The cobbled streets of Old Town were his home, a dark and deadly place for a boy his age. Davos Seaworthy had lost his parents to a gang of thieves and rapists. Lord Hightower payed no attention to such things, being the "Old man of Old Town," he lived up to his reputation. Sickly and bedridden he did not take much heed to the governing of his city. Surrounded day and night by the Maesters of the Citadel, wizened old men with heavy chains loose about their necks. A symbol of their years of study, and service to their lords, a chain they will never remove. At night, the guards, with their marble white cloaks, stayed away from the streets. huddled together under brothel lamps and the gate of the keep. It was a time of uncertainty for the residents of the city, the tattered banners of Lord Hightower flying over the ramparts, a grim reminder to the waste that burned away at the once proud and powerful city, The oldest in all of Westeros. Hightower the tallest building in all of the Seven Kingdoms, a lighthouse that guided the way for ships entering Old Towns roaring port. The white marble walls now brown with age and exposure to the elements. loomed over the city walls and cast a shadow on Davos' new home.
The darkness was complete, it enveloped him, and he thrived in it. "The darkness is my weapon" he would tell himself. "It is my food, it is my shelter, and it is my home." Davos had lived alone since his parents death, living as a pickpocket in the dark alleys under Hightower. What little money he obtained from pickpocketing, guaranteed him some food, and protection from the street gangs. Since being a young boy Davos loved to hide. a favorite game he played with his father.
"Three, two, one! Here I come Davos! The old wood floor creaked with his footsteps. Davos' short sharp breaths seemingly the only noise in the cottage. The light of the evening sun seeped through the cracks in the cottages thatched roof, leaving small slivers of light to illuminate parts of the room. The dark figure of his father creeping around the room reminded him of his mother, a small woman, sweet and homely, sitting and enjoying the warmth of the hearth, humming to herself an old tune that he knew well The Bear and the Maiden fair. The dark figure drew nearer, big dirty hands worn from years of toil fumbling through loose baskets, and grunting with disapointment "I will find you Davos!" taunted his father. The dim light giving Davos confidence, he managed to shuflle into a more concealing position. a few seconds passed. the room grew quiet, the breath before the plunge. Light flooded the room with a flash, blinding Davos. a few gaunt figures stood in the doorway, knives in their hands.
Davos flew from his slumber, a rock gripped between his white knuckles. Chest heaving. A tunic more resembling torn rags clung to his sweat drenched chest his eyes wide open, he let his environment soak in. "Darkness is my weapon" he reminded himself in a rough whisper. Struggling to his feet a silhouette came to view on the other side of the alley.
"Whose there!"
"What's your name?" inquired the figure.
"D-davos... and if you dont back off I wont hesitate to kill you!"
The figure laughed, a deep throaty laugh that made Davos' spine ache " With that rock?"
Silence, the only sound was a rat scurrying under their feet
"How old are you?"
The rock still firm in Davos' hand "Whats it to you?" he spat towards the stranger
"Your life" The stranger shifted in his position, the clink of mail clearly heard through his tunic. Davos could smell the wine on the man from where he stood. Davos' eyes began to adjust, the sigil on his tunic became more clear, The Golden Kraken of the Iron Born... a Greyjoy.