A.N: Inspired by a Goodwin quote in Bloodhound: "Aye, but Rosto's a curst wise Rogue for all his youth, and he's got some kind of book-learning to go with it." - Pg 279. AU depending on how you look at it! Also, it starts off a little weird but makes a lot more sense once you get down to the end!
"Ma!" an ash-streaked boy yelled, pelting through the thick forest undergrowth. He was lost in the suffocating smoke and stifling heat. "Ma!" he cried again. "Where are you?"
The boy tripped and stumbled over a fallen log, grazing his knees and palms. His legs were shaking too badly to get up so he grabbed a nearby tree trunk to haul himself up. The bandits had surrounded them just before dawn, taking as many women and children as they could while the men fought viciously and died quickly. He had escaped, used his uncle's knives to behead the brute who was trying to tie him to the other captive children. The bandits would not let him get away alive, he knew that, but he had to find his Ma.
"Where do ya' think yer goin'?" a voice growled as the boy dashed out of the tree line and caught site of a burning wagon. The man's hand lazily reached out to grab the boy's tunic collar but the young thing slit his belly open from neck to navel. He ran forward again as the man fell to the ground, eyes wide open in shock.
Another man waited on the far side of the blaze. He stood above a woman's lifeless body, sword unsheathed and covered in blood, but he was not a bandit. The boy clasped his knives in sweaty, shaking hands.
"She was a beautiful thing," the nobleman said, his dark eyes flashing, "but too smart for her own good."
The boy was silent as he met the nobleman's gaze.
"And so are you."
He stayed perfectly still as the murderer stepped towards him, bloodied sword pointed at his heart. "You killed my Ma."
"She deserved it. She allowed you, an illegitimate bastard child, to walk the mortal realm in secret for fourteen years. You were there, right under my nose, in my own court. You had an education and a place you did not deserve; it is a life that should and will be taken away from you."
The boy looked from the burning wagon to his lifeless mother before glancing up at the nobleman with pure rage seething in his black eyes.
"You killed my Ma," he whispered, changing his grip on the knives. The nobleman saw the boy's distraction as an opening, darting forwards to run him through with his sword. He reeled back before he could even slice the boy's tunic, a knife lodged in each shoulder. "You killed my Ma, and the gods will never let you forget it."
---
Later in life, as the King of the Rogue, the boy turned man would often brood on his mother's death at the hand of the King of Scanra. Sometimes he would blame himself for leaving her when the bandits attacked, other times he blamed her for bringing him into the world. He was equal parts Player and royalty, a noble by schooling and a commoner since his escape eight years ago. He had never had a true home until now, in the inn named after his mother, the Dancing Dove.
E.N: So, what did you think? Don't be afraid to ask questions or post comments. Thanks for reading!
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