The King of Winters

The Last Legacy

Andrew Stark

He woke up in the dark, breathing heavily, gasping for air. The fires in his chambers had died out and the candles had reduced to a solid puddle of wax in the stand. From the dark around him Andrew could say that it was still very early in the morning. Time in which the birds would rise up from their nests. He sat up on his bed and moved the covers back pushing his hand through his black hair which blended easily with the darkness in the room. Everyday he would go to sleep with the covers on to protect him from the cold only to wake up sweating in the early morning. Thanks to his dreams which did the deed without fail. 

Even after he had killed Viserys the dreams just continued to trouble him. He had made the death of the Mad Dragon as a slow and a terrible one. Hanging from a brothel he was very much welcomed to fuck all the women he needs with his dead cock. Yet now his dreams were worser than the ones before. He saw the blood and gore and mess as usual but everytime in the end he would see his mother just like he'd seen her for the last time, standing in the waters of the Torentine with that sweet smile of hers, shining in the starlight with tears in her beautiful face and the dark hair, the same one that he had, blowing in the night wind. He remembered for sure that he had seen no one else with his mother that day. But now Viserys stood behind his mother in his dreams. He looked the exact same way he had left him hanging in the Pearl House. He was pale as death and the only thing remained of his lower face was just the mess he'd made of it. His flesh was sloughing in most of his body and his hands were white. They looked as though they were some kind of bird's claws. When the Torentine would take Andrew away from his mother, Viserys would make his way towards his mother. Andrew would shout with all his might at his mother yet she couldn't hear his shouts. Viserys would grab his mother with his claws tight around her neck, the sharp claws sinking deep enough to draw blood. And then his tongue would come out of his mouth, all white and slimy to lick the blood he brought from his mother's neck. Andrew always tries to jump off from the boat and to go save his mother but no matter how hard he tries he could never get off of the boat. The Torentine would take him far away from his mother but still he could clearly see Viserys' claws tightening around his mother's neck. 

It felt for Andrew that he himself had sent the Mad Dragon to his mother. But then he realised that there was no way for a monster like Viserys to be in the same place where his mother would be. Viserys would be burning in the deepest pit of the Hell but his mother won't be there. Not his mother, who was sweet and noble and kind and beautiful. She would be a world away from Viserys, with his father and uncle around to protect her. Maybe the dreams were just helping him to remember the things he needs to do, he never knew. It definitely helped a lot. It was the dreams which helped him to remember who he was, which pushed him to do what he was doing now. If it wasn't for those dreams even inside his deep heart he would have completely changed into Andrew Snow. He would've turned into the mask he was wearing to hide his identity. But still this dream troubled him as though if it meant something. 

He got off his bed and moved over to the window. The canal which ran near the inn looked nothing but a stream of flowing ink. A man rowed his boat upstream in it, starting his day with the work. The eastern horizon was a pinkish red which indicated the rising sun. Andrew sighed and went on to start his day with a refreshing bath.  

When he was done with the bath he moved over to his wardrobe and picked up fresh clothes to wear. He wore a brown sleeveless jacket and the white tunic shirt with the sleeves folded up to the level of his elbows. A burgundy pant completed his clothing and Andrew styled his wet hair in the way he preferred, slicking it back from the front to the back. Frost laid on the table. Andrew thought to take the sword at first but then he decided to go without it since the Sealord of Braavos became alert enough to increase the patrol after the death of the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.