The Chronicles of Charles Pyke, Dornish bastard of Iron

Trial

Charles sits in his cell, irons around his wrists and ankles, chaining him to the wall. The guards have been changed again, New men to not speak to him. To deny his mother chances to see him. Guarding him with steel and glaces as if he was a monster. Charles ran his finger over the iron ship that sat in his pocket, It was dark and his hands were sticky with blood. He stood up on the bench which sat inside the cell, looking out the window into the world. It was midday and the mockingbirds were singing,  he could hear people in the market, yelling 'Fish for sale! Trout and Panfish!' 'Apples and Pears! Fresh from Highgarden!' 'Jewelry from The Rock!'.  He sat in sadness, on days like this his mother and him would browse the market, she would buy him a plum pie and he would get to eat it on their way home.  He loved his mother, he wanted her right now. He glared at the guards, they wouldn't let her come see him. He didn't like this cell, it was dirty and dark, the kind of cold dark that comes in winter.  He would walk slowly to the cell door, grabbing the bars tightly as he looked up towards the guard to the left. A younger man named Walder, Walder had visited his mother once or twice before. Charles would swallow his nervousness and speak up.

"Walder......Walder Can i see my mom..?"  Charles would whine out as he looked at him, Walder would flinch a bit and look down at Charles, Eyes cold, yet a spark of pity in them as he licked his lips, taking in a deep quick breath. 

"Charles, I can't let your mother in.....You're a criminal." Walder would say, somewhat gently as Charles looked defeated. Charles mind swam with questions, 'What have i done?' 'Why can't my mom come to me?' 'What is going to happen to me?' all at once, he realized what had happened.

He Killed. 

He's a Killer.

He will be Killed.

Charles heart skipped a beat as he stepped back slowly, his eyes falling closed slowly as he sits on the bench. His mama, Mom, No. His Mother, had told him that Men kill each other. All the men he had met said Mother. Men have Mothers, Children have mama's and Mom's.  He was a man, He had grown into a man without realizing it. Only yesterday, he was a child, a fool who played with toys and cried. Today he was a man who had killed and would be killed. He ran his first two fingers across his thumb, feeling the clotted thickness of the old blood on his hands. His mind was changing even now. He didn't want to see his mother. His mother would not want to see him like this. He needed someone, yet he could not name them. As he sat thinking. he heard the key turn in the lock, his eyes shot up as two guards entered, grabbing him under the arms as the escorted him through the dungeons. he counted each step. thirty five. thirty six. thirty seven. thirty eight. then one of the other guards began unlocking the next door, walking through the threshold with him in tow. they take him up a spiral staircase. then down a hallway, the hallway was made of marble and granite, shining. he was brought into a large outer area, a man he recognized as Lord Hoster Tully, the elder of house Tully sat in a chair, he was brought in front of a block with a notch cut into it. 

"Charles, Son of Edna. You stand accused of murdering the boy Randall, Son of Tyler. How do you plea?" Said a Maester, whose chain wore heavy around his neck. Charles scanned the crowd, a group of men and women, The gates closed behind them, yet he could see the children watching through the bars of the gate. Charles says something he had heard only once before. for a man who was charged with treason.

"I request a trial by combat" Charles says cooly, his face unwavering as a murmur raises among the crowd, The Maester looks surprised by what he said. Charles looks at Hoster Tully as he slowly and feebly raises a hand to silence the crowd. The crowd becomes dead silent as everyone awaits the Old Lord to speak. 

"Randall's Father will chose a Champion. Charles will chose a champion." The crowd went into an uproar as Randall's Father shouts. proclaiming that he will fight to avenge his son. Charles looks around in panic, he couldn't fight him, He needed someone. Anyone. He opened his mouth to speak, being cut off by a voice from behind him. 

"I will be Charles Champion." The crowd fell silent as charles whipped his head around, Phillip stood there, a soft smile on his face, Charles stared at him, a smile slowly crossing his face, He was going to live. he had to. Randall's father shouted at Phillip,

"You betray the gods by defending a murderous Bastard Phillip! You will burn in the seven hells with him!"  he shouted, looking irate. His face redder than a highgarden apple. He would turn and storm out of the courtyard as Phillip would come up behind him, sending the guards away. Pulling Charles into the keep with him. Taking him to the Godswood. undoing his bindings around his wrists. 

"Go Charles. wash the blood from yourself in the pond by the Weirwood. Let the Gods of Old see your sins." He would pat Charles on the back, edging him towards the pond. Charles would approach it, dipping his hands into the cool water. watching as the blood seemed to slowly disconnect itself from  his hands. swirling and washing away into the soft brook that ran into the river outside. Charles reached up slowly, pulling his shirt off, his tan body soaking up the sunlight from above as he inhaled slowly, dipping his head beneath the water, feeling the dirt and grime come off his body slowly as he stayed there. his hair spread out on the waters surface like a great bird's wings. When he pulled his head out and sucked in a breath of need. He saw a face in the water. A man, with hard features and blueish green eyes, his hair brown and wet. covered in seaweed, with fish swimming around his head. The man nodded then disappeared into the depths of the pond. 

"Ser Phillip.....I need you to help me...." Charles would utter as he stood, undoing his breeches, letting them drop before plunging himself into the water, the dirt and blood from his body curling away and darkening the waters before they are swept away by the brook. he would close his eyes once again before speaking again. "I need a sword. I need you to fight. and I need you to get me away from Riverrun" He would say, awaiting the reply from Phillip, who while short lived. had been his mentor. 

"Where do you plan to go?" Phillip would ask, standing a meter from the pond, His hand on his sword belt. He watched Charles from behind. Watched the boy wash his sins away In the sight of the Gods, to which ones, he knew not.  Phillip smiled nonetheless, He was happy to see Charles relaxing as he was.

"I'm not sure, What's South of here?" Charles asked, his skin tingling with goosepricks as the cold water of the pond contrasted with his core temperature. He wasn't sure where he would go truly, he thought maybe Kings Landing, Perhaps Dorne. Phillip chuckles slightly

"Well, King's Landing is a big one, Casterly Rock is another, Sunspear is about as South as possible, to the East is Essos. Braavos and Volantis. Vaes Dothrak and Quarth. Then furthest east is Yi Ti" Phillip scratched his chin. He gave him all the answers he could. He hasn't really been out of Westeros, and most likely never will.

"Braavos. Whats in Braavos?" Charles asked, curious he would turn his head to look at Phillip, Who would chuckle and shrug slightly, Charles was surprised that he didn't know, He would quickly ask.

"Many things Charles. Things for another day." Phillip would say as he nodded to a pile of clothes, urging Charles to dress. "Dress. we will put some food in you before you leave." Phillip would say as he looked around the godswood. 

"Food. Food would be good right now" Charles pulled himself from the water, redressing and following Phillip to the armory, his skin lighter than it's been in awhile. his hair curled and wet, dripping as he walked.