Gwen I

Gwendolyn Rivers awoke abruptly, jolted from her sleep by the tumultuous clamor of a brawl echoing through the thin walls of the ramshackle inn. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her calloused hands, she groaned as the sounds of the chaos below disrupted the embrace of her fading dreams. The dawn had barely kissed the sky, yet the unruly commotion insisted on announcing itself to the entire Street of Sisters.

As an orphan of humble station, the inn on the fringes of King's Landing had become Gwendolyn's closest semblance of a home. Swinging her lean legs over the edge of the straw-filled pallet, she dressed in a faded, tattered gown retrieved from a rickety wooden stool beside her bed. The rough fabric of her threadbare shift clung to her skin as she pulled the gown over her slender frame. Laces, evidence of countless hasty hands, strained to contain the fabric. Gwen gathered her unruly dark hair into a hasty braid, securing it with a piece of twine salvaged from a discarded sack. The silver necklace, her lone heirloom bequeathed by her mother, now adorned her neck—a slender chain carrying sentimental value that transcended its material worth.

The commotion downstairs reached a crescendo, muffled shouts and clashing steel echoing through the rickety floorboards. With a resigned sigh, Gwendolyn descended the narrow staircase, her bare feet making little sound against the worn wooden steps. The common room lay in chaos, a brawl between patrons spiraling out of control. Broken mugs and overturned tables littered the floor, the air thick with the stench of ale and sweat. Fellow serving girls hurriedly tried to restore order.

"Clear out, you louts!" shouted Old Man Wyck, the innkeeper, brandishing a wooden ladle as if it were a battle-axe. Grumbling patrons, nursing their wounds, stumbled towards the exit, leaving chaos in their wake.

As the scuffle subsided, Gwen spotted the cause—an arrogant pair of knights in mismatched armor. Though their sigils were unrecognizable, their knightly arrogance was unmistakable.

With a weary resolve, Gwen knelt beside the fallen chairs, gathering the shards of broken crockery. She cast a disdainful glance at the knights, muttering under her breath about the manners of so-called honorable men.

The fragrance of spiced wine and roasted meat lingered in the air, remnants of the extravagant feast that had dominated the common room the night before. Banners adorned the walls, each telling a different tale from the corners of the realm. Horses rampant, lambs leaping, stars glittering in the night sky—an array of noble sigils transformed the humble inn into a court of grandeur.

The lords and knights, their heraldic banners streaming like tattered dreams, were no exception to the crude appetites that pervaded the inn's atmosphere. The revelry of the coronation had intensified the audacity of their advances, much to Gwen's chagrin.

In the dimly lit corners, claims laden with false promises rang in Gwen's ears—coin, nobility, lands rolling in abundance. She had grown disturbingly accustomed to the unsolicited attention of the patrons, but this grand occasion had elevated their audacity.

"The coronation's got the knights all riled up. Mark my words, Gwen, today's going to be a long day," Old Man Wyck sighed as he surveyed the wreckage.

Gwen nodded in silent agreement, wiping her hands on her apron. The coronation of King Daeon the First, of House Targaryen, had flooded King's Landing with nobility. The once-quiet Crimson Calice, now teeming with knights and lords in their finest garb, had become a chaotic stage for the extravagant drama of nobility—a world unfamiliar to Gwen, who had worked there since she was two and ten.

In the span of her tenure, Gwen had grown accustomed to the unsolicited attention of patrons. Drunken men would call after her with words that lingered like a sour aftertaste. The incident with an aged drunkard, a few moons ago, requiring Old Man Wyck's intervention to repel, served as a grim reminder that even in its newfound grandeur, the modest inn remained a realm of treacherous currents.

The sun had fully ascended by the time Gwen helped restore a semblance of order to the inn. Old Man Wyck surveyed the wreckage with a tired sigh, shaking his head. "The coronation's got the knights all riled up. Mark my words, Gwen, today's going to be a long day."

Gwen nodded in silent agreement, wiping her hands on her apron. The coronation of King Daeon the First, of House Targaryen, had brought a flood of nobility to King's Landing. The Crimson Calice, once quiet, now teemed with knights, lords, and their finest garb.

Gwen retreated to the cramped space that served as the serving girls' changing area. She glanced at herself in the small, cracked mirror—the reflection of a girl who had learned to navigate the tumultuous waters of the capital without losing her footing.

As she adjusted the faded ribbon that adorned her braid, the distant sound of trumpets heralded the beginning of the coronation festivities. The city buzzed with excitement, the streets alive with the promise of revelry and grandeur. Gwen took a steadying breath, bracing herself for the day ahead.

The common room beckoned, and Gwen emerged onto the bustling Street of Sisters, her worn shoes echoing against the cobblestones. The air was thick with the aroma of roasting meat and spices, mingling with the laughter and cheers of the revelers celebrating on the Street of Silk. She allowed herself to revel in the chaotic energy that engulfed the city, the vibrancy of colors, and the music that filled the air.

Her destination was the bakery at the end of the street, where a crusty loaf of bread awaited her with the few coppers she had earned from running errands for the innkeeper. The feast of colors and sounds absorbed her, momentarily masking the harsh realities of her life.

As she turned a corner, her eyes widened at the sight of a splendid parade making its way down the street. Knights in shining armor, banners fluttering in the breeze, and a host of nobility on horseback paraded past the cheering crowd. Gwendolyn marveled at the splendid display and, in the solitude of her thoughts, permitted herself to drift into a realm of imagination—a world distinct from the harsh reality of her orphaned existence.

Yet, deep down, Gwen understood that these musings were nothing more than whimsical fancies. She knew gratitude should be her lodestar, for she deemed herself fortunate to hold a position at the inn—a stroke of luck that eclipsed the fortunes of many. In the sprawling expanse of King's Landing, numerous young girls her age eked out a living along the notorious Street of Silk, their toil entangled with the city's brothels, a fate far less auspicious than hers.

Lost in her daydreams, she failed to notice the commotion ahead. The thunderous clatter of hooves mixed with the gasps of the onlookers drew her attention. A knight, tall and broad-shouldered, his armor adorned with the sigil of an unknown house, careened down the street atop a spirited horse. The knight struggled to control the steed, and before Gwendolyn could react, the horse crashed into an orange stand.

The knight was thrown from his saddle, his armor clanging against the cobbles. Gwendolyn rushed forward, her heart pounding in her chest. The dark-haired knight lay sprawled on the ground, blood trickling from a gash on his head.

"Are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him. The knight moaned in response, his eyes fluttering. Gwendolyn's fingers gently probed the wound, her makeshift knowledge of tending to injuries kicking in. The cut wasn't deep, but it bled profusely.

"Easy now," she whispered, helping him sit up. The knight's eyes met hers, a mixture of confusion and gratitude reflected in them. Gwendolyn offered a faint smile,

Three young boys, a few years younger than her, approached them as well, helping Gwen prop the knight up into a sitting position. Gwendolyn, ever wary of the streets' treachery, sensed a shift in the atmosphere. One of them, a boy with a shock of sandy-haired boy lingered his gaze on the knight's purse, a glimmer of gold catching his eye. She shot him a stern look, a silent warning to curb his thieving intentions.

"Easy there, ser. We'll help you up," the sandy-haired boy chirped, feigning concern. However, his gaze never strayed far from the tempting prize.

Before Gwen could intervene, the sandy-haired kid's companion, a wiry boy, snatched the purse from the knight's belt and bolted. The third boy, a scrawny figure with dirt-streaked cheeks, followed suit, their laughter echoing through the narrow streets.

The knight, his wits returning, tried to stand and pursue the thieves, but his legs betrayed him, and he stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. Gwendolyn shot the knight a glance, her hand gesturing for him to stay put.

"Let them go, ser. They're quick as shadows," Gwendolyn advised, her eyes locked on the fleeing boys. The knight hesitated, frustration etched on his face, before relenting and allowing Gwendolyn to pull him upright.

But as she turned her attention back to the knight, she felt a cold emptiness around her neck. Panic surged through her as she realized the wiry boy had not only stolen the knight's purse but had also snatched her cherished necklace.

With a fierce determination, Gwendolyn dropped the knight to the ground and sprinted after the thieving trio. Her bare feet pounded on the cobbles as the chase unfolded with a frantic intensity.

The wiry boy, purse clutched tightly, led the pack, his nimble frame darting through the crowd like a mischievous phantom. The other two boys, necklaces dangling from their dirty fingers, followed close behind, their laughter echoing in the narrow alleyways.

Gwendolyn weaved through the bustling market stalls, her agile movements reminiscent of a cat pursuing its prey. Her lungs burned with exertion, but the fire of determination blazed in her eyes. The sights and sounds of King's Landing blurred as the chase consumed her senses.

As the wiry boy darted into a labyrinthine side street, Gwendolyn's focus intensified. She navigated the twists and turns with a dancer's grace, her pursuit unwavering. The occasional glimpse of the stolen necklace around the wiry boy's neck fueled her resolve.

Corner after corner, Gwendolyn closed the gap. The wiry boy, realizing he was losing ground, glanced over his shoulder with a mix of fear and defiance. The wiry boy and the sandy-haired leader struggled to keep pace, their stolen spoils weighing them down.

With a final burst of speed, Gwendolyn lunged forward, her fingers grazing the wiry boy's tattered shirt. In a desperate bid to escape, the wiry boy attempted a daring leap over a pile of crates, but Gwendolyn, fueled by determination and desperation, matched his move.

She seized the wiry boy by the collar as they landed, both tumbling to the ground in a tangled heap. The stolen necklace clattered onto the cobblestones, a fleeting victory amidst the chaos. The mop-haired boy and the sandy-haired leader skidded to a stop, eyes wide with astonishment.

Gwendolyn rose, her breath heavy, and retrieved her necklace. The wiry boy squirmed beneath her grip, defeated but defiant.

A group of City Watchmen emerged from the shadows, their armor glinting ominously. The leader, a grizzled veteran, fixed Gwendolyn with a stern gaze.

"Halt! What's going on here?" he barked.

Gwendolyn stood, her chest heaving with exertion, the stolen purse clutched in her hands. She tried to explain, to tell them she was only trying to help, but the City Watch showed no mercy.

"You're under arrest for theft and assault!" the Watchman declared, and with that, Gwendolyn's world spiraled into darkness as they apprehended her. The noble knight she had tried to aid lay forgotten on the cobbles as the City Watch took her away, leaving the celebrations on the Street of Silk to continue without her.

Author's Note

What's up, everyone :) This is my first ASOIAF fanfic and crossover so please don't crucify me

I was going through a subreddit earlier today and I saw someone requesting Total Drama x ASOIAF fanfiction, so I was like eh, why not?

Honestly just hope everyone enjoys where this goes and please leave a review, criticisms are always welcomed

Anyway until next time ;)

-Zodinson