My first foray into anything of this nature. Be gentle please.
-283 AC, Flea Bottom, King's Landing
He didn't know how long he'd been running. Images of his mother's brutal and untimely death still permeated every sector of his mind, alongside the innate desire to survive and persevere. His poor mother had first been brutally raped, before having her eyes gouged out with bare, filthy fingers, every individual limb severed, and finally, her very life choked out of her. Her black hair was stained red with her own blood, and he would never forget her bright blue eyes, removed from their sockets, staring coldly back at his own green orbs.
The golden lions on the armor of the men who murdered his mother would forever remain in his memory, clawing to the forefront of every action and every desire.
He continued to sprint through the slums of Flea Bottom, with little regard for anything besides staying alive. The angry rivers of defecation flowing through the middle of the broken, gray roads did not hamper him, nor did the virulent stench of excrement, disease, and death, nor did the heaping mounds of corpses that polluted the sidewalks.
What did make him stop, however, were the sudden screams of the men that had been pursuing him, and the strong hand that had grasped his shoulder tightly.
The boy turned around, and was absolutely stunned by what he saw. All of the half dozen guards that had been chasing him were now dead.
Three had clearly suffered from the penetration of their throats by throwing knives.
Two had been slashed across the stomach by a broadsword, and had been stabbed right in the heart by a dagger.
One simply had his neck broken.
"Lannister scum. They never know when to just quit, do they? What got them on to your trail to begin with boy?"
The boy looked up to find his savior, a man clearly as mysterious as his actions. His face was completely hidden by a black hood. His cloak was equally black, covering his torso, and he wore brown boots. He wore two pendants around his neck; one of a red dragon, and the other depicting an odd flower the likes of which the boy had never seen. The seams of the cloak and hood were painted bright red, and the man carried a curved sword, along with multiple daggers clipped to his red belt. The boy responded to the previously asked question.
"I dunno, ser. I ain't done nothin' wrong. I was just mindin' me own business, and then the guards came. They killed my mother, and they were gonna do me in till you came along."
The hooded man stiffened. "How old are you boy?"
"One and ten, ser."
"And your name?"
"Mikael. Mikael Hill, ser. M-my father was High born, but I ain't got a clue who he is...or was."
The hooded man then sighed. "I've been running for a while, myself. Lannisters and Baratheons specifically. My wife and children dead, no purpose, no money, no power, and no idea what was next. I found purpose, however, and I hope you do as well. Your mother is dead, boy. You have nothing left. Come with me, and I can show you the purpose of a true man. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."
Mikael nodded nervously, knowing that he didn't have much of a choice here. He followed the hooded man closely, leaving the life of a poor bastard in King's Landing behind.
He only had a Brotherhood to look forward to.
Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave me a review! Who may this mysterious Assassin be?