Chapter 1
James looked at the rats, scurrying around him.
He looked at the dirt and mud, caking the streets of Kings Landing, in Flea bottom.
He looked at the blood flowing out from within him, onto the ground, slowly mixing with the mud and turning it into a reddish brown sludge. His vision began to fade, and his body began to feel heavy. He was dying. He could feel it. This was the end for him, huh? Dying alone in an empty alley at fleabottom, with his body soon to be thrown into a ditch and devoured by rats. Born into stink and shit, and dying in it as well. Darned.
He had been so bloody stupid...
He had been called.... James the knight. It was a jest, at first. A mockery. But he took it up, all the same. It was a title, after all, and titles always had power. Just look at the goldcloaks and the nobility. He had found a sword, finding on the corpse of a sellsword that was lying dead in a back alley behind the whorehouse. Poor bastard must have taken one of the girls out to the back, before she stabbed him and left him for dead. He didn't have any coins left with him, but he still had a sword. And, well, in Flea bottom one took any advantage they could get. Even if the advantage was a poorly made bastard sword that was barely a sharpened hunk of metal.
He had taken to bringing it around for show, swaggering to show it off. Using it to intimidate other people to give him a wide berth. Used it to scare off a bunch of punks hoping to cause trouble. Even then, he had started to practice swinging it, pretending to be a knight. Finding out and figuring out how to best use it to slash, stab, and kill. He even managed to score a few kills using it, further cementing his reputation and his street cred. He had a name now. James Falseknight. Piss him off, and he'll gut you with that sword he's using. People began to respect him now. Began to even call him 'sir'. Hah!
Then he forgot that overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer, and got shanked in the stomach by a street urchin while his buddies distracted him.
"Am I going to die here, like a dog? Like a sack of garbage with no hope, nor future?" He wondered. He could even hear voices now.
"Are you alright? What happened? Its ok, I'll save you!" Ah, what a beautiful voice. Like silver bells. Was that the angels of the seven, that his mother had told him about so long ago? Or was it the maiden? He felt his body being rolled over, and for a moment, he faced the sky. And then he saw the angel.
Beautiful. Silver hair, with purple eyes. Lips that looked so soft and alluring. A face, filled to the brim with concern. Concern for him. This was the first time he had seen such an expression directed to him. He felt two hands placed on his stomach, and a warm feeling travel across the stab wound.
"Its too late. I'm going to die." He thought. But it was still a nice feeling, though.
The last thing he saw, before the world went black, is the girl turning her face, and.... pointed ears?
He looked at the dirt and mud, caking the streets of Kings Landing, in Flea bottom.
He looked at the blood flowing out from within him, onto the ground, slowly mixing with the mud and turning it into a reddish brown sludge. His vision began to fade, and his body began to feel heavy. He was dying. He could feel it. This was the end for him, huh? Dying alone in an empty alley at fleabottom, with his body soon to be thrown into a ditch and devoured by rats. Born into stink and shit, and dying in it as well. Darned.
He had been so bloody stupid...
He had been called.... James the knight. It was a jest, at first. A mockery. But he took it up, all the same. It was a title, after all, and titles always had power. Just look at the goldcloaks and the nobility. He had found a sword, finding on the corpse of a sellsword that was lying dead in a back alley behind the whorehouse. Poor bastard must have taken one of the girls out to the back, before she stabbed him and left him for dead. He didn't have any coins left with him, but he still had a sword. And, well, in Flea bottom one took any advantage they could get. Even if the advantage was a poorly made bastard sword that was barely a sharpened hunk of metal.
He had taken to bringing it around for show, swaggering to show it off. Using it to intimidate other people to give him a wide berth. Used it to scare off a bunch of punks hoping to cause trouble. Even then, he had started to practice swinging it, pretending to be a knight. Finding out and figuring out how to best use it to slash, stab, and kill. He even managed to score a few kills using it, further cementing his reputation and his street cred. He had a name now. James Falseknight. Piss him off, and he'll gut you with that sword he's using. People began to respect him now. Began to even call him 'sir'. Hah!
Then he forgot that overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer, and got shanked in the stomach by a street urchin while his buddies distracted him.
"Am I going to die here, like a dog? Like a sack of garbage with no hope, nor future?" He wondered. He could even hear voices now.
"Are you alright? What happened? Its ok, I'll save you!" Ah, what a beautiful voice. Like silver bells. Was that the angels of the seven, that his mother had told him about so long ago? Or was it the maiden? He felt his body being rolled over, and for a moment, he faced the sky. And then he saw the angel.
Beautiful. Silver hair, with purple eyes. Lips that looked so soft and alluring. A face, filled to the brim with concern. Concern for him. This was the first time he had seen such an expression directed to him. He felt two hands placed on his stomach, and a warm feeling travel across the stab wound.
"Its too late. I'm going to die." He thought. But it was still a nice feeling, though.
The last thing he saw, before the world went black, is the girl turning her face, and.... pointed ears?