Maela

Darkwood Keep

The night was cold, dark and full of screams from the village. Happy screams, scared screams, unknown screams. Lady Maela sat at the oak-wood desk in her chambers, hidden away in Darkwood Keep.

Lady Maela Smyte, though she hates her last name, the sixteen year old adopted child of Lord and Lady Smyte. They granted her use of their name but treated her with an unkindness that would scar anyone for life. As terrible as she was treated, she was beautiful and caring. Long white-blonde hair flowed down to the bottom of her back, often left unstyled as she was never taught how but managed to teach herself to braid a small amount of hair back from her face and tie it in a rose shape behind her head. Her eyes were a light purple colour and would shine even in the darkness. She was around five foot and four inches tall and skinny from lack of provided food. Maela often wore long, simple and grey dresses she made herself having learnt from a book on how to. Her favourite; a light grey dress with white embroidery of roses down the side of the skirt, cinched in at the waist with long, tight sleeves that covered most of her hands. The front of the skirt was mostly white up to her waist and to the edges of the embroidery. She wore it most days.

Darkwood Keep was an old fortress built during Robert Baratheons Rebellion for House Smyte as a gift for their loyalty. Made from dark coloured stone, towering above the tiny village and surrounded by a forest of tall pine trees, it earnt its name.

Maela was writing in her diary, an old notebook she stole from her fathers study. It bound tightly with a thin leather strap. Even though it was the middle of the night, Maela couldn't sleep and words poured onto the page in front of her.

Her room was equally as dark as the night outside, also just as cold. In the corner of the room a small bed, just big enough for her to sleep on, stood precariously opposite the desk. Her desk was lit by a single candle, an identical candle stood beside her bed on a small stool. Beside her bed a large open window stood watch over the village, thin fabric flowed over it like a long black veil. A wooden door stood beside her desk and opposite the window.

Maela decided she couldn't take listening the sounds of the village anymore and left her room, avoiding the Knight guarding her door. She strolled quietly through the pitch-black corridors, the only sounds were her own footsteps echoing out around her.

Through a large stone archway she was lead to the family library and even though it was huge and full of amazing books, Maela was the only person to use it. She didn't mind, it meant she could read whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Her favourites were stories and books on rebellions and the Targaryens. She felt a kind of need to know about the Targaryens, their family history and legend.

She walked down an aisle of towering book shelves, there were bookshelves either side of her, all with a few meters between each row. Between each tall shelving was a table with benches either side, melted candle wax surrounded half burnt out candles along each table. The library was at least as long as twelve horses, she thought. Alongside each table a huge window with dark stained glass loomed up towards the ceiling, the dark, dusty ceiling hung candle chandeliers which hadn't been used in decades.

A few rows down she stepped to the end by the window, and pulled a large black book entitled 'Targaryen Dynasty' from the shelf and placed it on the table, using the moonlight to read. While reading through the family tree she traced her finger down to Danaerys Targaryen, the last surviving Targaryen. Maela never understood why Danearys had to be so far away, hidden at Mereen. Then again had she not been there, she wouldn't have saved the slaves there.

For some reason Maela was supposed to be banned from learning about the Targaryens,  Lord and Lady Smyte disapproved of them greatly. So she sat there silently, reading word after word of forbidden history.

After a few hours the sun started to rise through the cracks in the window and Maela hurried back to her room. Outside her door stood the stern Knight she'd managed to sneak away from a few hours before, angry and shaking. He was young with the mind of an elder.

"I'll tell the Lord, girl!" He shouted in a deep, scratchy voice, Maela didn't even flinch "Tell him you've been sneaking about to the library again" he chuckled to himself.

"Go ahead Ser," Maela replied calmly "Tell him how you allowed me to sneak away again, under your watch" She smiled.

The Knights expression changed quickly, "You'll regret messing with me girl, do you hear? Just like last time"

"Loud and clear Ser, but you won't get another chance at me again" She walked through the door, slamming it shut and bolting it so he couldn't follow. She sunk to floor, holding her knees and took a long deep breath.

'I'll leave soon,' she thought 'there has to be a way out of here'