The lost Targaryen

Chapter 8

Pov maerya Targaryen
Maerya slowly came to her senses, her body coughing and gasping as water streamed from her lungs. She looked around, her surroundings coming into focus. To her surprise, she found herself submerged in a river, the water lapping against her skin. "They actually threw me in the rivers?" she muttered in disbelief. Glancing down at her dress, Maerya saw the telltale signs of bloodstains, a grim reminder of the recent events.

As Maerya slowly got to her feet, a wave of discomfort washed over her. Her fingers gingerly touched her neck, exploring the sensitivity that accompanied the aftermath of her recent ordeal."Death feels like shit" she muttered to herself,

"Mae"Maerya rolled her eyes in response, an expression of annoyance and exhaustion on her face. "Why are you here?" she asked, her tone laced with frustration. The sight of her *husband*standing before her,

Her *husband* looked at her with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "You are dead or were dead," he said, a bewildered expression on his face. Without giving him a chance to respond, Maerya retorted with a touch of humour, "Guess what." He replied with a simple "What?" Maerya responded with a playful tone, "I'm not" Her words hung in the air, adding an air of irony to their unexpected encounter.

"I need to tell me father" Her husband declared his intention to inform his father, but Maerya quickly interjected, "You can't!" Her voice held a sense of authority, tinged with a hint of desperation. He remained resolute, responding with a confident tone, "Yes, I can." He continued walking away, his steps firm and determined, determined to defy her wishes.

Maerya's eyes quickly spotted a rock on the ground, and she seized it with purpose. She approached her husband, rock in hand, her movements filled with determination. Without hesitation, she swung her arm with force, hitting him on the back of his head. Her *husband* stumbled and fell to the ground, stunned by the unexpected attack.

Maerya's journey through the path was interrupted by the sound of a voice behind her: "Oh my, oh my, a little lady in the woods" Maerya let out a resigned sigh and turned to face the group of men. With irritation in her voice, she pleaded, "Look, I've had some rough days, so please just leave me be." She hoped they would heed her request and leave her alone,

One of the men in the group exclaimed in surprise, "Seven hells, it's the girl from the wedding!" Another questioned, "Didn't you die?" Maerya, her patience wearing thin, rolled her eyes and continued walking, determined not to engage with their questioning.

"Stop walking," one of the men demanded, grabbing Maerya's shoulder. "Let me go, and I won't hurt you," Maerya warned, her voice firm and resolute. "No, my lady, you need to come with us," the man replied, holding onto her with a determined grip. "Let me go. Last chance," she reiterated, her frustration growing. But the man stood his ground, resolute in his refusal.

A moment of tension lingered as the men held onto Maerya, their grip firm. But as a deep voice interrupted them, everything shifted. "She said let her go," the voice commanded, and immediately, the men released her. Maerya turned around, seeing the girl from the wedding door and the Hound, who had appeared unexpectedly. The men who had held her quickly retreated, their fear evident in their hasty departure. "We need to go," one of them exclaimed before they disappeared into the distance.

Maerya turned to the Hound, gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice filled with relief. The Hound shrugged slightly, replying, "No need, a girl like you shouldn't be walking alone here." Maerya smiled faintly, her expression tinged with irony. "Wedding troubles" she answered simply. The little girl spoke up, her voice hopeful"I hope you have a good marriage, together"

The resemblance to Catelyn crossed Maerya's mind, and her thoughts spilled out without hesitation. "He's dead," she confessed, her voice filled with a mix of guilt and confusion. "I killed him, and I don't know why I'm telling you two this." Her words hung in the air,
With a troubled expression, Maerya walked away, her steps carrying her further down the path. The revelation she had just shared with strangers hung heavily on her conscience, and she desperately needed space to process her own thoughts.

As Maerya settled down on a tree branch to rest, her mind swirling with questions. "How do they know?" she wondered, her thoughts racing. She considered the possibilities. "Did the Freys tell the Lannisters, or did Catelyn betray me?" Maerya quickly discounted that idea; Catelyn would never do that, and it would be a death sentence. Margary? No,

Maerya's ear caught the distant sound of laughter, and curiosity piqued, she slowly walked towards it. She moved stealthily, her steps careful as she approached, unsure whether the laughter belonged to friendly or unfriendly company.

"Hello" Maerya greeted the three men sitting around a campfire. One man chuckled as he looked at her bloodstained dress. "You look like you were eaten by a direwolf" he joked. Maerya laughed, glancing down at her dress, littered with bloodstains "Are you hungry? We have some food left," one of the men offered. Maerya smiled gratefully and replied, "Of course, and thank you." She took a seat near them, her stomach grumbling, grateful for the unexpected kindness of strangers.

The three men around the campfire engaged in conversation about various topics, their voices filled with candor. They spoke of their disdain for the king in hushed tones, knowing that openly expressing such sentiments would undoubtedly lead to their death.

The conversation shifted to Daenerys Targaryen and her three dragons, and Maerya's ears perked up. Since she was a young girl, Maerya had been captivated by the mythical creatures, and the loss of her own dragon had left a deep void within her.

The men around the campfire burst into laughter as one of them exclaimed "I can't believe that Margeary girl would ever marry the king!" Maerya's eyes widened with surprise, and she couldn't help but chime in with a curious question, "Is Margeary marrying the king?" One of the men responded, his tone filled with mockery, "Yeah, what a stupid little girl she is." They laughed, taking sips of their cups in unison.

Maerya's eyes widened at the mention of the wedding date, and she quickly interrupted their conversation with a pressing question, "When is the wedding?" One of the men responded casually, "In four weeks or so." Another men added, "They've invited the Northmen, thinking they'll come after what they did to the Starks. No way." Maerya's response was swift and resolute, "Margeary." With an urgent stride, she stood up and began walking away from the campfire, her destination clear in her mind.