The Farosi

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Chapter One

The Foreign Princess

Change. It was perhaps the one word which held absolute sway over everything, more powerful than the King, more ruthless than an army. Everything changed, old friends who swore they would remain comrades forever went down different paths, castles crumbled to ruins and old soldiers were killed by young knights filled with the vigour of youth. Yet, since the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion, things had been changing more than Ned had thought was possible. The source of that change was from the force of soldiers entering the courtyard of Winterfell. A Troop of their Light Horse rode in at a steady pace, each of them wearing a dark blue coat which reached their knees, knee high boots with spurs and gaiters as well as a black felt hat with a wide brim pinned up on the left side. Their primary weapons were in sheaths on their horses saddles, their sabres were worn on the left side and leading them was the man Ned had been looking forward to seeing.

Jon Snow, wearing the uniform of a Farosi Lieutenant, was at the head of this Troop. He looked a man now, his shoulders broader and his look very confident. He was sixteen years, he had been almost forteen when he left for Farsos, and Ned was proud of how far he had come. He looked at his children to see how they reacted to seeing his son again. Robb was smiling, happy to see the one who could be called his best friend again, the same could be said for Arya. Bran was happy to see him again too but, because of how young he was, didn't remember Jon too well. Rickon barely knew who he was and Sansa seemed indifferent, more interested on who he was escorting. After Jon lined up his men on their horses a large carriage entered the courtyard, it's surface painted a dark blue and with glass windows. On the door was the crest of the United Kingdom of Farsos, a rearing black unicorn and a rearing black gryffon, between them a black crown. The driver of the carriage opened the door and held out his hand which was taken by a silk gloved hand. From the carriage emerged a young woman of seventeen years wearing a dark blue coat lined with white fur. Her thick hair was light brown and arranged into a great number of curls down to her shoulders with several velvet dark blue bows tied into it. She had a pair of emerald earrings and a simple silver and emerald necklace.

Ned bowed respectfully to the ambassador from the United Kingdom of Farsos out of respect for her title.

'Lord Stark,' she said in a dignified voice as her hand maids, ladies maids Ned remembered they were called by the Farosi, climbed out of the carriage after her.

'Welcome to Winterfell, Princess Radwen.'

'I am honoured to be your guest here. I am sorry I couldn't arrive with the King but my work in Kings Landing needed to be done as soon as possible.'

'There was no problem with your delay Your Highness. We have prepared a feast to welcome you here'

'I am most grateful for that Lord Stark. I hope my escort will be well treated while we're here.'

'They will be, Your Highness.'

'Good. Your son Jon did his duty well.'

With that she shared a few words with Catelyn and then with his children, chatting for a few minutes with Sansa and agreeing to speak more with her later. Ned however looked to Jon who had now climbed off of his horse and ordered his men to do the same. The young man then walked over to Ned, he walked in a very dignified way and his movements were well controlled.

'Lord Stark,' he said to him and inclined his head, keeping his gaze away from Cat.

'Welcome home Jon,' Ned said to him. 'The uniform suits you.'

'Thank you.'

'Go say hello to your brothers.'

Jon allowed a faint smile onto his face at that and nodded before walking over to Robb and, after a few words, hugged each other and laughed.

...

Sansa had come to the conclusion that she definately liked Princess Radwen. The foreign princess was quick to laugh, friendly and was always immaculate in her appearance. It had been two days since she arrived at Winterfell and they were in her chambers there, several of the other ladies in Winterfell, even Septa Mordane and Princess Myrcella, were there chatting and enjoying some light snacks. Sansa ate another lemon cake before taking a sip of her black tea, a luxury the Farosi seemed to bring with them everywhere.

'I am glad to see this castle at last,' Radwen said to Sansa. 'If I had the time I would have come here for a leisure trip.'

'Why couldn't you?' Sansa asked in response.

'I have a lot of work in the capital. Everyday I have to sort out trade agreements, deal with the Iron Bank, reading rejections of proposals, it's a nightmare sometimes you know. I suppose this is the first real holiday I've had in about two years.'

'Your father places a great deal of trust in you,' Mordane said to her.

'Indeed he does. When he passes, on that sad day, I will become Queen of Farsos.'

'Why do men turn down your hand?' Sansa asked her, confused as to why someone wouldn't want to marry the princess.

'It's unfortunate but I made it clear that when I become Queen I will not be a tool for another to gain power. Because of this, many men don't like the idea of surrendering their power to me.'

'Won't that cause a problem for the next succession?' Mordain inquired.

'Not really. I have two older brothers who have both turned down the crown. Miccal, he's the eldest, turned down the crown for a navy career and he is married. Last I heard they are expecting and my other brother Simoki is courting a woman at the moment. If the worst comes to the worst one of their children will take the throne. Their's no issue really.'

'Why can't Prince Simoki take the throne?' asked Jeyne Poole.

She was silent for a few moments, looking down at the floor for a moment before deciding on her answer after taking a sip of tea.

'About three or four years before the Greyjoy Rebellion my kingdom lost a war against our neighbour, Gwaithol. As a part of the terms of the peace we surrendered to them most of our island colonies and Simoki, he'd been a cavalryman in the war, was so disgusted that he left the army and stayed on Streki's Island, the largest of the islands and started a little uprising. Since then he's been cancelled out of the succession.'

'Is he alright?' asked Sansa.

'Of course he is. Last I heard he was leading his little band around stirring up trouble. In all honesty I don't think he's in much danger, he has the Gwaithol army running wild trying to find him.'

'I don't think this is suitable talk for ladies,' Mordaine said in a knife sharp voice.

Sansa wanted to hear more. She could imagine this renegade prince hiding in the depths of a forest with a noble band of men, heroes fighting against the wicked invaders from Gwaithol.

'Indeed Septa, my apologies,' Radwen said with a chuckle.

Sansa ate two narrow slices of bread with a few pieces of vegateble between them, and finished her cup of tea only for one of Radwen's servants to refill her cup at once.

'What is your country like?' Sansa asked the princess.

'Very different to Westeros,' she answered and smiled fondly.

'You can tel us more, surely,' said Jeyne.

'Alright then. It's about the same size as Westeros but in it my favourite place is the city of Serdera,' as she said it her face took on a wimsical expression. 'It's a wonderful city you know, spread over three islands at the mouth of the Bay of Unicorns. I tell you my dears, it is a wonderful place. The streets are lined with small trees, all of them filled with singing birds, musicians are on every corner and the glass workers are stunning there. The glass makers allow crowds to watch them work hot liquid glass into wonderful figures. One of them, Marikin Ferish, one made a glass ornament of a rearing unicorn in less than ten minutes and it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. As soon as he was finished I bought it, it's back at the embassy in King's Landing. And then there are the street parties, thousands of people in masks dancing through the night, fireworks turning the night into day, you would love it there, all of you. When I was forteen I spent a year there and I always made sure to return for the party season.'

'Why do they wear masks for it?' asked Sansa.

'It's much more fun, not knowing just who you are dancing with. At my last party there I was on a bridge with some of my friends when a daring young man asked me to dance with him. Well, I couldn't possibly refuse and,' Radwen turned crimson at saying it, 'and he kissed me before he was dragged away by his friends. I still don't have a clue who he was.'

'That's so sad,' said Sansa. 'Not knowing your first kiss.'

'Yes, it's sad. Still, if he had known who I was I doubt he would have done it.'

'There must be something you can tell us about him,' Jeyne insisted.

'Well, his hands were rough so he was a working man but his clothes were very expensive, and they weren't just for a constume either. I think he must have been one of the wealthier glass workers. If I told my father that he would never let me go again.'

'I'm afraid it's time for your lessons now Sansa,' Mordane told her and stood up. 'Finish your drink and we'll go.'

Reluctantly Sansa emptied her cup into her mouth and stood up.

'Before you go my dear,' Radwen said and walked over to a desk with a small collection of papers on it, the top one covered with large letters spelling out "Monthly Fashion" and under it was a picture of a dancing woman in a flowing dress. 'I think you might like this,' she handed the papers to Sansa who looked at it curiosuly. 'It's a magazine on the latest fashions in Farsos, this one has a detail on the latest hair styles and I think you'll like them.'

'Thank you Your Highness,' Sansa said to her and curtsied before leaving.

...

Later that day Ned was sitting in his solar, looking forward to sleep later before going hunting with the King the next day. However, he had one last piece of business to handle before he could get ready for bed and, sitting with Maester Luwin, they waited. A tap came from the door and Ned allowed them to enter. Into the solar stepped Princess Radwen with a Farosi man wearing a dark purple waistcoat and carrying a black box in one hand.

'Let's get down to business Lord Stark,' she said formally and sat down in front of the Lord of Winterfell, across the desk from him.

The man sat down next to her, opened the box and took from within a piece of paper.

'You have the weapons ready?' Ned asked her.

'Yes. Five thousand Type Six Service Flintlock Rifles and two hundred thousand rounds of ammunition with four Sterington cannons with the included powder and cannon balls. They're all in a warehouse in King's Landing and I have a rider ready to take the signed order to Whiteharbour and then down to the capital. A merchant ship is waiting to bring the goods north as soon as they have the word.'

'And the payment is the same?'

'Yes, one hundred and six thousand Dragons, we expect the full amount ready at Whiteharbour when the rifles arrive.'

'And you will have it, my word on that.'

'Excellent Lord Stark,' the man with the princess said and smiled. 'Oh, I'm Green, Mister Green the lawyer handling major arms deals. We just need your signiture here,' he pointed at a line near the bottom of the paper.

Ned read through the document and then, seeing that it was all as they had discussed through letters, he past it to Luwin for a last check.

'It seems fine to me Lord Stark,' he told him.

Ned picked up his quill and signed the paper, agreeing to the largest purchase of arms the North had seen in many years.

'There's one thing I'm curious of Lord Stark,' the princess said to him, 'why are you buying these weapons? I mean, there's no risk of a war is there?'

'No there isn't but I saw how powerful these weapons are,' he told her and remembered how thousands of Ironborn were cut to ribbons by the Farosi, and how the reavers longships couldn't compete with the large frigates and battleships of the Farosi Royal Navy. 'Threats will never go away and winter is coming. The King Beyond the Wall is raising an army of Wildlings, I will not let the North be exposed to invasion.'

'I understand Lord Stark. Those primatives won't understand what they're facing.'

'I hope the rifles will be enough to hold them at bay.'

'So do I Lord Stark. You understand of course that the United Kingdom cannot send troops to help if the Wildlings attack.'

'I know.'

'Good. Well, it's been a pleasure Lord Stark.'

'Thank you Your Highness.'