My lovely family

Nestled at the edge of the village, blending seamlessly into the verdant landscape, stood Matthaus's modest yet charming home. Though modest in size, their abode exuded a warmth and inviting aura, reflecting the love and laughter that filled its walls. The only possession of true value they held was a withered statue of the Mother, passed down through generations of Matthaus's mother's lineage. 

His mother was a devout follower of the Seven while his father, bearing a touch of Blackwood blood descending from the first men, held an appreciation for the Old Gods but his beliefs were not as fervently practiced. Matthaus, too young to fully grasp the complexities of faith, showered his parents with unconditional love, cherishing his mother's unwavering devotion.

Upon their arrival, their mother, following their custom, offered a heartfelt prayer to the Seven, seeking blessings upon their simple meal of bread, vegetables, and a little hunted meat. Today, however, marked Alysanne's name day, and the family decided to indulge in a small feast to honor the occasion. Alysanne, four years older than Matthaus, was his constant companion, treating him with warmth and affection. Her short, light brown hair framed her lively green eyes, lending her a tomboyish charm.

As they savored their meal, Matthaus's father broke the silence. "Matthaus," he began, his voice laced with determination, "tomorrow you will begin your apprenticeship under Mikel, one of the most esteemed blacksmiths in the Riverlands."

Matthaus's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, Father," he replied obediently, his voice still echoing with the innocence of childhood.

"I expect you to conduct yourself with respect and diligence under Mikel's tutelage," his father continued, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Blacksmithing is a respectable trade, providing stability and security for those of our humble standing."

"Yes, father," Matthaus affirmed once more, his young mind absorbing the weight of his father's words.

Their meal resumed in tranquility, until Matthaus asked, "Father, may I go play with Jason after our meal?"

His father, accustomed to Matthaus's boundless energy, nodded in assent. "Yes, my son, but return home before dusk," he cautioned.

As soon as the meal was over, Matthaus darted out of the house, eager to join his friend Jason in their imaginative adventures. Jason, the son of the tavern owner, was a boy of Matthaus's age, and together they shared an insatiable appetite for recreating legendary battles and embodying the valiant heroes of Westeros.

With sticks as their swords and determination as their armor, the two boys transformed into Aegon the Conqueror, the legendary founder of the Targaryen dynasty, and Ser Barristan Selmy, the renowned knight who felled Maelys the Monstrous. Their voices echoed through the village as they reenacted epic clashes, their imaginations soaring beyond the confines of their humble surroundings.

"Yield, Maelys the Monstrous!" Matthaus exclaimed, his voice ringing with righteous indignation, channeling the spirit of Ser Barristan Selmy. "Your tyranny will end, you vile pretender!"

"Never!" Jason roared, his voice echoing the monstrous laughter of Maelys. "I will reign supreme, and Westeros will cower before my might!"

As Matthaus and Jason were engrossed in their imaginative world, three older boys emerged from the shadows, their presence casting a pall over the carefree atmosphere. The tallest of the three, seemingly the leader of their group, sneered at the younger boys' game.

"Look at these little fools," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "The son of a bastard, pretending to be a righteous knight. How pathetic."

His words struck Matthaus like a blow, shattering his momentary escape into the realm of chivalry. The laughter of the older boys echoed in his ears, mocking his dreams and aspirations.

One of the boys, a mischievous glint in his eyes, scooped up a handful of mud and flung it at Matthaus, splattering his face with the dirty concoction. The other boys erupted in laughter, their taunts echoing through the air.

"Ser Matthaus the Muddlehead," they jeered, their voices laced with cruelty.

Matthaus stood frozen, his face flushed with humiliation, his heart pounding in his chest. The once vibrant world of his imagination had crumbled, replaced by the harsh reality of his situation.

Just as the boys' laughter reached a crescendo, Matthaus's older sister, Alysanne, materialized before them, her face ablaze with righteous fury. Her eyes, piercing and unwavering, fell upon Edmund, the apparent ringleader of the group.

"Who are you calling a bastard, Edmund?" she spat, her voice laced with venom. "The entire village knows your mother's reputation for consorting with every man who crossed her path. Who dares claim you as their own?"

Her words struck a nerve, sending a flush of crimson creeping up Edmund's cheeks. He stammered, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Alysanne's scathing words.

Turning her attention to another boy, Charles, Alysanne unleashed another volley of stinging remarks. "And you, Charles, you should be well aware of your father's desperation. He groveled before my father, begging for assistance when he failed to meet the lord's grain quota."

Her words pierced through Charles's defenses, leaving him exposed and humiliated. The boys, their taunts silenced and their pride wounded, scattered away, their retreat a testament to Alysanne's fierce protectiveness.

With a triumphant smirk, Alysanne enveloped her younger brother in a warm embrace. "Don't ever fret, Matthaus," she whispered reassuringly. "With me by your side, no one will dare belittle you."

Tears welled up in Matthaus's eyes as he clung to his sister, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. Alysanne, her heart aching for her younger brother, gently squeezed his hand as they walked home, their footsteps echoing in the twilight.

As they settled into their shared bed, Matthaus requested his sister's favorite story, the tale of Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, the valiant knight who vanquished the fearsome dragon Urax. With her voice weaving a tapestry of bravery and cunning, Alysanne recounted the hero's daring feat of using a polished shield to reflect the dragon's image, allowing him to strike with deadly precision.

Upon hearing the story's conclusion, Matthaus's eyes shone with admiration and resolve. "I will always protect you, sister," he declared, his small fist raised in a gesture of unwavering determination.

Alysanne, her heart touched by her brother's unwavering devotion, leaned in and gently kissed his forehead. "Yes, my little knight," she whispered, her voice filled with affection. "And I will always be there for you."

As the warmth of Alysanne's embrace enveloped Matthaus, he drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with tales of chivalry and heroism.