Snippet #1494898

He had been right about the eye. A term that had been brought up when the brawl was about to begin in the streets. Ammon watched in silence, his dark grey eyes taking in every movement of the two dueling men. He appraised the battle in silence, for once remaining in silence - portraying only the barest hint of his arrogance that never failed to grace his expression.

He exchanged a glance or two with Sirena and, whenever he met her eyes, he grinned in wordless agreement. The Bastard King was going to end up on his ass in the dirt very soon. Ammon found himself anticipating that moment.

And just when he believed that they would be getting their fair share of fresh meat for dinner, what with Lionel being flat on his back with Jans' foot on his chest, the tables had turned. The Bastard King had flung a handful of dust. The fair-haired sellsword threw his head back and shrieked in laughter – crow-sharp, carrion-hungry sounds which escaped his lips in bursts and made his shoulders roll and heave.

Oh, that had been a dirty trick - one worthy of any self-respecting Mummer. Ammon felt a surge of amiability towards the young man who would shortly become the new leader of the Brave Companions. Being able to get past Jans Siran was a feat in and of itself and he could not help but nod in commendation as the fight ended with Jans having the edge of a Valyrian steel blade being pressed to his neck.

"That was well played," Ammon said as he clapped his hands together once and then twice.

---

Leliana had been clenching her hands so hard that it was a wonder the skin of her knuckles had not been bust open by the sheer force of her anxiety.

When Jans' mace smashed into Lionel's side and sent him sprawling to the ground, she bit back a cry, nails biting hard into the flesh of her palm - hard enough to slice through and draw blood. She forced herself to continue watching, hands slick with her own dripping blood. It fell from between her fingers and unto the dust-covered street to form small drops of crimson against dirt-brown.

She thought it to be over then. But - just as she felt the urge to cry out for Lionel, he had managed to throw a fistful of dirt into the eye of Jans Siran. It was then that the situation had reversed itself and twisted into their favor, and soon enough Lionel's Night was at Jans' throat.

Leliana exhaled a breath that she did not know she had even been holding and her shoulders slumped downwards in relief. Lionel had won. Lionel had won! Forgetting all her previous worries, Leliana punched her bloodied fist into the air and let out a victorious howl.

But what of Jans Siran? She did not see how he would take easily to being beaten and especially not by a younger man less than half his size. She doubted that he would dishonor the bargain in front of the large host of Mummers, as well as by-standing civilians and merchants, for surely they would dub him petty and ridicule him with other such terms a man of his caliber would loathe to be called.

The deal had to be sweetened. It would not simply do to leave things at this - only a duel and the promises of wealth and prestige in the Seven Kingdoms would only get them this far. Plus, they would need the loyalty of Jans Siran if they wanted the rest of the Mummers to grow into being the same. And, if not loyalty, then they at least needed to have the Mummers grow to like them; loyalty could come after, for all it was worth to this lot.

And, after some careful deliberation and intense inner conflict with herself, Leliana finally knew that which had to be further promised. Alright, fine, so the thought itself had come to her unbidden - that was a truth - but it had not taken her much fighting over the decision with her own mind. It almost scared her how easily she had just came up with something so heinous, but she did not pause to deliberate on nuances of that fact.

She had fallen far, and yet she found herself caring not a fig. She was no longer the happy-go-lucky girl she had started out being. Though still a she-wolf in all but biology, Leliana now preferred to fend for herself and for Lionel, as well as Uncle Quin, Old Walter, and the crew. She had forced herself to mentally sever old bonds and find news ones of value to forge.

"Perhaps it would be best for the bargain to be reinforced with some sweet pastry?" She spoke out before anything could turn sour on them. Though she wanted nothing more but to go embrace Lionel and check on how his ribs had fared from that mace, she was aware that she had to propose the very last bit right away. Another fact Leliana knew was that she would have to do so in a manner which would prevent anyone but Jans Siran from hearing of it. She was sure that Uncle Quin would not stand for what was churning in her mind.

Without any hesitation, she strolled out into the area that had been used for the battle and made her way over to the giant man who could crush her skill in one thick-fingered fist. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she spoke to Jans and only to Jans, keeping her tone audible only to him and even - save for the occasional flirtatious lilt that was due to be factored into such an offer.

"I have a sweet younger sister back behind the walls of Winterfell, a young maiden of seven and ten. She is rumored to be one of the most beautiful women the Seven Kingdoms have to offer, and all for good reason," Leliana purred, the look in her eyes predatory. "As her dear elder sister, I would be more than willing to lure her out from home in the dead of night - after we sail to Winterfell, of course - and have the sweetling be caught. What say you, Jans Siran? A smile and your good humor in exchange for my delectable, exquisite...virginal sister? A mare unmounted and unbridled...yours for the breaking." The offer hung in the air, heavy and sinfully enticing - waiting to be accepted.