Kenna Caitlin's Story

A year ago her father had attempted to poison and kill the ruling monarchy of Drake City. A year ago her father's attempt had failed to poison the ruling monarchy of Drake City. For this failure her paid the price and not only losing the battle but the war itself which in turn left the South Atlantic Kingdom stripped of priceless resourceful lands. As if the lost hadn't been bad enough the arrogant new king of the city-state had even begun to call what he had a kingdom. In Kenna's eyes Drake City was Drake City and that was all the city would ever be. In truth had it not been for the South Pacific king taking up Moloch moving cause there grand city probably wouldn't still be standing today. However, the past was in the past and could not be changed. The only thing Kenna could do was pick up where her father had left off and restore her fair kingdom back to its pristine glory. Which is exactly what she had done over the course of the year. Structures had since been repaired; the men had been replenished and equipped with better arms and the only thing that was misses was allies. Alliances had to be formed to make sure that the past could never repeat itself. She would not make the same mistakes her father had.

Davina wasn't a big fan of the games. It was nothing against King Robert as the festivities he presented to his guest were of the highest form. However, she didn't really see the point in two men on horses charging at each other with lances attempting to knock each onto their arses. Now maybe if the lances were replaced with actual swords and there was some blood or better death involved she would find the sport a lot more entertaining.

With no interest in the games going on before her she let her eyes and ears wander. She listened to bits and pieces of other peoples conversations going on about her. Not that she needed to listening very hard to hear the King booming voice of shouts, rants and praises all being about his grand nephew. While she hadn't been paying much attention to the jousting in particular she was aware of how well Orys Baratheon was performing in it.

One thing that did catch her interest was a silver haired beauty. Surrounded by men with spears and swords ready to attack and kill anyone who dared to threaten the young Queen. Davina had heard many storied of the woman who was reborn in fire. The unburnt mother of dragons. In the year the South Atlantic had lost a piece of their home she had won back hers. The tale of Amelia Stormborn's life was truly inspiring and well known across the lands.

"What are looking at? Its clearing not the joust." The voice of her queen drew her back in as she turned from the Silver Queen and looked at the woman sitting beside her. "The Queen of the North Pacific. Otherwise known as the mother of dragons. She just recently reclaimed her throne and if we are seeking new allies she maybe a good place to start. A new queen with a new kingdom may also be looking for new alliances."

Kenna listened to the advice giving to her by her lady in waiting. She had come her with one purpose that being to make some new allies for her kingdom. To have the mother of dragons as one of those new allies would be a great thing for the South Atlantic. Taking a deep breath she rose from her seat and approached the queen of the north. As she neared the Queen the Unsullied armed themselves spears pointing at her she froze. "Um...Your Grace. Might I have a word?"

Amelia can see why Robert boasted about Orys to all. His nephew dominated his competition and at the moment she was second guessing her decision getting Jorah involved in the joust. The man's youthful days were far behind him and she just didn't want him getting hurt. Which a fall from atop of a horse looked pretty painful. It was already too late for that now as Ser Jorah was up next and getting ready in his tent. Barristan has left her side to go help out an old friend which Amelia was happy he did. It wasn't like without her two knights she was lacking in protection. Robert had made good on his word and along with the Unsullied to protect he's men were also on guard.

"Um...Your Grace. Might I have a word?" Amelia couldn't see who spoke to her from behind all the men who wished to protect her but the voice was youthful and sweet sounding. "Let me through." She ordered as she stood up and the men spilt apart so that she could see and step between them. Now that she could see the woman who spoke to her she had to say the girl was gorgeous. She looked to be the same age as Amelia herself and was clearly a woman of stature. Not in the sense of height as she was the only girl Amelia had every met being shorter than herself.

"Come and sit. We can have all the words that you wish." Amelia took the girl's hand in hers and lead her past the guards and to their sits. Ghost moved himself from were he was lying before to sitting by Amelia's side. He was always wary of strangers and he would settle back into ease until he knew who this new person was. Sitting down Amelia motioned to the sit beside her, "What do you wish to discuss?"

Moloch frowned slightly when he heard the approach of more monarchs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched King Deacon Lesseth. Given the gossiping manner of travelers and merchants, it came as no surprise to Moloch that word reached his ears of the new King of the Fuarians. From what he heard, the man was a brute. A cunning brute, but a brute nonetheless. His neighbors had much to be wary of.

Then there was Kenna Caitlin, Princess of the South Atlantic Kingdom. Moloch was a rational man, but that did not mean he was without emotion. He held a special hatred for the South Atlantic royal family and if he had been able to, he would have conquered their entire kingdom. Still, he hid his distaste and maintained a polite expression as the queen found her way near Amelia. He smiled slightly. It seemed that Kenna was seeking new allies, but as long as he had Robert and Orys as friends, Amelia would not risk going to war with him and therefore the South Pacific Kingdom.

"It seems that Sir Loras has the upper hand," Moloch noted as the Flower Knight's opponent missed him and was almost knocked off his horse.

(collab post between myself and TvAddict)

Orys Baratheon was no mere man, not on the tourney field and not on this day. This day man and horse and lance were one. Again and again the Stag pit itself against the Bear and time and time again neither beast was greater. Ser Jorah Mormont, Sworn Shield of Queen Amelia Stormborn had fought his way through the ranks. An upset to be sure, most expected the aging knight to put up a good show in the first few bouts but fall easily once the first knight of considerable skill took the field. But the tenacious Ser Mormont took on all challengers and yet, here he stood. He had unseated Sandor Clegane, he had unseated Ser Robar Royce and Ser Desmond Crakehall. He had bested Ser Rickard Karstark and in the semi final he had been pit against the Knight of Flowers himself, Ser Loras Tyrell. Many believed that the impressive display by the Bear Knight had reached an end for Ser Loras was favored by many to win the entire tourney but to everyone's surprise when the match was done it was the Bear that remained ahorse and the rose that fell to the dirt.

While Jorahs' rise through the lists was surprising, Orys' own rise was anything but. He preformed as so many expected. He decimated all in his path, his strength, skill, tenacity and raw power made short work of every knight he faced. He had proved solid as stone when struck, many lances breaking off his shield or armor yet moving the burly knight little. He unseated Ser Carlyle Lannister and Ser Robb Stark early on. Then he was pitted against Ser Edmure Tully of the Riverlands and Ser Vardis Egen of the Vale. Both the trout and the falcon fell before the stag. Ser Orys faced down The Mountain, Ser Gergor Clegane and proved to be mightier with an impressive display. His semi final match, Eirene of Drake fought valiantly but she too found herself unable to ride against the power of Orys Baratheon.

Now the day was nearing it's end and the two knights breathed heavy as they rode at one another for the tenth time. The men broke nine lances off one another throughout the course of the joust and now on the tenth the duel would be settled. Lance leveled at it's target, horses charging, shields battered as they were raised and at the ready. Then the clash and the shatter of shield and lance. The crowd leapt to it's feet as both king and commoner held it's breath in that moment. Then the solid, resounding thud of an armored body hitting the dirt. When it was over Ser Jorah Mormont was laying on his back looking up at the sky as Ser Orys Baratheon rode triumphant. He dismounted and helped Ser Jorah to his feet before he exchanged a few friendly words and shook his hand before mounting again to take his victory lap. The crowd roared for the victor and Ser Orys, tired, and bruised had never felt better in his life. He rose his armored fist into the air as he was loss of lance after it shattered against Jorah chest plate.

He rode to take his place before the king and be named champion. King Robert Baratheon was beaming. A proud, wide smile was fixed to his face as he looked at his beloved nephew. Orys could not help but smile as he gave his uncle a wink and a smile before he bowed his head in his saddle. Robert got to his feet, his queen Cersei watching him with little interest from her place beside him. He stepped forward and spoke, his deep, booming voice reaching all ears in attendance.

"A fine showing, fine showing that was! My boy, Orys of the House Baratheon took on all comers and tossed them to the dirt."

If pride was gold Robert Baratheon would be the richest man that ever lived in that moment. Orys cast a quick glance at his Lord Father who sat a few places away from the King. Stannis gave his son a soft smile and a nod of approval as Robert continued.

"I'm reminded of when you rode against the Dothraki who thought to pillage our lands and steal our women and children. They would have too if not for Orys Baratheon who rode out to meet them. They were strong but you were stronger, they were fierce but you were fiercer and when it was done it was you who stood victorious and you who protected our lands and it's people."

Orys was grateful for the praise but curious as to where his uncle was going. Usually the naming of victor was a short formality not a long winded account of all the victor's past accomplishments.

"I remember when you stood side by side with our friend King Moloch of Drake where you single handedly defended the king and fought at his side to help protect his land and keep."

Lord Stannis flicked his gaze from his son to his brother in concern. Many of the courtiers were beginning to wonder the very same thing that he and his son were wondering now.

"And of course when we rode out half way across the damned world to lend the might of The House Baratheon to the rightful Queen of the North Pacific, it was you Orys Baratheon, who bested the fabled Black Knight Argos the Cruel with a single blow! One!"

The air was still and the crowd was silent as they looked at the king. Orys sat in his saddle staring up at his uncle, he had tensed his jaw and confusion played across his hard features. Yet to look upon Robert's face one would think the man was looking upon his greatest accomplishment realized before him.

"These deeds... these great trials have forged you. Hammered you into a man greater than any. They have proved your willingness to defend this country as well as your strength to see it done. It is for these reasons, for the great love I bear you and since I have no true born children of my own..."

Queen Cersei Lannister's face grew pale and still like a corpse, her eyes widened as she looked at her husband in horror.

"That I Robert of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the South Pacific Kingdom and Protector of the Realm do so hereby name you my one and true lawful heir and future king."

There was a gasp that took the crowd. Stannis looked to his son as Cersei clenched her fists in fury. Robert seemed quite pleased with himself as Orys stared at him in disbelief. Then he dismounted his destrier and fell to a knee before his uncle the king.

"Your Grace, I..."

He began before his uncle cut him off.

"I'll hear nothing of it, it's been decided. Now you knelt a knight, rise a prince."

And so he rose, Ser Orys of the House Baratheon, once a knight of Storm's End was now Prince Orys Baratheon, The future King of the South Pacific Kingdom.

The south Pacific Kingdom was bathed in the golden light of twilight as the sun began it's descent. Mere yards away from the tourney field where King Robert Baratheon shocked his kingdom, courtiers and foreign friends with the news of his naming of Orys Baratheon as his sole heir a massive feast was beginning to get under way. Tents and pavilions of colored silks and rich cloth seemed to coat the green grass field. Banners flew in the wind and whipped about as revelers began to get the first of many drinks and meals of the evening. The largest tent was the one reserved for the king, his guests and the knights and houses of the tourney. The tent was open with countless poles holding up section of cloth. Easily larger than many buildings the tent had been erected to fit a huge mass of people.

Within servants were bringing out barrel after barrel of fine wine, ales and meads. The spiced wine was hot and it's fragrant scent filled the area around the cook fires. Shortly after the drinks were brought out the food followed. Several whole boar, roasted, seasoned to perfection and drizzled with honey were carried out by teams of servers. Flocks of quail, turkeys, chicken, and duck each prepared with herbs and garnished with lemon or wild berries. There was plates and a platters of trout, salmon, herring and snapper. Buckets of steaming red crabs were carried out by a small army of servants who held bowls of butter and steamed potatoes as well. Long platters, larger than some tables were carried into the tent that held tender mutton, juicy lamb and steaks of beef. Beyond the fresh and succulent meats the sweetest and most flavorful fruits all the way from Highgarden were carried in by the bushel load. Rich apples, juicy oranges, sweet berries, delicious melons and bucket after bucket of nuts were carried into the feasting tent. The baked foods were in great supply as well. Everything from hot, soft bread, sweet rolls, lemon cakes, frosted pastries, fruit pies, sugared delights and more were brought out in great abundance.

After the food was brought in and was beginning to be served the entertainment entered. Jugglers dressed in flamboyant motley bounded in tossing knives, torches and eggs. As a jest some times the jugglers would accidentally drop an egg or two on one of the countless fools running around illicting laughs from the guests with jokes and baudy songs. Minstrels marched in like an army wielding weapons of song and melody. Acrobats leapt through the air, often times somersaulting through rings of fire blown by the fire eaters. There were dancing monkeys in tiny little surcoats banging symbols and bells much to the revelers amusement. There were prancing striped horses brought out on multicolored bridles for the little ones to ride and marvel at. Many a noble and lord were astonished by the dancing bears that were brought out wearing tiny hats with bells on them.

While the whole of the South Pacific seemed to laugh, drink, feast and lose themselves in the joy of the feast for the new crowned prince, the prince himself sat in silence. He was on the long table reserved for the king, queen, and honored guests. He was expected to sit there so there he sat but his uncle was face first in a busty maid and the queen was no where to be seen. So alone he drank and his mind struggled with the revaluation that he would one day be king. He had never prepared for this nor expected it. He was no prince, no king's son. He expected to grow into the Lord of Storm's End, maybe even sit on the small council should the king ask it of him but not this. Princes spent their entire lives preparing for the duties of rule. Orys had spent his life in soldiers tents and battlefields, not council chambers and dignitary meetings. With a sigh the prince took a long and thirsty gulp of the rich red wine he had been given hoping the strong drink would steady his nerves. The only thing he took solace in was that his uncle was not yet an old man and had many years yet to sit on the Iron Throne before the gods would take him through age.

Robert looked up to find a spirit standing before him, or was it the spirits coursing through his system that made him think that? She was announced to be Queen Tenanye Ananse of Anansai. A land Robert had heard about, yet never seen. Probably due to the fact that Anansai was a peaceful country. A country of silk makers and spider worshipers but a people who valued their peace. A worthy endeavor to be sure but one that would bore Robert to death were he born an Anansai. Clearing his throat Robert pushed the serving girl off his lap with a quick slap to her backside. She giggled and pranced away allowing King Robert Baratheon to get to his feet. His first thought of the Spider Queen was simple and blunt. "God's she's small" He thought yet then again, Robert was a massive man and to him, most women seemed small. By all rights the girl had a few inches on Queen Amelia Stormborn yet that fact didn't strike the king who was well into his cups.

Robert gave her a friendly smile and a kingly nod as he extended his hand out to the feast underway.

"Well the festivities are not over yet as you can well see. We have meat, drink, and enjoyment a plenty. Please, make yourself comfortable and get something to eat. Tonight, you are my guest."

Robert was about to dismiss her when he spotted his nephew looking sullen as a orphan boy, sitting along on the dais drinking alone.

"Oh before I forget, seeing as how you missed the joust you don't know. That lad there, he's my nephew. Orys is his name, Prince Orys as of now. I just named him my heir."

Robert said proudly with a beaming drunken grin. Leaning in he nudged her gently with his elbow as he threw a thumb in Orys' direction.

"Introduce yourself to the future king would you? Maybe a beauty like yourself can turn that frown of his the right way round, eh?"

With that Robert Baratheon took his leave. A cup of wine called him and that boxum maid seemed lonely without his kingly grace.

As the king met the ruler of Anansai a man who grew up in Flea Bottom was staring at a ghost in finery with a wicked smile.

"Are you daft lass?"

Dvaos said in a hushed whisper as he grabbed her wrist.

"Escaping the dungeon? They found the body of the guard you killed. They want your head, I won't be able to stop them twice."

His concerns halted as his mind reviewed what Robyn had said. Davos paused and stared at her in concern and even fear.

"What business partner? What have you gotten yourself into?..."

The festivities were a welcome diversion, Moloch supposed, though he would have preferred Drake City's over the general debauchery which King Robert Baratheon indulged in. He was seated next to Ser Orys, now Prince Orys, and, while Cyrus enjoyed listening to an old Pacific song he heard in his youth, Eirene was becoming increasingly agitated. This, of course, came as no surprise to Moloch. These festivities did not foster the most respect for women, even dangerous women such as herself.

"You fought well, ser knight, but I am sure you are a lady beneath that armor," one of the joust's constestants slurred. Cyrus began to count under his breath as Eirene's body tensed. On three, she had tossed the knight, armor and all, across the room and into a roasted bore. Coincidentally, his head became stuck in its mouth.

"I cannot say the irony is lost on me," Eirene stated with a smirk. Cyrus laughed uproarously and Moloch smirked. He raised an eyebrow, however, when he saw a familiar face in the crowd. So, the pirate queen had escaped already. He gave a nod to Cyrus, who excused himself to use the privy. Soon enough, he would be walking unseen near the sea captain and the older knight Moloch, meanwhile, turned to speak with his friend.

"You look as if you are condemned to death rather than being made heir to an entire kingdom. You should not be troubled. You have the respect and love of your people and you are a capable warrior. Not to mention you are of royal blood and have plenty of common sense. If this kingdom can survive your uncle, it can survive you."

He couldn't resist a small chuckle as the king chose this moment to introduce Orys to the Queen of the Ananse.

"Well, your uncle certainly understands arranged marriages if that is what he meant."

***
"Of all your reckless stunts, Prince Kallias, this is the worst," a bearded magi told a youth on horseback. Accompanied a full company of Drake knights, the two rode into the desert, the magi a little more reluctantly than the youth, "King Moloch left you in charge of the Royal Court and you just abandoned your duty to chase after one of your imaginary quests!"

"The city is in good hands. Steward Vandoler is a good man. And it's not an imaginary quest. I have a younger sibling to find," Kallis replied easily.

"A bastard sibling. In the Caliphate! If Caliph Khaled is anything like his father, he will not be pleased you came unannounced. And your relation could be anywhere. Your father did not care. Neither should you," the magi stated.

"I am your prince," he reminded him.

The magi sighed, "Oh King Moloch, why did you have to inherit your father's brains and leave nothing for this one?"

***

"Farid! Prepare a tray of refreshments. I want you them to be ready as soon as the Caliph requests his evening tea," the head servant ordered, her hands on her hips. Farid looked up from where he was cleaning a set of silverware in the kitchen. Truthfully, he was lucky to be employed in the Caliph's kitchens, but that didn't mean he didn't long to take a break in the gardens.

"Yes, mistress," he stated, doing as she ordered. His mother had been a servant as well, but she had died a year ago. He wished he knew who his father was, but that was just wishful thinking. He could be anyone really. He looked foreign so he could have been a visiting ambassador, but that was small comfort. Truthfully, he didn't care anymore. He just wished something more exciting would happen than washing dishes.

Orys tried to smile but found little joy into him to do so. He turned to Moloch, his closest friend and shook his head.

"I don't feel like a Prince Moloch. I certainly don't feel like a king..."

Orys sighed and rubbed his brow with his thumb and fore finger. Looking up and out onto the sea of people feasting and drinking all Orys wanted to do was get on his horse and ride off. Turning to Moloch he couldn't help but marvel at his friend. Now he looked like a king. Noble, regal, proud, wise, stern and collected. He exhumed rule and authority, Orys could never imagine doing the same thing.

"It's different for you, my friend. You were born to rule. I never... I never expected this. I thought, sure I'd take over Storm's End when my father passed. I'd serve as a lord, protect my keep and small folk but King? No... You were born a prince, trained since birth to rule. I was trained to ride a horse, swing a sword, bear a shield, kill my enemies but not rule."

Orys downed his cup and grimaced as the strong drink went down his throat. He wondered if his uncle had made the right choice. He wondered why his uncle had made the choice at all. It was true he had no true born children but surely there were better choices than he? His father for instance. Stannis was Robert's younger brother. Who better to inherit? Stannis was intelligent, justice minded and fair. He'd been Lord of Storm's End Orys' entire life. He knew how to rule, he would have made a resplendent king. What manner of king Orys would be was anybody's guess.

Before the two friends could talk any further a foreign beauty approached the pair. Orys did not recognize her but new instantly she was not maiden of the South Pacific. Her suntanned skin was almost perfectly bronzed and her hair was black as night. Her eyes were exotic and haunted, her build curvaceous but only just so. She was no buxom lass but instead a elegantly built woman.

"Good evening."

She said with a bow.

"I am Pr-Queen Tenanye Ananse, A pleasure to meet you both."

Her words were spoken softly and her smile was softer still. Orys found himself put at ease, even if it was just for a moment.

"The pleasure is ours I assure you, Your Grace."

Orys said only after he rose. Instinctively he bowed and wondered if princes were supposed to bow. Given as he wasn't certain he figured it best to be corrected if he was wrong rather than refrain from doing so and being thought of as rude. After he straitened himself he introduced himself to the foreign Queen.

"I am... Prince Orys Baratheon."

The epithet felt alien on his tongue yet Orys swallowed it all the same. He'd need to get used to it.

While the royals greeted each other a smuggler danced with a pirate. Davos tried his best to act natural but his nerves and concern were getting the better of him.

"I was always concerned for you, I still am. Why do you think I...."

Davos didn't have time to explain away a life time of bad decisions nor did he truly believe he could. All he could do was concern himself with the here and now and here and now Robyn could very well be getting herself in water hot enough to boil a crab.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is this job of yours, this employer."

Davos paused to glance around the tent to see if anyone was watching them. He felt like every eye in the kingdom was on them and knew what they were talking about. In truth not a single man, woman, child or dancing monkey noticed them.

"They caught you once and they can do it again. Next time... Robyn please, whatever this folly is drop it. Don't do it for me, do it for yourself. No good can come of it."

Orys tried a smile, attempted one at least but it was weak and lack luster. He didn't want congratulations just then. He was still processing the revelation. The fact that everyone had seemingly just moved on from the shock of it helped not. He had found out he would be king not more than an hour ago. Since then the whole damned court has gotten good and drunk, has been dancing, singing and carrying on as if everything little thing in the world was as it should be. Yet to Orys Baratheon nothing could have been farther from the truth. The crushing responsibility that came with kingship was not something he took lightly. He would do his duty as his father had taught him but he feared how well he would be able to carry out his duty. Would he be a good king?

Turning back to his empty cup he called for more wine. The cup was refilled with the strong brew in mere moments. Another long sip to steady his nerves and the man that would one day be the future king fell into a brooding silence. His eyes drifted across the crowd of revelers. Nobles and lords, knights and ladies all dancing and enjoying the feast. He even spotted Davos dancing with a pretty woman he didn't recognize.

Davos however was not as carefree as he seemed to the crowned prince. No, in fact he was anything but. His mind and heart were at war with one another. Robyn wanted him to join her, to come with him but she didn't understand. Maybe she never did and never will.

"You're wrong lass."

He said sadly.

"I owe them everything, I owe him. Stannis raised me up. He gave me a future I could have never reached on my own, gave a future to my family I could have never given them. They have stability now, safety. They won't go hungry or wonder when the next supper will come, or if they will lose their husband and father to pirates or the city watch."

Davos sighed and stroked his beard.

"I did, we did what we did because we had no choice. Growing up in Flea Bottom what other options were open to us? But now my son squires for Lord Stannis, he'll be a knight one day. My wife dresses in finery she only ever dreamed of in Flea Bottom. We have a nice, squat keep in the Storm Land's that we call home. Is that what you want me to throw away? For what? So I can load up my son and wife on a cramped little boat under the cover of night and take off on the sea to do god's knows what for god's know who, putting them in constant danger? I don't want that for them any more than I want it for you."

His hands grabbed hers and their dancing stopped.

"Please, lass. You have a chance now. Take a ship and leave this mess behind, leave me behind. Forget about the old smuggler who gave you peaches, forget about Flea Bottom, forget about King's Landing. Forget it all and go live your life somewhere. I can't help you. I failed you already and now it's too late but you can still help yourself. Go across the sea, you're smart you can do anything you want. But don't do this, don't throw your life away."

Amelia stood out on her balcony looking down at all the festivities taking place below her. If there was one thing King Robert knew how to do it was throw a grand party. Since day one of the tourney there had been feasts and drinks and good times all around but on this final day King Robert had truly out done himself. As the king had predicted his nephew had been crowned victory of the jousting competition, which had giving Orys reputation most likely came as a surprise to none. Even though he had fallen Amelia was immensely proved on her old knight for Ser Jorah had fought with everything he had and in doing so honor himself, his queen and his kingdom.

The shock of the evening had come in Robert's speech. What she had thought was going to be a short speech of congratulations and pride had been that and so much more. She had known something big was coming the king spoke of all of Orys great feats and victories but even she hadn't anticipated what Robert had up his sleeve. The gods knew the queen surely didn't see it coming. Robert had made Orys his successor and now the next king to rule over the seven kingdoms. She wondered how Orys felt about that as she retreated back into her room.

Her room was far from empty as like the king she was currently hosting many guests. She had told the princess of the South Atlantic kingdom that she would consider her offer to forged an alliances between their kingdoms and that she had. Amelia had held many meetings with both of her advisors Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan in days past. While neither knight had at first thought the alliance to be a grand idea in the beginning Amelia had fought them both on the matter. She felt that Princess Kenna was right about her needing to gain allies outside of the South Pacific and more importantly she genuinely liked Kenna and saw a fire in the girl that reminded her of herself.

Her fellow knights had not gotten on board until after the half-gods of the Kingdom of Tripartite had agreed to ally themselves with the South Atlantic Kingdom. In joining in an alliance with the South Atlantic Kingdom she also allied herself with the Kingdom of Tripartite. Which was enough for both Jorah and Barristan to get on board. She wasn't sure if this would lead to problems down the line but that wasn't her primary concern at the moment. "Were missing the celebration. Let us adjourn for now. We can tighten up all matters when we dock in the South Atlantic."

With the tourney now at an end all foreign guest would be returning to their homelands. Instead of returning home immediately Amelia and her men would be taking a detour to the South Atlantic. There all things between the three kingdoms would be finalized and than Amelia would return home. "Well let us go now before we are seen as rude guests." Ushering out the princess, her lady-in-waiting and the four half-gods the Silver Queen was ready to partake in the festivities.

Moloch, King's Landing

Moloch looked upon his old friend, allowing kindness to seep into his features. It was not often that he could afford to show compassion without the undercurrent of command in his tone, but here, among his friends and equals, he felt he could. He gripped Orys' arm.

"Do you think I came to my throne under ideal circumstances? My parents were murdered and my own nobles plotted with our enemies to usurp the throne. I was armed only with my intellect and force of will to oppose my enemies and protect my city, my people, and my little brother. If I couldn't rally my people to war at that time, I do not doubt that I would not be alive right now."

He paused for a moment, smiling slightly at his friend, "Of course, you would say that I couldn't have done it without your uncle's support and you would be right. My army was superior, but outnumbered. But, you will not be alone either. You have your uncle, your father, and the love of your people. Lord Stannis disagrees with his brother nine times out of ten if I recall correctly, but he is always there for him. How much more would he be there for you, his own son and one of the few people he values outside of Ser Jorah?

"You also give yourself too little credit. You are an incredible warrior. I would be hard-pressed to defeat you in battle. You excel on and off the battlefield. You are wise and just. You have your father's mind, but you have your uncle's heart. It is a potent combination. The gods favor you. And, if it comes down to it, you will always have me as a friend."

He allowed his words to hang in the air for a moment. He eyed Princess Kenna across the room as well as Queen Amelia. He was beginning to have his suspicions about just who was joining her, but he had no definite proof yet. He continued, his voice sterner this time, but not accusatory. Rather, he was totally honest.

"But you will have to make difficult choices, Orys. Will you be willing to betray me if my enemies are more numerous and powerful than before? What if Queen Amelia rode out against me at Princess Kenna of the South Atlantic Kingdom? Would you join me? Her? Or will you find a way to dissuade her?"

Again, Moloch looked on Orys with compassion, "Don't worry, though. No matter what happens, I will always consider you my friend."

Western Desert
Caliphate of Andalusia

The desert was everything Kallias had read about. The sun scorched the desert with its light an one could see for miles. He and his men sweated beneath their heavy armor and it was only thanks to their Andalusian guide that they had not gotten lost or become dehydrated as he directed them to the oases hidden in the desert. Kallis did not complain once. Despite his luxurious upbringing, he was too enamored with the beauty around him to care about his discomfort. He even ordered a rest at dusk so he could watch the sun set.

"It is beautiful. You say that you can guide us using the stars?" Kallias asked. The guide had donned his country's clothes and Kallias could not help but mark how at ease he looked in his turban and loose clothes.

"Yes, my prince. My people had learn to use stars Al-'Uzzá made. The sands move," his guide stated.

They had rested only a couple hours when they set out again. They had traveled only a while before they ere hailed by a contingent of the Caliphate's soldiers. Kallias grinned and waved at them.

"Of course! Come close! I am Prince Kallias of Drake, here to pay my respects to your Caliph!"

The company's old magi grunted. The prince could play the diplomat, he'd give the boy that. Still, he was far too reckless.

Caliphate of Andalusia

Farid stood nervously outside the door leading to the Caliph's rooms. He was aware that the Caliph could easily order his death if he displeased him. The tales that the older servants told about the current Caliph's father was still used as a bedtime story to teach the younger servants and slaves to behave. His mother hadn't liked him to hear them, but she could never stop him from listening, especially now that she was dead.

Still, it was past sundown and he was ordered to bring the Caliph and the general visiting him refreshments. If the Caliph was displeased, he felt that he wouldn't blame him and, who knows, he might catch a glimpse of Princess Zahida. He knocked the on the door and held the tray in front of him.

Orys could not help but stare at his friend, the king of Drake. His words had struck him like a slap to the face, a slap that shakes a complaining child from a tantrum. He was right, with the casual calm resolve that made Moloch famous he was right. While Orys had been sitting their whining like a boy he was a man that most of the kingdom looked up to. A warrior that had proven himself time and time again on the battlefield. A commander who had been able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat when lesser plans were lost in the winds of chaos. A champion to the people and a hero to the realm yet above all these things he was a Baratheon.

While the Westerlands had it's Gold, the Reach had it's fertile soil or Drake had it's dragon bones the Storm Lands where the Baratheon's hail from have only one thing in abundance, strife. The Storm Lands have no gold or silver in it's stone nor nourishing soil with which to plant crops. It's land is unforgiving and bleak, a land of wicked storms and hard stone. It is as a direct result of this that the House Baratheon has produced such hardy and fierce men. From the first Baratheon, Durren Baratheon who slew a mountain god to claim his home and lady love, to Axel the Conqueror who united the whole of the South Pacific beneath the might of his armies to even his own uncle Robert, the war hero who fought to keep his throne and expel the traitors from his realm. He was from a line of conquerors, from warrior kings. Perhaps the blood of the stag bred not just strength in men but the ability to rule.

A fire sparked in Orys' eyes as his mind and heart filled with resolve and determination. Yet as Moloch spoke something he said gave the son of Stannis pause.

"But you will have to make difficult choices, Orys. Will you be willing to betray me if my enemies are more numerous and powerful than before? What if Queen Amelia rode out against me at Princess Kenna of the South Atlantic Kingdom? Would you join me? Her? Or will you find a way to dissuade her? Don't worry, though. No matter what happens, I will always consider you my friend."

Orys turned to Moloch and locked his gaze with his closest friend, the king and the future king.

"I have no brothers of my own Moloch, only a sister who is still a child. You have fought beside me, bled beside me, those are not things easily cast aside for the pretty smile of a woman. Amelia is my friend as you are but I would never stand against either of you. If she ever joined against you I would ensure it never came to bloodshed, you have my word on that. As for Kenna, or any of the others.... You are my brother now and always, in victory and defeat. By the Old Gods and The New I swear it."

Orys grasped Moloch's forearm and shook it firmly in friendship.

Oaths of friendship and brotherhood were being made by the royals but down below on the dancing floor where a smuggler twirled with a pirate danger loomed. Two knights wreathed in armor of sterling white and polished silver approached, putting a hand on either shoulder of the woman.

"What's the meaning of this, then?"

Davos asked in terror. One of the Knights of the King's guard scowled at him from behind his helm.

"This is no business of yours Onion Knight, this one is to come with us."

Davos was not about to let them just haul her off, his hand grasped hers and he clenched his fist.

"I am the sworn shield of Lord Stannis Baratheon of Storm's End, brother to the king, perhaps we should find out what his lordship thinks of this random arrest with no cause. This woman has done no crime."

The knights seemed ill moved.

"Tell your lord then, makes little difference. Our orders come from the Queen herself."

Davos' eyes went wide, he knew his hope was lost. At least for the moment. He looked at Robyn and he knew the look staring back at him, betrayal. She would no doubt see this as another betrayal but she would never see that he never wanted this. He had no way of knowing. He would have to find out what the queen wanted with Robyn and quickly if he had any hopes of saving her life. Davos begrudgingly released his hold on Robyn's hand and the knights led her out of the pavilion and up to the Red Keep.

Western Desert
Caliphate of Andalusia

The Caliphs soldiers approached in the darkness, watching for any signs of treachery. As they drew closer the horses of the Drake men shied away from the camels, a common occurrence for camels are not only much larger than a horse but their smell is very foreign as well. Saheeb had drawn a small golden figurine from under his robes and now, as they halted a dozen paces from the Drake Knights he murmured several words to the figurine and tossed it to the sand.

In an instant the golden figure had seemingly melted into the sand and a woman’s figure rose, a sandy shape that walked forward several paces and then bowed most correctly to Prince Kallias. Then it spoke flawlessly in the Common tongue.

“Prince Kallias. You are most welcome to the Caliphate of Andalusia. The Caliph himself is aware of your coming and has asked me to direct you to Al Qasr.” The sand woman’s face was finely formed and almost beautiful in the moonlight that now washed across her. “These soldiers will provide you an escort to the Western Gateway where I will greet you personally. Until then my lord.”

The figure offered another bow and in an instant vanished into the sand again as if it had never been.


Sevilla
Caliphate of Andalusia

The knock on the towers lower door came as the sun was dipping on the horizon. The Caliph sighed and stretched his back as he listened to the exchange between the serving boy and the bodyguard. Farid was prized for his ability to do his duties quietly and without comment, a skill the Caliph prized in any servant but few could accomplish so well.

The General didn’t even glance up from where he was writing as the serving boy and a bodyguard appeared on the tower roof. The Caliph noted the look of amazement on the boys face and smiled to himself, he doubted the boy had ever been to the top of the Caliphs Tower before, the view was an incredible one.

A pot of steaming mint green tea was placed with two cups, then the boy bowed and backed away without a word, vanishing back into the tower with the bodyguard. Once the door had closed again the Caliph stood, stepping to the edge of the tower rampart and looking down over the city far below.

“We have built some amazing wonders in this desert land.” He said aloud and heard the General stand and made room for the other man to join him.

“Yes we have lord. It is no wonder they call this land the Jewel of the South.”

They were silent again until a sudden swirl of air made them both turn and a female shape formed itself before them. It bowed low to the Caliph who nodded in return.

“My lord Caliph, a Prince of the Drake Kingdom has crossed into our lands under the guidance of an Andalusian. One of our patrols has intercepted him. I welcomed him in your name and directed him to Al Qasr to await you orders.”

“Thank you Priestess. Please inform your sisters there that I will require a portal for myself by this evening. My personal regiment is also to transport to the city. We must greet this Drake Princling in the style I am sure he expects.”

“My lord.” The figure bowed again and vanished into nothing.

“A Prince of the Drake Kingdom…” The Caliph mused as he looked Westwards. “I wonder what mischief is brewing in the west to bring a man like this to our land.”


The South Pacific Kingdom

A woman moved through the crowd, a smile on her face that would have charmed the birds from the trees. She was shorter then the Western women by several inches but her beauty was undeniable. An hour glass figure, long black hair that fell to her waist in long curls, and slightly tanned skin that highlighted startlingly blue eyes.

She offered smiles to all and exchanged words with any who approached her. She bore no marks of a nation though it would be plain she was not a local, perhaps a citizen of the Triphate.

There was nothing sinister in her actions for all she did was listen, quietly marking everything she heard and saw. The alliances that formed, the word play between nobles, the glances and their implied meanings, all of it.

The Caliph had suspected that war might be in the offing and she was certain now that he had been right and that the lines were being drawn in the sand, and sides chosen. She knew well that the Caliph would not commit his own armies to any “White War” as he called them, but the Caliphate would eventually be affected one war or another.