Richard
The smell of chicken stew woke me.
For a few moments, I kept my eyes closed and allowed myself to enjoy it. Warm broth, onions, carrots, and the unmistakable scent of chicken filled our little corner of the alley, pushing aside the usual odors of wet stone, rotting refuse, and the piss left by drunken men stumbling home from the taverns.
Something pressed against my shoulder, then shook me hard enough to make my head bump the bundled rags beneath it.
"Wake up, Richard. Our nameday stew is finally ready." Alicent's cheerful voice filled our shelter, and she shook my shoulder through the blanket.
"Give me five more minutes, Alicent," I mumbled sleepily, pulling the frayed woolen blanket over my head.
"You said that five minutes ago." Alicent laughed and tugged the blanket away from my face.
Cold morning air struck me at once.
I opened my eyes and found her kneeling beside our bed of rags, her black hair tied behind her head with a strip of faded blue cloth. A smear of soot marked one cheek, but her smile made our ruined little shelter feel warmer than any mance.
Behind her, a small iron pot hung over the fire. Steam curled from beneath its lid and carried that wonderful smell through the narrow alley.
"It smells too good for anything made in this filthy alley," I teased, pushing myself upright and breathing in the rich scent.
"Then you can have bread and water instead." Alicent feigned offense and reached for the pot.
"I take back every word I said." I caught her wrist and bowed my head in surrender, though I could not hide my grin.
Her laughter filled the shelter, and mine soon joined it.
Today was Alicent's twelfth nameday, and mine by her decree.
I had been left at the orphanage as a babe with no name, no letter, and nothing that might reveal who my parents had been. The women there guessed that I had been born sometime in 260 AC, but the day itself remained a mystery.
Alicent and I had fled the orphanage when we were eight, after too many nights without supper and too many punishments for wrongs we had not committed.
Once we were free, she decided that I would share her nameday because we were born in the same year. I told her it made no sense, but she refused to listen.
No one should have to live without a nameday, she told me, least of all the person she cared about most.
I stopped arguing after that.
Alicent wrapped a rag around the pot's handle, lifted it from the hook, and set it upon a flat stone beside the fire. When she removed the lid, pieces of chicken floated among chopped onions, carrots, and turnips.
It was no lord's feast, but it was more food than we usually ate in a day.
"Where did you get the chicken?" I eyed the meat suspiciously while she filled two wooden bowls.
"I bought it of course." Alicent lifted her chin with pride and returned the ladle to the pot.
"With what coin?" I studied her pleased expression, and a little unease tightened my voice.
"Some of the copper coins you were saving. I bought the chicken and the roots yesterday. I'm sorry for hiding it from you, Richard. I only wanted us to have a proper meal for our nameday." Her pride faded, and she lowered her gaze to the bowl in her hands.
"Those coppers were ours, not just mine. You spent them well." I nudged her shoulder and accepted the bowl, hoping to ease her guilt.
Her shoulders relaxed, but when I looked down, I found most of the meat in my bowl, including nearly all of one leg.
"I wish you a happy nameday, Richard." Alicent lifted her bowl toward mine, her expression warm once more.
"Likewise, I wish you a happy nameday, Alicent." I exchanged our bowls and placed the fuller one in her hands before she noticed what I was doing.
"Oh, Richard." She frowned and tried to return it at once.
"You bought the food, so you take the larger share." I held my bowl beyond her reach and gave her a firm look.
"It's your nameday Richard, let me spoil you for once." Alicent leaned across me stubbornly and reached for it again.
"And yours as well, call it my nameday gift to you." I grinned and shifted farther away, careful not to spill either bowl.
She glared at me for several heartbeats, but hunger and the smell of the stew defeated her. Alicent sat back down, muttered something about stubborn boys, and took her first spoonful.
I tasted mine a moment later. The broth was thin, the chicken a little tough, and several pieces of turnip were still hard in the middle, yet it was the best meal I could remember eating in moons.
For a while, neither of us spoke much as we enjoyed the meal.
We sat beside the fire with our shoulders touching and warmed our hands around the bowls. Carts rattled over the street beyond the alley, merchants shouted in the distance, and gulls cried above the rooftops. The salt wind from the Sunset Sea mingled with the steam rising from our breakfast.
Our shelter consisted of broken boards, discarded sailcloth, and blankets so worn that light passed through them. Beneath the boards at the rear lay a shallow hollow, just large enough for one of us to curl inside. We hid our coins there and used it ourselves whenever drunken men or thieves wandered too close.
Since leaving the orphanage, I had stolen food, picked pockets, and told whatever lies kept us alive. Alicent cooked, repaired our clothes, guarded our few possessions, and somehow made that filthy corner feel like a home.
I would have suffered almost anything to protect it, which was why I had to bring the Watch down on Rodric today.
Rodric, leader of a slum gang had found me the year before after watching me lift three purses in a crowded market. He offered protection in exchange for a share of everything I stole.
I accepted at first because I thought joining his gang would make Alicent safer, but his protection soon became another threat hanging over us.
Each week, Rodric demanded more coin. When I failed to bring enough, his men beat me.
When the beatings no longer frightened me, he began asking about Alicent. He knew her name and what she looked like, but I had never allowed him or any of his men to follow me home.
The location of our shelter was the one secret I guarded more closely than our coin.
Two weeks ago, Rodric warned that he would sell her to men who paid well for pretty young girls if I failed him again. I lowered my head and promised to do better, hiding my anger until I was alone.
From that moment, I began planning how to ruin him.
Alicent scraped the last piece of carrot from her bowl and glanced at me.
"What are you brooding about, Richard?" Alicent asked. Concern creased her brow, and she rested one hand upon my forearm.
"Oh, I was thinking about how much better your cooking has become." I made myself grin and reached for her empty bowl.
"Not a moment ago you said the turnips were hard." Suspicion narrowed her blue eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Only some of them were difficult to chew." I laughed and rose to rinse both bowls in our water bucket.
She continued watching me while I worked. Alicent knew me too well, but she also knew when I did not wish to speak.
That did not mean she would forget.
"I saved enough for us to eat again tonight." Alicent sat a little straighter with pride and covered the remaining stew.
"Then I'll be back before supper." I made my voice sound certain.
"Where are you going?" Alicent wiped her hands upon her patched brown skirt and watched me with growing concern.
"To the market of course." I kept my voice casual and avoided her eyes.
"You're working on our nameday?" Disappointment sharpened her voice, and she folded her arms.
"Only for a little while. When I return, the rest of the day will be us together." I stepped closer and squeezed her shoulders gently, hoping to ease her disappointment.
"You had better bring me some sweets when you come back." She tried to remain stern, but amusement entered her voice when she poked me in the chest.
"I promise, I'll find you the finest lemon cake in Lannisport." I lifted my chin and spoke with all the pride of a wealthy merchant.
"One that was paid for, I hope." Alicent caught the front of my shirt and fixed me with a stern look.
"I can not make a promise to that." I slipped free of her hand with a grin and backed toward the alley.
She shook her head, though I heard her quiet laughter when I left. If my plan worked, Rodric would never threaten her again. I refused to consider what might happen if it failed.
Lannisport was already crowded when I reached the market.
Sailors from half a hundred ships pushed past farmers bringing produce through the gates, while merchants stood beneath bright awnings and shouted about spices, silks, wines, jewels, and a hundred other things I could never afford.
I moved among them without drawing notice.
For four years, these streets had been my hunting ground. I knew which merchants watched their purses and which guards were slow. I knew the alleys that ended at locked gates, the rooftops that could carry me over crowded streets, and the places where bakers left yesterday's bread.
Today, however, I needed to be seen. I stepped behind a stall and tied a strip of brown cloth over my nose and mouth. The Watch had to witness the theft, but I meant to keep my face hidden from Rodric and his men.
I found my target beside a stall selling Myrish lace. He was a broad merchant in a green wool cloak, with a fat purse hanging openly from his belt. Five watchmen stood less than twenty paces away. The merchant might as well have invited me to rob him.
I brushed against his side and slipped the purse free, then let its metal clasp strike the stones. The merchant looked down, found the empty cord at his belt, and saw the purse in my hand.
"Thief! Someone apprehend that thief!" The merchant's face reddened with fury, and he pointed at me with a hand heavy with rings.
I ran.
The two nearest watchmen shoved through the crowd after me, and their shouts drew the others from their post.
"Stop, boy!" The watchman with the spear bellowed angrily and knocked a basket of onions from his path.
"You can have the purse if you catch me." I glanced back with a mocking grin beneath the cloth and slipped between two carts.
One of the watchmen wore mail beneath a brown cloak, while another carried a short spear and had enough weight around his belly to slow him.
I kept my pace just quick enough to stay ahead. By the time I left the market, all five were still following.
I turned down a narrow street lined with cooperages, crossed a yard filled with drying nets, and vaulted a low wall into the poorer quarter. The stone buildings gave way to leaning wooden structures and abandoned warehouses scarred by salt, storms, and years of neglect.
Rodric's hideout stood among them.
The old storehouse had once held lamp oil. Its windows were boarded, its rear wall sagged, and whatever name had once been painted on the cracked sign above the door had long since faded.
The front doors were chained shut. The smaller door on the side was the only entrance I had ever seen, and Rodric believed no one outside his gang knew it existed.
I looked back and found three watchmen close behind, with the other two fighting through the people farther down the street. That would have to be enough.
I threw open the side door and ran inside.
Men turned toward me from every corner of the storehouse. Some sat around a long table counting stolen coins, while others carried crates marked with merchant seals.
Two frightened women stood near the rear beneath the watch of a man with a knife, and swords, clubs, and spears rested openly against the walls.
The first watchman reached the doorway and stopped when he saw what lay inside. His companions arrived behind him, weapons already in hand.
"In Lord Tywin's name, throw down your steel!" Though breathless from the chase, the watchman raised his sword and held his ground in the doorway.
Rodric's men answered by reaching for their weapons. Steel rang through the storehouse when the watchman cut the first man across the face and drove his shoulder into another. His companions forced their way through the door, and the room erupted into shouting and violence.
The knot had worked loose during the chase, and the cloth slipped from my face as I ducked behind a stack of crates. I reached for it, but a guard's boot pinned it to the floor while he grappled with one of Rodric's men, and I drew back before they could crush my fingers.
Rodric appeared at the top of the stairs. His greasy black hair hung around a lean, scarred face. One brown eye remained sharp, while the other had turned pale and cloudy years ago. His good eye moved from the watchmen to the open crates before settling upon my uncovered face.
"Richard!" Rodric roared with rage and forced his way down the crowded stairs, shoving one of his own men aside.
I left the cloth where it lay and turned to run, only to find the rear wall blocking my escape.
Then one of Rodric's men tore aside a hanging sailcloth and revealed a narrow door hidden behind it. I had never known it was there. He reached for the latch, but I drove my shoulder into his back, slipped beneath his arm, and fled through the opening.
The passage beyond ran between two buildings and opened near the old fish market. I raced through it and did not look back until I reached the next street. Rodric had seen the hidden door. If the Watch did not catch him, he would be close behind me.
I should have felt victorious.
The watchmen had found the stolen goods, the captive women, and enough armed men to fill the city's cells. Even if Rodric escaped, his gang would have a hard time recovering from the raid.
But, none of that mattered as I thought of Alicent. She was alone and oblivious to the situation that I brought to us.
Rodric did not know where we lived, but he knew the quarter where I worked, and he had eyes throughout its streets. I took three false turns, doubled back through a cooper's yard, and crossed two rooftops before turning toward home.
Near the end of the last lane, I spotted one of his younger thieves watching me from a doorway. The boy gave a sharp whistle and fled the moment our eyes met. He had seen the direction I was taking and would bring Rodric within moments.
There was no time for another false trail, I had to reach Alicent first.
By the time I reached our quarter, pain burned through my lungs and sweat soaked the back of my shirt. I cut through a tannery yard, leapt a broken fence, and nearly collided with an old woman carrying a basket of washing.
I called an apology over my shoulder and ran on.
Our alley appeared ahead. Alicent stood beside the fire, stirring the remaining stew. She turned at the sound of my footsteps, and her shoulders relaxed with relief.
"Richard, you're back early, I was just about to warm the stew." Alicent hurried toward me, relief clear in her voice.
I seized her by the shoulders. Before I could speak, boots pounded against the street beyond the alley.
"You need to hide Alicent, Rodric followed me." Urgency sharpened my voice, and I turned her toward the hollow beneath the rear boards.
"What did you do Richard?" Her hands tightened fearfully around my arms while she searched my face.
"There's no time to explain." I pulled one of her hands loose and glanced toward the mouth of the alley.
"What about you?" Alicent clutched my sleeve more tightly, desperation filling her blue eyes.
"I'll lead them away if I can." I kept my voice gentle and pried her fingers from my sleeve.
"Richard, please don't leave me." Tears gathered in her eyes while she held on with both hands.
"I'm not leaving you…stay quiet, no matter what you hear." I softened my voice and guided her into the hollow.
She stared at me for one more heartbeat before nodding. I lowered the old boards over her, then dragged a torn sack of refuse across the opening. The stench would have to protect her where I could not.
I moved away from her hiding place and faced the mouth of the alley. Rodric entered from the street with six men behind him. Two carried clubs, three held knives, and the largest scraped a short iron bar along the stone wall.
When I turned toward the other end, I found two more men waiting there.
Rodric stopped several paces away. Blood streaked one side of his face, and a fresh cut crossed his good eyebrow. His chest heaved from the chase, but his smile remained calm. That frightened me more than his anger.
"You thought you could bring the Watch down on me and crawl back to your little hole?" Rodric approached with a vicious grin and flexed his bloody knuckles.
"The Watch will have your head for this." I swallowed against my fear and forced myself not to look toward Alicent.
Rodric struck me before I saw his hand move. His fist caught my mouth and sent me stumbling into the wall. Pain burst across my face, and blood filled my mouth where my teeth cut the inside of my cheek.
"That clever tongue has caused me enough trouble." Rodric snarled and seized me by the hair, wrenching my head back.
"Then stop listening." I gave him a bloody smile and stared into his good eye.
He drove his knee into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I dropped to both knees, gagging, but Rodric kept hold of my hair.
"Where is the girl?" Fury twisted his face while he pressed a knife beneath my chin.
"She's already beyond your reach." I held his gaze with cold satisfaction, even when the blade cut my skin.
Rodric drew the knife away and nodded to the men around him. The iron bar struck my ribs before I could brace myself. Something cracked inside me, and the first kick caught my shoulder before I reached the ground. Another smashed into my face, filling my sight with white light.
Boots struck my stomach, back, and legs. A club came down upon my left hand and broke two fingers. I curled around my head and tried not to scream. Every moment they spent beating me was another moment they were not searching for Alicent.
"Was that your best?" I gasped with defiance and looked up through one swelling eye.
The largest man kicked me beneath the jaw. One of my teeth broke loose and struck my tongue before I spat it onto the stones with a mouthful of blood.
"Still smiling?" Offended rage hardened the man's face while he raised the iron bar again.
"I've had harder blows from girls half your size." I bared my bloody teeth and laughed weakly at him.
The bar came down across my forearm. Bone snapped beneath the skin, and a scream tore itself from my throat. The men laughed while I collapsed against the stones.
Through the legs surrounding me, I saw two men tearing apart our shelter. They ripped down the sailcloth, overturned the water bucket, and scattered the blankets Alicent had spent years gathering.
One kicked the iron pot from the fire, spilling the remaining stew across the stones. Pieces of chicken and vegetables mixed with ash and filth.
Another man approached the boards hiding Alicent, and my heart seemed to stop. He lifted one with the tip of his boot, then recoiled when the stench trapped beneath the rubbish struck him.
"Nothing but shit and rats over here." The man covered his nose in disgust and stepped away from the hollow.
"Search the other alleys." Rodric pointed toward the street impatiently, sending three of his men away.
Relief nearly made me laugh. Alicent was safe, but Rodric looked down and noticed it.
"Where did you hide her little rat? Tell us where she is and I might make your death quick." His voice turned cold while he crouched beside my head.
I said nothing.
Rodric placed the point of his knife against my cheek and leaned closer.
"She'll come out when she hears you suffer." A cruel smile spread across his face while he pressed the blade hard enough to draw blood.
"She's already far from here." Pride steadied my whisper as I stared into his good eye.
His smile vanished.
Rodric rose and kicked me in the stomach, sending another wave of pain through my broken ribs. I curled upon the stones and fought for each shallow breath, but no sound came from beneath the boards.
At last, Rodric stepped back and wiped my blood from his knuckles.
"Kill him." His voice held no emotion, and he turned away to clean his knife upon his sleeve.
The large man moved behind me.
I heard the iron bar scrape against the stones, then felt him plant one boot between my shoulder blades.
As my life was about to end, I thought of Alicent beside the fire this morning, smiling over two bowls of stew as we ate.
I remember my promise to bring her the finest lemon cake in Lannisport. I had much regret that I was unable to fulfill that promise.
The iron bar finally struck the back of my head, and my skull gave way with a wet crack. Sight vanished first, sound followed, and pain was last.
Then there was nothing.