(a/n: Please enjoy and review and all that!)
Part 4: Swords & Knives
Arya ran. She sprinted down the corridor, giving chase to the scruffy old cat that she found near the kitchens. The old cat scampered down a spiraling staircase that lay at the end of the corridor. The young Stark girl hastened after it.
As she ran, Arya felt alive and filled with vigor. Syrio, her dance master, had given her leave for the day. With the extra free time left in the day, the young Stark decided to practice what she had learned.
The cat led her down to one of the lower floors in the Red Keep. Her eyes roved around the corridor for the shaggy old creature. She spotted it and gave chase once again. The cat evaded her attempt to capture him and raced away.
The young Stark followed, passing a few guards and a servant. The guards and servants didn't mind her chasing the cat. The cat was something of a legend in the Red Keep. Nobody knows who owned the cat but it had been spotted around the castle numerous times over the years. Many attempted to capture him or drive him away but their efforts were in vain.
They thought it odd for a girl to chase the cat, as well as a few rats, but they let her be. The further she ran, the more Arya felt like she was loosing herself in the vast, endless corridors of the Red Keep.
Arya paused in the middle of one of the courtyards and tried to seek out that old cat. "You lost, child?" asked a gruff voice.
The young Stark girl spun around and saw a large, white haired man sitting at the base of the lone alder tree. Arya shook her head but said nothing. The words died in the girl's throat. The man sitting under the tree looked intimidating, even more intimidating than the Hound.
The stranger wore black wool over black boiled leather and a shirt of mail. He had a head of long, snow-white hair that was braided into a ponytail. His face had a few small scars but his most prominent feature was the patch over one of his eyes. The man's other eye was blue as the sky and although he was sitting, Arya could easily see that he was large, not only in height, but in muscle. The young Stark could imagine him being an equal match for the Hound and more than half the Kingsguard in a battle.
She noted the great sword that lay across his lap and it made her think of Ice, her father's sword. Arya wondered if it was anything like her father's blade. A gentle wind tumbled through the courtyard, causing the grey fur cloak hung from a low branch to flap lazily like a banner.
The man frowned at Arya "What's the matter? Shadowcat got your tongue?"
"N…no Ser" squeaked Arya. The man grunted and sheathed his sword.
"W-who are you? What are you doing here?" asked Arya "Are you a knight?"
The man smiled "Do I look like one?" The young Stark shook her head.
"My name is Slade" greeted the man with a nod "I'm a sellsword by trade. I have come to seek an audience with the king. He and I have to discuss a matter of…business."
Arya could feel the sharpened edge in his voice. Whatever King Robert did, the man named Slade was not happy about it.
"And what of you, girl?" asked Slade "Shouldn't you be…I don't know what it is you women do in these castles…singing or something."
"I don't like doing those things. I'm chasing a cat" replied Arya softly, like a child hesitantly admitting to a mistake.
The sellsword gave her a look and then snorted, "You sound like my Rose. She never was one for doing ladylike things, always going against her mother's wishes. Always off looking for trouble." He stopped his rambling and asked Arya "Other than chasing a cat, what is it you do around here? You a servant?"
Arya frowned "No. I live here. My father is the Hand of the King. He is Lord Eddard Stark."
Slade cocked an eyebrow "Oh really? Well than, young wolf, it is an honor to meet you."
He bowed his head slightly, almost mockingly "Forgive me if I kiss the ground you walk on like the other dogs from the North, but your father and I share a unpleasant history."
Arya frowned "Really? My father has never made mention of you?"
Slade smiled "Really? Ol' Ned and I go back a ways, back to even before Robert's little rebellion. I'm almost hurt that he didn't mention me." He set aside his sword and he gestured for Arya to sit "Come, sit with me. I promise I don't bite."
Arya didn't say anything. She stood there for a moment, watching the man pull a small bag over to his side and pulled out a peach. He drew a dagger from a sheath near his boot and used to slice the peach in half. Feeling a little hungry and curious, Arya walked over and sat down a few feet away from the sellsword. Slade tossed half of the peach to the young Stark girl.
"So, which Stark are you?" asked Slade as he chewed on a mouthful of peach.
"My name is Arya" said Arya.
Slade nodded slowly "You look like a Northerner. Your sister and older brother take after the Tully's." He leaned back and rested his head against the alder tree. For a few long moments, the man said nothing. The two ate their peaches in silence, listening to the faint sounds around of the city outside and the castle around them.
Finally, the man spoke "Gods, I hate King's Landing."
Arya raised an eyebrow "you do?"
"Of course! This place is filthy, loud and filled with all kinds of vermin." He shook his head "Some of them you can't even see until it's too late." The sellsword nodded toward someone and Arya saw a pair of White Cloaks walk by.
The two knights looked their way and regarded Slade with scornful looks. The sellsword grinned and raise a hand "How are you today, good Ser's? Rescued any maidens today? Slain any monsters?" The two knights said nothing. The two glared at the sellsword. Arya thought they were going to march over and kill Slade but they picked up there pace and walked away quickly in a huff.
Slade glanced to Arya and said, in a softer voice, "A word of advice child. Go home. This city is no place for good folk or men of honor, like your father."
Arya frowned at him "What do you mean?"
"I'm saying that this place is cursed. In its long life, nothing but horror and tragedy has happened in this godsforsaken place." He paused for a moment and asked, "Do you know of Elia Martel?"
Arya nodded "Prince Rhaegar's wife."
"Poor girl" muttered Slade "Kindest and most gentle woman I have ever met. She fell victim to the vermin of this castle. Those vermin still prance around in their finery, calling themselves men of honor. This is what I think of their damn honor." he spat a glob of phlegm on the grass. The sellsword sighed deeply "As I have said, this city is not a place for good folk. It's for people like…me."
"But we can't leave" said Arya "My father is Hand of the King and as Hand of the King, nobody can hurt him."
Slade let out an amused chuckle. "You think so? The Mad King thought the same, and look where that got him." He shook his head "No man is untouchable. No matter how rich or powerful he is, all men can bleed and die. That applies to you, your father, the Lannisters, the king-" "you" said Arya, feeling a little angry.
Slade looked at her and smiled then nodded "Yes, even I. But my time has not yet come and it won't, not for a long time."
Arya gave him a look. What did he mean by that? Was this man mad? Before the young Stark girl could ask him what he meant by that, a man dressed in a gold and black tunic arrived at the courtyard and announced that the King was ready to see Slade. He muttered something under his breath and got to his feet. He grabbed his cloak, his sword, bag and a strange looking helm. He put on his cloak and his helm.
The helm was smooth and was painted orange and black. One half was black and had no eyehole, unlike the other half, which was orange, had an eyehole. The sellsword turned and gave Arya a slight bow then turned to leave. He stopped and he turned back to her "One last piece of advice: Learn how to use a sword and keep it close. You may never know when you need it, especially around this castle."
Arya smiled "I am already learning about swords from Master Syrio" "A Braavosi?" the Stark girl nodded.
Slade snorted, "Braavosi swordsmen do know how to make a good show, but are hopeless in a real fight. When you want to learn real swordsmanship, send for me and I could teach you a few things that your teacher could only dream of."
He turned and followed the messenger out of the courtyard, leaving the young Stark behind to ponder if he was serious about his offer.
Daenerys Targaryen emerged from her palanquin and inspected the large tent before her. The tent offered some exotic spices, fruits and other strange foods and items not found in Vaes Dothrak or in Asshai. Having arrived in Vaes Dothrak a few days before, Dany had already taken part in the stallion heart ceremony. During the ceremony, the crones had declared that her unborn child would soon become "the stallion who mounts the world", the one who will unite the Dothraki and conquer the world.
The whole of Vaes Dothrak celebrated and cheered at that.
Now, with her Khal and several other Khals out hunting, Dany is trying to pass the time. She decided to explore the markets of Vaes Dothrak, where merchants and travelers from all over Essos came to trade with the Dothraki. In the past, Dany and Viserys had to constantly be on guard and always moving to stay ahead of the usurpers hired knives. However, in Vaes Dothrak, there is relative safety and peace.
Old grudges and strife are forgotten. Khal's and their khalasars living as one blood, bound by ancient law to live in harmony when in the presence of the Mother of Mountains. Anyone who dares to draw a weapon within the vicinity of the holy city would suffer the consequences. Dany, her handmaidens and Ser Jorah had already explored the Eastern Market and have just begun exploring the Western Market.
In contrast, the Eastern Market was different from its western counter part. The Eastern Market was comprised of various stalls and caravans from the east, ranging from traders from Yi Ti to merchants from Asshai and the Shadow Lands, with various tents and mud bricked buildings huddled together. The Western Market was organized in a large square that was filled with merchants from the Free Cities.
All merchants are able to visit Vaes Dothrak unhindered, as long as they abide by the laws of the Dothraki and pay the traditional gift of salt, silver and seed to the dosh khaleen. The Western Market was a grand bazaar that fit within the great square and was surrounded by mud baked-brick, animal pens and drinking halls. The bazaar itself was made up of stalls and aisles, each selling interesting new items.
A wrinkly old man with a long grey beard manned the tent that Dany arrived at. He wore flowing blue robes with rings on both hands. The man welcomed Dany and her retinue cheerfully. He offered his best spices and fruits but the Khaleesi politely declined and told him that she wanted to see what else he had. The merchant stepped aside and allowed Daenerys to inspect his goods.
She stepped inside and took look around. Baskets of fruits, several casks of wine and mead, some barrels of grain ringed the inside of the tent. Further in, Dany found a few intricately carved bits of bone that were flecked with small glittering jewels and carvings. All were beautiful but they didn't spark her interest.
"See anything you like?" asked a gruff, accented voice.
Dany turned her head and saw a gruff looking man with bushy hair. He sat on a wooden crate with a crooked bit of wood in one hand and a wineskin in the other. The man was disheveled; wearing a muddied blue tunic, cloak and trousers that were patched up. His hair was a wild tangle of brown on his head and the sides of his face. From the scent, it was apparent that he had been drinking but his eyes were alert, indicating that he wasn't drunk.
One of Daenerys' handmaidens looked at the man, indignant. "This is the wife of Khal Drogo" said the girl "Show her respect or else-"
"Or else wha?" asked the man, his words heavy with an odd accent that Dany couldn't place. "You can't kill me here. If you do, don't you lot tarnish your honor or get cursed or something?" The handmaiden's mouth closed and she looked ready to snap at the man and Jorah looked ready to join in but Dany stopped them both.
Daenerys gave the man a look "She is right. I am Daenerys Targaryen, wife of the great Khal Drogo. You should better watch your tongue, even in Vaes Dothrak."
The man's bushy eyebrows rose "Ooh, 'scuse me your majesty" he bowed his head a little and took a drink from his wineskin.
"Harkness!" snapped an accented voice.
A woman strode into the tent from the opening at the rear. The woman was slender and elegant. Her face was smooth and flawless. Her hair was jet black and braided into a bun. She stepped with grace and purpose, carrying a long walking stick. The woman wore a long black cloak with golden flowers stitched onto the sleeves and front. Beneath the cloak was a white shirt with boiled leather armor on top and she wore, oddly enough, trousers.
Judging from her appearance and her accent, Dany guessed that the woman was from Yi Ti or somewhere in the general area. The woman noted Dany and her retinue. She made a quick and polite bow then turned to the man "Harkness, I told you not to be drinking. You should be standing guard at the front entrance."
"I was!" said the man defensively "Look, I sat out there every day for the last week Kat. I sat out there all morning! Besides, Crowler said he'd take my watch. Can't I enjoy some wine in the shade before I take his watch?"
"You may rest and regain strength but you were not hired to just sit and drink all day" snapped the woman "I have just spoken with Crowler and he has no knowledge of this switch. Now go!" she pointed to the front of the tent. The man rose to his feet and looked like he wanted to complain some more but he saw that the woman was carrying a stick and went silent.
The woman's face was like a porcelain mask; smooth and betrayed nothing pertaining to what she may be thinking. The man scowled at her then he turned and walked away, grumbling under his breath.
The woman turned to Dany, her expression remained blank and bowed "My apologize Khaleesi" said the woman politely "Harkness has a loud mouth and no manners."
"No harm done" said Dany. She glanced sideways and saw the man settling down on a barrel outside the tent and kept his crooked bit of wood and wineskin in hand. He sat there and glared at all the people who passed the tent.
"That man, where is he from?" asked Dany "I'm not familiar with that accent." Having spent a part of her childhood growing up in the Free Cities, Dany was familiar with all accents, except for his.
"He is a mercenary," said the woman "I met him in Braavos. Where he is truly from, I know not." Dany heard the man mumble something and watched him spit at the ground.
"And who might you be?" asked Ser Jorah "I doubt that you are the merchant's wife or his daughter."
"I am also a mercenary" answered the woman "My employer hired the services of myself, Harkness and several others while in Braavos to safe guard his caravan here to Vaes Dothrak and back to Braavos."
Daenerys raised an eyebrow. A sellsword who is a woman? The young Khaleesi thought it strange but then again, the cultures that inhabit Essos and beyond were alien compared to that of the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities.
The woman bowed again "Forgive me, but I must attend to my duties. I hope you find what it is you are looking for."
Dany thanked her and watched as the woman in black depart and walk out into the hot, bustling market street.
A few hours passed and Daenerys emerged from the tent, her retinue trailing behind her carrying baskets of salted meat, fruits, and various other items. The sun had shifted in the sky and was hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows in the orange light of dusk.
Feeling tired and wanting to see her beloved, Daenerys moved towards her palanquin but suddenly, a blood-curdling scream caused her to stop.
She turned and saw one of her retinue on the ground, convulsing and frothing at the mouth. Without warning, there was a soft thwip! Another of her number fell, followed by another and another. Each of them fell, dropping their basket and spilling their contents all over the road.
Merchants and traders who were nearby, scattered like frightened animals, while Dany's remaining servants and Ser Jorah quickly surrounded their Khaleesi, trying to shield her from whatever was happening. From in between her protectors, Dany saw a dart with a colorful plumage buried in the throat of one of her fallen handmaidens. Dany's heart stopped and her blood turned cold.
The usurpers hired knives! They even dared attempt to kill strike here, in Vaes Dothrak!
Thwip!
The servant to Dany's side fell to the ground with foam forming in her mouth. When she fell, the young Targaryen saw a pair of figures standing there. Both were dressed in brown cloaks and had cloth wrapped around their heads, completely hiding their faces, except for their eyes.
One was holding a long, flute like shaft of wood. The other was carrying a pair of fearsome looking daggers. Dany's eyes widened. How did they smuggle their weapons past the Dothraki guards? Ser Jorah wore his armor but he was just as unarmed as Dany and the thousands of other Dothraki and merchant that were in Vaes Dothrak.
Regardless, Ser Jorah stepped forward and Dany's servants closed the gap. One of the figures stepped forward, slipping his flute like weapon back into the folds of his cloak. Ser Jorah attempted to swing at the assassin but his attack missed and the assassin struck back with several furious strikes that caused the exiled knight to fall.
Dany watched in horror as Ser Jorah tried to move but he seemed to be paralyzed. "Khaleesi, run!" said Ser Jorah hoarsely "Run!"
The young Targaryen tried to move but her legs were not responding. Within seconds, the second assassin, the dagger wielder, was already close. He swept aside Dany's other servants like nothing and he raised his knives to strike. As the man lifted his weapons, Dany noticed that his arms were covered with scars. Every inch of his flesh was covered with notches that were grouped together, as if it were a count of something that was unknown to everyone but the assassin.
Before the assassin could strike, there was a faint whistling sound and the daggers were suddenly knocked out of the man's hands. The man and Dany looked and saw the sellsword in blue, the rude one from earlier, standing there. Dany remembered that his name was Harkness and had now completely forgiven his rude attitude from earlier.
Emerging from the tent was the woman in black. She was carrying the walking stick from before and her face was still as emotionless as a mask. Harkness raised his hand and Dany saw catch the crooked piece of wood that he was holding earlier.
"My, what a mess we have 'ere eh?" noted the hairy sellsword with a soft whistle "I thought you assassin blokes were suppose to be secretive and not alert the whole bloody world of your location." He glanced sideways at his fellow sellsword "Am I right Kat?"
The woman nodded "Indeed."
"This is non of your concern!" snarled the assassin, his voice was rough like stone "Leave or you too will taste my blades!"
"Ooh, that sounds like a threat, doesn't it Kat?" cooed Harkness, eyes twinkling gleefully. The dark haired woman named Kat said nothing.
She stepped forward and said loudly and calmly "You will throw down your weapons and leave while you still can. If not, you will be defeated and you will suffer for what you have done here today."
The two assassins said nothing. The scarred one knelt down and picked up his daggers, while his friend drew a pair of knives of his own.
"Well, I have been itching for a good scrap" said Harkness, giddy and looked ready to burst with excitement.
For a few long moments, an unnatural silence and stillness fell on the entire street. The two assassins and the two sellswords stared each other down. Dany, Jorah and everyone who remained watched in silent terror. Without uttering a word, the two assassins attacked. They charged at the two sellswords, daggers at the ready. Kat and Harkness stood perfectly still.
When the two attackers got close enough, Harkness drew back and hurled his crooked piece of wood. The wood went spiraling at the attacking assassin, which caused him to stop and try to deflect it but it veered out of the way. Distracted, the assassin didn't notice the hairy sellsword coming at him from behind. When he turned around, it was too late. The hairy man threw himself onto the assassin, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
As the two tumbled around, punching and kicking each other, Kat met the scarred assassin head on.
The assassin swung his daggers furiously with an astonishing speed and elegance that made Dany believe that the man wasn't human. However, Kat used her walking stick to block and brush aside his attacks with a fluid grace that matched her opponent's speed.
Dany rushed to Ser Jorah's side and tried to see if he could help but the exiled knight struggled. "I-I don't know how Khaleesi" said the knight, confused and worried "But that bastard somehow paralyzed me. I can't move."
The young Targaryen turned her head and watched as Kat expertly knocked her opponent's daggers free from his hands.
Harkness caught his wooden weapon and started clubbing his opponent's face with it and his other fist.
Kat twirled her walking stick around her and went in for a critical blow but her opponent dodged and he backed away. The assassin looked from Kat to Harkness, who was standing up and dusting himself off. Finally, the assassin turned and faced Dany. The Khaleesi saw that the man was weighing his options. His dark eyes bore deeply into Dany's but he heard something and quickly turned his head, snarling "Seven Hells!"
Dany, Kat and Harkness heard it as well. Thundering of hooves. The Dothraki were coming to her aid.
The assassin turned back to Dany and snarled "Next time princess, you will not be so lucky!" He turned and flitted away. Vaulting over the counter of a nearby tent, the assassin vanished into the cluttered confines of the Bazaar. Dany sank to her knees and felt like she was going to faint but she stayed strong. Kat rushed to her side and tended to Ser Jorah.
Harkness strolled over, carrying a wineskin in his bloodied hand.
"Now that was the best day that I have had on this entire journey" said the sellsword. Dany gave him an odd look and the man offered her a sip of his wineskin. The young Targaryen politely declined and she turned and saw Ser Jorah pushing himself up.
"W-what? How?" asked Dany.
"Stun strikes," replied Kat, calmly "They struck his nerves at the right points so that his body would freeze up. He was lucky that it was only to disable."
"I'm sorry Khaleesi" apologized the exiled knight, his face red with embarrassment "I have failed to protect you."
"It is fine, Ser Jorah, I forgive you" said Dany. She was shaken up by the attack and she felt that she should be mad at Ser Jorah but she couldn't. The knight tried to do his duty and somehow was bested by these assassins. Regardless, they were both alive, as were her other servants. That is what mattered. The assassin's words echoed through her mind. This will not be the end.
Whoever was behind this will be back and will probably send more assassins. What was going to do? Khal Drogo and his warriors were among the best in all of Essos and, arguably, the whole world. But these assassins, they fought in ways that are strange and unfamiliar, even to Dothraki.
A thought came to her mind. "Thank you" said Dany, sincerely "I can not express how grateful I am."
"It is our pleasure" said Kat, nodded at Dany.
"Why? Why did you help us?" asked Ser Jorah "It was not your duty. Your duties require you to protect your master's caravan only, not the Khaleesi."
"I only did this for the reward" said Harkness "And I was very bored. I need to kill something."
"I intervened because it was the honorable thing to do," added Kat "I could not stand idly by and let a pregnant woman be slaughtered."
Dany smiled then said, "I cannot thank you enough. As a reward for saving not only my life, but the life of Ser Jorah and my unborn child, I shall pay twice what your master is paying you and hire you as members of my personal guard."
The two sellswords froze and shared a look. Kat said nothing but Harkness grinned, "I like the sound of that. Better pay, more fighting, it seems like my name day has come again." Dany looked and saw Kat consider her words.
The sellsword said nothing for a good long while, until she looked Dany in the eyes and nodded.
Kat bowed her head and said "My blade is at your service, my lady" "As are mine," said Harkness, bowing dramatically.
Daenerys rose to her feet and, with her two new guards, greeted the mob of mounted Dothraki arrived.
The scarred assassin picked his way through the throngs of people, carefully trying not to look suspicious. He had ditched his old cloak and face covering and adopted a new, finer cloak.
The assassin envied the Faceless Men. They could easily hide and slip in and out unnoticed like phantoms, unlike him, who was recognizable, thanks to the collection of scars that he kept on his body.
Any other man would say that it was foolish to make him so distinguished and easy to spot. But then again, Zsasz wasn't like other men. He knew how to hide well enough and he was an artist in the art of killing. The scars were reminders of all the lives he took and they were part of a ritual known only to him.
Regardless of his odd rituals, many men and women seek his skills and this job was no different. These Dothraki were strong and were clever in battle but were simple minded and slow to react to vipers hidden in their midst.
Zsasz carefully analyzed the situation in his head. The task failed, not on his part but mostly on the part of his partner. The boy was young and foolish. He was hungry to kill the horseman's woman and collect the bounty. It was true that he had skill but his lack of patience and greed is what gotten him captured.
Zsasz snorted. He wasn't going to help the stupid whelp.
That was the way things worked with Zsasz and his fellow hired knives: a man who falls behind, is left behind. The assassin glanced sideways as more Dothraki galloped into the bazaar. The horsemen pushed their way through, forcing people out of their way.
Such an embarrassing failure, thought Zsasz. He needs some time to come up with a much better strategy. He'll have to consult with his masters.
The assassin shivered. There were few people in the world who truly made him feel uneasy, and they easily topped his list.
Night had fallen and the man stumbled through the cold and darkness. He stumbled over tree root, rock and hidden holes in the ground as he tried to reach home. The man didn't know what day it was or how long he has been gone for but it didn't matter.
All he knew was that he had to get back to the Wall, back to his brothers and to tell them of what he had witnessed.
It had seemed like an eternity ago that they had set out on a ranging. Led by Benjen Stark, the small force of rangers and others rode out from the Wall to see what Mance Rayder was plotting. There had been reports of wildings on the move, abandoning their homes and running from something. They had already lost men who had gone out to investigate. The only sensible thing they could do was to go out and look for them.
The man almost laughed at the thought. They went out to search for those who were lost and they themselves ended up lost as well.
Lungs burning and legs aching, the man paused briefly and tried to gain strength but it was hopeless. He was going to die.
Images flashed in his mind of the awful ambush. They came from almost out of nowhere, all pale and terrible. The black brothers fought bravely but it was for naught. One by one, they all fell and Benjen Stark went unaccounted for. The man escaped. He rode half way until his horse died of exhaustion and starvation, so he continued on foot. He then discovered the wound.
Looking down, the man saw the hole that was made during the battle. He could still feel the cold, icy blade run right through his leather and cloak. It was the most excruciating pain he had felt and he had been stabbed before. Those blades were unnatural, that's for sure. They did something to him and he knew it.
He could feel a horrible, cold feeling spreading from his wound. The man forced himself to keep moving. With each step, his legs grew heavier and his mind became foggier. The world around him seemed to be fading into a blur of black shadows and white snow.
He shook his head and kept going.
Time seemed to move by quickly, because he found himself staggering into a grove of familiar trees. The ancient, white trees with blood-red leaves greeted him silently as he stumbled and fell to the ground at the foot of them. In that instant, the man felt the last of his strength fail him. It's over. He was finished. He was so close to home, he could feel it but he was still so far away.
The man managed to roll over onto his back and gaze upward. Up above, a pale moon filtered through the bloody leaves of the weirwood tree he laid under. His heart began to slow and the world grew distant. The man felt the cold, unnatural feeling spread even more through his body but he didn't mind, in fact it almost felt comforting. He spent so long up north that the cold no longer bothered him. In fact, he loved the cold and snow.
The vast, snow covered landscape of the north was pure and fair, unlike the wretched sty that was the south.
The south, the ungrateful masses that think him and the rest of the Night's Watch nothing more than a jape or a silly tale.
But the man found that to the most hilarious jape of them all. All these years, the king and all those lords thought their petty struggles were what mattered and they neglected the Wall, leaving it a place for the condemned and the outcasts. For a time, he thought so to. He came north after losing his beloved Nora to the illness. But, over time, Victor came to see how insignificant those petty little lords were.
The vast expanse of snow blanketed, untamed wild stretched out as far as the eye can see. Hidden within the vast wilderness were things that would make experienced knights soil their armor.
Now, Victor was going to die because of a mummer's tale. The ranger would laugh but he couldn't. His eyes slowly became unfocused and as his eyes closed, he heard the soft crunching of snow. His mind was a haze now and he didn't care anymore. Victor will see his beloved again soon enough and he would avoid the horror of what is coming from the far north, from the Lands of Always Winter.
Before his vision faded to black, a shape appeared and Victor could've sworn that it was…womanly and had beautiful red hair like the leaves of a weirwood tree.
End of Chapter
(a/n: So? What do you think. So, more characters introduced here. We got Captain Boomerang(his last name is Harkness), Katana, Zsasz and Victor Fries. There are more to come.)
Next time: Strange things are brewing in the North, especially at the Wall. Meanwhile, Catelyn Stark journeys to Vale with a prisoner in tow to seek truth regarding Jon Arryn's murder. However, with Catelyn's sister acting erratic, Lady Stark's, and Tyrion's, only hope comes in the form of a young Maester named Jon Crane.)