Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE MORNING sun poured through the high windows of Winterfell, bathing the stone walls in a warm golden light. The air was crisp, and fresh snow crunched beneath Maelys' feet as she stepped out of her chambers, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension. She had agreed to train with the knights today, spurred on by Ser Erryk's enthusiasm. But the thought of wielding a sword felt both exhilarating and intimidating.
As she made her way down the cold, stone corridors, she could hear the distant sounds of laughter and the clattering of swords from the training yard. The closer she got, the more a surge of nerves coursed through her. She had always admired the knights from afar, their strength and skill captivating. But now, she would be among them, attempting to prove herself.
When she reached the training yard, her breath caught in her throat. Knights sparred, their swords clashing in a beautiful dance of power and precision. The sun glinted off their blades, illuminating their movements as they engaged in their practice. She felt an overwhelming sense of awe and intimidation. Erryk spotted her and waved her over, his face brightening with enthusiasm. "Lady Maelys! Ready to train?"
She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Cregan, who stood a short distance away, his expression unreadable. His presence felt heavy, a weight pressing on her chest as she struggled to gauge his thoughts. But the excitement bubbled within her, urging her forward. "Yes," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm ready."
Erryk handed her a practice sword, its wooden surface smooth beneath her fingertips. "Just remember to keep your stance steady and your grip firm," he instructed, demonstrating a few basic movements. She mimicked his actions, feeling a mixture of awkwardness and determination. The sword felt surprisingly comfortable in her grip, and she couldn't help but smile at the thought of wielding it.
As she swung the sword, laughter erupted from the surrounding knights. Their cheers filled her with a strange confidence, and she began to enjoy the moment. She focused on the rhythm of her movements, the way the sword felt as an extension of herself. It was liberating. The morning air was cool against her skin, invigorating her spirit as she swung the sword in a wide arc, imagining herself as a warrior of old.
But in an instant, everything changed. As she swung the sword with a little too much enthusiasm, her foot slipped on the icy ground. Time slowed, and she felt her balance falter. Panic shot through her as she tumbled to the ground, the sword flying from her grip, landing several feet away.
"Maelys!" Cregan's voice cut through the air, laced with an undercurrent of frustration. She felt his presence rush toward her, a storm of emotions swirling within him. The ground met her body with a soft thud, and she winced as she landed awkwardly. A sharp pain shot through her leg as she tried to sit up, the cold ground biting into her skin.
The laughter that had surrounded her faded into silence, replaced by an uncomfortable tension. She looked down at her leg, a small cut oozing blood where she had scraped it against the frozen ground. She could feel the eyes of the knights on her, and heat flooded her cheeks with embarrassment.
