The Black Lion

By Commander Shadestorm

Chapter One

Arraon

There were times- albeit not many- but a few where Arraon Hill was glad he had been born a bastard. He felt secure in the knowledge that this was one of them. He sipped from a golden cup of wine that he had reached from under the nose of Jason Marbrand. It wasn't like he was going to notice, every knight page and squire was paying attention to the feast. As Jason looked on Arraon Hill sipped on the skin, were this any other night neither father nor the Lady Joanna would have dared to allow him a single sip, but they were preoccupied at present as Arraon stood near a side entrance to the Hall where he was out of view, so long as no one cared to notice him.

Father had took his Lady in his arm and waked past the rows of guests at the betrothal feast. He looked the way he always did; tall, strong, imposing. He was everything that Arraon could aspire to become. There were countless times when he had seen his father give men commands and they obeyed, for they dare not disobey. Half the time it barely seemed as if he noticed them, the Lion of Lannister had no need to concern himself with them. Though when Father gave one of his cold glances in his direction, he cast the skin aside but picked it up again once he had passed on.

Though Arraon had never saw it with his own eyes he had heard about his father's prowess as a warrior, how he had slew the Red Lion of Castamere with his brothers by his side, how he watched as Tarbeck Hall came crashing down. He was the most bold, intimidating ruthless force in all Westeros, he was the Hand of the King though most knew it was Father who ruled the Kingdoms, not the King. His Father, Lord Tywin Lannister was a constant source of inspiration for young Arraon.

Though he could not hear them Father whispered something into Lady Joanna's ear which caused her to giggle. Lady Joanna. It had been made clear to Arraon from the earliest age what he was; a bastard. Lady Joanna had not given birth to him, and father had never told him who his mother was. Every time he planned the time and energy to approach father on the subject, he was always in some private council with his soldiers before he returned to King's landing. When he was gone however, Lady Joanna had always treated him with not quite the same love she gave to her own children, but neither did he get the impression that she hated him either. When he needed help, she gave it; when he was hurt, she tended to him with a helping hand and a gentle smile, but Arraon also did not fail to see that she looked at him with her unfailingly lying eyes.

He always knew to look into her eyes and when he did he saw something else. It was especially apparent when he beat Jaime at just about anything outside the training ring. Whether it was geometry or writing or anything else, Lady Joanna would congratulate him but within those deep emerald eyes was something foreign, something bitter towards him. Eyes that said 'What right do you have, bastard?' no matter what her lips might have uttered in their stead.

And Arraon knew that for he did not even look all that like her own children. Oh, to be sure, he had the same Golden hair that seemed to naturally curl at a certain length that Cersei and Jaime also possessed, as well as the "beauty" of a Lannister of the Rock but he did not have their eyes. Where they had a deep emerald set in their pupils, Arraon's own eyes were a light hazel colour – that combination between green and brown that reminded him of what he was and what he would always be. He often wondered if his Mother had light or brown eyes. Yet he was also different in face. Cersei said he could never match Jaime's beauty and whether that was true or not, he was not like them. He was the lesser Son. The Bastard son.

However, he knew that he should not complain. He had heard about bastards that were completely isolated from their families and would next to never see them. At informal dinners, Jaime and Arraon would sit together without Lady Joanna's disapproval but at Feats and formal gatherings, Arraon was required to sit elsewhere. He had thought that Lady Joanna had demanded this, before he overheard her and his Father arguing with his Father arguing that he be placed lower, so as not to embarrass guests. Arraon did not blame his Father.

Still, overall, his life in Casterly Rock was something that he could be fortunate for and was well aware that the only reason he was here tonight was that it was improper to seat a bastard along with highborn guests. As they walked towards the High table, Lord Marbrand and his daughter followed suit, his three sons behind them with their own wives. After them, Cersei and Jaime strode in their crimson outfits side by side as they always were.

If you spent any time in the Rock, it would become apparent to them that father's children spent a lot of time together. An unusual amount of time together, 'inseparable' was the word that their septa had used. How little they knew. Jaime paced forward with all the grace he had been born with as a Lannister. His head was held high and his curls fell around his ears, but he gave a sympathetic glimpse towards Arraon. Arraon raised his cup to him and drank deep from it. Jaime looked as if he was going to say something but a tug from Cersei derailed his attention.

Being born to House Lannister both of them had been born to swordplay, yet Ser Benedict knew that Jaime was the superior swordsman between them. Arraon never disputed that despite the fact he was a year Jaime's senior, yet Jaime was destined to be his better. He had begun to speculate that Jaime would be out of training swords soon, quite a rarity for any squire, let alone a boy. Though both of them could beat any other challenge that had come to them. He smiled as he remembered the Roggett squire. On his nameday some overzealous squire had challenged Lord Tywin's sons; they had enjoyed knocking him into the dirt. Jamie had always been unconcerned with the nature of Arraon's birth and for that he could love him forever. Jaime was his brother, no matter what. Their sweet sister on the other hand, was less approachable to him.

Though she was a pretty enough girl to look at, there was little else that could be said about her. His only chance seemed to be to stay around Jaime as she seemed to warm up when her arm was locked in his. Cersei was perhaps the only person in Arraon's life who made no room and no excuses in her resolve to remind Arraon who he was; a Hill. He glugged down the rest of the cup as he remembered on of his most profound memories. During a morning session with Maester Creylen between the three of them, he had given them a list of all the Targaryen Kings and their hands during history lessons and recommended being able to recite them. After a sparring match with Jaime, which he lost, Arraon could not help but notice Cersei and the cackling coven that clutched to her heels like lost puppies, Melara Hetherspoon to whom he had offered a rose to, but Cersei forced her to destroy, and Jeyene Farman, who loved lemon cakes more than her own mother, observing their actions that day but he had never paid any notice to it.

He had spent the rest of that day in his chambers revising the list, reciting and recanting until he was certain he was able to repeat them for the family. That night at the table, Creylen had motioned to him to begin. Arraon had taken his place before his father and started all the way from Aegon the Conqueror and Orys Baratheon to King Jaehaerys and Ormond Baratheon. He may have faltered around the multiple hands of the more indecisive Kings but his father's stare gave no indication of disappointment. But as was usual, there was no confidence or affection there either.

Once he had finished Uncle Gerion gave a laugh, commenting that he knew them so well "perhaps you should rule as Hand, and your father can stay here. You can recite the better than any of us could have." Though he appreciated the encouragement from his bright eyed uncle, he couldn't have cared less. Fathers' was the only opinion he concerned himself with. After Gerion had given his piece, he spoke up. "Perhaps you are right. Any Lannister should know of those who have been in power, in order to better overcome them." If there was even the slightest chance that he had inspired some modicum of pride in his father, he would treasure it forever. He thanked his father and was happier than he had ever been. Until Cersei chose to remind everyone there that Jaime had "knocked Hill into the dirt." Tywin shot a disapproving glance towards his children; even Gerion did not smile throughout the prickly silence that enveloped the rest of the feast.

"Gods, I need another drink." Arraon thought to himself as Gerion and Kevan took their seats at the table. No one would notice if the bastard took his leave. He quietly stood up and retreated from the Hall. Were it any other castle in Westeros outside the Great Hall would lead you outside to the courtyard; not in Casterly Rock. King Loreon had mined a new section of his Rock for his Great Hall where the light of day could not reach it but only the torches that decorated the rocky confines of Casterly Rock.

As Arraon passed beneath the great doors with the banners of the Golden Lion and the Green Peacock halved, displayed upon either side with Red Clocks in Lion crested Helms armed with spears guarding the Hall. Outside was a square hall adorned with wall art made from pure gold, mined from the Rock itself. Lesser pages and household guards swarmed among this place, laughing uproariously amongst themselves. Eventually he came across a stray bottle of wine. "Perfect, not exactly Arbor red but it'll do."

He uncorked a bottle until the familiar voice appeared from behind him. "You're a little young for this type of stuff, aren't you?" Arraon spun around to see the scarred cheek of his uncle.

"Uncle Tyg! Shouldn't you be at the feast?" he asked, setting the wine to the side.

"Shouldn't you, nephew?"

"Who will notice if a Hill's missing from the family?"

"Your father, for one. He saw you leave the Hall." He pointed out.

Arraon shrugged it off. "I'm not important, Uncle. You are."

"Whoever says my nephew isn't important can meet my steel. Besides, it was getting rather quiet in there since Lord Marbrand is unsatisfied with Ty's dowry offer. He will return to Ashemark on the morrow. Your sister will remain a free woman." He smirked at Arraon. "Besides, she deserves better a better match, don't you think?"

"Will I have a good match one day?" he asked his uncle expectantly, Tygett pursed his lips but placed his hand on Arraon's shoulder.

"Your father will get you a fine match, I promise and a promise is as good as our debts." But he took his hand off and wrapped his arm around his chestnut eyed nephew. "Anyway, it's a little early to be thinking about that. Come with me, I have something to show you." He instructed, Arraon following behind him through the endless rocky halls of the Rock adorned with crimson tapestries and golden lions. Once they came upon his chambers, Tygett told Arraon to wait to the side while he reached into a drawer and pulled a Leather bound book out of it. It was an ornate design, with a golden strap in the shape of a strange foreign seal. Upon its surface was etched "The paths of Warfare." Arraon looked over the tome, and could see that it was written in the Common Tongue but must have been several decades old at least.

"I don't understand uncle, why are you giving this to me?" he inquired.

His uncle pushed the sword he wore to one side, taking a knee to him. "This book is a collection of tomes from a warrior from the land of Yi Ti far to the east. One of the greatest generals of his day, and there are less than ten copies available in Westeros and Essos," He explained. "It documents the ways of personal warfare, battlegrounds, wartime economic decisions and campaigns. I want you to keep it."

"Why me, uncle? Wouldn't this go to Jaime? He's the heir."

"Jaime has all the attention and affection that befits him, but I want you to know that you are not forgotten, for I know what it's like to live in a brother's shadow." Tygett murmured to himself, a glance cast into the distance, but his eyes shot up again practically immediately. "Make sure you treasure this book. It was damned near impossible to find a translation in the Common Tongue in Westeros."

"I will uncle; thank you. I will learn to recite it off." He promised.

"I know you will. Now, we should be getting back to the feast. Perhaps they'll have missed us by now." He smiled. With the book under his arm, and Tygett's hand on his shoulder, Arraon had a newfound love for his uncle that day.


While growing up in Casterly Rock the trio had spent the majority of their childhood in a nursery made for them. Since then, the room had been changed for a more 'adolescent' image. The fireplace was always burning, the blood red curtains were eternally drawn and the walls were adorned with shelves. Before the fire was a sofa, a crimson carpet before that. Arraon Hill was on one side of the couch with "The path of warfare" in one hand, a small glass of Arbor gold swirling around in the other. His gaze peered over the edge of the book to look at his beloved siblings across from him, sitting on another couch.

Jaime sat with Cersei's head nestled along his shoulder, his fingers draped through her hair. Jaime's eyes were half shut in a world of his own. Cersei was much more alert, her emerald eyes gazing up at her twin, her brother. "Her lover," a treacherous snake of a voice echoed in the back of his head. She raised her hand to run her hand across his arms. The scene would have been cute, every young highborn maiden's ideal fantasy. All except for the fact that it was an abomination to all the Faith held dear. Arraon felt it was time to bring up this concern to them. Not because he shared such piety but because he was worried for them. Well, Jaime at least.

"Don't you two ever worry that you'll get caught?" he inquired of them, the liquid in his gold tipped glass beginning to spill over the top of the goblet.

"Hmm, no. I don't believe so." Jaime responded, surprisingly casually as he smiled at Cersei again. Arraon wondered if Jaime knew the Ice that lay beneath her sunny visage.

"Well perhaps you should start. You don't know what could happen." Arraon warned.

"Arraon, you're being ridiculous. What's the worst that could happen?" Jamie smirked

"Wasn't that what you said when you thought jumping from the white cliffs was a good idea?"

"It was a good idea until you told father." Cersei pointed out

"Then perhaps you two shouldn't have skipped geometry." Arraon argued.

"We didn't ask you to come." She pointed out.

"Cersei, Arraon, stop." Jaime commanded, an authority in his voice that spoke of a lord. "We're supposed to be a family, we shouldn't be fighting."

"The bastard started it." She mumbled. There were many times where those words might have sent him away, might have sent him into a fit, might have made him cry, but at that precise moment in time all he could so was turn back to his book and pretend to have ignored her. He was thankful for the fact that Jaime was moving away from her at least, though as he turned the pages he noticed their bodies were inching towards one another again. It was like he could hardly keep away from her. Within a short time, their bodies were pressed against one another again. Arraon could do little but sigh and refill his empty glass. As he turned back, he saw his thumb was stroking across her cheek as their lips passionately and violently met with one another, with her arms around his neck. At that moment the door snapped open and a servant walked in. "Milords, supper-" she began but once she saw Cersei and Jaime wrapped amongst one another she immediately turned tail and rushed out. For the first time in their lives, the three of them exchanged a look in total agreement: utter and complete shock and dread.


"And you are certain that is what you saw?" Lady Joanna calmly pronounced before her children and her husband's bastard.

"Aye, milady. Your children were together; like sailors and whores on the quay." The maid who had found them explained to Lady Joanna. It was not long until they had been summoned to her chambers. Joanna pursed her lips at the Maid's language but knew that she had been truthful.

"Thank you, Jeyne. You are dismissed. Make sure you tell no one about this."

"Aye, milady." She bowed as she left the room. It left the room in an uncomfortable silence, with Lady Joanna having her twins directly in front of her, each trying to lock their hands with one another. Arraon stood lightly to the side, both of them trying to avoid their mother's gaze, which seemed to pierce them more now than their Lord Fathers' ever had.

"Do any of you have an explanation for this disgusting behaviour?" she very calmly asked, yet there was an unmistakable sharpness in her voice, steel in her expression. "Jaime? Cersei? Arraon? Do any of you realise the problem you have created for me, for our family? Well?" There was no response any of them could give. "If you wish to remain silent about this, I will be left with no choice but to tell your lord father." She warned.

"No mother, please! We will be in so much trouble if father finds out!" Cersei cried, the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Sometimes Arraon was found it hard to discern which was her being truthful and which was another one of her schemes.

"Do you think you can expect me to keep such a thing secret?" she snapped, as her eyes turned from her daughter to her son. "Jaime, have you anything to say?"

"No, mother." He shook his head as he raised his eyes to meet his mothers.

She gave a laugh, hollow and humourless. "Do either of you have any idea how serious this is? You are not Targaryens, you are the blood of House Lannister. This sort of behaviour is unacceptable! If word of this gets out, you would embarrass the Family name and bring scandal upon us! The kind of Scandal your Father worked so long to protect us from after she…after your Grandfather embarrassed this Family so dearly." she said, as calmly as possible but a mix of anger and fear was in her voice as she began to lower a hand towards her belly but halted midway as her fist clenched. "Guard!" she called, and a helmless red cloak entered without hesitation.

"Milady." He bowed.

"Escort Lord Jaime to the Courtyard for now. Let him train while I…I think for a while."

"Yes my lady, come along little lord." He responded as he took Jaime by the hand and led him out of the room. Jaime reluctantly left the room giving his twin, his 'other half' as they called one another, a last look as the guard's hand pulled him out of the room.

"But mother-" Cersei cried in defeat as her mother raised a hand to her.

"Do not even start, Cersei. Just don't. Do you realise what how fortunate you are that it was I who was here and not your father? You would be wise to thank the Gods he is serving as Hand to…him. You are to return to your chambers and are not to leave for the rest of the night. I will be placing a guard outside your door, I will only permit you to leave for meals and lessons with the Septa. Likewise, Jaime will be moved to the other side of Casterly Rock. If I catch wind of anything, anything like this again and I promise you, I will tell your father, and you will face his wroth. Do you understand me?"

"Yes mother." She casually submitted.

"You are young, and there are some things you may be interested about, curious about. These should not be among them. You would do well to stray from these thoughts unless they should become the ruin of you. Now go, return to your needlework." Her mother warned. Cersei gave a disingenuous curtsey before leaving the room and her twin. All in all, Arraon considered this to be a rather successful day. He turned to leave before Lady Joanna spoke up. "Arraon, remain for a minute."

"Yes, my lady."

"You were with them. Why did you not stop them, or at least try?"

"My lady, I-"

"Mother." She sighed, as she took a seat. "Call me mother, Arraon."

"But my lady, I'm…I…" he began as he fumbled over his words.

"You're what?"

"A bastard." He whispered.

"And?" she said as she took Arraon's hands in hers, "I may not have given birth to you, but I fed you at the breast. I have raised you along with my own children. If you are not my son in that right, then I cannot know who you are. Maybe I haven't expressed that the right way but I want to do better for you in the future," She said as she smiled at him.

"Thank you...mother" He responded and emerald eyes gave a warm glow to them after that.

"How long have you known about Cersei and Jaime?"

"I don't think there's been a time when they haven't been involved in this way."

"Have you told your father?"

"No."

"I can be fortunate for that, at least."

"What will you do with the servant?"

"Jeyne?" she asked.

"Well, she'll likely tell anyone she knows as gossip. That will travel into the streets of Lannisport, through the Gold road to the capital, the spider and father." He argued.

"Yes, I see your point. I will consider it. Thank you." She smiled at him. He turned to leave but she called him once again, causing him to spin his head around. "I want you to keep an eye on Jaime."

"Jaime?"

"Something tells me this problem isn't going away any time soon. Keep him aware, away from Cersei. Promise me you will do that Arraon."

"I promise."

"Very well, off you go." She beamed. The way she smiled at them.


The Sunset sea that lay before Casterly Rock and Lannisport always shimmered beneath the dawn and the crashing waves that glistened beneath the sun were most evidently seen at midday as they thundered upon the base of Casterly rock. Arraon could recollect a time within the bowels of their rock when the trio was looking at the aging lions that dwelled there, a legacy of their grandfather. Within a few years the lions that lived there would die out. Cersei wasn't that concerned; she had even called Jaime a coward for refusing to pull his mane. She hadn't called Arraon cowardly after that. During that time a raging thunderstorm could be heard from all around them. A guardsmen rumoured that the ghost of Lann the clever haunted the rock still. Anyone else would have put together that it was the waves from outside.

Arraon loved the waves, he loved the sea, and he loved the open water. The only time he had openly defied his father was to accompany his uncle on "The Laughing Lion," through a journey sailing around the bays surrounding Lannisport on a journey to Kayce for his eighth nameday. Once they had returned his father had summoned him; his eyes hard, his words harder. "So, you wish to sail? You wish to be a fisherman, is that it?"

"Father-"he had begun to argue

"No, you are my son. Not some unwashed Ironborn marauder. You wish to participate in our fleet. Very well, you shall do so." For the rest of that day, Arraon had been made to wash the decks of the ships in the fleet, and for seven hours every day for seven months. It was backbreaking work; but it was all worth it for a mere glimpse of flying through the winds of the sea.

It would have seemed rather hypocritical of him as one of Father's favourite pastimes was to fish along the straits of Lannisport, but Father must have had his reasons. He was lucky enough that this day father was gracious enough to allow Arraon to accompany him on his trip today. Cersei had gone to Lannisport with her own little retinue for the day, and Jaime had taken some pages into the Forests surrounding Lannisport. It would just be them alone, for once.

The barge left Casterly Rock in the distance as they moved towards a cove in the distance. "Why are we around here, father?"

"For one reason or another, the Lannisport smells seem to repel fish and they gather in their own areas. It's hardly relevant; once you have found them, all that is left is for the lion to pounce." He had explained, Arraon simply nodded. Peering over the edge of their craft, Arraon noticed waves of silver shapes flashing beneath them. They stopped to the entrance of a small cove, facing the late summer sun and the vast reaches of the Sunset Sea. Father gave the guards a look and they disappeared from view. "Now, I assume you wish to learn the art of angling?" Father asked him as he removed his gloves and pulled up his sleeves.

"Yes father." He responded as Father took a rod and a case to Arraon. The next while was spent between the two of them as Lord Tywin taught him. They began with the way to attach bait, worms from the Lannisport hills in this case, and moved onto the appropriate ways to cast a line into the water. After a few demonstrations, and especially the ruthless way his father finished the creatures off. Father could recite the entirety of "The Seven pointed Star," and have that determined look in his eye that made him the ruthless figure he was.

"Now; your turn." He commanded of his son, slouching down in his makeshift stool with his interlocked fingers between his legs as he observed Arraon's actions. He lifted the road above him but paused just as he was to cast the line but his father's words stopped him. "No, Arraon. You cannot hesitate, once you set down a path it must be taken." An inkling told him this advice was not exclusive to angling. "Now try again." His father instructed him. Once again he threw the hook line back over his head and cast it forward into the cove's water. "Better. Better." His father observed. "Now set the rod into the stand." He complied with that order.

"Now what, father?" he asked.

"The most important aspect of this craft; patience, endurance and complacency." His father explained as he arranged the strings of their poles in a more orderly matter. The next few minutes were occupied by silence as Arraon tried to muster up some degree of courage in order to progress, but every time he could even open his mouth to try and force a word out, a glance from his father's pale green eyes destroyed any chance of that. Every time their eyes met Arraon could do naught but remain silent in the presence of his foreboding gaze. Ultimately the line tugged and Father reached out to pull on the line as a silver trout leapt out of the water flapping onto the deck of their barge. Father uncooked it and grabbed it by the tail as he cracked it against a nearby rock as it fell limp in his hands in one swift stroke. He didn't even break a sweat. "Why did you come out here today?"

"Father?"

"You didn't have to join me today. I want to know why." He asked, no commanded, as he reattached the pole to its place. Truth be told, he did have a purpose here. He had hoped to warm his father up in order to ask about his mother. It wasn't something he needed to become aware of, but he wanted, he wanted to know. For certain, he had to know who or what his mother was. His vision of her could never remain consistent. At times, he saw a highborn lady with caring eyes and curls in her hair. Other times, it was a soldier in the Lannister guard so devoted to House Lannister she had undertook that risk and his father had recognised and returned her service. Sometimes it was a common whore that had warmed his father's bed during the lonely nights of King's landing. He did not have those thoughts often.

"Well, I did want to know about…" he fumbled over his words. "S-swordplay, father."

"Swordplay." His father spat, casting his gaze deep into the cove. "Tyg gave you that foreign book. The art of…"

"The paths of Warfare, Father." He explained.

"So how does it differ from our own swordsmen?" he asked as he glanced at the unmoving fish line.

"Well, Ser benedict says that a sword is like an extension of yourself and should be treated as such…" he began, a tad more confident now.

"Correct, my own master-at-arms taught me as such when I was a boy. How do the people of Ti Si differ?"

"Sansui Taisho of Yi Ti says that life is arbitrary, along with everything in it. Your foes should be treated as if they do not matter, for they do not." He quoted, Uncle Tygett gave him a sweet for every quote and a silver stag if he could recite the five laws of war. Morality, Heaven, Earth, The Commander and the Method, he reassured himself, just to be certain.

"He sounds like a fascinating man." He mumbled as the line jerked again, his father spent little time in repeating the cycle of events that put another fish in the basket. "Though an impractical practice for actual warfare."

"He won a battle outmatched five to two at the siege of Zonal." He argued, but his father's cold glare seemed to have less of an impact now.

"Perhaps he did, but prattling of eastern Maesters has no place on the battlefield."

"Yes, father." Arraon agreed.

"But there is something else-"he stopped as he looked over at the tugging line. "Arraon, your turn." Arraon stepped up and grabbed the rod as the red tipped trout flew out of the water. He grabbed the slippery tail as it almost slipped out of his fingers, but he gripped it with the opposing hand and smashed it over the rock, but it remained moving so he repeated the action yet the life remained within it and it took a third crack to finally end the thing. When he was done, its body was twisted and mangled but even then a certain sense of pride swelled within him. "A poor attempt for your first try, but you will improve." His father told him as he smiled at his father. He did not return the gesture. "But there is something else you are not asking me." Arraon was aware of the "State it," that went unsaid.

"Actually, it's…it's…" My mother, my mother, mother "about my…my…" mother, mother, my mother. No matter how many times he went over it, the words could not be forced out of his mouth so he simply blurted them out. "Itsaboutmymother."

"Speak clearly." Lord Tywin commanded.

"It's…my mother." He explained. The golden sparkle that had been in his father's eye had now vanished, in its place the cruel pale of those fine cut emeralds.

"Your mother." He whispered as he turned away from Arraon's gaze, staring forward into the waters of the darkened cove. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is she, does she know who I am? Is she even alive?" he asked, slowly and quietly. His father refused to meet his eyes and continued to stare forward. Once more, the line twitched but as his father moved his hand forward it was Arraon that got his hand on the rod first. It only took one snap this time.

"No." was the final answer his father gave as he reattached the pole. "No, not today. I can't, I simply can't." It was at this point that Father's eyes met his. "I promise you; someday we will talk about your mother, but not today, only when you are ready. I think we're done here for today. Take the fish to the kitchens, we'll have them for supper." He explained as he stepped up and walked to steer the barge back to the docks of his own city of Lannisport.

"One day," Arraon told himself.

One day…