If you do not know the characters of GoT, you'll still enjoy the story, don't worry! Rated T for language and knives in the back.
My lovely friend ImperfectionIsUnderratedHBC asked for this story, and agreed to be my Beta, so thank her for this jewel.
Daily words of wisdom:
Jehane: Jane
Fransisko: Frankie
The mouth of Blackwater Bay opened up before her, the grand towers of the Red Keep enshrouded in the tendrils of the early morning fog, and the brisk wind shivering through the sails. Hers was not the only ship upon the water, the fish merchants plagued the sea along with her, their nets reaching down into the brown tide. Far in the distance, gold armor glinted in the sunlight upon the walls of the city. So many people, so many smells.
Jehane watched with fascination from the bow. The Dothraki Sea had left way for Meereen, for Pentos, and each port and each city had been grander than the last, but she had never expected the grandest of all to be before her. What used to be tall grasses that grew around her and above her were soon to be replaced with bustling city streets, more people than she could ever count, kings and queens among them.
The weight of the wood beneath her feet shifted, and she turned to face the Pentoshi by her side.
"Amazing, isn't she?" He sighed into the wind. "Each structure grander than the last. Built ages upon ages and still standing."
"I thought I had seen it all, Captain." Jehane admitted. "I was wrong." She gazed into his face, watching his eyes flicker from wall to garrison to each gate. His snow white beard glinted in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the blue of his hair and the red of his tunic. "Captain-"
The old man held up his hand and stopped her. "I've told you before. It is not captain, it is not sir, it is not and never was lord." He shook his head amused. "It is simply Korsak."
"Korsak, then." Jehane passed a hand through her unruly black curls. "Do they know of my arrival?"
"Sir Jorah sent a raven before you left Meereen, the court awaits your arrival. And in any case, the city knows the sails of my faithful Jo Friday. They'll know, don't worry."
The morning passed easily, giving in to gray clouds and rain as Jehane watched the captain's men unload their ship. Her eyes did not sit still however, and neither did her body. She moved fitfully between crates, pacing back and forth as the minutes and hours ticked on. On the outside, she looked impatient, but on the inside, the butterflies gnawed at say she was anxious was undermining her current feelings on the situation.
Jehane had never been anxious in her life. She had faced blood thirsty killers and droughts that lasted for entire summers and she had even met a queen and her gold crowned brother. But never had she met a king as fearsome as Robert Baratheon. The legends of his feats had traveled across the Narrow Sea to many parts of Essos. This great antlered beast, this slaughterer of dragons, a man as tall as a mountain and as wide as a river. Only his hunger for flesh matched his thirst, or so they said. What could a Dothraki do to such a man? Sir Jorah had reassured her, or had tried to, but it was too late. She had seen the look of uneasiness pass over her Khaleesi's face as she had boarded the ship.
She straightened herself to her full height, and scowled. A king wouldn't, couldn't, scare her. Others never had, why would the rumor of an old warrior? She was a Dothraki rider to the greatest Khalasar, a servant to the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt One.
Korsak's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Come, Jehane. Our convoy is waiting by the Mud gate."
She gazed over at him, her old bravado suddenly coursing through her veins, and nodded.
R&I&Got&R&I&GoT
"And am I supposed to care?" The blond boy sighed, resting his chin in his hands. The Iron Throne glittered onyx underneath and behind him, clashing with his red and gold cloak. His cold, jade green eyes glared into the young black man's at the bottom of the steps, a rictus on his lips.
"Well, I-"
The salt and pepper man by the boy's side spoke up, a slight smirk hidden in his beard. "We are in a war, sir-?"
"Barrold. Barrold Frost."
"We are in a war, Sir Barrold. You are not the first Braavosi to come and demand the Iron Bank's money, and you are not the first who will leave empty-handed."
"With all respect, Lord Baelish-"
"With all respect, Sir Barrold." Baelish snapped. "The War in the North is draining our resources enough as it is. Do not expect the money you have loaned us back so quickly. We have another year on the contract. Come back then."
"Yes. Do come back then." The blond boy added, smiling. "It was nice to meet you, Sir Barrold. Good day." He stood from his throne and took his way to the door, followed by his small council. Short and tall and female. The crowd around the young Braavosi bowed low, some their noses to the floor, and the royal court left the throne room.
Barrold swore underneath his breath. He felt movement behind him, and turned to face an approaching knight, a grin on the boy's lips, a spring in his step.
"Well done. You're actually quite lucky he was in a good mood when you started to speak. It's the ones who were supposed to go after you he's going to be really angry at. I'm Fransisko, son of Fransisko. House Rizzoli of Dorne. Goldcloak by association."
The Braavosi shook the knight's outstretched hand. "House Rizzoli. I would have guessed by your coat of arms. Barrold Frost, Iron Bank of Braavos."
The black haired man glanced down at his armor, white horses on dark green threads. "Yes, I guess you would have. Are you staying long?"
"I have no home in the Seven Kingdoms." Barrold shook his head. "I'll be heading back on the first ship. But I'm sure we'll see each other again in a year."
"No, you won't. I'll probably be dead." Fransisko laughed. "I'm being shipped off to the North. So come on, let's get a drink."
"Aren't you on duty?"
"Only when the king is in the throne room."
Barrold made a move to join him, but held back, his honey brown eyes shifting to the door the king had left through. He bit his lower lip. Fransisko watched him avidly, his own gaze following the Braavosi's, and he frowned.
"Don't try and follow him. The last one who did so lost his toes."
"I need that money back, Rizzoli. I need to see him."
"Maybe you will, he's got an audience with a Dothraki rider later this afternoon. You can try then." The knight took the banker by the elbow and moved effortlessly through the throng of lords and ladies towards the door. Barrold's eyes were wide.
"A Dothraki? A real one?"
"Yes."
"As in, long hair and tinkling bells and a giant horse?"
"Well, I don't know if the horse came with him." Fransisko laughed. "Why do you need that money so badly anyway?"
Frost scowled. "Let's be honest, Rizzoli. Even if the crown does win this war against the North, the Seven Kingdoms will be in a greater depression than it already is at the moment. The Bank will never get its money if we don't get it now. Tomorrow might be too late."
"You don't think we'll win?" Fransisko asked, genuinely surprised. "They're just a few thousand, we have armies three times their size. We have the greatest military minds in the Seven Kingdoms, Tywin Lannister as our general. How would we lose?"
"Spoken like a soldier." Barrold shook his head. "It's a different tale altogether from a banker's point of view."
Fransisko shrugged. "Why are you a banker anyway? It sounds boring."
"My father was a banker. Why are you a knight?"
"Touché." The Dornish man grinned.
R&I&Got&R&I&GoT
Jehane had thought the Fishmarket was crowded earlier, but the streets of Fishmonger's Square were now almost impossible to maneuver. Korsak kept fading in and out of her sight and sellers kept accosting her, making it hard for her to get to anywhere. The Red Keep loomed over her and blocked the sparse sunlight, but every step she took forward, it seemed that the structure shrank back.
Finally, the Pentoshi turned around, the guards by his side doing the same, and waited for her. Jehane knew, in a way, they were watching to see if she would break in this environment. If her morale shattered, suddenly her Khaleesi would suddenly seem much less powerful in their eyes.
She threw them a defiant smirk and walked slowly to them, hands in her pants's pocket. "I'm sorry, I've just never seen so much fish." She shrugged. Korsak nodded, and walked by her side through the crowded streets.
"Remember, address His Highness with the highest regard, like you would your Khaleesi. Do not turn your back to him, whatever happens. And try to ignore the small council, it's the king you need to get your message to."
They were very suddenly upon Aegon's High Hill and in its small twisted alleys, the first gate to the Red Keep visible, the sun high in the sky. The portcullis opened and they walked into the shadows, Goldcloaks on either side of them, monitoring them with their eyes.
"Captain Korsak of the Jo Friday, with the Dothraki envoy to see His Highness."
Jehane's gaze fell forward.
"He is awaiting in the Throne Room."
