Andrew
"Ha!" Ballos Aenon boomed when he saw Andrew in the tavern. "Andrew Snow. I feared we'd seen the last of you and that solemn face of yours."
"Since when did you come to fear about something, Aenon?"
That made the old man grin. "Well said, lad. I was never afraid of anything. Even now I could hope to match with you, toe-to-toe. Did you bring that blue sword of yours?"
"No, I didn't." He had no reason to bring Frost out today. The western sky was already red and the sun no more than a faint patch of brightness beneath the clouds. Night would be upon him before he reached home and wearing a sword at night will bring the bravos to him and challenging him. Andrew had no idea to get in a meaningless fight.
A serving girl kept a tankard of his strong black beer before him. Andrew took a drink from it and kept it on the table. "So what are you doing?" Andrew asked him. "You've been busy. I couldn't see you here."
"Busy?" Ballos laughed. "Now there's a word that I can say about you too. How was your sailing business?"
"My sailing business?"
"You know, the business you had to do in ships. Illola told me of it."
Of course she did and thank the Gods for that. He owed another thanks to the woman now. She had done a good job in covering up his disappearance. "Aye, that," Andrew sounded as coolly as possible. "That went good."
"Good for you." Ballos extended his cup towards a serving girl to refill it. "Things here were not so good while you were away in the sea, Snow." He came close to him and lowered his voice as he continued. "Do you remember the Westerosi Prince's death and the assassin who did it for the Targaryen? He came again. He came for the king when the Dragon king arrived in Braavos. Half a hundred people died that day and there were others too, common people who died in the commotion. I myself came close to crossing swords with him but Lord Tycho ordered me to bring him back to the castle and I should thank him for it, Snow. Trust me when I say, dozens of Braavos' finest bravos died that day. You could've got a good fight yourself. A shame you missed it."
I didn't miss it. I was there that day, Andrew thought but he kept quiet. "What happened to the king?" he asked.
"He ran back to Westeros," Ballos said. "He thinks he is safe in his castle, not in Braavos."
"What about the deal with the Iron Bank then?"
"It was not finished." Ballos took a long, big gulp of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The king was too afraid to stay and finish them."
That was a good news. If Rhaegar doesn't have the support of the Iron Throne he loses one of his biggest allies and also his grip on his kingdom. At least his rage had done something good for him. Andrew chuckled lightly at the thought.
Ballos took the tankard and downed another swig, then wiped his mouth. "Well, you could not blame him for it though," the old man said. He lowered his voice once again. "Despite all the rumors going on, the assassin is not dead. He is not. He jumped into the canal and we searched for days for a trace of him but we got nothing."
I am very much alive and I have to thank Joy for it. "Perhaps, the eels might have finished him off."
"Might be," said Ballos. "Well, I never had much use for him anyway. But a man got to appreciate pure skill." He cracked a bawdy joke at a one-eyed bravo beside him who dropped his mead and the hall echoed with laughter. "Too good a skill to be wasted on eels."
"All men die."
"All men must die," Ballos admitted, "and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It's not the when of dying that matters, it's the how of it, Snow."
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?"
He slid his short, fat hand around Joy's neck and tightened his grip. He could see the discomfort in her shining green eyes. Andrew swallowed his anger. Rage was not always the answer, he had learnt that lesson once and he would not make the mistake again not when Joy's life is in danger. "Get your hands off of her," Andrew told to Janos. "I'm the one who you need. Leave her alone."
"And who are you to command us?" Deem chuckled from behind Joy. "We don't serve your royal father, boy."
"Boy," snapped the jowly man. "You will not talk a thing with that traitor mouth of yours. I am free to do whatever I want with her. You brought her into this yourself, boy. The pretty little thing and you brought her into this." He took his hand away from Joy's throat and pointed a meaty finger at Andrew's face. "How good was she in your bed?"
Andrew gritted his teeth and fisted his hand.
"I suppose I'll know it when I fuck her," Janos Slynt said with a smirk. "When we all do." His men laughed at that.
Andrew looked to Joy and he remembered his mother. He had left her in the Torrentine river in the same way he is leaving Joy to the likes of men like Janos.
Slynt slammed a fist against his jaw again. "I've seen you! His Grace had your measure true enough, it seems. You are a traitor's son, not fit to live. I will kill you now. I, Janos Slynt will end the legend of the Born King. After I kill you, I'll go for your traitor uncle in the Night's Watch. It would not surprise me to learn that it was all part of the same fell plot. Benjen Stark may well have a hand in all this as well. I know you Starks better than anyone."
"My uncle is a man of honor."
"Honorable as Arthur Dayne who took up arms against the king he swore to protect," mocked Deem.
"More honorable than the likes of you," Andrew spat. "You don't even have the right to speak his name."
"Right?" said Slynt. "Well, we don't have the right to speak traitors' name. Your whole family was a traitorous one. Oh, yes. And I know the ways of wolves as well." He pointed at Andrew's face. "Your father died a traitor."
"My father was murdered." Andrew was past caring what they did to him, but he would not suffer any more lies about his father. "I remember you now. You were the one who led the armies into the Great Hall of Starfall."
Slynt purpled. "Murder? You insolent pup. Your father, the Great King Eddard moved against his liege and rightful king. Do you know how your father died? He watched how your mother was raped, again and again, and only when all of us were done with her, we chopped off his head and threw it into the sea along with your mother."
Andrew twisted and yanked away from the men's grasp and grabbed the dagger of the man to his right. He slashed open the belly of the man from whom he took the dagger and slit the throat of the other one who had held him before he could even draw his sword. He moved to Joy at once. Janos Slynt backed away behind the table and Deem held Joy, his dagger against her throat. Joy bit his hand and when the man took his hand away Andrew pushed Joy away and buried his dagger in Deem's right eye. He threw the dagger at the last one who had a longbow and the dagger lodged itself in his throat.
Janos Slynt ran to the door but Andrew was much quicker. He grabbed Slynt by the throat with such ferocity that he lifted him off the floor. He would have gladly throttled him but the frog-faced man had talked too much. "Rhaegar," Janos Slynt gasped, his jowls quivering and face turning purple. "It was Rhaegar."
Andrew took Slynt's own dagger from his belt. "Don't worry, he's next." He plunged the dagger deep into Slynt's gut and drew it upwards, tearing open his belly and spilling his insides out.
When Slynt grew limp in his hand he dropped the corpse down. His head throbbed badly where they had hit him with the wood.
"Andrew," he heard Joy call him, her voice faint as a whisper. He dropped the dagger and turned to her.
He found Joy laying on the wooden floor, with an arrow between her breasts. Her face had gone pale, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask.
"No, no, no, no." Andrew rushed beside her, took her in his arms and cradled her against his chest. "Andrew," she said, very softly. It sounded as though the arrow had found a lung.
"Shhh." He took her hand. "It's alright. It's alright."
"Andrew," she whispered. "I would have loved to go and see Winterfell with you."
"We'll see Winterfell," he promised her. "It is big and shiny, you'd love it. There is this big picture of my father and mother. And father, he will protect us. No one dares to enter the north." He touched her hair. "We'll see mother as well. She would love you."
Joy just smiled at that. She cupped his cheek with her hand. "I love you, Andrew," she sighed, dying in his arms.
Author's Notes: Yes, that's it, Andrew is going to Westeros with double the need for vengeance.