"Danos, where are you going," Daena asked her brother.
He rolled his eyes at her. "Up to the Dragonpit. We're trying to find dragon eggs." He continued up Rhaenys's Hill with some of the other kids they knew. She followed after them, not wanting to be alone in Flea Bottom.
"Mother always told us not to go there," she scolded, her short legs struggling to keep up with her older brother's long, quick strides.
His eyes hardened at her. "Mother is dead just like father. If I want to go explore the pit than I can."
Her eyes watered a bit, but she did not cry. Orphans of King's Landing did not cry. Daena was ten, her brother twelve. Their mother had been a dyer until a sickness killed her six months past. They were forced to sell everything they owned and now lived in a crowded poor house in Flea Bottom, far from the clean, airy part of King's Landing where they had been born. Their father had left when they were young, and there had been rumors that they had different fathers. Danos had thick black hair and bright blue eyes. Daena had thin blonde hair and brown eyes like their mother. It made no difference to the pair if the rumor were true or not, they were all each other had.
Their mother had raised and protected them, always watching out for them and telling them rules they had to follow. They always obeyed, even when she wasn't watching. They were convinced she had spies watching them when they were running about the city. One rule was to avoid the Street of Silk; another was to avoid the Dragonpit. Danos always wanted to explore the Dragonpit, and so did Daena.
Atop the hill, with black and red spires the ruinous Dragonpit loomed. There were never any city guards at the pit, but whores, smugglers, and street urchins like themselves were common enough. The air smelled sweeter the higher they climbed, until they were finally able to see the immense, crumbling structure. Daena turned and looked around the city. From where she stood it was beautiful. The Red Keep stood straight and fierce against the bright blue sky. The Sept of Baelor stood on the third hill of the city as pure as rain. Below them, Flea Bottom's sounds and smells drifted upward, but were pushed away by the wind.
When she turned around a man was observing her too closely and she ran to her brother's side. "How much is she," the man asked. He had yellow, crooked teeth, bad skin, and ragged clothes.
Danos pulled a knife. "She is not for sale. Now move away before I sell you to the pot shops piece by piece." The man spat at them, but walked down the hill, away from them.
When the man was gone, Danos grabbed her hand firmly and squeezed. "I'll keep you safe." She gave him a weak smile, which he returned. "Come on, let's go find dragon eggs."
"Are you sure there are still dragon eggs?"
He shrugged. "Don't matter, come on, there's a hole in the wall we can crawl through."
The children walked half-way around the structure until they came to a hole a large dog could walk through comfortably. They crawled inside, one at a time, and emerged inside the ruins. Even in its run down condition the pit was an impressive structure. There were worn carvings in the walls. The floor was collapsed entirely in some places and rotted in others. Sunlight filtered through the missing chunks of ceiling. Daena was in awe.
In several dark corners of the pit's upper level there were men and women kissing and moaning. The children had no interest in the adults however, and climbed down the rickety ladders to the bottom of the pit. From the bottom, huge carvings of the Targaryen emblem were viewable.
The children spent hours climbing around in the ruins. Sadly, they found no dragon eggs. It was a little after noon when the children emerged. They had to go find pigeons, rats, or anything else to sell to the pot shops for food. Danos wanted to be a knight, and was planning to join the city watch when he turned sixteen. Daena had wanted to be a dyer like their mother, now she was unsure of what she would do for money. For now, all they could do was scavenge and barter like the rest of the orphans of King's Landing.
They were standing in line at their favorite of the shops when a boyish looking girl about her age entered the line behind them. She wore a cloak that was far too nice for a street urchin, even her clothing, though filthy was too nice. Her boots were the finest made things that Daena had seen since they left the dyers shops. Her brown hair was knotted and dirty, her grey eyes were lost and angry.
"Nice pigeon," she told the girl.
She eyed Daena suspiciously, and held her stick and pigeon in clenched hands. "Yeah, and it's mine."
Daena shrugged, her brother held their pigeons to trade, why would she want the girl's? "I know it. Just trying to be nice."
For a moment the girl looked like she wanted to talk, wanted to trust. "Being nice only kills you," she said eventually, her eyes steel. Daena gave up talking to her and waited quietly beside her brother for their meal.
The following day Daena saw the girl racing toward the Sept of Baelor when the bells rang out. Everyone was saying that the Hand of the King was going to testify there. People were saying it was something about treason and killing the old king Danos did not want to go, the Kings, Queens, and Hands did not care about the poor so why would he care about them? Instead, they returned to the Dragonpit to look for dragon eggs.
A/N: I hope you liked this little story. I am considering continuing through the books from the perspectives of these common street kids during the wars.