Funny thing about breaking.
It is a luxury rarely given to any.
Or not so funny thing. Because apparently her second maybe life comes with not only a murderous best friend but also a tragic back story pre-baked in. Her hysterical screams bring in her Lord Uncle rushing to her room. Earlier than usual, agitated more than usual.
" SHUT THE FUCK UP BRAT, " he shrieks.
Which. Fucking rude .
She's just been izekaied and/or transmigrated into a footnote in a psycho bitch's story, thank you very much, she's allowed to freak the fuck out. Not-Melara is a touch hysterical at this point as she screams only louder at her uncle's (her body's?) reaction to her. Louder and louder as he plucks a ridding crop from the wall.
That should have shut her up.
That all too familiar motion. It usually made her as silent as a grave. But it doesn't this time, she only keens louder, she only shrieks and sobs at the fact that she is dead two time's over. Fuck you for thinking it's not warranted. She's just died, twice, in what feels like less than twenty-four hours.
She needs to break.
She should be allowed to break because of it.
But breaking is a luxury afforded to nearly no one.
The crop comes down. She knows it will. Melara's memories tell her that she has been beaten bloody by it, scars lingering across her pale back and the tops of her thin thighs- but she can barely register it beyond her own hysterical screaming. Because her mind is in the Well, it is on a Slick Road, on black forest cake that she never got to eat, on her cat Aslan, on the memories of Cersei walking away-
But she can feel it soon enough as she is flipped around by a firm hand. She shakes and kicks and screams. And then she is held down by more hands as she screams and screams .
When Melara breaks this time, it's actually quite literal.
And all too familiar.