The Known World

Max moved through the tavern, pouring drinks to the pirates and smugglers that had entered. She was oddly content, she wasn't happy, but she was as close as she could get on Nassau. She was glad for her brother though, he seemed to be getting there too. It was at that moment that Eleanor walked out of her office with a captain, no doubt handling some sort of business. Max gave her a subtle smile, that Eleanor did not return, she saw her, but didn't smile.

Max's faded. She loved Eleanor, but the secrecy of their relationship was taking it's toll. She didn't want it to be a secret, she wanted to show her love for her anytime she wanted and at first, Eleanor's reasons made some sense but now, Max was smarter then she was when she first arrived, she knew how this place worked. If they'd go after Eleanor, they would go after her. If they wanted to hurt Eleanor, they'd attack her suppliers, Max would be the last thing they went after.

That and, everyone knew that James Flint had a fondness of her, they wouldn't risk setting him off, nor the Crimson Lady, to whom everyone knew was his and didn't need much of an excuse to shed blood.

Hands slide around her hips and pulled her down suddenly. She turned, a fake smile plastered on her face as she poured the man a glass of rum. Eleanor's eyes fell on hers just before she walked out with the pirate.

He kissed her neck and she let him it was odd but she knew who this was. Marden, a friend of sorts "what do you have?" She asked, in a whisper. His kisses moved to her ear and stopped. "You asked about the North, I have information." he said and she turned to him, smiling.

"Meet me out back in five minutes." She said, and got up from his lap. She kept her composure but her heart was racing. She had been waiting for news of the North for three years. It was what started her information brokering in the first place. She was told a few secrets, men were incredibly playable when drunk, and they all said she had kind eyes that made them want to talk and in order to keep those secrets, she asked for information in return. His was one of them. He had a particular love for his captain that he could never share, less they kill him for it.

That's why his kisses didn't bother her.

She finished serving drinks and met the pirate out back, once she was sure there was no one around, she asked him.

"What do you know?"

"The King of the North, apparently, he was abducted."

Clara blinked. "K-king of the North?" She asked and he nodded. " Aye, they said he'd just wedded a a gyspy girl from the east, not even two weeks later, he was gone."

"Mance Rayder?" She asked, his name bitter on her tongue. He frowned. " No, ma'am, Mance Rayder is dead, Jon Stark took his head, ended the warring."

"Why did you not tell me this?" Clara felt weak. Jon was alive, not only alive, but he killed Mance Rayder himself, ended the war, and was married....but now he's gone?

"Well, I didn't think you cared for the goings on in the North, but with the King missing,I figured that was something you'd like to know, cause, you're friends with James Flint and the Crimson Lady." He said and she nodded, securing her Max's mask.

"Alright, thank you." She said and he nodded, and the two of the went their separate ways.

Clara walking with purpose, needed to tell someone, but who she needed to tell was out to sea, had been for weeks now, and there was no telling when he'd be back. She made her way to Eleanor's office, trying not to let her excitement take over. She opened the door and Eleanor looked up as she closed the door.

"Eleanor, I have...amazing news." She said, her smile couldn't be wider.

"What is it?" She asked, setting down her quail pen, Clara walked up t her, taking her hands.

"My brother, my other brother, J-Jon, he lives." She said, and Eleanor looked at her and there was something in her eyes that caused Clara's smile to disappear.

It had taking time,patience, and trail and error but Clara'd learned to read faces, it was important to be able to tell what someone was thinking by the sutblest of expressions and by the look on Eleanor's face told her all she needed.

Clara snatched her hands away. "You knew." It wasn't a question.

Eleanor swallowed. "I'd heard ru--"

"Bullshit, you knew, you knew Jon was alive....why didn't you tell me?"

Eleanor's mouth opened and Clara knew she was about to lie. Clara backed away from her. "Don't, Don't you dare lie to me now...." She said and Eleanor took a breath.

"Why didn't you tell me, Eleanor." She asked again and Eleanor looked down at the floor.

"I knew if you found out, after Flint, you'd want to leave."

Clara looked at her. "Of course I'd want to leave, Eleanor this is not my home." She said and Eleanor looked hurt. "You'd want to leave me." She said and Clara shook her head, laughing humourlessly.

"You don't know me at all do you?" She asked, tears in her eyes. " I would have asked you to come to with me." She said and Eleanor looked away. "But you do know me, and you knew I would....That's wasn't it all, more lies...." Clara said shaking her head. "You don't want to leave, but you didn't want to make a choice."She said and Eleanor didn't deny it. Clara sighed. "I'm asking you now....Come with me." She said. "Let us leave....together, we have a real life in the North. No fear, no pirates, just us, and love..."

"I've spent my life trying to build something here. It's all I have, I can't walk away."Clara felt if she were punched in the gut.




"It is not all you have! Eleanor, it's just sand!" She exclaimed. " It can not love you back, you know this, you must know this." She said and paused.

"Of course, I know that, Max, but...."


"Your father left, your mother was taken from you, Everyone, you've ever loved, you have lost, it and it terrifies you." Clara said and looking at her. "But not me, I will never, ever leave you, I love you." She told her, for the first time. Eleanor looked truly shocked by this, but Clara could see that didn't change anything.

"Eleanor, please...."

Eleanor didn't say anything and Clara nodded. "I am grateful for all that you've done for me, Eleanor Guthrie, I love you, I truly do, but when my brother returns, he's taking me back home, if you are there when I go,or not, is your choice....but it is your choice." She told her and Max walked toward the door.

"Max, Don't walk out that door." Eleanor said. " That is not my name." She said and kept walking, her hand touched the doorknob and she hesitated, turning to her one last time. "you can not see what is right in front your nose." She told her and turned.

"Max....Max if you leave out that door, you won't be welcome back."

Max chuckled. Eleanor was trying to take control of a situation that was out of hers and she knew it.

"That is your choice." She said and opened the door walking out. She was half way down the hall, toward her room, when Eleanor's footstep came barreling out.

"Fine! Get your things! and Get the fuck out!" She shouted for the whole tavern to hear. " You are dead to me, Max!"

Max looked at her. "I died a long time ago." She said, and did what she asked, she got her things, packed them as best she could, and left the tavern.

It was a good thing Clara had been so kind, that she'd made friends with many of the pirates here. Sure half of them was hoping to take her to bed, but the other half was just friendly as they helped her with her things, and a few offered to take her in, on their ship or what have you but she needed something of her own.
She was standing outside of the tarven, unsure what to do or where to go when a hand touched her shoulder.
"Max." she turned to see Marden behind her. "Marden." She said. "I heard what happened, Did I do that?"

"No....That was no one's fault but the parties involved." She said and Marden nodded. "I have more information, I think could be beneficial." he said and she looked up at him.

"What?"

"Noonan died, this morning....he had no one to take his place at his brothel....It's a mess, you could....People like you, from whores to the pirates, you could be the one to run things there, they'll respect you enough. "
The gears were already turning. There was a leadership hole in the brothel, and with her skills and knowledge, it would be perfect place for her to own, while she waited for Robb to return. She'd make enough coin and then some to pay the Captian to take her home then she could leave all of this behind. She looked up at the tarven where she worked, lived and loved for three years. It was gone now and there was no getting it back. Eleanor would never leave this place, she would die here. Clara was sure of that.

"Thank you, Marden." She said, and he helped her with her things and they headed over to Noonan's. She'd give it to him when it was time for her to leave.

It didn't take long for her to get things is order, and it would take time for her to take full control but nearly everyone knew the Max was the new owner and madame of the biggest brothel of Nassau.

She couldn't wait to see her brother's face when he found out.

Ancient and powerful was Meereen. A city that had lasted a thousand, thousand years under the rule of its wise and powerful masters. Slave holders with more gold than most men could imagine governed the city to run on the backs of slave labor. A dynasty risen from the remnants of the Ghiscari Empire, they still held the Harpy as their beacon of pride and dominance. That was until, as had befallen old Ghis so long ago, a dragon came with Fire and Blood. Rhaegar Targaryen, after his sacking of the great slave port of Atsapor and the wealthy citadel of Yunkai, came for Meereen. Unlike the others however he did not conquer with the fire of his three dragons or the skill of his warriors but with the very people that had held Meereen up for centuries. Rhaegar showed the common people that they needed not fear their masters lash, not when their masters feared his dragons more.

Rhaegar sat in the water gardens of the Great Pyramid of Meereen, his current seat of power in Essos. His Unsullied saw that his rule was not questioned in Yunkai and Astapor, ensuring the slave holders never again rose to power yet he remained in Meereen. It had been the easiest to take yet the hardest to hold, Meereen proved a different beast than the rest. Many of the people in Meereen knew little else but their masters command so freedom was a foreign concept to them. It took time, and blood but the Meereenese were staring to see his way of things. See that freedom was not to be feared but embraced and the last remnants of the resistance group that called themselves The Sons of The Harpy were all but gone. There were still a few rats nests yet but he didn't need his dragons or his war hammer for them, his Unsullied and mercenaries saw to the pests at this point. Now came the future and with it came uncertainty.


Whenever Rhaegar found himself unsure of his next step he needed only look to his dragons, his daughters who had been with him since he began his crusade and he always found the way forward. There was Viserion, named after the brother whom he never met. Viserion was the smallest, cream of color with gold markings. Then there was Rhaegal named after Rhaella, his mother who died giving birth to his sister during their flight from Valyria. Rhaegal was green with bronze markings. The largest and admittedly Rhaegar's favored daughter was Daenerion. Daenerion he named for his sister Daenerys, who lost her life as an infant, never to see womanhood. Her death was the hardest loss Rhaegar had ever suffered. It was her funeral that breathed the first flames of life into the long thought stone eggs that hid his children within. Daenerion was the boldest of his children, she was strong and fierce, a danger to everyone but him and he loved her as he had the sister for whom she was named.



Rhaegar was reflecting on his journey up until this point and what lied ahead when he heard the soft footfalls of his spy master. Varys, sometimes called The Spider, had the largest spy network in the world. He had come to Rhaegar after he'd taken Meereen with Tyrion Lannister and offered his service. Rhaegar was skeptical at first but both man and half man had since gained his trust. Varys earned himself a council seat as Master of Whispers and Tyrion became his Hand of The King. Between the two of them there were no better men with minds for politics and Rhaegar was happy to have them. He could hear Varys softly speaking to Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard before the old knight allowed him leave to approach.

"Hello Varys."

Rhaegar said casually as he stroked the top of Daenerion's frills between the horns on her head.

"Hello, your Grace. It truly is a splendid morning. Meereen has the most beautiful sunrises, wouldn't you say?"

Varys was a unic, with a bald head, soft powdered skin that always smelled of strong flowers. He wore soft garments that hung off his round frame as he made his way around on silken slippers. Odd fellow but a better man than he let on.

"It does, though I hear Valyria has sunrises to rival it."

Varys permitted the softest of chuckles to bubble passed his lips in response to Rhaegars small joke.

"Well said, Your Grace."

"I take you it you're not here to discusses sunrises Varys, let me guess. Your little birds?"

Rhaegar asked turning to his spy master for the first time since he arrived. Varys nodded with a knowing smile as he so often did.

"The very ones. They sing to me of The North and a vanished hero King."

"Vanished?..."

Rhaegar repeated in surprise.

"Apparently Jon Stark, hero of the Wildling War and King of The North after the deaths of his father and brother has recently wed a radiantly beautiful gypsy girl from Naarth. Not a fortnight after their wedding he disappears. The talk is all the scandal, some accusing the new queen, others saying he ran off with a chamber maid, some still blame foul magic."

"What do you think happened?"

Rhaegar asked. Varys only smiled, that soft smile of his.

"I think any man who claims to know the truth is clearly lying. In any case what is true is that The North is lack of a king, it is vulnerable and the world knows it. The Starks are an old family Your Grace, as old as House Targaryen. It's holdings are vast if not a bit frigid. Wolves are dangerous creatures, to be sure, but no beast is a match for a dragon in his prime."

Rhaegar sighed, finally seeing his spy masters point.



"You want me to invade The North... Take it while it's king is gone or dead."

"I want nothing Your Grace, I am your master of whispers, it is my job to inform you of any developments of note. I figured the disappearance of a king from an old family was certainly worthy of note."

Rhaegar nodded, somewhat relieved.

"But..."

Rhaegar looked up, the concern returning.

"As a member of your small council I would argue the merits of such a course. Valyria is still firmly out of your grasp, with the support of The North you could take back what is rightfully yours."

Rhaegar ran his hand down Daenerions scales, her muscles twitched under his touch as she clicked her teeth in pleasure.

"I did not take Astapor to call myself a conqueror. I did not take Yunkai or Meereen to call myself a conqueror. I took them because I wanted to ensure no child would ever grow up with collar around their neck. I am not a conqueror, I am a liberator. The North does not need liberation. The North has a ruler, a queen and she is no enemy of mine. As for Jon Stark, I have had my throne stolen from under me, I will not do the same to someone else without cause... Thank you for your advisement but I won't be needing it."

"As you say, Your Grace."

Varys bowed and turned to leave when Rhaegar's voice gave him pause.

"Wait... I can do one better. Send a raven to the new Queen of The North. Tell her... that she has friends in Meereen."

"A wise alternative to war, Your Grace. Perhaps you're a better politician than you give yourself credit for."

Varys said respectfully.

"I'm not a politician, I'm a king."

Rhaegar replied with a wisdom beyond his years, one of the many reasons so many had flocked to his cause. Varys nodded with a smile before heading off. Rhaegar turned back to his dragons who splashed playfully in the water, all but Daenerion who never left his side.

The seas were calm as the sun rose. Flint could hear gulls on the wind, he was almost home. The Harbinger had been out for the better part of three weeks, chasing down a merchants vessel carrying Anansai silks and Northern Ironwood. It had proved a good haul and an uneasy one, or at the least it would have were it not for that damned oarsmen. The merchant vessel surrendered almost immediately. He and Robyn had boarded the vessel and while the Captain was handing over the shipping manifold to him one of the merchant sailors lost his damned mind. He dove for one of his men, snatching a pistol and shooting him. The deck of the ship erupted in blood shed after that. Chaos reigned and Robyn and Flint had to carve a path through the madness. When it was done, they'd lost two men, another wounded while every single member of the merchant crew was dead. In truth Flint cared little for the loss of life, it helped spread the legend but some of the blood had stained the barrels of goods, he knew Eleanor would not sell bloody barrels of wares. No port in the world would take those goods which meant they'd have to repackage every piece of salvage. A tiring and costly process to say the least.

While Flint sat on one such barrel, looking out on the sea that brought him closer to home his quill scratched away in his journal. Something his sister had always done since she was a girl, putting her thoughts to parchment through the verses of a song. He'd recently picked up the trait but had told no one.

The king and his men,
Stole the Queen from her bed,
And bound her in her Bones,
The seas be ours,
And by the powers,
Where we will, we'll roam.

Yo Ho, haul together,
Hoist the colours high...

The song was nowhere near finished but he enjoyed penning it to page. It stilled his mind as running his hands through Grey Winds fur once had.

"We're nearing the docks, Flint. Should I bring in the sails?"

One of his men asked, coming over. Flint pocketed his small leather bound journal with a grunt as he got to his feet.

"Aye, I'll get the Captain."

With that he made his way to the captains quarters where he found the love of his life half way through a bottle of rum, with her booted feet on her desk as she paged through the hauls shipping manifold. He had met Robyn two years after coming to Nassau, two years after Robb Stark died. He was lost then, a monster but she pulled the man out of that darkness. James Flint was born, almost from the sea itself and molded by her hands. He'd become a fearsome pirate, vicious as he was cunning and he loved her. She was the first good thing his new life had ever given him. She was as dangerous as he was, quick witted and quicker with her tongue. Passionate and haunted and in that way, they were perfect for each other. Born of tragedy, taken by the sea and born again.

"We're coming up on Nassau, Captain."

He said as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"Once we're on land I want a few more bottles of that rum, you, a bed, and not to leave that bed for at least a week."

He said with a wolfish smirk as he sat in the seat in front of her desk.

Robyn sat in her quarters, reclining in her chair, her feet resting on the flat of the desk, ankles crossed, a half empty bottle of rum beside her, reading and rereading the manifest in her lap. Reading was always difficult for her, as a child when she was learning she'd found that she used to invert the letters in her head. It was a struggle when she was a child, and it was difficult for her now but she -like most everything- she worked through it.
It just made remembering the information a little harder.

She was reading through the manifest a forth time when James entered her cabin. She looked up and smiled.

James Flint, once a ginger beard brute, now, a fearsome pirate. He didn't know it, but he made her happy in a way she'd never thought possible. After all of her lost, and all of her pain. After meeting him, it was as if she were seeing in color for the first time and honestly, it scared her.

"We're coming up on Nassau, Captain." He said and she nodded. "Good." She said, removing her legs from the desk and setting the manifest down as he shut the door behind him, and she grinned kittenishly. "Once we're on land I want a few more bottles of that rum, you, a bed, and not to leave that bed for at least a week." He said, with his own wolfish grin, something that always upped her temperature.

"That can be arranged" She said as she stood, walking over to him, and sliding her arms around his neck. "Although,I don't imagine a week would be long enough." She said before pressing a kiss to his lips, enjoying the way his beard tickled her chin.

She pulled back and then remembered something. "Oh, I've a surprise for you." She said, and reached behind her desk, not bothering to go around it so that he could get a peek of her backside as she bent over.
She pulled a box from the drawer and presented it to him.

"Here, It was on the merchant ship, in the captians quarters, it wasn't listed on the manifest, and I thought you might like it."

She said, and opened the box. Inside was a flintlock, wooden siding and gold around the handle, what was special about it, was the gold design, interweaving lines that shaped into a wolf's head. She knew he'd had a wolf as a friend once, and lost it, he still wore it's teeth around his neck, and she thought he would appreciate it.

She looked up at him, waiting for his reaction with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Dae stood looking out of the window, dressed in a purple gown that felt too tight, watching the snow fall. This wasn't her snow. Her snow was taken from her. He didn't leave her, like some would like to believe, nor did she do anything to hurt him. She would never. She would die before she let that happen but of course they would think that. They'd been only married for a forenight.

She closed her eyes, her heart trying not to break.

"You're Grace." called one of Jon's Kingguard. "Yes."
"You've a raven....from Meereen." He said and she nodded. "Is it about Jon?" She asked and his hesitation spoke volumes. "I'll read it later." She said, tiredly. "Yes, You're Grace." He said and she could hear his footsteps leading away.

"Please, find him." She begged and he stopped. "He is alive, I know it, I can feel it." She said, brushing her tears with a crooked finger.

"We will find him, You're Grace, We will." He told her and she nodded. She watched the snow fall some more. Recalling the happiest day of her life.

Her handmaids brushed her hair, over and over and she swore her scalp was going to tear off. They weren't sure what to do with hair like hers, she was from the east, born in the sun, her skin was warm and her hair was thick, soft, but thick. Trying to get it into Northern braid was not n easy feat. " You're Grace, are we hurting you?" asked a sweet woman they called Old Nan. "No, Ma'am, you're not....not really." She said with a smile and a wince. She was happy, despite the pain in her scalp. When they were finished with her, she looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't look Northern, though she wore a while fur shaw and a dress that circled her feet, made of thick fabric, she didn't look Eastern either, though her hair was still dark as was her skin. She was painted, only slightly, her hair brushed and combed so tight that it reached down her back, and spilled down her back. They tied a loose braid, as was her family's' tradition. A married woman wore her hair tied, and for added touch, they added small northern flowers.

"You look lovely my Dae flower." She turned to see her father, in the wheeled chair Jon had commissioned for him. She smiled at him. "Thank you, Papa, I am so nervous, I don't know why."

"It is a huge step you are taking, I was the same way with your mother,." He told her before a round of coughing over took him. She started for him but he stopped her with a hand. He was on his last leg, they both knew it. When on proposed she wanted the wedding to happen quickly so that her father could it. "No no, don't you dare, not today, this is your day, my sweet girl, don't you worry about me."

"That's like asking me not to breath." She said, realizing Jon had said those words to her once.

"Well..." Her father said. "Let's go, before you faint." He said and she chuckled and with a help of a kingsguard, they wheeled her father out and she walked beside him. Her heart racing so fast she was surprised she wasn't running, though once look at Jon, and she wanted to.

Flint reached out and took the pistol in his hand. The wood was sanded smooth and the gold in lay was intricate and masterfully crafter but it was the wolfs head that really caught his eye. Mid howl the wolf was shown with its head thrown back and hair furled around the neck. It reminded him of the hulking grey and black dire wolf that he'd grown up with. He could almost hear Grey Wind's howl in the recesses of his mind. As if out of the cold northern mist stepped the paws of the beast that had been his oldest friend. It's massive paws, tearing at the snow as it ran and it'ls golden eyes constantly friendly. They called him the man without fear but it was Grey Wind who'd always proved the fearless on, he'd killed too many men to know fear again.

"Robyn..."

Flint's voice was softer than usual, lack of the bold tenacity it was known for. He looked up and met the dark, eyes of the woman who'd stolen his heart. He pulled her into his lap, her laughter bringing a smile to his face. He kissed her, first tasting her lips then her neck.

"You're right, a week won't be long enough."

She chuckled and he stopped long enough to look her in the eye.

"Thank you for this..."

He said holding the pistol in his right hand.

"I know I don't say much... about before we met but..."

He touched the barrel of the gun to the necklace of teeth at his neck.

"He was part of it, who I was. His name was Grey Wind and he was my friend. He would have liked you."

The pain was still there, the loss of his old life, that was evident but with one look at Robyn Sheva the sun shown on the ocean heralding a new day and Flint was happy to still be sailing. He breathed a content sight and kissed her one more time.

"I appreciate this love, truly. I look forward to repaying the gesture."

He said as he stood up with Robyn in his arms. He knew how she loved it when he lifted her about as if she was weightless when in truth she basically was. He spun her around once as they enjoyed the taste of each others lips before setting her down. He holstered his new pistol, moving his old one to the small of his back to use as a spare.

"Let's get on that beach, eh? We've got rum to buy and a room to rent."

He could hear the fighting outside, the sensless killing that never seemed to end here. Every day he was forced to train, should he not he was beaten or starved. Then he would fight and kill or be left to die on the sand. Everyday two would go out and only one would return. The first day he refused, he'd nearly had his head caved in by a large man from Pentos who cared little if Jon saw the right and wrong of the bloodsport he was an unwilling participant in. When it was over Jon had drove his blade through the man's throat and chased away death, even if it was only for a day. Now he waited, until a guard would come and bang on the cell door, ordering him into the pit. As he lay there on his hard cot he allowed his mind to wander to fonder memories, memories that kept him fighting, if only to see her again one last time.

Jon smiled as she entered the godswood, led by her father. He was seated in a wheeled chair Jon had specially built for him given the weakness of his legs. One of Jon's own Kingsguard pushed the chair yet Jon had eyes only for the woman that would soon become his wife. She wore a long, elegant gown made of thick cloth to shield her from the cold Northern wind. A shaw of fur protected her from the soft snow as it danced down from the sky. She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever witnessed, it was as if he couldn't believe she was real. She reached him and he took her hands in his, thinking in that moment he would never let her go.

He and Dae stood wordlessly in front of friends, family, the realm and the ancient eyes of the weirwood trees as was Northern custom. The septon took a strip of cloth called the wedding band and laid it across their hands.

"In sight of The Old Gods and the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."

The old septon said softly. Jon and Dae had to hold back their smiles as they spoke in unison, their love emanting from each word.

"Old Gods of earth and water, of bronze and iron, of ice and fire. Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers/his and she/he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days."

They sealed their union with a kiss and the whole of The North rejoiced.

Yet now The North was far away, and Jon was alone. Dae was safe, he at least could hold on to that yet his safety stood on the edge of a knife, each day tempted death to come and take him. The gate opened and in walked the victor of the last bout.



Khal Jinn, everyone in the pits knew Khal Jinn. The massive Dothraki warlord had killed over a dozen men since they all arrived here, half of which was in the pits. The rest were for one transgression or another. Jon was grateful he had not been called to fight him yet. He knew it was a matter of time and on that day, may the gods be with him if he ever wanted to see his wife and family again.

"Say it again and I dare you!"

Arya shouted in fury. The men all laughed at the little girl with the tiny clenched fists screaming at them as they jested about how their new gypsy queen had killed the king.

"The fuck are you girl, anyway? You one of the gypsys friends?"

One of the men said, he stunk of sweat and ale. The other three all laughed harder, this time with more malice as they stepped closer. Arya was alone, she'd been walking near the barracks after climbing the exterior wall of the Grey Keep when she'd over heard the men talking. They obviously didn't know who she was, she wasn't surpised. Everyone expected Arya Stark to dress like a lady, act like a lady, smell like a lady yet she was wearing a dress mostly covered in mud from her escapades around the castle and her hair and face were a mess. She no doubt looked like any other street urchin but at the moment all Arya wanted was to make these idiots shut their mouths.

"Actually I am and you all are fucking cowards! You wouldn't talk so tough in front of Dae, she's the queen now. And when Jon comes bac-"

"King ain't coming back you little bitch, that whore gypsy saw to that. And if you think we're scared of that cunt-"

"Only cunt I see here is you."



His voice struck fear in the depths of their hearts, the growling savagery of a man who cared little for the lives of others. They called him The Hound or Dog, his name was Sandor Clegane. He was a massive man, brother of The Mountain Ser Gregor Clegane and was one of the finest killers in The North as well as Arya's sworn shield. The Hound towered over all three men, looming over them like some dark giant ready to tear them limb from limb.

"M-meanin no offense Hound, we's jus-"

"You were just calling Arya Stark a little bitch, and the queen a whore... and a cunt... I say you lot are the only cunts here... now what are you going to do about it... cunt."

Sandor growled, almost daring them to speak up. Their eyes went wide with terror, first at the concept of The Hound tearing into them then at the realization of what they'd been saying about the king to the kings sister.

"We-"

The Hounds balled up mailed fist silenced him as he hit the ground from the brutal back hand. The man spit up teeth in a bloody pool in the dirt.

"What was that you were saying?... cunt."

Arya hated Sandor when she first met him. He was crude, brutish and a miserable shit but there were times, times like this she did rather enjoy his company.

"I-"

The man stammered out before getting kicked in the gut so hard Arya though The Hound broke a rib as his friends all stood on and watched in horror, too afraid to intervene.

"Sorry, didn't catch that. Try speaking into my good ear... cunt."

Sandor said cruelly as he stood over the man who groaned in pain. Arya stepped froward and The Hound stepped back.

"You're lucky I don't let The Hound kill you all right now. Take your stupid friend and get out of here, now."

They scrambled to collect their friend and vanish as quickly as possible.

"I didn't need your help."

Arya said as she folded her arms over her small chest while the massive Hound stood behind.

"I know wolf girl, but dogs enjoy chasing rats."

Arya chuckled and headed back to the keep with Sandor in tow. He didn't leave her side till she reached her brothers room where Dae was no doubt still holed up in. She told Sandor to wait in the hall before she went inside.

"Dae?..."

Jack Dandy sat on the floor of his cell. His match long since over and he didn't expect one for the rest of the day. He was beaten and bloody, but he'll live.

Just another day in the Pits.

People came, people died, same ol' same ol. Although, Jack had to admit. His new cell mate was interesting in that he didn't say much. Jack had been showing him the ropes as best he could. He was new. Very new, two weeks ago, he was dropped in his cell unconscious. Jack thought he was dead he was so out of it. The man tried to kill him, but it didn't bother Jack.

"Save it for the matches, Mate." was Jack's response. He knew the ends of out of the pits. He was born and raised here and Jon, he had kind eyes. Jack liked people he was fascinated by him, and people liked Jack, and Even the Great Khal Jinn seemed not to be bothered by him. He could elicit a few friendly grunts from him, and Jack figured since he wasn't dead, he liked him at least a little.

"Is it that you actually practice brooding?" Jack said, breaking Jon from his thoughts. "I always wondered, I mean you do this like all the time....I figured your practicing it." He said with a smack to Jon's sandled foot and a laugh. That was a hilarious thing, apparently, Jon was Northern didn't seem to understand the point of one and him trying to figure that out was a sight to see.
Jack looked up at him, one eyes swollen from his match. "You've yet to tell me her name..." He said. "The woman you're thinking about." He said, imagining what it would be like, living on the outside. All Jack knew was this place. the women would kill you much faster then kiss you, and even then, they'd only do it to kill you. Except in the case of his parents. They found love here, some how, they tried to get out once, they'd even got him out, but they died for it. He was too small to know what to do. All he could remember was a pretty girl, with a head of curls.

"Was she pretty?" He asked, "I meant a woman once, when I was small. She was pretty, and kind and had curly hair. I remember pulling one a curl once, I had to be like 6...it sprung right back in place." He said with a chuckle more to himself, remembering how mesmerizing it was to play with her curls as she told him a story.

Dae moved from the window, and slowly looked around her chambers. It was hers and Jon's. They shared it only of few weeks. She woke up with him beside her, or with a sweet morning kiss to her forehead and went to bed wrapped in his arms, curled up into his chest. She could still hear the sound of the clapping as they walked into the throne room, man and wife, his hand in his.
She was smiling, her father behind her, wheeled in by the kingsguard. She didn't think she could stop smiling. Jon's cloak draped over her shoulders in a symbol of a protection and she knelled down, for a crown to be place atop her head.

She smiled but not for the crown as some were lead to believe, but for the fact that Jon, placed it on her head. That she was truly his and would be for all time. She went down a gypsy and rose a Queen. They sang songs of it the entire night. New songs of the Gyspy Queen but she couldn't hear it. She didn't see it. All she saw was Jon, and that's all she wanted to see.

"Dae?" A small voice broke her from her thoughts and she looked to the door and opened it quickly.

"Arya." She breathed, thanked Sandor when she saw him. This couldn't be easy for her. She lost her entire family, Jon was all she had left. She needed Arya to know that Dae was her family now too.

"Come." She said, urging the girl inside.

"How are you?" She asked, taking a seat on the bench in front of her and Jon's bed. "You know can talk to me, right?" She asked her after she answered. "This is hard for me, but I can't imagine it is any easier for you. I know that they are saying horrible things about me now. They blame me, and while you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, and you, I don't blame them either, it is all so sudden, so inexplicable." She said and shook her head. "What I'm trying to say, sweet girl, is that...I am here for you. For whatever you need, I am here." She told her, taking her hands in to hers.

Jon sat up with a tired chuckle. Jack Dandy, the boy he'd tried to kill his first day in the pits, the boy who was his only friend here. Jack had taught Jon much about the goings on in the pits. He told him how things were run, who to avoid and who to challenge. He told him what days to eat the slop the cook lathered in your mess pan and what days to settle with the crusty bread and be content with that. Jon figured he'd well be dead by now were it not for Jack though he doubted the young man saw it that way. He liked to tease Jon for his sullen attitude, he reminded him of Robb in that way or even Arya who constantly tried to draw him out of his solitude. Jon sat up in his cot, allowing his feet to drop to the floor as Jack casually lounged on the floor, his back resting against the rail of the cot.

"You've yet to tell me her name... The woman you're thinking about."

Jack said suddenly. His words brought Dae back to the forefront of his mind though in truth, she was rarely far from his thoughts.

"Was she pretty?"

He asked.

"I meant a woman once, when I was small. She was pretty, and kind and had curly hair. I remember pulling one a curl once, I had to be like 6...it sprung right back in place."

Jon found himself smiled softly as his mind pictured her.

"You know something she has curls too, a whole head of them. I've got a bad habit of playing at them when she's not looking."

He said with a chuckle, seeing Dae's feigned indignation at catching him in the act.

"Her name is Dae, Dae Missan...Well Dae Missan-Stark now. We were married. Spent a whole two weeks together before I found myself here. Most days Jack... she's all that keeps me going... when I'm not practicing brooding."

"Stark! You're up!"

Came the shout of the guard. Jon turned to see one of the pit guards gesture toward the door with his cudgle as two more men arrived to let Jon out. He sighed, running his fingers through his ebony locks as he got to his feet. He took no more than a step before a titan loomed before him. Khal Jinn was massive, thick with rippling muscle and often sporting blue stripes of war paint. The big man looked down at him. His mysterious gaze always seemed so hidden, like the eyes of some predator.

"Fichas jahakes moon."

The big Dothraki said in his guttural native tongue. Jon just stared at him in confusion.

"I... I don't speak Dothraki."

Wether Khal Jinn undestood Jon or not he made no notion of it, merely walking off to his own cell without another word. Jon shot a confused look at Jack before heading out into the sun of the day to face his opponent.



*Fichas jahakes moon. - Get him. (Take his braid.) Used when encouraging fellow fighters.

Arya allowed Dae to take her by the hands and lead her to the bench. Dae was so scared, she could tell. Older people, especially her family always tried so hard to pretend around her. Pretend they were happy when they were sad, brave when they were afraid, confident when they knew nothing. Dae was no different, she was worried about Jon, it was tearing her up and even Arya had to admit, she hadn't been this nervous since the war but that was different. The war was chaos and screaming and fire, this was quiet and waiting and in a way was so much worse. They didn't know what happened to Jon or where he was, at least before they knew who their enemies were.

"How are you?"

Dae asked politely. Dae was polite, she was always polite and kind. Jeor Mormont, Jon's Lord Commander of The Kingsguard had said once she had a gentle heart. Arya thought that sounded right. She liked Dae almost instantly, she reminded her of Sansa though less judgmental.

"I'm fine."

"You know can talk to me, right?"

Dae asked her after she answered. Arya only stared at her curiously, as if they weren'lt talking right now.

"This is hard for me, but I can't imagine it is any easier for you. I know that they are saying horrible things about me now. They blame me, and while you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, and you, I don't blame them either, it is all so sudden, so inexplicable."

She said and shook her head.

"What I'm trying to say, sweet girl, is that...I am here for you. For whatever you need, I am here."

She told her, taking her hands in to hers. Arya wanted to make a joke, say something clever, she was always saying clever things. She hadn'lt expected the response she gave. Instead she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Dae and hugged her tight. She wouldn't cry though. Little ladies cried and she was a wolf. She wasn't really sure why she hugged Dae. Maybe it was that she felt Dae needed it, or maybe Arya needed it. Or perhaps it was something else she couldn't quite explain. Arya pulled away after a moment and rubbed her nose with her sleeve with a subtle sniffle.

"My father used to tell me when I was sad, he'd say Arya, you're a Stark and Starks are of the Winter. I never really knew what that meant but it always made me feel better when he'd ask me to say our words, Winter is Coming. You're a Stark now too Dae, they're your words now, so you remember them. Wolves have to stick together, especially in the winter."

Arya paused, her voice softening somewhat as she allowed her mind to drift to her brother.

"I know Jon is gone for now, but he'll be back, he always comes back. Till then its you and me, we're a family, a wolf pack."

"You know something she has curls too, a whole head of them. I've got a bad habit of playing at them when she's not looking."
Jack smirked. His lady had curls too. That was cool. He wondered then what happened to the woman he'd met that day. He never even knew her name, or if he did. He forgot. He hoped it was the former. She was too kind to forget.

"Her name is Dae, Dae Missan...Well Dae Missan-Stark now. We were married. Spent a whole two weeks together before I found myself here. Most days Jack... she's all that keeps me going... when I'm not practicing brooding." He said and Jack laughed and was about say that he knew he practiced but his words were stopped in his throat.

"Stark! You're up!"

Jack took a breath. It was odd. he never felt fear when his own math was up, but when Jon's came up, he felt his nerves in his legs. He really liked Jon. He wasn't sure he'd be okay if Jon were to die like the rest of them and now, knowing he had a wife back home. He hoped he could get to see her again. Or at least live long enough that he could talk about her more.

Jack looked up and watched Jon walked out. He took a breath for him, but it was caught when Khal Jinn loomed over his friend.

the giant spoke and Jon looked back at him, wondering what that meant. He said that to him a few times before.

"I think he wants you to win?" Jack offered, but he couldn't be sure, he didn't speak Dothraki, even though he tried to matched Khal's words with his actions but the man didn't do much be eat, and kill so there wasn't much to work with.

Jack slipped to the corner of his cell. He wouldn't be able to see the whole match from here, unless they crossed in front of the doorway.

He looked over to see Khal's across from theirs and he gave him an excitable grin, before turning to see what he could of Jon's bout.

"Robyn..."
Flint's voice was so soft, softer then she's ever really heard it and she couldn't hid her smile. He could even see the small chip in her tooth from when she was a child.
He reached out, and pulled her in to his lap, and she laughed as he did so, sitting comfortably on his lap. She closed her eyes to his kiss, his lips meeting hers before slipping to her neck. She felt pleasure fueled chills raise on her skin.

"You're right, a week won't be long enough." He said and she laughed. "I'm rarely wrong." She said with her usual coy but he stopped, watching her eyes.

"Thank you for this..." He said and she shrugged. Thank you wasn't a word she was using to hearing often, and it still seemed odd, a lot of this did.

"I know I don't say much... about before we met but..." He said and tapped the necklace with his gun. Robyn nodded. He never spoke about his life before. She could see the pain, she knew the pain. It was something that she knew all too well. She was able to tell him about her pain, hers was older, his was still too new, she could even see it in his sister's eyes. It was too hard to speak about. She understood that. She still couldn't speak his name.

"He was part of it, who I was. His name was Grey Wind and he was my friend. He would have liked you." He said and she tested the name. "Grey Wind." She breathed. She liked the name. It sounded like a ship. She'd been wanting another ship for a while, but hadn't had the chance yet, she was going to call it Seaworth, but Grey Wind sounded much better and with Flint with her, it would mean that much more.

"I appreciate this love, truly. I look forward to repaying the gesture." He said, and rose, her in his arms, her feet off the floor. She leaned in for a kiss as he spun her around, a smile on her lips. Once he set her down, she fixed her coat as he holstered his new gun. It was odd. She was so used to taking things, giving someone something, felt just as good.

"Let's get on that beach, eh? We've got rum to buy and a room to rent." He said and she chuckled. "There's one more thing. The crew approached me the other day, they don't want you as boatswain any longer." She said and took his hand. "Come." She said and let him outside. It was strange at first, she thought she would have to keep their relationship a secret, she thought it would lose her crew's respect and a few of them didn't like it. Namely his replacement. but the others, the loyal ones, they welcomed it. Even though alot of them thought she needed a good fuck since her moods were so bad, and though she would never admit they were partial right. She needed him and the sex wasn't bad either.

"Men!" she called, her voice loud over the waves and the every day hustle and bustle.

"You all came to me, with one thing in mind. You don't want this crazy fuck as your boatswain, right?"

The crew laughed, but agreed. "You wanted something else, and I agree." She said, she always had a flair for theatrics.

"All of those in favor of naming James Flint as Quartermaster and First Mate, say Aye"

the entire ship screamed Aye.

"All oppose?" She asked, and not a word though someone coughed. She made a face and the offending party shrugged.

"The Aye's have it. Congratulations Quartermaster." She said, and shook his hand, though she really wanted to kiss him.

Dae hugged Arya back as she slammed into her chest. Dae kissed the top of her head, trying to fight her tears. She didn't know how much she needed it just then nor how good it felt.

"My father used to tell me when I was sad, he'd say Arya, you're a Stark and Starks are of the Winter. I never really knew what that meant but it always made me feel better when he'd ask me to say our words, Winter is Coming. You're a Stark now too Dae, they're your words now, so you remember them. Wolves have to stick together, especially in the winter."
Arya said and Dae looked at her. She was Stark now and those were her words now, and she was a wolf now. Dae looked on Arya with admiration in her eyes. If this little girl, could shoulder those, she would be damned if she wouldn't.

"I know Jon is gone for now, but he'll be back, he always comes back. Till then its you and me, we're a family, a wolf pack." She said and Dae smiled for the first time since Jon's disappearance. It was small but genuine.

"You and Me." She repeated, hugging her sister to her chest. "You know, I always wanted a little sister. I never expect her to be smarter then me." She said, tapping Arya's nose with a light finger. She realized now, that in her grief, she hadn't really been out of the room much and that wasn't fair to Arya.

"How about you and I do something? What would you like to do?" SHe asked and no sooner did she, was there a knock at the door.

"Enter."

It was another of the kingsguard, the one that had been looking after her father.

Dae closed her eyes, she could see it on his face. "You're Grace...."

Dae turned her head. "He went in peace....yes?"

"In his sleep." said the guard. Dae nodded. "I'm sorry, You're Grace." he said and left her alone with Arya. "Wolves in Winter." was all she could bring herself to say.

"There's one more thing. The crew approached me the other day, they don't want you as boatswain any longer."

Her words were like a punch to the jaw. Flint first fell frustration and anger, followed by confusion. The men liked him, he was sure of it. They confided in him, told him things they didn't even tell the captain. When he was first brought aboard there was a healthy amount of fear and distrust, which was to be expected given his fearsome reputation but since then a lot had changed. He'd fought beside them, bled beside them and killed beside them. The Man Without Fear was a rallying cry when he dove to an enemy ship, as he carved through sailors and opposing pirates they were right behind him. The only man who never truly took to him was the Quarter Master who hated that he had the captains ear, and her bed.

Pushing the concerns aside he followed her out onto the deck of the ship where the men were already gathering. If they were voting him off he couldn't say, no ones face gave away a thing, if anything they all looked rather excited.

"Men!"

Robyn called, her voice authoritative and commanding as the few stragglers assembled around them. Flint flicked his gaze from one man to the next, wondering how many he'd need to kill to make a clean escape should they decide they no longer wanted him among them.

"You all came to me, with one thing in mind. You don't want this crazy fuck as your boatswain, right?"

The crew laughed, but agreed. Flint's hand went to the small of his back where his spare pistol lay. Was Robyn a party to this? Was it all a lie?

"You wanted something else, and I agree."

She said with a devilish grin, his hand tightening around the pistol.

"All of those in favor of naming James Flint as Quartermaster and First Mate, say Aye"

Flint's jaw dropped. In one voice the entire crew roared a resounding AYE!!!. Flint's hand fell away from his pistol as smile etched its way onto his suprised face.

"All oppose?"

She asked, and not a word of opposition. Flint couldn't believe it. He couldn't wait to tell his sister.

"The Aye's have it. Congratulations Quartermaster."

Robyn said shaking his hand. He stared at her incredulously as the crew, all gathered shared a knowing chuckle.

"Fuck this."

Flint said before pulling her in by the waist and kissing her. There was a hush over the crew for a split second while Captain Sheva and Flints tongues battled for dominance before someone shouted.

"'Bout fucking time!"

The crew erupted into a hearty laugh before moving in to congratulate their new quarter master. Flint laughed, and for the first time in years he was content. He had a family, a crew, a beautiful woman who had his heart. The seas were thick with bounty and the winds were favorable. The pain of the Northern winds were all but a bitter memory. The Harbinger came up to the docks and a few men broke off from celebrating to set the anchor and tie the ship off to the docks.

"Come on lads! To Noonans! First rounds on me!"

The crew erupted a second time as the crew set the gang plank ready to storm the beach and head to the largest brothel on Nassau with their Captain and newly elected Quarter Master.

The gate opened and Jon stepped out into the arena, it was raining, at least he wouldn't have to deal with the heat. Were it colder it would have been snow, but there was no snow here, not ever. He wasn't in The North anymore when the clouds open up and loosed their frosty payload. Here there was rain or there was sun, there was no in between. The noise in the arena was deafening as the crowds cheered for the match while Jon made his approach. He moved slowly, each step bringing him closer to the tempation of death. He remembered his first bout, how loud it was, how confusing he found it. He tried to refuse to fight, that way was taken from with a single swing of a sword. As he fought he struggled to keep the crowd out of his head, their cheering and clapping echoing off the insides of his skull. Now he was accustomed to it, their cheers for a good fight and their hisses after a dissapointment. He knew he wasn't a crowd favorite, they booed him more than not, not becuase he was a poor fighter but because he wasn't a blood thirsty one. Though this match was shaping up to give the crowd just what they wanted as Jon stared at the three men he was matched against.

Each man a head taller than Jon himself, thick with muscle and broad of chest. They threw brutes at him, he wondered who he'd angered to give him this pairing. He had little time to contemplate the match as his opponents advanced. Jon advanced as well, his shortsword in hand. He wished he had Long Claw with him, the large bastard sword made of Valyrian steel would allow him to keep his opponents at length while he cut them down one by one. The much shorter gladius would mean he'd need to get in close and pray he was quick enough.



The first man came at him with a trident, stabbing for his throat. Jon slapped the weapon away with the flat of his blade before kicking the man square in the gut, forcing him to back pedal. The other came for him, one weilding a mace, the other a sword. Jon had to move fast to keep from having his ribs smashed in or losing a limb. He kept pace with them parrying or evading until he was able to reach out with an attack of his own, all the while the crowd drank in the spectacle. The trident man came for him again, this time lunging at his feet, hoping to skewer his legs or trip him up. Jon stepped on the end of the weapon, driving the tip into the muddy dirt before lashing out with one clean swing of his sword, opening the man's throat. He fell back, gurgling on his own blood.



Jon was rewarded for the kill with a nasty blow to the back from the mace, dropping him to his knees with a curse of pain. The mace weilder loomed over Jon before kicking him in the teeth, putting him flat on his back. Jon groaned, opening his eyes just in time to see the sword coming for him. Jon rolled and reached out with his sword, acting on instinct alone. His sword tasted flesh, but only just, leaving a shallow gash in one mans calf. Jon was on his feet as the swordsman dove for him, ready to run him through. Jon caught his arm and slammed his elbow into the mans face before ripping the sword from his hands. Jon ducked to avoid a swing to the face from the mace and quickly brought his own sword up in an upward swing, tearing open the mans chest in a gory shower of blood and bone.

Jon turned on the last man, a blade in each hand. The fighter was still on his knees, clutching his face from the elbow he'd recieved. He looked up and his eyes went wide as Jon stood over him in the rain with both blades. He knew death was coming and took a shuddering breath. He hung his head, waiting for the death blow as the crowd worked themselves into a frenzy. Jon crossed the blades in an X over the mans neck, ready to take his head, his blood still pumping hard in his veins. It would have been too easy to end the man there and then. The crowd chanting "KILL! KILL! KILL!" as Jon gripped the pommels of the swords. He looked up, seeing the thirst for death on the faces of the crowd.

Jon Stark tossed the blades in the mud, glared at the crowd and spat on the ground. The entire arena erupted in a chorus of boos and hisses but Jon didn't care, he'd won the day and would see tomorrow, that was enough. He didn't fight for them, he fought for her, so he could see her again and that was all. Jon made his way back to the cells as the crowd cursed his name. He got a few nods of approval from the other fighters. He touched his lip, that had been split from the kick to the face and grumbled but it was his back that was really sore. That blow from the mace would bruise and forbid him much sleep for the next few weeks.

Jon rejoined Jack, rubbing the back of his neck as he winced in pain.

"There were three of them this time... someone doesn't like me."

"Sorry Dae."

Was all Arya could think to say. It wasn't fair, none of it. Why was it that all the good people suffered? The cruel seem to last for ages but the good, they died or were taken away or something just as bad. Dae was a good person, she was kind to her and loving, like a sister should be. Yet she lost Jon and her father within weeks of eachother. Arya reflected back to her own losses and the cruelty of the gods. She lost her father who was a good man, and her mother. She lost Robb and Sansa and Clara who was the sweetest person Arya had ever known. All because someone cruel took them away, it wasn't fair and the gods were fair, none of them. Arya stood next to Dae, not sure what to do.

"I liked your father... He told funny jokes, most he said never to repeat cause they'd get me in trouble."

She added with a sad chuckle before running her sleeve over her eyes. She still wasn't crying, she was a wolf and wolves didn't cry. Dae's father was, like Dae herself, from far away. A place whose name was still difficult for Arya to pronoune. She said once it was far to the east, in the eastern continent of Essos and it was always hot there. Arya couldn't imagine some of the things she told her like the sprawling bazzars where they sold multicolored birds and spiced meats on a stick or how traders like to tell stories of dragons and the gone but not forgotten Targaryens who rode them into battle. It seemed like a childs story if Dae had not actually been from that place.

Dae was so saddened by the loss of her father and Arya was never good with her words like Sansa had been. She was about to leave and give Dae some time alone when she noticed a rolled up scroll on the table near the door. She paused looking at it and the wax seal. She knew almost every Northern House sigil and many of the ones outside of The north. Meister Luwin said it was her duty as a princess to learn the important families that goverened the world. This one was a mystery to her. The seal was red wax and on it was stamped a dragon with three heads. She'd never seen a sigil like it. Sticking out from beneath the wax was a tiny strip of parchment marking the location from which the letter came.

"Meereen..."

Arya read out loud, the foreign name feeling strange on her tongue. She picked up the parchement wondering if this was from Dae's family. Dae was from Essos and though the letter didn't say it was from Naarth perhaps it was from a family member in a nearby city. She read during her studies that The Free Cities as they're called are all relatively nearby, it wasn't hard to believe that possibly Dae had a sibling or maybe an uncle or aunt inquiring after her or her father.

"Dae? Where's Meereen? Is it near where you grew up?"

She asked turning to her new sister in law and showing her the rolled up scroll.

"Fuck This." Suddenly, Flint's hands came around her waist and pulled her in to a passionate kiss. She was surprised by this, and felt a little odd, as the crew went dead quiet. She couldn't help but kiss him back, but their silence made her nervous.
Half of them, wanted to be what Flint was to her.
"Bout Fucking Time!" Robyn chuckled against his lips. The crew welcomed their relationship, they truly did.

Finally the ship docked on Nassau and for a moment, Robyn thought she'd join them in Noonan's, the gods only knew she wanted to find a bed and rum as quickly as possible but they had work to do first, or at the very least she did. She was still Captain.

"You go on ahead, I need to warn Eleanor about the barrels and I refuse for her to ruin your mood." She said, to Flint as they disembarked. "I'll be quick." She said, and gave him a tender kiss before she broke from the rest of them and headed toward Eleanor's tavern.

Once there, she saw a noticeable lack of people. Her tavern was a popular place, Max saw to that. She also noticed too that Max was not there. Perhaps the two women were enjoying themselves since it was a slow day.

She walked upstairs to Eleanor's office and banged on the door. "Enter" Eleanor called and Robyn entered. The door was open, and there was still no Max. That was odd.

"Hello, Captain, Welcome back." Eleanor said, noticeable grim.

"Aye, where's the kitten?" She asked. Robyn honestly, worried, it was strange, but knowing that she was Flint's sister, it made her worry for her. She couldn't explain why.

Eleanor took a breath. "Not here...How was the raid?"

"Successful, Where is she?"

"I--I kicked her out."

"You're a poor liar, Eleanor. She left you didn't she?"

Eleanor set her jaw. "What did you do?"

"Nothing..."

Robyn narrowed her eyes. "Her other brother is alive, and I knew it, I didn't tell her, what does it matter to you."

"Her other brother?" Robyn blinked. Flint had more family out there somewhere. What a lovely day this would turn out to be.

"Yes...Jon Stark, she found out that he was still alive."

"And why didn't you tell anyone?"

"She'd want to leave, and so would Flint, to see him."

"Yea, no shit." Robyn said with a shrug,

"They would have to stay."

That gave Robyn pause. "They don't have to do anything...." She said.

Eleanor looked at her and then realization slid over her face. "You don't know do you?" She asked, there was a certain pride in her voice just then that made Robyn uneasy, her hand went to the hilt of her blade.

"Know what?"

"You're James Flint, isn't James Flint at all. He's Robb Stark, of Winterfell. True King of the North."

Jack watched as best he could of Jon's match. After while, they weren't in range of sight, so Jack just had to sit and hope.

He heard the words "Kill! Kill! Kill!" And then boos shortly there after and he knew Jon won. He wasn't going to make any friends in the crowd that way, but he might with the fighters.

Jon walked back inside, nursing his new set of wounds and Jack smiled.

"There were three of them this time... someone doesn't like me."

"No, no they don't. Theatrics mate, they want entertainment, I told you." Jack said. "That's why there were three. You didn't kill them so those guys might not try to kill you, next time, that being said, they'll try to find others that will. You need to make some friends....Other then me of course." He said and while originally it was just Jack's strategy to stay alive, he really did like Jon, and think of him as a friend.

"Rest up, we're done for tonight." He said, with a nod toward Jon's cot and a yawn of his own.

All was quiet, and night had fallen. Jack had finally gotten off the floor and lay on his own cot, and was sleeping as best he could with his injuries.

Suddenly, there was commotion coming from outside of the cells. He opened his eyes, but didn't sit up, as the guards dragged in a new body, considerably smaller then the most. It was dark so he really couldn't tell.

The guards moved to the cell across of his and Jon's, Khal Jinn's and Jack swallowed. Feeling sorry for the poor bloke that was going to be his cellmate.

They dropped the unconscious body inside the cell and ducked back out. Jack waited a few moments before sitting up. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see in the dark, and his vision cleared.

"By the gods...." He breathed, he stumbled out of his cot, rolling to the floor, before crawling over to Jon's cot.

"J-Jon, Jon, wake up, wake up, something is horribly wrong." He said. "Well, more then normal. " He said, shaking Jon, not to mindful of his injures.

"Sorry, but look." He said, and pointed across the hall.

"That is right...none of this is, but they've had rules so far....this....this isn't okay."

He said, and once Jon was well enough awake, he looked at him.

"That's a woman...." He told him. "Theses are the men's cells, the women have there own..." He said and laying on the floor was a beautiful woman, her hair black as night, almost disappearing on the dark floor, her skin was warm, the color of fresh sand, and it seemed to glow without light. She was dressed in silks, that crossed over her breasts, matches silks around her hips, and stopping after her knees. She had iron bands on her wrists and ankles. This was not right. This woman is going to be killed in here...

"She going to die in here..." Jack said, with wide eyes. "She's in Khal Jinn's cell...." He whispered urgently. "Khal Fucking Jinn."

"All men must die."

Hizdahr zo Loraq spoke, his voice shaky but resolved. Hizdahr became the head of his family after Rhaegar took the city. The Masters of Meereen, upon hearing of Rhaegars approach crucified a child slave every mile marker for sixty three miles leading to Meereen. Once Rhaegar was in control of the city he returned the favor by crucifying sixty three of the most influential and powerful slave masters in the city, most of them heads of great families. Hizdahrs fathers was one such master, if Rhaegar remebered correctly his fathers body had hung on its cross for nearly a week before Hizdahr sought audience to request his body be taken down and interred in his familial crypt. Hizdahr zo Lraq has since become a member of Rhaegar small council depsite how much he despised the man and his slavers ways. Rhaegar heeded wise council and permitted Hizdahr a seat to help him govern the city thusly granting him support from the rich.

Rhaegar leveled a steely gaze at the man across the table from him as the small council meeting neared its end.

"All men must die,"

He said again.

"But not all can die in glory."

"Glory?"

Rhagear scoffed, hardly restraining his disgust.

"Why else do men fight? Why did your ancestors cross the Narrow Sea and conquer the Seven Kingdoms?... So their names would live on. Those who find victory in the fighting pits will never become kings but their names will live on. It's the best chance they'll ever have."

Hizdahr spoke, almost pleadingly, to make his case. Rhaegar was hardly moved, his gaze unwaivering.

"Is that what you used to tell men before you set them to butchering each other for sport?..."

Rhaegar asked coldly. Hizdahr blinked, the question set him back but he pushed his case reguardless.

"Your Grace, today is the traditonal start of the fighting season."

"I do not recognize this tradition."

The Father of Dragons snapped scornfully.

"Traditions are the only thing that will hold this city, your city together. Without them former slaves and former masters have nothing in common. Nothing but centuries of mistrust and resentment. I can't promise that this is the answer to all our problems but it's a start."

Hizdahr spoke truths. The city was split in two. Half of the city hated Rhaegar for ripping them from power and taking from them the slaves that had brought them so much wealth. The other half called him Kepa and praised him for their salvation. Bringing Hizdahr on the small council was a tiny way of winning back some of his doubters but it didn't help that when Hizdahr spoke Rhaegar struggled not imagining punching him in the jaw. The council sat in silence awaiting Rhaegars response. Varys did not speak, nor did Daario Naharis the leader of his mercenaries. Grey Worm the commander of his Unsullied was silent as well but he rarely spoke so that was no suprise. Lord Commander Selmy leveled a stare at Hizdahr that could break bones while Tyrion was astonishingly lack of words. Rhaegar tensed his jaw, his mood was sour to say the least due to the discussion of the fighting pits for the third time this month.

"That is where you are wrong Hizdahr zo Loraq. It's not a start, it is the end. The end of Meereens chances of coming back from centuries of cruelty and mistreatment. I am the breaker of chains. I will not free slaves only to send them to their deaths fighting one another for yours or anyone elses amusement. I understand that this... tradition is an old part of your world but I will make this plain to you here and now. You, and others like you, can either live in my new world or you can die in your old one."

The silence in the small council chamber was deafening but The Dragon had made his decision and he would not be moved. Ser Barristan seemed pleased, as did Grey Worm and Varys. Tyrion was the only one who was difficult to get a read on. Hizdahr looked as if he was going to soil himself. He swallowed hard before lowering his head in defeat.

"If there is nothing else this meeting is over."

Rhaegar said before getting to his feet. His council all rose and left the room, leaving him in what he thought was an empty chamber.

"Do me a favor Your Grace and remind me never to get on your bad side."

Rhaegar Targaryen turned to see Tyrion Lannister still in his seat at the small council table. A cup of wine in his hand he seemed thoroughly amused by the events of the meeting. Rhaegar poured himself a cup of wine and joined the youngest son of Tywin Lannister at the table.

"That man damages my calm."

Rhaegar said in almost a growl before taking a thirsty drink from his cup. Tyrion chuckled with a nod of his head.

"Does he? I couldn't imagine why. Has Varys told you about the missing Stark?"

Rhaegar nodded tiredly.

"He wants me to invade The North."

"And what do you want to do?"

"Not invade The North."

Rhaegar replied flatly. Again Tyrion chuckled as he sipped from his cup.

"Invade, don't invade... either way a choice will need to be made sooner or later. Rhaegar Targaryen is too important to sit out of this for much longer."

Rhaegar looked up from him cup, a cautious curiosity playing across his strong features.

"Why do you say that?"

Tyrion smiled, that dark smile of his that told Rhaegar he knew how things were going to play out ten steps ahead of everyone else and was enjoying watching the events unfold.

"Pentos is marshalling an army, as is Volantis, as is Dorne, as is Naarth, as is The Reach and thirty or fourty other major and minor countries, terriorties and free cities looking to improve their power base. The North is one of the oldest kingdoms in the world, near as old as Valyria itself. Whoever ends up commanding the Throne of Winterfell will find themselves well situated to wield that power like a lion playing with house cats."

Rhaegar rose from the table and stared out the window, past the city he now ruled, past Slavers Bay and The Narrow Sea to a land of cold and snow where wolves howled and winter loomed.

"Sorry Dae." Arya said, and Dae nodded, unable to do or say much else.
Her father was gone, her mother, and unborn brother or sister and her husband was missing. She was told once, that she would never be happy. She thought the curse was broken but no. It wasn't. It was waiting for the moment, when would crush her the most.

"I liked your father... He told funny jokes, most he said never to repeat cause they'd get me in trouble." Arya said and she looked at the girl, trying so hard to be strong, knowing how weak Dae was at the moment. This was crushing her.

Arya got up, clearly out of her element and Dae was fine with that, she didn't want her to see her like this, she already did but it didn't have to last. Dae was about to try to decide what to do next, her father was gone now, and she needed to burn him. She wasn't sure if she wanted the whole kingdom to be there. They didn't trust her at all anyway, with Jon's disappearance.

"Meereen..."
Dae turned to see Arya standing outside the door, with a parchment in her hand. Dae took a breath.

"Dae? Where's Meereen? Is it near where you grew up?"

"Yes, my love, not far." She said, and took the parchment from the girl. Dae recognized the sigil. Targaryen.

She'd heard that there was a king there now, having freed the slaves in Slaver's Bay, liberating Yunkai, Meereen and Astapor.

What could he possibly know of her?

She cracked the seal and read the words.

She has a friend in Meereen. Why? Perhaps he could help with the search?

Dae, stood with newfound purpose. "Come Arya, we have help, we're going to find your brother." She said. "Grab some parachment." She said, pointing to the cabin nearest the window as she moved to the desk.

She took a seat and grabbed a pen and inkwell. Arya came over with the paper and she began to scrawl on the sheet.

The North thanks you for your concern, and could use your assistance.
We know not what has happened, and we worry greatly,
If you have any information at all of what possibly has happened to the King, please, let us know and whatever you need from us, you shall have it in return.

-Dae Missan Stark, Wife of Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, King of the North.

She read it over and took a deep breath. She would not call herself Queen, not without her King.

"Take this" She said, rolling up the parchment and heating the wax to seal it. She pressed the Wolf Sigil on to the hot wax and blew it cool. She then handed it to Arya. She figured it would help Arya feel like she was doing something important. "Take this to the messenger, have them send their fastest raven." She told the girl. "Alright, go." She said, sending her off with a kiss to the forehead.

Jon is alive....She could feel it.

The darkness of the pit was all encompassing. Most feared the dark, the hidden dangers in the shadow but the boy was different. The darkness raised him, nurtured him, it sang to him like a mothers lullaby. It was the only friend he'd ever had. Growing up in that pit where men were thrown to be forgotten he learned that innocence could not flower, only strength and resilience. The darkness taught him that. It taught him to hide when he was small, to save him from the pain inflicted on him by the others. They would search for him, the little boy with no name. As the others would stare up at the light in wanting the boy stayed in the darkness, his friend ever there to guard. Then one day a man came, his eyes were angry and cruel, more so than all the others. He wanted to hurt the boy so the boy hurt him first. He burned him with fire and tore open his throat with a tiny sharp rock. The blood dripped in the flames and hissed as the fire consumed it. The boy was wreathed in smoke and rose with a name, Jinn... the only who would ever escape the pit.

Jinn woke, no longer the boy but a titan of a man, laying comfortably on his cot as his door was thrown open. This place, whatever it was, had ebbs and flows, like the sea. He could count the hours and know when the guards would come to release them for training or food, he knew when the killing started and when it was time for sleep. This was something else and the massive Dothraki sat up in his cot, his eyes studying the figure thrown to his floor. To any other their eyes would need to adjust, take in what little light there was to see inches in front of their faces. Khal Jinn was no such man, he was born in darkness, it was the light that blinded him.

She was a woman, beautiful and lithe. Her skin was lika summer sun on the great grass sea and her hair black as obsidian. Her hands and feet were bound in iron wrapped in silk. Her body was sparringly dressed in silken wraps, teasing the mind, yet in the darkness there was no room for such thoughts. Khal Jinn rose to his feet and could feel the air shift in the cells. The other prisoners were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. He moved toward her, his steps slow and methodical. She writhed on the floor, twitching in pain. He could hear each breath she took, labored and angry like a chained wild cat. Her body was dotted with tiny beads of sweat, not from the heat but from stress and pain of her capture and imprisonment. There was a quality to her skin that caught Jinns eyes, how it seemed to almost hum with a subtle light, like a moon casting a haunting glow on a sleeping world.

"Yer jalan..."

He said before he crouched to look her in the eyes. She stared back at him, her expression wild as it was fearful and pained. He looked into her dark eyes and found warmth in the darkness within.

"Anha vazhak yeraan thirat."

With no more than a subtle nod after that he rose and returned to his cot to lay down. The cells breathed out a sigh of relief they did not witness a bloodbath. As Khal Jinn lay down his eyes returned to the woman in his cell, there was a power to her, he could feel it calling to him, like a song in the darkness.




*Yer jalan- You are the Moon.

*Anha vazhak yeraan thirat.- I will let you live.

Pain.
It was all she could sense at first. Just pain. Every inch of her body ached, her skin felt too tight, her limps felt heavy, breathing hurt.

What happened?

She tried to remember, too weak to do anything else as she was tossed to the floor. Her eyes could only look up. She scoured her memories. She had most of them. SHe remembered her sister, speaking with her, playing with her, brushing her long black hair.

She remembered her friend, with his dashing smile, and wise council. She remembered how home, beautiful and terrible. She was not there now, they were not with her now. She knew not where she was nor why she was there.

She tried to move, but it hurt. Her wrists and ankles were clasped with iron bands.

Lifting her arms was too much to bare.

It was then that she heard it. Movement, just before her. She moved only her eyes to see, having adjusted to the dark.

She was a spider....darkness was where she thrived.

She saw him. A mountainous man, looming over her. Caramel skin, hair pulled back and disappearing behind his back, adorned with vibrant blue markings. Curiosity playing behind his dark eyes.
She waited, for a twitch of violence, but there was none, as he scrutinized her, just curiosity and wonder, while she looked on him with fear and pain. She needed to be able to fight---

"Yer jalan..."

He said, as he crouched down. He was Dothraki? The braid should have been a give away. The Moon? No, she was not the moon, she was a spider...She was Fae.

"Anha vazhak yeraan thirat." He said and she frowned, but couldn't bring herself to start a fight. He said he would let her live, there was no sense in starting a fight now, even though her pride made it hard for her not to. She turned and watched him moved to a cot, and laying down on it.

"F-finne zin anha?"She forced herself to say, as he watched her. She forced herself to rise to a sitting position. She was about to see that she was in a cell then, iron bars closing her in. There was a cell across from her, two males, a man and a boy with markings on his face, looked at her, the boy in horror the man in confusion. She noticed the iron bands on her arms, and understand why she was so weak. Whoever took her wanted her weak but not dead for the iron didn't touch her skin, just kept her from using her magic. She was a captive.

The other two didn't seem to understand what she say so she turned back to the Dothraki,

"Anha zin Tenanye Ananse, Empress ki Anansai, fin hash yer?" She asked, her voice hoarse and weak. She felt as if she'd been screaming. "fin ajjin jin?"

*Where am I
**I am Tenanye Anansai, Empress of Anansai, who are you?
***What is this?

Arya was running as fast as her little legs would carry her. She clucthed Dae's letter in her hand as she sprinted through the halls of Winterfell. She'd burst fourth from Jon's room, leaving Sandor in her dust. He barreled after her, not knowing where she was going only that he needed to stay with her as was his duty. He was no where near as fast as the fleet footed daughter of Eddard Stark but he kept pace as best he could, charging behind her as he rattled in his armor with each thunderous step. She lost him on the stairwell to the rookery and did not hear him again until she was alread leaving the room.

"Seven hells girl!"

Sandor huffed, trying to catch his breath after bounding up the last few steps. Arya was smiling, her breathes coming significantly easier than The Hounds were but then again she wasn't even a quarter his size.

"The fuck you have me chasing you through the whole damned keep for?"

He asked as he took a moment to put his hands on his knees, hunched over sucking wind.

"Sorry Sandor but I had to send a letter right away, Dae gave it to me. It's going to Meereen."

Sandor arched an eyebrow as he stood up, his hands on his hips, still struggling to breath normally. He wiped some sweat from his brow.

"Meereen?... Who's in Meereen?"

Arya could only smile, a broad giddy smile.

"A dragon."