The King of Winters

Chapter 40

Andrew thought on that part. It was easy to think about but the truth of it was so hard. He would have died as a nameless assassin and a killer if Joy had not saved him that day. 

"I should leave," Andrew said and got up. He has heard enough about Rhaegar for today. He wanted to go back to Joy and her arms. He wanted to talk to her about it. 

It was already dark when he came out. The fogs had come back and covered the world in a sea of grey. The lantern which would always be lit during the night at the door of their room was not there today. He could not see it in the fogs and there was no light other than that as well. 

"Joy," Andrew called as he opened the door. Inside the room was pitch black and there was no hint of light anywhere. Joy always kept their room lit during night. Never once had she left the fires burn out at their home. 

"Joy," he called her again. There was no reply to be heard. It was eerily silent in the room. She must've gone to meet some sick children, he thought. Maybe she had left a note for me. 

Someone was there in the room with him. Not Joy, he could say it. The wood creaked under his boots with his every step. It was too heavy to be Joy. He turned his head to the sound and the next thing he felt was a hard hit at his head and a sharp pain at his temple. A bright light flashed even though his eyes were closed in pain. They were behind him too. He felt two pairs of hands pushing him to his knees. 

 When he opened his eyes again, he saw a tallow candle burning where no candle had been a while before, its uncertain flame swaying back and forth.

"Look what we have here." In the leather chair behind the table where Joy would sit and mend his clothes, laugh at his jokes, where she would give him kisses, sat a big, broad, jowly man Andrew did not know. He had seen him somewhere before but he could not remember it. "The Born King, himself" he said again. "The one and only son of the Great Eddard Stark and the lovely Ashara Dayne."

"Looks like the boy had managed to live," a man in gold cloak beside him said, his flinty eyes were dark with amusement. He had Joy before him, a dagger at her throat. Andrew tried to push away the two men behind him to go to Joy, but they held him down, pressing him further against the floor.

"And why not," said the stout man in the chair. "He has the same traitor blood of his father to hide from his grace. Atleast your father had the gall to meet us in battle."

He felt his anger boil up inside him at that. His father was an honorable man. He was no traitor nor was he a coward. He looked at Joy, she was pale in fear. A purple bruise was at her cheek where the men must have hit her. He looked up at all their faces, five they were including the ones who held him and all five will die either today or another day. 

"You can see Eddard Stark in his face don't you, Deem?" the jowly man asked the one who held the dagger at Joy's neck. 

"At once I saw him, Lord Janos," the man called Deem chuckled. 

"Long, solemn face and handsome as your father was and the black hair of your mother." The big, broad man stood up from the chair and walked to him. Andrew tried to shrug off the men who held him again but he could only earn a hard blow of a gauntleted hand to his cheek. Blood filled his mouth where his tooth cut his cheek. The stout man raised his hand to hit him again but stopped at halfway when a voice came from behind. 

"Don't, please," Joy shouted. Tears were in her eyes now but they were not because of the dagger at her throat. "Please don't hit him," she said again through her tears.

Stout, jowly Janos Slynt walked back to Joy. "Well, I always wanted a woman who took my pain as her own," said the jowly man. "Why does it always have to be the Starks to get the beautiful women?"