to you. Last night, Malaeya was to leave with Ser Rodrick and yourself to journey for Dorne. I received a letter asking for a parley with potential allies. She was to speak on my behalf. But she went to speak to her father, and never returned. And now they are both gone. Most of my bannermen think they fled together."
