Jon Stark's Story

''Are you frightened?''

Arya's voice was uncharacteristically soft and somber. Jon turned to her as he strapped Long Claw to his hip. She was standing by the window, looking out onto the courtyard of Winterfell as Mance Rayder was walked in chains to where he was to be executed.

''I'd be lying if I said I wasn't.''

Jon answered earnestly. Arya turned to look at him, he noticed the subtle wetness around her eyes.

''What if you can't do it?''

''I have to, there's no one else."

Jon replied , his voice tender but firm. Arya turned to look back out the second floor window. Mance had been dragged up onto the chopping block and put to his knees. There was a crowd in front of him, all shouting and cursing. Some were even throwing things.

"I heard, in The South, Kings have headsmen whose job it is to execute people so the King doesn't have to."

"We're not in The South."

Jon said in a suprisingly fatherly tone as he appeared behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"You remember what father always told us. Starks are of The North and in The North the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, our way is the old way."



Arya turned, tears in her eyes and leapt into Jons arms embracing him in a tender hug. He left Arya in the room, he knew she would watch from the window but she didn't need to watch any closer, or listen. No good would come from her hearing his blade cleave Mance Rayders neck, listen as his Valyrian steel blade seperated the bone from the meat nor the sound of his head roll across the floor. Jon walked with purpose, his jaw set in determination. He'd never executed someone before. He'd killed men surely, as many as tried to kill him but this was different.

The crowd was loud, not a mob but near to one, hurling insult and cruel jape at the condemned prisoner awaiting Jons blade. Mance Rayder, the so called King of The Wildlings had thrown The North into turmoil for the past three years. Countless lives had been lost, hold fasts had been burned and the majority of the royal family was now buried in the crypt beneath Winterfell. Robb and his half sister Claras loss still stung the worst since he was unable to recover their bodies after they were tossed out into the open ocean to drown. Jon remembered them, he remembered his mother who Mance had beheaded. He remembered Bran and Rickon who Mance had hung over the walls of the keep meant to safeguard them. He remembered Sansa who died in the fire set to the tower she was hiding in and his father who lost his head as his mother had. He remembered them all and for them would see justice done.

Mance hardly seemed the imposing Wildling ruler now, huddled over a wooden block holding back tears. He wore a sack shirt and was shackled in irons. His bald head seemed to steam as the light snow fall touced his scalp. Jon loomed over him before he drew Long Claw and rested its point in the wooden deck.

"Mance Rayder, you have been charged with two counts of regicide. The murders of Lord Robb Stark, the young lords Bran and Rickon Stark, the Ladies Sansa Stark and Clara Snow and for waging war upon the realm. You have been found guilty of all crimes therefore I, Jon Stark, King of the North, of the First Men and protector of The Realm hereby sentence you to die. Have you any last words."

To his credit Mance never wept. He turned his head as to look Jon in the eye.

"Strike true boy, or I'll come back and haunt ye."



Jon struck true, there would be no ghost of Mance Rayder. With that last death the war was officially done, The North could breath a sigh of relief and Jon would have to figure out just what it meant to be king. First thing he was to do was the last thing he wanted to do, leave Winterfell. When the war first broke out three years ago he'd reached out to his old friend Dorian Ursuul. His father hadn't wanted to ask for foreign aid figuring The North should handle their own problems but Jon had been grateful for his friends speedy response. Three ships of a dozen of Khalidors finest arrived on Northern shores within a fort night. It was because of the Khalidorian forces that his sister Arya had survived the war. Recently Jon had heard of a trade summit Khalidor was hosting and this proved the optimum time to step onto the global forum as the ruler of The North, build new alliances and persoanlly escort the men and women Khalidor had sent them home.

The sea was calm on his passage to Khalidor, the cold winds of the North grew all the more bitter above the waves. A Southerner would have no doubt taken the entire voyage below deck to avoid the icy sea spray, Jon found it bracing and inviting. Growing up in The North one respects the cold but doesn't fear it, its like an old friend that is never late but sometimes can wear out its welcome. Jon especially as he flexed his hand beneath his soft, leather gloves. He had discovered the power of his gift during the war, The Hand of Winter it was called. One in a thousand Starks have it, the ability to wield winter as a weapon. Jon grew up afraid of it but never truly experienced what it could do. Not until the war, not until the Wildlings came for his home. He tapped into his power and used it to it's full potential and with it, he won the war.

Jon clenched his fist, chasing away horrors of what he had done with his gift during the war. The war was done and he had to remember that. He was going to friends, he was going to allies and peace and good tidings. The war was done, it was over.

"Your Grace?"

Jon turned to the sound of a woman's voice, familiar and friendly.

"Lagertha."

Jon said in greeting to the Khalidorian woman who'd grown to be a close and trusted friend over the past three years. She smiled and took hold of one of the rigging lines as she stared out across the sea, toward her home.

"After all this time, coming home, I was starting to think I would never leave The North."

Jon chuckled and ran his fingers through his obsidian hair.

"Glad my home was hospitable."

He said in jest. She smiled wryly.

"You know what I meant, The North is beautiful in it's classical way but Khalidor. Its a fusion of old traditions and the path to the future. King Acaelus wants Khalidor to be more than just a frozen kingdom that has been around since the dawn of time and Prince Dorian ensures we do not forget where we came from. It's like no other place in the world."

Jon nodded slowly as his eyes began to make out the tops of towers through the sea fog.

"Well as someone from one of those frozen kingdoms that has been around since the dawn of time I'm grateful to have friends in Khalidor, both new and old."

He said, turning to her and outstretching his hand.

"I couldn't have saved my home without you Lagertha. You personally saved my sisters life and without your forces bolstering ours I fear the war may have ended with a much differently."

She shook his hand but only laughed.

"Oh I don't know Jon, I'm sure you still would have won... eventually."

They shared a laugh before Lagertha fell silent, the towers of her homeland coming into view more clearly now. He could hear bells in the distance heralding their arrival. He wondered what Dorian would make of his three ships returning after three years. Khalidor didn't even know the war was over, or that Jon was King.

"Jon?..."

She said softly, her voice hesitant. Jon turned curiously as Lagertha seemed to look out at her home as if saying goodbye to a loved one.

"What would you say if I told you I'd like to stay on, as part of your royal guard... permanently. I know your Kingsguard isn't fully assembled yet and you and I have fought together, bled together. Some of my best memories are of trying to keep your head firmly in place atop your shoulders. I'm an only child of long dead parents, I have no husband, no children. I live to fight and in you I have found someone I would not only fight for but die for."

Jon was honestly at a loss for words. Since meeting Lagertha she'd often spoke of little else but home, about Khalidor and all its wonders. To hear she wanted to return to The North with him, serve as his Kingsguard was a shock to say the least but also an honor.

"I can think of no one I'd rather have watching my back but... you're not my soldier to order. I'll have to talk with Dorian."

"Thank you, Jon."

He nodded and she was off, to prepare for landing as Khalidor seemed to do the same. The docks were nearing now and he could make out ferry hands preparing to receive the Khalidorian transport vessels. Jon smiled softly as he headed toward the gangplank to greet his old friends. As the ship was tied to it's mooring even from this distance Jon could hear music playing, beautiful music that whispered promises of strong drinks, good company and rich food. As he walked by the gang plank Lagertha shadowed him, ever the guardian, even here. It felt good to have someone watching his back since he decided to leave Ghost at home with Arya.

"Is there some sort of celebration going on?"

Jon asked.

"It must be a festival for Nysos from the sounds of it, always fun. There's more drinking, food, sex and dancing than you'd know what to do with Your Grace. Oh and it's a masquerade ball, you'll need a mask."

"Where would I get one of those?"

Lagertha pointed out a long line of stalls leading up the docks and into the street.

"During festival times mask sellers arrive in force, look there!"

Jon and Lagertha stopped at a particular stall where a man was selling animal masks, one in particular caught his eyes. He almost laughed at the irony.

"A white wolf."

Lagertha said as Jon picked up the decorative piece. It was really quite beautiful and reminded him of his life long companion.

"Perfect."

Jon said with a smile before paying the man and heading to where Lagertha had directed should house the festivities.

Jon hated these sort of parties. As a boy, growing up in his fathers castle, he went out of his way to avoid them. Too many people he didn't know. Too many smiling faces of strangers, to many things he was supposed to say and do when he cared little for all of them. He used to head out into the woods with Ghost, some times he'd steal his sister Clara away too and they'd walk through the trees. Clara liked the water so when she was with him they'd go to the lake and lounge in a skiff as she sung a sweet song or told him about her day or anything really. She was always more the talker than he was. "You're always brooding, Pup." She'd say to him.

The memory of her brought about a somber mood as he walked past a large brazier and towards, the festival. He affixed the white wolf mask to his face. He almost felt better wearing the wolf mask, like he was wearing Ghosts skin and walking in his body instead of his own. He entered the festival and couldn't help but marvel at the magnitude of it all. The keep alone was larger than the tallest tower at Winterfell, massive in its expanse. Candles lighted every inch of the old stone castle. Window panes depicting great Khalidorian myths, legends and religious icons dazzled in stained glass. Minstrels played at many of the tables while a larger group played a common song for the entire hall to enjoy. Then there was the food...

Tables and tables of every delicacy he could imagine. There were game hens wrapped in crackling bacon, and mutton seasoned with local herbs and spices. Jon saw trout and salmon and snapper all cooked to perfection and laid out to display the tender white meat beneath the fish scales. He saw venison kissed with lemon skins and duck sausages of every size. There were half a dozen whole roasted boar and three goats cut into sections, served around their own boiled heads. Lamprey pie and pidgeon pie battle for dominance as festival goers argued over slices while the shellfish and figs seemed to be ignored. The assortment of custards and sweet cakes only appeared to be visited by only the younger guests and some of the ladies with a sweet tooth. To accent it all were wines from Meereen, Pentos and Valyira. Dornish ales and Northern Mead. Casks and casks of the strong drink lined an entire wall that seemed to ever have a throng of men surrounding it.

Jon made his way through the crowds in complete anonymity, not that anyone would recognize him without the mask. He was Eddard Starks second son. Everyone knew Robb, big, bold and brave. They remembered the boys Bran and Rickon, adorable and polite as they were. Even the girls held a better memory what Sansa with her beauty and Arya with her sharp tongue. Only Clara seemed to vanish in a room like he did, unless there were young boys about then they would pester her as much as they would Sansa. Jon tried to force himself to stop thinking of the family he no longer had less his mood sour like the myrish oranges that apparently had been sitting out too long. He worked his way toward the ale casks and poured himself a tall pint of Northern honeyed mead before going off on his own to the balcony. At last some solitude as he watched the snow fall. He would endure the night, meet with Dorian in the morning who was no doubt well into his cups by now and see what he could make of himself come morning. For now he allowed the world to make merry and he tried not to lament what he'd lost.

Dorian watched as Valen came down to greet his son. ”We should go to the masquerade. It will lift your spirits.” Dorian nodded towards that. "You should, Zexen, but first you should speak to your father about how long you'll be here. I'll be down at the festival, your first assignment will be to use what spells you know to find me." He told his new apprentice as he walked away.

He had walked to the stables and rode for a few minutes, he donned his mask. It was the face of the fool, one that he had worn every year. The point of the masks were to be unrecognizable and the fool was the last thing people expected a high born to play. Eventually he reached the center of Jodan where the festivities were at its height. So taking the part of the jester, Dorian searched the crowd for interesting figures to mess with.

After picking several fights and winning a purse of coin, the jester waltzed into the Smoking Ox. It was owned by a man who moved to Jodan from Whiteharbor. Usually foreigners didn't do very well with setting up shops outside of the slums, but he brought with him some of the finest mead the city had ever seen. "Round on me!" Dorian shouted, dropping the coin he had earned from his scuffles in front of the barkeeper. Then he wondered upstairs, maybe find some fun.

As Dorian stepped out in the tavern's balcony he saw a few drunkards. One had a broken nose and a torn ear, maybe an unlucky fisherman. Another had better cloth on him, colored wool, probably a lonely aristocrat. The third, like the others, was by himself. However, unlike the others he wasn't giggling uncontrollably to himself, and he had flowing locks of ebony hair. Dorian knew only one man that kept hair like that, but he was fighting a war.

"What's got you down in the dumps, friend?" He questioned the masked stranger, leaning against the railings.

"What's got you down in the dumps, friend?"

Jon smiled softly beneath his mask, the white wolf mask betraying nothing of the North Man beneath it. He recognized the voice at once, he'd recognize it anywhere. The jester mask was a unique choice for the tough and gritty general but to Jon it fit, at least here in his home where Dorian could be at ease and afford a good laugh Jon and Dorian had been friends since their youth. The North and Khalidor, being the northern most countries were bound to interact since their inceptions. Yet it was the coming of The White Walkers during The Long Night in The Age of Heroes when Khalidor and House Stark first forged their centuries long bond of brotherhood. There were a few bonds of blood here and there as the years went on due to one marriage or another. Now however the most recent event that brought Khalidor and The North together was Mances uprising and Dorians intervention. Yet as boys the two were close, Dorian reminded Jon so much of his older brother Robb, both bold and fearless, men bred for combat. Jon saw that similarity even more now that Robb was gone. Where Jon recognized his friend it appeared that he was still a mystery beneath the wolf face. That ruse would be broken shortly as he turned to the man he'd known since he was a boy, drink in hand.

"Oh don't mind me, I'm told I brood too much."

Jon could see the shift in body language as Dorian stared at him from behind the mask, his Northern accent all too evident, no doubt cementing whatever suspicions Dorian may ave already had.

"I've come here to see an old friend. A friend that I owe a great debt to, a debt I can't even begin to repay."

Jon Stark reached up and pulled the mask off, a friendly smile on his face as he offered his hand to shake Dorians.

"It's good to see you Dorian."

Hidden behind her mask, gold wings that sprouted from her face, and dripped down her chin, brushed with rose, and tied with a silver ribbon. Dae walked into the the festival, She had a cart waiting for her, but she knew she always got more coin when she was dancing then she ever did with her cards, or violin. Women liked the cards, Men enjoyed the dancing.

She was glad for the mask. No one could see the disdain she didn't bother to hide. She hated them, she hated them all. The excuse was that no one could know who or what you were, the poor and rich could dance without ever knowing but that was hardly true. You could tell by the masks, the more elaborate, the more expensive. Even Eva's beautiful dragon mask, was simple compared to the richness of most. Her own, was a twisted gift from someone she'd rather not think of now. She would have to see him tonight. His name slithered on her tongue as she thought of him. He wanted her to remember, he wanted her to be force to call on him one day so she could owe him a greater debt. She'll cut her tongue off before she let that happened.

"Opmf!" A small pale skinned girl with unbelievable long hair ran right into her. Her mask was butterfly wings, like hers only with more lace and jewels. She was noble. "Oh, I'm sorry." She said with a bow and Dae blinked. Nobles don't bow, but it was clear by her accent she was one of the foreign nobles that had arrived.

"Xiao Jingshen, slow down." said a tall man with a black feathered mask with a long beak, and thin chin approached them. "Severyn, you're breaking the rules~! Oops." The girl, Xiao Jingshen said to the man, Severyn as he approached with another woman with an equally elaborate mask.

"Forgive us, We are new here and my young friend gets a little excited." He explained, while the little one smiled, and she nodded, but said nothing. They both looked at her and her legs began to warm.

They were faeries, and they sensed her. She turned and quickly made her way through the crowd, leaving them looking to themselves with confusion.

Dae stopped, just under balcony that over looked the plaza. She sighed. They're were Faeries here. Faeries. He could be here, he could be any one of these masks people. She felt eyes on her suddenly, and looked up, finding a man with a white wolf mask looking down at her. He wasn't from here, one he took the mask off and a Khalidorain would never, so he was from of of the foreign lands, North she would figure by the pale skin, midnight dark hair, equally dark guarded eyes. She knew that look, even from here. He knew pain, just as she knew pain.

"Oh don't mind me, I'm told I brood too much." Dorian flashed a grin. Girly locks? Moody and northern? It was Jon. No other northerner would go as a mysterious loner at a festival except him. "I've come here to see an old friend. A friend that I owe a great debt to, a debt I can't even begin to repay....It's good to see you Dorian."

Dorian slapped Jon's hand away and embraced him in a strong hug. "It's been a long time!" He happily exclaimed as he let go. Honestly he was set back. He expected a letter from Ned before they would arrive, but surprises were welcomed. "I take it this means you won? Did you kill Mance? By Khali I wish I could see his head roll. He rebels against the Starks using wildlings, of all people!? Did you know some crossed the border and attacked our forts? Guess they thought they were yours. Captured one named Styr, savage tried biting me while we fought. I can send him to you if you'd like." Dorian took a breath. He hadn't meant to bombard Jon with so many questions, it was just that he hadn't seen him in so long. Jon was taller and more filled out, even the beard was fuller.

"So where's the rest of the brood?" He asked looking around. "I bet Robb wreaks of mead by now! Is Sansa here?! I have a dress that I got from a campaign in the colonies for her, has the feathers of peacock." Then he saw the look in Jon's eyes, something was wrong. "Jon...Where are the others?"

Dorian hugged him, a great bear hug, truly the similarity between him and Robb was uncanny. He set Jon down with a laugh as he seemed to radiate excitment. He bombarded Jon with questions and stories of how the war reached Khalidors borders which suprised him. Though it wasn't long before Dorians words turned to talk of his family, of Robb and Sansa and the rest. Jon couldn't hide his grief, he couldn't if he wanted to. He was miserable all the time, it was only brief instances of levity that broke up the sorrow. The reunion with Dorian proved a more brief respite than he could have hoped. The memories his words brought back were too painful to ignore.

The morning was cold the day of the funeral. Winterfell was in mourning. The war was over and Mance Rayder had been captured, due to be executed on the morrow. There was one thing left to do before he was dealt with and this horrible time was put behind the people of The North, the burial for the royal family. The North had no kings before House Stark, should they had lost them the land would forever be without a pivitol piece of their history. Due to Mance Rayder and his wildlings The North had lost it's King, it's queen, three princes and two princesses. To Jon they were mother and father, brothers and sisters. Each harder than the last.

Jon walked the length of each tomb in the crypts of Winterfell, a tomb had been carved for all of them with a statue to match. Jon looked on the granite visage of his father, stern and kingly Eddard Stark held the families ancestral sword ice in his hand as he looked out onto a world in which he no longer drew breath. Next was his mother Catelyn Tully-Stark, for her the trout of House Tully had been carved into the stone along side the dire wolfof House Stark. Sansa's had taken the longest to carve, the stone worker had told Jon it was difficult to capture such beauty. The boys Bran and Rickon had been buried together, inseperable in life it seemed wrong to break them apart in death. The last two proved the hardest to bear. Robb and Clara, he and sisters bodies were never recovered. He knew they had been drowned, somewhere off the coast of White Harbor but no sign of them had ever washed ashore. It pained Jon to bury two empty caskets. Jon placed his hand on the stone hand of his half sister, and for the first time he wept, allowing himself to feel all of it.

"Jon...Where are the others?"

Dorians voice snapped him out of the painful memory. Jon blinked and took a labored grunting breath to clear the emotion from his throat.

"They're gone..."

Dorian seemed shocked by the news.

"Only me and Arya are left."

Jon added mercifully before he ran his hand through his coal black hair.

"Mance knew he'd never hold The North while a Stark yet lived. His plan was simple and brutal. Kill every Stark he could find. He almost succeeded too. If it wasn't for you and the men you sent his forces would have got Arya. They helped turn the tide, I had your people by my side when I finally broke Mances final assualt and captured him. I took his head less than a week ago, just before I left to come here."

A few tears shed from Dorian's eyes when Jon revealed that there were only two Starks left. The fact that his forces couldn't do more to save them made him angry. Were they only good for protecting Arya in a castle? He took a deep breath and cleared his eyes. He should say something at least, something that he would have said when he was bishop of the college.

"They were good people Jon. Their death is tragic, but don't fret about it. Death is not an end. You will see them again, that I assure you. Now come! I'm sure your parents don't want their son to sulk, especially if he's king." He said, trying to cheer Jon up. He indeed knew the pain of loss. His father had died when he was a babe and was raised by his uncle. When he died Dorian looked up to Hakvus for advise, as the man was everything he was not. Yet he taken from the world too soon, before he could truly make a difference.

"How about we go down and enjoy the festivities? I think I saw a bear wrestling contest on my way here." He suggested, downing his mug of mead. He looked over the railing and yelled out to a girl underneath them. "Hey you! Yes you, with the wings! Where's the bear!"

"Hey you! Yes you, with the wings! Where's the bear!" Dorian Urusal looked down at her, breaking her thoughts from the man he'd been standing with. She frowned behind her mask, shrugging before she looked around, listening for the growl of a bear, it was loud enough over the music. She found the sound to her left and pointed. "That way." She said, her accent giving her away as foreign, she was again, grateful for the mask.

It was then that Eva rushed up to her, grabbing her arm. " There you are, Come on, They are waiting for you." She said, tugging her toward where the other dancers were. "Alright, alright." She said but not before looking up at the dark haired man once more.

. "I learned how to play when I was a boy because my father was consistent with the idea that all his sons had to have a connection to the arts in someway. Although I've never quite cared for the traditional use, my countrymen love the fiddle." Arkaelus said and picked up the instrument. Tenanye smiled behind her wooden mask as he began to play. She clapped along with the music. Being Fae, she couldn't help the sound of music, nor the talent behind it. Sure, they could make music themselves but when humans did it, and did it well, it was a magic foreign to them.

When he finished, Tenanye laughed and clapped. "Well Done, Your Grace." She said, smiling. "You have quite the talent." She said. "You should be proud." She said, genuinely pleased with this.

"Mei mei!" Tenanye turned to see her sister, in a lovely butterfly mask rushing up to her. "Oh, There you are." She said, hugging her little sister. "There's a bear here, it's going to fight, I want to see it, can we see it?" She asked, excitedly. " Sure, If that's alright with you all." She asked, it was then she noticed Severyn's holding on to the hand of what seemed to be Queen Amelia. She was glad for it. Severyn looked to Amelia. "I don't mind, What of you, Your Grace, we can do something else if you like?" He asked her, placing a hand atop of hers.

Dorian was a good man, a good friend. Jon knew he only meant well, hoping to busy Jon with drink and food and women and in so doing take his mind of his hurt. Yet in this way Jon and Dorian were quite different. Jon wasn't the man to drink his sorrows away, or lose himself in women. Jon had never been that man. When trouble found Jon Stark he sought solitude and the quite of a forest clearing. He enjoyed a good hunt, the company of Ghost and not many other people. Clara sometimes could reach him, when he pulled away, Sansa could as well, but no one was as skilled at reaching Jon Stark when he turned inward like his father. Most likely because in this way Eddard Stark was like none of his children more. Eddard was called the Quiet Wolf in his youth, some even thought him a mute. Not until his older brother Brandons death did he start speaking up for himself and become the king every grew to know.

Dorian called out to one of the party goes, asking about a bear. Jon turned and lost himself for a moment. A woman off in the distance with a purple mask that looked as if it were made of butterfly wings. Her dress was the deepest blue, reminding Jon of mountain ice. Yet her skin was warm and brown, off setting the frigid color of her clothes. Past her mask Jon could see a head of curls the color of chestnuts. She spoked and Jon wondered where her accent was from, he'd never heard an accent quite like it. He wasn't sure why but he found himself unable to break his gaze. It wasn't until another woman rushed over and pulled her away did he finally lose sight of her. As she left she turned back once, their eyes meeting, hers behind a mask and his unobscured.

Dorian led Jon back inside where the festivities were in full swing, his mind drifting back to the woman in the mask. As Dorian led him through the corwd he figured he would at least attempt to have a good time, even if it was just for Dorians sake.

"So, you're really going to fight a bear? Wonder who I should put money on, you or the bear?"

Dorian and Jon walked the way to the bear that the stranger had pointed out. It did sound loud, must have been big, also probably dangerous. Perhaps it wasn't such a great idea to wrestle a bear, but then again, when had he ever listened to reason? No, he was far to mesmerized by the crowd and everyone who knew him knew that he loved to please the crowds.

"So, you're really going to fight a bear? Wonder who I should put money on, you or the bear?" Dorian smirked at his friend's comment. "You dare underestimate my prowess! I bet you a hundred ducats that I can beat it without magic. Besides, how big can it be?" Once the got to the ring, he saw that he would have to eat his own words. What he thought would be a normal brown turned out to be a kodiak. It stood two heads higher then Dorian and looked like it weighed more than a carriage. Yet he stepped into the ring all the same. "I'll take on the bear, no weapons." He told the tamer.He took off his ragged shirt so as to not get blood on it and stretched. The fight was going to be brutal.

When the bear was released it rushed straight toward him. He parried to the left, trying to grab it by its side. The bears arm swung and knocked him on his ass a pace back. It was strong like expected. As the bear came closer the prince swung a heavy roundhouse at the bears head. A sharp crackle emitted upon impact. Dorian had fought countless battles with his fists and they were hard as stone, but he was pretty sure that it was his bones that made the cracking. Still while the bear was stunned he kicked it hard in the neck. The bear wasn't done yet. It stood up, towering above him, and swung at him while he was trying to duck behind it. The claws shredded his back, making several deep cuts. Dorian jumped up on the bear, legs hugging its sides, and put it in a stranglehold. It thrashed and bucked, but he still held on. After a minute of thrashing it stumbled and fell on it's back, on top of Dorian. He felt like his ribs were falling apart

There was an applaud after words and the tamer gave him a chest of coin in amazement. Dorian felt awful. The wound on his back was searing with pain and the blood leaking out was making him woozy. He should have thought it through or at least used magic. Sitting on the chest of coin he looked up at Jon with a triumphant grin. "See Jon, I told you I could do it." Dorian said before he started coughing blood. "Could you find me a meister?"

Dae made her way with Eva toward with they would be setting up. "There you are, Miss Missan, We feared you weren't coming there year?" said , a large man, with a long white beard, named Grey. He wore a mask of Bear. Dae smile wearily. "How is your father?"

"Well enough," She said and that was all she was going to say on the subject. "I'd like to play first, " She said and Grey nodded, handing her a violin as Eva set out the bowls for the coins to be dropped into. She then went over and picked up a flute, while Grey manned the drums. They had originally started doing Khalidorian style music, but when Dae arrived, and she played for Eva, she fell in love with Dae's Naathi music and believed that the rest of Khalidor would and they had. Now with the foreign dignitaries here, they had a better change of making more coin, those the Faerie's bothered her. They had a happen of taking musicians and dancers....she would know.

She rose the vioin to her chin, resting the bow on the strings as Eva and Grey began. She took a deep breath, and began to play, leading them in a haunting song that rose up and over the voices. She closed her eyes, and let the music take her home.

Dorian boasted about his skill as they reached the ring, that housed the fighting bear. A large circle of thick oaken logs served as a pen and arena where men could sit in the stands and watch from above the contest between man and beast. At floor level was a single iron gate where the participant could enter guarded by two Khalidorian soldiers. As they reached the gate Jon and Dorian got their first look at the bear. A massive creature of thick muscle and wild fury, the bear would easily tower over Dorian. Jon stared in shock at the size of the creature and the absurdity that the beast master who owned the creature actually expected someone to fight the thing.

"That is the biggest bear I've ever seen."

Jon said as he marveled at the creature. He almost didn't notice his friend enter the ring. He blinked in shock that Dorian would actually consider fighting it for fun.

"I'll take on the bear, no weapons."

Dorian said as he walked through the gate. Jon was dumbfounded.

"Dorian! Dorian are you mad?"

It was too late, the fight was on. No sooner did Dorian Ursuul enter the ring did the beast charge with a savage roar. Dorian used the beasts momentum and leverage to his advantage to allow him to counter act its titanic strength. He tried to grapple its flank only to be hurled across the ring with a single swing of its massive paw. Jon cursed under his breath as he watched anxiously. The bear rushed Dorian again only to get a square punch in the nose.The blow disoriented the beast, its nose shown to be rather sensitive. Jon heard of using the tactic to fend of a dog attack, apparently it worked on bears as well. Dorian tried to press the advantage by kicking the beast in the neck, unfortunately the big kodiaks neck was thick with fur and muscle and no doubt hardly felt the blow. It punished him for the attempt with a brutal slash from its claws, tearing his back to ribbons.

"Dorian!"

Jon shouted as he ripped Long Claw from its sheath. Jon wasn't about to watch his friend torn to pieces by a bear for a jest. The bear may have been strong but stood no chance against valyrian steel. Yet the naked blade caught the attention of the guards who stepped between Jon and the gate.

"Move! Its going to kill him!"

Jon barked at the men as he tried to push past them. In the cofusion they didn't know who he was, just that a man wielding a blade was trying to rush through a festival crowd. Jon could only watch as Dorian fought his way onto the beasts back and wrap his legs around its mid section so he could strangle the beasts neck with his arms. It took a few tense moments but the bear fell unconcious and Dorian tumbled to the dirt. In frustration Jon sheathed his blade and shoved the guards aside before rushing to his friends side. As he reached him Dorian looked up at him with a bloody smile.

"See Jon, told you I could do it."

He said, wincing in pain. Jon could only chuckle at his friends recklessness.

"Gods... You're a mad man, you know that right?"

Dorian replied with a cough, rich with blood.

"Could you find me a meister?"

His friend asked weakly. Jon put a hand reasuringly on his shoulder as he shouted at the guards who were so keen on stopping him moments ago.

"He needs a meister, now! Hurry!"

The old meister arrived quickly, shadowed by a pari of attendants. Jon heard him before he saw him, evident by the clinking of his meisters chain forged of different metals he wore around his neck. The old man set to work quickly, treating Dorian there on the scene afraid to move him until he'd stopped bleeding in his back. Jon ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"Hope that was worth it. Why in seven hells did you want to fight that thing without weapons? It could have taken your head off. It'ls not like you need this."

He said kicking the chest of gold he'd won for his victory against the bear.

The feeling of meisters healing one's wounds was never pleasant. It felt like a painful growth spurt. The flesh burned and the bones felt soft, flimsy. Still, Dorian thought it was worth it. Sure he'd still have some scars and bruises after the meister was done, but there would still be talk of him through the town for his match.

"Hope that was worth it. Why in seven hells did you want to fight that thing without weapons? It could have taken your head off. It'ls not like you need this."

"Simple. The bear was unarmed. How do you expect me to duel something that's unarmed if I'm not unarmed myself? Just can't. Also there was glory in that match. People will talking about how I took on this bear alone for a year now. Then it'll get stretched. Pretty soon they might even say that I took it out with one blow." Dorian smiled with the thought. "For a general without a title, the power behind my name is really all I have. I can't have my men thinking that I'm taking it easy, even during a festival. This keeps them in line too."

After a few moments the meister finished, telling Dorian that he needed to take it easy and avoid physical exertion. The old man offered milk of the poppy, but he passed. He made the mistake of letting the bear hit him so he would deal with the pain. He sighed as he looked over the gold that he won.

"Well Jon, there's a lot of people who don't have the cash to enjoy themselves at these events. A lot of them only have a silver to their names. I think that we should give them the gold so they can have at least one nice night." He said as he stood up, being careful about his back. Then he heard a song play. It wasn't an old Khalidoran song, it was foreign. Must have been from some immigrants.

"Let's go towards that music. Just toss some gold at those that don't look like aristocrats. Cheap masks and cheap dyes." Dorian told him. His night wasn't over yet.

He did feel bad about leaving Moloch and his lovely lady friend, but it wasn't completely his fault. His brother and Princess Aada were slow to join the festivities and Kallias had been looking forward to them for months and they did not disappoint. The masks were a wonderful idea. There was no way of judging someone before you talked to them. No one knew who he was. No one called him "milord" or "my prince" or anything amounting to a royal formality. He didn't know if it was because no one could tell he was nobility or if it was because of the philosophy behind the festival, but it was liberating all the same. It was unfortunate that his good mood had to come crashing down.

"Someone's fighting the bear!" someone cried, tugging on a friend's arm, "We have to see this."

"Oh, that poor bastard's going to be torn to pieces. Gods, I love this time of year."

Curious, Kallias followed the crowd to a sight that made him sick. He had never liked people fighting wild animals in Drake. The poor things were often half-starved and never had a choice in the matter. Twice, he had petitioned his brother to ban such matches and twice his brother had been sidetracked by "more important matters." He turned away in disgust.

"Oh, Lady Lila, how can men find beauty in this?"

In the distance, he could hear music and he closed his eyes, focusing on the soothing rhythm lest he do something he regretted.

Xiao Jingshen had ran ahead of her sister and Severyn. She knew she was being impatient but she wanted to see the ber. They didn't have bears in Anansai, not like these ones anyway. Xiao Jingshen couldn't wait to see them fighting.

She made her way to the ring only to find the bear wasn't fighting another bear, that would have been find, but it was fighitng a much more intelligent....but only slightly in Xiao Jingshen's eyes, human.

In fact, it was Dorian, King Arkaelus' brother.

Xiao Jingshen watched in horror, tears dotting her eyes, as man fought beast. She saw a handsome man, unmasked free a blade that made even her dizzy. Once he sheathed it though, she was fine, she did noticed something odd about the man, he seemed cold, too cold, even from here, she could sense it. Much like the girl with the pretty butterfly mask, she was different too, touched somehow. She watched the man for a moment until finally, the King's brother eventually won. She shook her head.

"Why?" She asked, no one, turning away, beautiful music rose up, but even that didn't calm her. She turned sharply away, blinking back her tears.

"Why?"

A gentle voice echoed his thoughts and he turned to see a beautiful young woman all in white wearing a butterfly mask inlaid with jewels. His own swan-masked face turned to face her. Even with her face cloaked by the night and her mask, he could tell she was trying not to cry. He tried to sound gentle and strong like his brother did when they had been younger and hadn't been so concerned about Kallias "growing up".

"Humans are often cruel. The crowd hasn't given any thought about how an animal might feel, alone in a strange place, forced to fight... They might not care if told. Even in my home country, people enjoy violence without a second thought."

His thoughts drifted to the Arena. It was one thing for men to face each other in battle of their own free will or even to hunt a beast threatening livestock and humans alike in the wild. It was another thing to cage a beast and fight it for sport. He tried to think of more that he could say, but he couldn't. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry."

Dorian led Jon back toward the festivities, the thrill and excitement from defeating the bear energizing the Khalidorian general immensely. Jon seemed couldn't see it, like a raven lost in a snow storm, he was blind to whatever it was that gave his friend such enjoyment out of the contest or even this festivul. It took a matter of seconds to realize that it wasn't Dorian with the problem but him. Jon couldn't allow himself to be happy, it was as if he'd forgotten how. Every time the thought of a smile would touch his mind, or a laugh would bubble up he'd see them, the faces of all the people he'd lost and the hurt was still as fresh as the day he'd recieved each raven. Seperated the Starks were weak, his father had been wrong to split them up. He'd forgotten this wisdom he had told Jon and Robb when they were boys and had been fighting in the larder. In a bid to instil the strength of family Eddard Stark had told his sons"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives." The wolves had been alone and the wolves nearly all died.

Jon slowed to a halt, his mind robbing him of any joy he may have garnered from the nights festivities as Dorian walked on unaware that his friend was no longer with him. He drank, and laughed and made merry. Jon only wanted solitude. He turned to leave, a mind to head back out into the snow on his own when a sound reached is ears. A song that whispered of the far east, of sand dunes and long forgotten ruins, of magic hidden deep beneath the shifting sands and an ever burning sun. Jon followed the source of the music, making his way through party goers who were all hidden behind masks. His feet moved as if on their own merit, not his to command but given purpose trhough the melodic rythim of the song. It wasn't until he reached the source did he finally stop.

It was the girl with the purple mask, the one he'd seen in the snow, the one with the foreign accent. She stood before the whole of the room playing her song with her violin and for the first time since he'd lost them Jon wasn't thinking about his family. He wasn't thinking about how much he missed them or how much it hurt losing them. There was only the violin, the song and the girl. Her music filled is mind and he saw only her. Her head of curls, her dark skin kissed by the sun, the swaing of her hips as she played her instrument. Then the music stopped and he was brought back to the world around him as if the spell had been broken. She pulled the voilin away from her chin and the people clapped but Jon stood silent, his eyes watching hers.

There was sadness in her eyes and disgust, there was anger there also. He knew it as soon as he saw it, the pain behind her eyes. She hated this place, she hated being amongst all these people, he knew it because so did he. Jon blinked and looked away, ashamed of staring. He sighed as he made his way through the crowd and out into the chill air of the night. He needed that air now more than ever, even still her song playing in his mind.

Dae took a breath as the crowd applauded. All but one, he looked at her...more like through her. There was something the way he read her masked face that made her feel like he saw her. Truly saw her. She turned away, as Eva got up and collected the coin from the bowls. Grey looked at her. "You alright, Miss Dae." He asked, as he rubbed his hands. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Sure." She said, and Grey sighed as she placed took a seat and placed her violin in her lap, while rubbing resin on the bow. "Miss Dae, you know we appreciate what you're doing...." He said, and Dae nodded, but didn't look at him. "I should be home...." She said, and while Grey probably thought she meant back in her place that she shared with her ill father and Eva, but that wasn't true. She hated it here. She hated most of the people here. She hated the weather, she hated the food. She hated it all. She wanted to go home, but she couldn't. She'd never go home again.

"Hey, why don't you take a break, enjoy the festival--"

Dae looked at him. " As much as you can." He said and she sighed. " I don't know...."

"Go, We can take it from here." Eva said, coming over. and Dae sighed. "Besides, I think that Northern lad, likes you." She said with a giggle and Dae rolled her eyes. That was the last thing she needed.

"Alright, I'll go, but I won't be long." She said and stood up, walking out. Grey placed a few coins in her hand. " you earned it, use it." He told her and she nodded.

Dae didn't know what she wanted to do, nor where she wanted to go. She saw the bear fights and rolled her eyes to that. She saw other dancers and different musicians, food cart after food cart but none of this was would make her happy. It even sated her for a time. Her heart was too heavy to lift her spirits.

She walked out, and only managed to take a breath of the cool air, unsure what to do next. She took a deep breath and made her way through the crowd of people, coming in and out of the tavern, she elbowed through as best she could only for her to run into a firm back covered in leather and fur. She should have worn something warmer, at least to seem normal.

"je suis désolé" she said without thinking. She cleared her throat. "I am sorry." She said, before she got a look at who it was she'd run into.