A Dance of Shadows

Malwyn III

Footprints in the snow. Ash. Blood. Some pieces of burned clothes and a brooch made of dragonglass, that had been carved according to the moose head of House Hornwood. This was heavy on the hand, but shiny in a way that almost seemed menacing in the dawn.

That was all that was left of Larence of House Hornwood, formerly Larence Snow. That was all that was left of a friend, dearly loved, dearly missed. A friend that had been their leader, that had shown them again and again the way to greater things.

A friend who died away from his home. Who ran away, like a coward, never trying to reunite with his people. A man who killed a maester and let the village burn.

Or so it seemed.

Malwyn touched the earth, unbelieving, shaking, but the scent was here, strong and unbearable in his nostrils. His fingers dug in the earth and he felt its dryness irritating his skin. He felt short of breath, as his throat closed. His mind was dark, melting with the snow and burying itself in the soil. He bit his lips, drawing blood, and the taste of it invaded him. His fists closed, tainted with the darkish substance.

He screamed. He hit it. Once, twice... Until he couldn't count anymore. Until he couldn't think, until everything disappeared, swallowed by darkness and despair. Until he could not recognize the beatings of his heart from the blows his fists made. Tears came flowing from his eyes, blinding him.

And when he stopped, that's when he saw his wrists. That's when he saw the dagger in his belt. How it shined in the light, a pretty sight in the morning. How suddenly it looked like solution.

"Malwyn!"

Arms took him in, squeezing him. He clawed the soil, trying to escape their grip. His mouth let out a terrible whine and he fought back. He couldn't recognize anyone.

They were all animals, all of them. Beasts, livestock beaten again and again for meat... No. Machines that could be destroyed beyond repair. Machines that could disappear.

He bit, hit, and kicked. But they wouldn't let go.

They had voices, but their edges were dangerous. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to recognize them, and the emotions in them. The despair. The pity.

Damn their pity. Damn them.

"Let me go!" He shouted. "LET ME GO!! LET ME..."

But he did not finish. The darkness had vanquished him in a big clap, and the sound of It hurt his head badly. His eyes closed themselves. But that's when he saw... That's when he heard...

"My love..."

He could almost see the darkness of her hair, and the melancholy of her green eyes. He could almost remember that summer day when he heard her screams, and then the sound of her body hitting the floor.

"Mother," he called, tears forming at his eyes.. "Please. Please. I can't..."

"Mal"." Another intervened, making him turn back. "What are you doing?"

Larence. His friend. No. NO. NO.

He could not bear staring at his eyes. Could not bear to see his narrow face, that would certainly be torn in a disappointed expression.

He knelt down, looked down. His voice was coming in pieces, and he felt his own body shake.

"Please, no. Forgive me. Forgive them. We lost ourselves. We lost you.... We BETRAYED you..."

He muttered. As if it could mean anything. As if it could solve anything.

He could see him shake his head, never once looking at him in the eyes.