Chapter I - Arienne

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I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS IN THIS BOOK, THEY BELONG TO THE AWESOME GEORGE R. R. MARTIN, AS DO THE PLACES (E.G KINGS LANDING, WINTERFELL, QARTH ETC ETC.)

THIS IS A FAN FICTION, WITH MY IDEAS ON WHAT COULD HAPPEN AND WHAT I THINK WOULD BE GOOD STORIES TO TELL.

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This story is set in occurrence with the TV series, although the beginning occurs 12 years before the TV show it set, so as many of you may have read the books, please refrain from commenting things like 'But he's supposed to be dead!' etc.

It's set just after the events of the second series of GOT.

Also, unlike the TV series and original books, I'll be mainly focusing on King's Landing and the events that happen there, it's just my favourite part of the show, that's all.

So, I hope that you enjoy!

Please feel free to leave me comments, you know, likes/dislikes/constructive criticism etc. And if you like it, then press that little vote button up in the top corner!

Merci, Danke Schoen, ありがとう, Gracias, Grazie, Thank You!

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With the first few chapter's of this book, they're are not set in King's Landing and don't involve much romance, etc. It's mainly a prologue to set the scene, and give you a few pieces of vital information. So please bear with it, it really is important in order to understand the rest of the story.

Chapter I - Arienne

I let out a piercing scream. Instantly, I clamp my hand over my mouth. I shouldn't have done that, I know it instantly. But I couldn't help it, the sight that I had just seen was so truly horrific that it managed to make even I feel sick to my stomach.

I should be finding somewhere to hide, but I can't move my legs. I'm frozen to the spot, like a hare caught in a spotlight, stunned and unable to breathe.

I know that I need to run, because if I don't I will die. I don't want to die here, in the muck, with the pigs. My mother told me that I was destined for great things. She would never lie to me, would she?

Everywhere I look, I can see my friends and family, the people that I've known for the entirety of my short life, being slaughtered. The men are being cut down where they stand. Some of them have the mercy of a quick death, their throat's slit, a sword through the heart, decapitation. Others are not so fortunate. A few yards away from me lies a young man who lived a few houses down from mine. I say a young man, but really he is a child. He's only 7 years older than myself, a tall boy of 13. First, a rider came past and clumsily swung his sword, cutting off the boy's left arm. I listened as he let out agonised screams. He fell to the floor, the blood that poured from his arm making the dusty dirt wet and thick.

I wanted to run and help him, but I knew that if I did, they'd find me, and Mother said that could never happen.

I hid my face as another rider, this time on a jet black horse came past. The armless boy looked up at him, pleading for him to take his life quickly. This swordsman was more skilled with his blade, but every bit as bloodthirsty. He took the boy's head off with a single blow, and his remains fell to the already blood-stained floor.

That was why I was screaming. Thankfully, it doesn't seem as if anyone has heard, or at least, there are so many screams that it would be impossible to distinguish mine. Suddenly, it's as if I have got my strength back, and I run on little 6 year old legs to find the safest place that I can. However, every house has now been emptied and there is nowhere for me to hide without being caught.

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