The Lone Wolf

The sound of music and the smell of foods surrounded the little boy. The servants and the maids of the great castle were running about the Great Hall, pitchers of wine and trays of foods in their hands. The little boy was seated in the raised table overlooking the Hall of Gods, the Great Hall of the great castle Starfall located in the Red mountains of Dorne beside the river Torentine. He could see everything from his high place where he was seated. The men for whom the feast was thrown were absolutely enjoying it, while the household of Starfall seemed to put all their efforts in pleasing them, because it wasn't a feast thrown for some noble guest, the feast was set up for the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaegar Targaryen the first of his name himself. The boy looked over to the King to whom the feast was put up for. Rhaegar Targaryen was every bit of the king he was. From his long silver-gold hair and his purple eyes to the way he was clad in the clothes of red and black, the colors of his house everything about him screamed of the Valyrian Dragonlords of the old. They even said that his crown was the same one that Aegon the Conqueror had worn. Beside him was a rather pretty woman dressed in clothes of the same red and black of the King. She wasn't a woman of a great beauty but had a plain face and common type of beauty. Though she possessed a certain aura about the way she held herself which seemed to attract almost everyone. Lyanna Targaryen formerly Stark seemed no more than a common maid in Starfall near her husband but she never let that get to her. Her crown which looked a twin to the one her husband was wearing seemed to increase her grace and the way she worn it proudly only added to the fact.

The little boy turned his head to look at his father to see how happy he was to see his sister again. Unfortunately his father was not happy about it, no more than he did with the feast. His face was grim and stern as ever and he ignored his sister at every turn. At the age of five he never knew why his father hated his sister and her family so much. But he'd heard everyone in Winterfell talking about the hatred Lord Eddard Stark had for the Targaryens. They always said that 'Though Lord Eddard never shows it openly, he never forgot his father and brother's murders at the hands of the Mad King with his brother's wife.' 'The North Remembers' his father always told him but he never knew what he meant by that.

The little boy was looking at a knight from the crownlands who was tussling with a servant girl pulling her onto his lap, when a hand brought a sugar crusted cake with almond crumbs sprinkled over it to his mouth. He remembered that he was late and took a big bite to even it up, never mind that almond cakes were his favourite. He turned back to look at his mother smiling and tried to return the smile while chewing the cake. Bits of the cake appeared at the corner of his mouth and his mother brushed them off clean with her thumb.

"Do you like it?" his mother asked while holding the cake towards him for another bite. The little boy nestled further in her lap and took another bite nodding. His mother smiled at him and held him close to her while feeding him from her hands. That is not a proper way given his status as a lord but what is status compared to mother's love and it was his routine to sit in her lap and eating from her hands. With another bite the cake was done and the little boy looked up at his mother with puppy eyes and pouty lips. His mother looked down at him with her laughing purple eyes and a sweet smile which seemed to lit up the hall despite the brightness of the candles.

"Last one," said Ashara Dayne Stark as she took another cake from the high table. The little boy immediately took a bite as soon as his mother brought the cake near his mouth. His mother chuckled at his hurriedness. "Too much of sweet can rot your teeth Andrew," his mother said to him. That is what his father tells him all the time and he'd tell him to stop at two. But Andrew using his mother would manage to get at least five. And because of the feast his father seemed to let him to his ways.

Andrew cannot ask for more loving parents. Their love was so strong and indestructible. Most days he'd sleep in their bed, hearing to their stories, playing with his father and listening to his mother's songs. Though he had a good strong relationship with his father, his bond with his mother was unwavering and as close as it could be. Ashara Dayne, the most beautiful woman in the world was his mother and even that fact of Ashara Dayne's son made him popular in the Seven Kingdoms as well. To the world Ashara Dayne was the most beautiful woman but to him Ashara Dayne was a sweet and kind mother who always sides with him even if he causes some mischief that would earn father's shouts.

"So I see little Andrew is enjoying his sweets," a familiar voice said from the side and Andrew turned his head to see his uncle Arthur, tall and regal in his white plate armor and white cloak smiling at him.

"I do," Andrew replied moving from his mother's hands to his uncle. His uncle took him in his hands effortlessly and tossed him in the air before catching him again. Andrew bursted into laughter at that as he loves it when his uncle does that all the time.

"I could see that," his uncle told him as he carried him to his mother.

His mother stood up from her seat and greeted her older brother. Uncle Arthur held him firmly in his arms as he bowed to kiss his mother on the cheeks.

"Ash," uncle Arthur called his mother, the same way his father used to call her. "How long has it been?"

"Almost two years," his mother looked up at uncle Arthur with a smile and then turned to him in his hands "And you shouldn't throw him up anymore you know he is not so small."

"I am not too old to catch a five year old little sister and there is no way I'm dropping my nephew," uncle Arthur made a face at him making him smile. He returned him to his mother and took a seat near mother after she sat down.

"I could see that Ned is not enjoying the feast," his uncle told his mother and Andrew turned to look his father. His father looked the way he was right from the start but when he saw Andrew he gave a smile.

"He hates feasts," his mother told looking at father. Uncle Arthur looked at father and then gave a nod which was then returned by father. They both were not the best of friends like father and Lord Robert, but they certainly respected each other and because of the love they both held for mother they managed to talk to each other.

Then their talk turned boring to Andrew as they talked about the Seven Kingdoms and other things which never interested him.

Andrew was playing with his mother's gown when the music stopped suddenly. King Rhaegar stood up from his high seat of the carved white marble throne and the hall grew silent. "I thank Lord Dayne for receiving us into his castle and hosting us grandly." He Iooked to his uncle Aaron and uncle Aaron bowed his head in acceptance. "I thank Lord Stark and his family for joining with us in this wonderful feast." The king looked to where they were seated and gave out a smile. His mother tightened her grip on him while his father ignored the king. "So now that these two families have been so kind and good to us I suppose it is right for me to kindly return the courtesy to them."

As he finished that the great oaken doors of the Hall of Gods opened and armed men dressed in the Targaryen livery made their way inside in two long rows. They were armed with spears and swords. Andrew looked up at his mother's face as he couldn't understand what was going on. His mother's face had grown taut and the sweet smile which adorned her face always had vanished. Only she held him closer to her.

"Ash, take Andrew and leave," uncle Arthur said to mother. "You remember the way right?"

Andrew looked to his uncle Arthur. But he never took his eyes off his sister. Andrew turned back to his mother, fear clutching hard to his heart. His mother turned to see father. Father gave a silent nod at her with a sad smile. Andrew didn't know what was happening. He was afraid and found himself clutching tighter to his mother.

Without a second to spare the madness sprung up. He could hear the thrums of arrows. Uncle Arthur turned the table to provide a cover and father pulled mother down to cover. Andrew could hear the clashes of steel now and the screams of men and the wails of women. His mother held him to her chest that he could see nothing.

"Ashara, go," he heard his uncle shout at mother.

"You should leave Ash," his father told his mother. "I love you." Andrew could hear the soft sound of their kiss. He could feel his father's hand on his head but he couldn't bear to look away from his mother now.

His mother stood up clutching him tightly to her body, her arms cradling him with a certain strength in them. She moved to the adjacent door in Starfall's great hall. Andrew turned his head to see what was happening. A Targaryen soldier rushed towards his mother shouting and raising his sword but only to be stopped by uncle Arthur's sword. Uncle Arthur's white sword was red covered in the man's blood so did his white cloak and armor. He took the dead man's sword and tossed it to father. Father caught the sword and both of them gave one last look at him and his mother before moving to fight the other men. Andrew looked to the King whose words started the whole fight. The King was seated in the high marble throne of Starfall with a wine cup in his hands, enjoying the deaths and screams of men as much as his wife, Andrew's aunt did.

His mother moved fast, faster than he'd ever seen her, clutching him tighter, harder that they were one. Andrew could feel tears clouding his eyes after looking at all those mess and gore. He buried his face in his mother's shoulder and held onto her tightly.

He could see nothing but dark and the smell of lavender which his mother loved invaded his nose strongly. He looked up from her but again he could only see the darkness and was afraid even more. He tightened his grip on his mother to make sure she was with him, that he was not alone.

"It's alright baby. Mama's here," his mother hugged him closer.

Andrew was glad that his mother was still with him. The darkness around him frightened him no more because he was with his mother and his mother would never let anyone hurt him. He looked around but could see nothing but the dark. The hands around his body and the pleasant smell of lavender gave him a certain type of courage, a courage that all boys feel when they're with their mothers. He never knew these ways because Starfall was not his home. But it was his mother's home and she has told many wonderful stories of her childhood in Starfall. Andrew always loved those stories no matter how many times he'd heard them before.

Soon enough his mother brought him to the light. Moonlight shone on them in a silver sheen. The night was brighter than any other night. Andrew looked up to the stars. On pleasant nights he used to sit with his mother looking at the stars, his mother would tell him all about the constellations and the important stars in them. Tonight was not a night for that, Andrew knew that for sure though he was only five, a little boy who couldn't understand why all of this was happening.

Nearby he could hear the flow of the river. Torentine, he knew the name. His mother took him towards the river. And shortly he could see the river flowing steadily. The moonlight reflected on the water and it was so beautiful to look at it. There was a small boat rocking in the smooth flow of the river. His mother placed him onto the boat and began to untie it while looking back to see if anyone had followed them.

Andrew could see torches far out in the dark and he knew that is what his mother was checking for. He turned to his mother and her calm beautiful face was nervous. She unwinded the ties of the boat hastily. When the ties of the boat were freed the Torentine pulled the small boat through its current. Andrew knew what his mother was doing and he didn't wanted to leave his mother. He made to climb out of the boat but his mother rushed towards him.

His mother hugged him tightly and pressed kisses to the top of his head while smoothing his hair fondly like the same way she used to do when he would wake up in the nights from nightterrors. "Shhh... It's okay sweetling. Mama loves you. Papa loves you." She brushed his tears off his face with her thumb and pressed kisses all over his face. His mother pressed her forehead to his. "I love you. No matter what I'll always love you."

Andrew could hear the distant hooves of the horses now. His mother looked straight into his eyes. Violet eyes piercing into his dark grey ones. "Remember who you're Andrew. You're Andrew Stark, hailed from the line of Gods and Kings. Whatever you do remember that," his mother told him. Her laughing violet eyes were filled with tears. He could hear the hooves of the horses and the chatters of the men now.

Ashara Dayne pressed one last kiss on her son's forehead. "I love you," she said it again like if that would let her shower all her love upon him. Tears streamed from her haunting violet eyes but Andrew could see the joy in them. There was no fear or nervousness in there now, only happiness and satisfaction of doing something great.

The current of the Torentine pulled Andrew away from his mother. He never took his eyes off her. She was standing right there where he left her. Her lavender gown was drenched to her knees and her beautiful dark hair was wild in the night air. She was crying but there was happiness in her face not sorrow. She seemed to glow in the starlight like uncle Arthur's sword does. And she was looking at him.

Suddenly the shouts of men and the hooves of horses were very near that Andrew could hear some words. His mother gave one last look at him and the sweet smile of hers before cloaking herself in a rag she took from the boat and heading in the opposite side of him, towards the dense forests surrounding Starfall.

Andrew looked at his mother and then turned towards the men who were shouting and chasing. He couldn't see their faces but could hear their voices and shouts barely as he was moving away from them.

"There is she, in the woods," the man who was leading them said. "The first one to catch her will get a chance to taste her. Not even the noblest of the men in Westeros would get a chance to fuck the most beautiful woman in the world," he turned his head to look at his men and also that Andrew could see his face. Silver hair glowed in the moonlight and the red three headed dragon in his armor seemed alive in the moonlight. He was in resemblance to Rhaegar Targaryen but his hair was not so long and his voice was gruff rather than the melancholic one of the king's.

As Viserys Targaryen said that, the men chased after his mother at once as if a hungry beast was chasing them. And Viserys Targaryen followed them with a mad laugh.

Dark grey eyes opened as suddenly as the horses chased after the woman, staring into the wooden ceiling. He was sweating heavily despite the cold temperature of Braavos because of the dream which has troubled him for the last eleven years. He got up from his bed and moved to the basin of water kept beside the window of his little room on top of the inn. He opened the window and the morning light rushed through it blinding him instantly. When his eyes adjusted to the light he took water in his cupped hands and sprayed it on his face. The water was cool and so was Braavos, but he had experienced colder climates than this. He bend over the basin to clean his face further. His reflection was perfect in the clear water in the basin.

He looked nothing like the five year old boy he saw in the dream. Andrew Stark, firstborn son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne was just like the little boy in the dreams, vanished from this world. Here he was Andrew Snow, the bastard born of some unknown northern westerosi lord and a maid in his household. But he knew that soon enough Andrew Stark would return. And then Rhaegar, Lyanna and the entire dragons would pay for the folly they made. After all 'The North Remembers'. Andrew never knew what it meant when his father would say it. But now he knew what it meant and he never forgot the death of his mother, father, uncles and his entire family. The Strength of the wolf may be the pack, but the lone wolf is certainly the baddest one and the Dragons who made him one will feel the wrath of the Lone Wolf.

Andrew took a piece of nice cloth and drenched it in the water and dabbed it on his body. That is the type of bath here in Braavos and the hot ones he used to have in Winterfell were not an option for the bastard he was here. At least he was lucky enough to get water of this amount, most poor people here won't even have enough clean water to drink let alone for a bath. The innkeeper was a kind lady who provided place for him to stay and even water for his bath. But truly it was because of his mentor and old friend, Syrio Forel.

Syrio was the one who took him when he reached abandoned in the Port of Starfall. He took him and raised him, taught him to fight with swords and daggers, taught him to use his senses, taught him to be quick, agile and precise in his moves and every other things he knew. He had been the First sword of the Sea Lord of Braavos and he knew many things including the fighting style of Westeros as well. Andrew managed to learn everything from him but he only excelled in combat to best even Syrio's extent.

Everything he is now was because of Syrio. From his clothes to his shelter all came from Syrio's help. The innkeeper had been Syrio's friend and then became a friend to Andrew through Syrio. Even the pretty sword he has was a gift from Syrio. A unique Valyrian steel longsword that Syrio got from his master years before. Though the sword had blue ripples on the blade rather than the dark of Valyrian steel. Andrew had seen and held his father's sword Ice when he was little(only with his father's help) and the blade of Ice was smoky grey. But this sword had a frozen blue blade and it was colder than other swords as well and so Andrew named it Frost.

But life turned upside down when Syrio died two years before. After that Andrew had to look after his own life with everything he'd learnt from Syrio. Assassin was the best form to earn hefty amount of money since everyone here had someone that wanted to die. And the skills he'd learnt from Syrio made him an elite assasin. He killed for his living. But only on one certain condition. He would kill a man only if he deserves to die. His parents had raised him better than to become a murderer. He only took a mission if the justice was in the side of the petitioner. Other times he used to work alongside Illola, the innkeeper who was his only friend now. Taking care of the business, getting back the owed money, taking care of the brutes and bandits etc...

Once he finished his bath Andrew removed his cotton pants and donned his fresh new clothes. A white cotton tunic shirt tucked into light brown cotton pants and a cream jacket with smooth encircled collar worn over the shirt and a pair of brown colored long boots completed his attire. The jacket was a product of featherlight wool blend and the inner area of the jacket was prudently touched in with a viscose lining so that it provided a skin-friendly soothing appeal. It also had a frontage clasp-up fastening but Andrew decided to leave it open since he'd worn a cotton tunic inside.

Andrew took Frost and slung it along his back and made his way back down to the inn. Illola and her daughters were busy looking after the customers. Illola was looking after the notes while her daughters Ilaena and Sarrera were running around with tankards of black beer and strong ale but the second youngest Ivanna was not there. When Illola saw Andrew she closed up her notes and looked at him with her sharp look. Illola was a middle-aged woman past forty with a strong set of eyes and a pug nose. She had three daughters Ilaena, Ivanna and Sarrera. Illola had been running this inn after her husband died and her daughters helped her. They shared no blood with Andrew but he considered them family and so did they.

Andrew gave a small smile at her and greeted her. "Good morning, Illola," he said walking over to his usual table by the windows.

"Morning, Snow. The usual?" asked Illola.

"Yeah," Andrew said seating himself in the chair. The inn was rather crowded in the morning. And Ilaena and Sarrera needed their mother's help to look after the customers. A new ship must have docked in the harbor thought Andrew.

Illola brought him his breakfast. A big chunk of fresh baked bread, few thin sardines, crisp fried in pepper oil and a tankard of strong beer to wash them down. Andrew knew that something was wrong when Illola took the seat opposite to him despite the fact that she needed to help her daughters.

"Is everything okay?" Andrew asked taking a bite from the fresh baked bread.

Illola leaned forward. "Horano came back," she whispered. "The one who owe us money."

Andrew knew the man. A tall, bald sailor who come here whenever he returns from the sea, only to cause damage to both people and the things. Andrew put a fried sardine into his mouth and washed it down with a drink of the strong ale. "Where is Ivanna?" Andrew asked her. Illola's girls were like a sister to him and Ivanna was the closest to him.

"She..." Illola started when the doors opened and Horano stepped into the inn. From the way he swayed while he was walking said that he was drunk. Two large men followed him with thick arms and strong shoulders.

"Where is the girl?" Horano shouted. "I never got a good fuck and I came back to have one."

Illola stood up from her seat to face Horano. "She is unwell."

"She was nice and well when I beat her early in the morning," Horano said and the men who came with him bursted into laughter.

Andrew finished his beer and looked at Illola pleading Horano to leave. But the man just made his way further into the inn.

"Let it be," Horano announced. "You have two other daughters and that one would do," Horano pointed to Ilaena, the eldest of Illola's daughters and moved towards her.

Andrew stood up and caught his arm stopping him. "Don't," he said. The two men who came with Horano stepped forward.

"Get your hands off me boy. Or else..." Horano never finished as Andrew took the empty tankard and slammed it right in his ear. The two men reached for him. Andrew kicked the shin of one and punched at the nose of the other. Without wasting any time he delivered a hard punch to the temple of the kneeling man and another punch with his left hand to the already broken nose of the second one. Both men dropped to the ground alongside Horano.

The inn had grown silent as the quick fight took place. Andrew looked around and then to Illola. "Get the money he owes and then send him," he swung Frost to his back and made his way out of the inn. The men in the inn were looking at him without even taking their eyes off of him.

Andrew left them gazing and stepped out of the inn. Mornings in Braavos were different from the other Free Cities. Unlike the sunny days of the other Free Cities, the mornings in Braavos were misty and covered with fogs. And through the fogs Andrew Stark made his way to see what the day had for him.

Author Notes: Hello guys, this is my first fanfic here. So give it a chance and I think you'll like it. Any questions or reviews about the story is always welcomed.

reply for the guest miles: Seriously bro? Andrew is 5 years old when this happened. That is Rickard and Brandon are dead for 5 years. Ned is the Lord of Winterfell.

And how do you say that Targs and the Daynes are allies. The Daynes are bannermen of the Martells other than that there is no true friendship between them. A Dayne had already fought in Aegon's coronation. True a Targ married a Dayne but that is for what how many years. You can't say them as allies. And Frey was Starks's ally too before the red wedding. Ah, Arthur Dayne is a KG. Don't you guys grow tired of it? He is Kingsguard but first and foremost he is Ashara Dayne's brother. So Ashara and her family will always be over Rhaegar for him especially after he shamed Elia and Dorne and tried to cause a bloody rebellion. Seriously, Ned would not have any grudge for Rhaegar and Lyanna? Okay read A GOT chap-30 Ned compares Tywin to Rhaegar if Tywin chose to rise against Robert. "Cersei would fall and the Kingslayer with her and if Tywin rose to save them Robert would smash Tywin just like he'd smashed Rhaegar in the Trident" Now Ned compared Rhaegar with Tywin, so would you say that Ned never hated Tywin as well. And Ned even thinks that Lyanna was wrong in the thing with Rhaegar and admits that her wilfulness brought her an early end. And moreover it was R+L's stupid actions which caused the deaths of Rickard and Brandon. Aerys never pulled them away from Winterfell and then burned them. Brandon went to get his sister back and Rickard went to get his heir back. So the running off ignited the whole thing. You thing that causing a rebellion is so easy. medieval age is not our time buddy without the north how could Jon and Robert hope to win it. That's a suicide for them. Come on even even this should I tell you. Any way I wanted to answer your questions so here it is. Thank you.