Game of Thrones: A Tale of a Coward

Cataclysmic Events - Mirk I

Mirk is laying on a crinkled, plain white, moderately comfortable bed in his cramped room. He is sitting up, smiling in glee; he is not alone. On his bed lie two whores, whom he must have presumably had his way with not too long ago. All are completely naked. One of the whores is rested on Mirk's hairy chest; closed eyes, red lips, brown hair. The other one is getting dressed, obviously done with the despicable Mirk for the day. This one has blonde hair, less attractive to the other one, in terms of facial features, but is still used regularly. She puts on her dress, covering all parts of her body, except her chest and arms. She leaves Mirk, without a goodbye, and leaves his home. Mirk doesn't care; he doesn't know her name. Why bother to learn a whore's name? Mirk strokes the brown-haired whore's hair gently. This is one of the high points in his life. One of the last, unfortunately for Mirk, for his father is reaching their home abruptly. Mirk's father is a hater of many things, one of which is whores.

His father opens the door with might and anger and frustration. He had already seen the blonde whore leave their home, so he decides to release his anger unto his son. He finds his son in bed with the other whore. The exasperation on his face clear. His head, red as dark blood. Fuming in anger, he exclaims, "Mirk, explain to me what this fucking horror is!" Frightened, the brown hair leaps out of the bed and immediately starts to get changed. "Why? You know how I feel about this. Get dressed, Mirk. Then get the fuck out of my house!" Mirk's father orders him.

Confused, perturbed and terror-stricken, Mirk looks perplexed to his father. A slight fearful tear rolls down his face; he knows he is serious. "Father, you can't," Mirk says, getting out of his bed. The brown hair exists and leaves father and son to settle their sudden difficulties. Mirk's father looks at his son in disgust, turns around and leaves him on his own. "Gather your things, Mirk. Get out."

Mirk gets his clothes on, resentfully. He looks into the main room, filled with junk and the rest: useless, decrepit items. Although, a sword, the one used by Mirk's Uncle, his father's brother, in the rebellion, is standing strong. His Uncle was slain by the vicious, merciless Targaryen's. Mirk looks at it, his eyes filled with hatred for what his father has just done to him. Mirk's father is just as cruel and unwise as the Targaryen's that were killed with this very sword. "I'm sorry about this, my son," his father begins, however notices him reaching for the sword. 

Mirk puts his hand around the weapon, just as his father puts his hand on Mirk's arm. Mirk pulls the blade from its location and Mirk's father swings a punch, straight into his son's face! "I hate you, father! I've always fucking hated you! I don't understand why you just hate everything," Mirk exclaims towards his father, his face gravely bruised from the punch of his own father. Mirk lunges in and puts the sword straight through his heart and chest! Some blood comes down from Mirk's father's mouth.

Flabbergasted, Mirk removes his Uncle's sword from his father. Mirk drops the sword, feeling relieved, but mostly horror. Consternation to the thought that he has just killed his very own father. The one who raised him. The very one that was supposed to make him a brilliant man. Mirk's father had failed raising his son, and his punishment was his death. 

Mirk backs up from his father's deceased corpse and leaves the house. He leaves all his items there, as it will only seem more likely that he had slain him. 'A good drink should empty me of my worries', Mirk thinks. Although, he knows it's obvious he will be caught. Eventually...

Slightly traumatised, Mirk orders a lot of wine for himself. And as there is no more Luciara in the tavern, that will also mean no more Androw. Mirk is alone. He finds it easier that way; not having the others around to lower his expectations and exasperate him. Mirk also chooses to ignore everything the bartender has and does say to him. He wants to figure out what to do next, whilst contemplating who'll stumble across his father's body.

After two hours of heavy drinking, and emptying his pockets, Mirk leaves the tavern, getting several dirty looks from Rosemary and her friends. Being as drunk (and stupid) as he is, he hasn't the faintest clue why. He blindly makes his way outside.

A chilling scream from a petrified girl is heard in the distance. 'Someone's found him, then', Mirk guesses to himself. Mirk is, as usual, wrong. The innocent woman screams and pleads for help. Mirk investigates what is going on...

A man dresses in black, with a hood over his head, holding a knife, has the woman against a wall, down a dark, trembling alley. After already killing one person - his father - Mirk decides to go for it again. He tackles the assaulting offender to the ground. "Get off me, you bastard!" He yells to him, while the woman falls to her knees, hands covering her mouth. The fear is obvious on her face. He takes the man's knife. Mirk has found himself to be stronger than he he expected. "You gonna rape 'er, were ya?" Mirk rhetorically questions the man, putting the knife to his throat.

"What's it to you, bastard?" The man says back, calling him a 'bastard' again. "Nothin', really. In fact, I don't really give two shits what the fuck you did, or were tryna' do," Mirk begins explaining to him. "Actually, I'm gonna do this." Mirk informs him and puts the knife deep into the man's throat. The blood gushes violently out, all over the cobblestone floor. The woman, still absolutely petrified, gasps slightly, but screams and runs off. Mirk leaves the rapist to die on the ground.

Mirk leaves the knife with the dying rapist and goes off back to his house. Hoping that someone found his father's corpse. He wants to know where this will lead him in life. What direction this can take him. But he is in a drunkish state, so isn't thinking clearly and proper.