Jane and the Dragon and all related characters belong to Martin Baynton and Weta.

This fic was written for day 3 of Janther Week 2018.

Prompt: Confluence.


The way it happened was a total coincidence, maybe fate, or perhaps pure fortune. Jane was never sure which. She had simply been wandering, alone in a crowd of strangers, exploring the marketplace and trying to gather information with her limited grasp of the language. It was early in the day but the heat was already oppressive, and dust stirred relentlessly around her, kicked up by the throng of people browsing and buying from the many stalls. Jane always did her best not to stand out in the new places she travelled to with Dragon but the reality was she did not look like a local. Her hair was tied back and hidden under the folds of cloth which also draped over her shoulders and down her back, obscuring her sword; but her pale, freckled complexion was more difficult to conceal. She remained vigilant as she wandered, glancing at the trinkets on the stalls and listening to the incomprehensible hum of the people surrounding her.

She was admiring the rich colours of a pottery stall when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, a warning she had learnt never to ignore. She turned slowly, scanning the throng, sure she was being watched. Green eyes met grey and Jane stopped breathing, startled and disbelieving.

Impossible . . .

Yet there he was, pushing his hood away from his face as he walked towards her, leaving a confused cloth merchant behind him. He was taller and tanner than when she had seen him last, and he seemed unsure if he could trust his eyes as he cut through the crowd, raising his hand as he drew near. His gaze never left hers as he reached under her shawl, fingertips lightly brushing her skin before finding a curl of firey hair.

"Jane," he said, lips forming into a smile.

"Gunther," she thought she said, although perhaps she just mouthed the word.

"Jane!" He said again, louder, before gathering her into his arms and hugging her. "How can this be?" He asked, putting her own thoughts into words.

"Gunther," she said again, this time for certain. "I do not know!" And then she was laughing, and returning his embrace as people milled around them, staring at the two strange foreigners as they passed.

Gunther stepped back, releasing her from his arms but keeping his hands on her shoulders as he studied her face, still smiling. "This is madness! How long has it been?"

It was madness, Jane knew. Had they ever embraced one another before? Would they have even dreamed of doing such a thing in the castle sparring yard? And yet, here they were friends surrounded by strangers, giving each other a taste of home after so long.

"Two years?" Guessed Jane. "Or is it longer?"

"Another half year at least," said Gunther. He turned to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He waved towards some men standing at the cloth stall before he began walking, guiding Jane easily through the throng. "How long have you been here? Where is Dragon?" He quizzed her.

"Not long," replied Jane, allowing herself to be led. "Dragon is hiding and waiting for me, we will move on soon. I have not been able to learn much here," she admitted.

"Hmm," said Gunther, concentrating as he made a path out of the market. "One does not hear much mention of dragons around here. Have you had any luck with your quest?"

"Not yet," sighed Jane. "No written languages like the runes, and certainly no dragons. Dragon has been carving messages into the mountains we pass through, and I know he feels better for trying. We have not given up."

"You must have seen some amazing things," prompted Gunther, using his free hand to raise his hood, shielding him from the unbearably hot sun.

"Yes," said Jane, still guided by his other arm. "Jester will have some writing to do when we return!"

"Everyone will be happy to hear your stories, Jane," Gunther gave her a quick smile, before focusing on the path ahead again.

"How long have you been gone?" Jane asked, taking a moment to study his features. He was so familiar and yet altered in a thousand small ways. The boy she had known was gone entirely, but the man who stood in his place transported her instantly to the home she had loved for most of her life.

"A few months now," he was saying. "We have been in port here for a week or so; we will begin the voyage home again in a matter of days."

"Home," repeated Jane softly. She suddenly realised just how hungry she was to hear news of her family and friends. Just how long she had been gone, fixated on chasing shadows and finding the seemingly impossible. "How is everyone? You must tell me everything!"

Gunther laughed at her sudden enthusiasm, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Come aboard, Jane, and I promise I will tell you all I can."

Jane looked around, realising they had reached the port. Gunther was gesturing towards a neat-looking ship tied up to a boardwalk.


"The Prince's Folly," said Gunther, patting the hull of the ship affectionately as they stood beneath it. "Kippernium's finest."

Jane smiled at his obvious pride, before following him up the rope ladder and climbing aboard.

The deck was mostly empty, with just a couple of sailors playing cards in the shade of a mast. They eyed their employer and his guest curiously before returning to their game.

"Most of the crew are on shore," he said by way of explanation. "Getting drunk, most likely."

He led her below decks, to what seemed to be a common area, with a large table filling most of the small room. Gunther shrugged out of his outer cloak and hood and tossed it over the back of one of the empty benches, before rolling up the sleeves of his lightweight shirt.

"Something to drink?" He offered casually, removing two tankards from the row that hung on hooks along the wall. He inspected them for cleanliness before placing them down on the far side of the table.

Jane nodded, removing her own shawl and watching as he moved easily around the small space, confident and relaxed.

"Is your father on board?" She asked curiously.

Gunther paused and offered her a quick smile. "Sadly my father's health keeps him at home more and more as time passes, and he is forced to trust me with the longer voyages."

"Oh dear," said Jane, moving to take a seat. "How unfortunate." She could tell by the smirk on Gunther's face that she sounded as sorry as he looked.

"Everyone else remains in good health, however," he assured her, filling her tankard and his own before taking a seat beside her. "Well, with the exception of Prince Cuthbert, whose parents are determined to find him a suitor this year."

"So soon?" Gasped Jane. "But he is so young!"

"His Royal Highness turned fifteen on his last name day, Jane," said Gunther, amused. "Time marches on in your absence."

"Oh, goodness," sighed Jane. "I am sure I believed that everyone would remain unchanged when I returned."

"In truth it seems as though we have, in many ways," replied Gunther. "Nothing truly changes in Kippernium. The village lives for salted kippers and gossip, and the castle is as sheltered as a convent. Truth be known I live for these trading journeys; without them I fear the monotony will drive me mad."

"What of your training, and your duties at the castle?" Asked Jane, surprised by his blunt honesty.

"Ah yes, my training," Gunther smirked at her. "Well my partner left on a grand quest and the practice dummy is just not the same. Now now—" he raised a finger to cut off her protests. "Every sailor on this ship must choose a weapon and practice with it daily, and I make sure to spar with them regularly. No pirates will overrun the Folly," he bragged.

Jane resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed some things truly did not change.

"Tell me about my parents," she pleaded. "Are they happy?"

Gunther nursed his drink and leant back against the seat as he began to tell her about her family, and Jane cradled her head on one hand, smiling blissfully as he told her stories of her loved ones.

She could not have told how much time passed as they sat, swapping tales and adventures, huddled in their corner and wrapped up in remembering. Sailors came and went from the room, eating, gambling, talking in unrecognisable languages, and almost completely unnoticed by the two former comrades.

"Rake and Pepper are betrothed, did I tell you that already?" Gunther asked after several hours of conversation.

He had, but Jane smiled, pleased to hear him tell her again.

"They must be so happy," she said.

"Disgustingly so," Gunther nodded. "They are planning to marry in the Spring. I think Pepper is hoping you will be home by then."

"You are making me miss them so," sighed Jane wistfully. "Perhaps I will talk to Dragon."

"It might be wise to return for a short break before you travel even further away," he suggested.

Jane nodded. She had told him of her and Dragon's plans to venture further afield if their search continued to be fruitless. They had so many more places to explore, so much still to discover.

"I cannot believe how many times our paths may have crossed in the last months," Gunther was smiling again, looking at her as though he still didn't really believe she was beside him. "You may travel in the sky while I'm on the sea, but surely we have landed in the same place before."

"Perhaps," mused Jane, when a rumble from her stomach interrupted any further thought.

Gunther glanced at her in surprise, before placing a hand on his own stomach.

"We must have talked straight through lunch," he said, rising to his feet. "Wait here, I'll go raid the galley."

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and disappeared through the narrow doorway, ducking as he went.

Jane gazed around the room, taking it in properly for the first time. The walls were panelled in dark timber, and other than a small amount of natural light filtering through the doorway from the hatch to the deck above, candles provided the only illumination. The large table and surrounding benches were the only furnishings other than a small cupboard which Jane assumed held plates and bowls. Curious, she stood and walked to the doorway, peering down the narrow hallway. No one was coming from either direction so she turned left on a whim and began exploring.

The first door was open and swung easily on its hinges to reveal a room filled with bunks and hammocks piled high with blankets and clothing. Someone was snoring on one of the beds and Jane quickly stepped back into the hallway, moving towards the next door.

"This is more like it," she said quietly, walking into a room full of weaponry. The walls were hung with swords and knives, bows, spears and staves. Jane ran her fingers gingerly over one of the blades, finding Smithy's hallmark pigtail curl engraved into the base. On closer inspection she found his mark on many of the weapons, although some bore insignia she didn't recognise. Some of the swords curved and rippled in ways Jane had never seen before, clearly designed to do as much damage as possible.

She picked up one of Smithy's daggers and examined it closely, admiring the play of light along the fine edge of the blade.

"I thought I would find you here," said Gunther from behind her.

Jane turned to see him standing in the doorway, an amused expression on his face.

"I see curiosity still has its way with you," he added.

Jane ignored his comment, holding up the dagger in her hand. "Smithy has been busy."

"He has improved greatly," Gunther said, moving to stand beside her in the small space. "I commission pieces from him often, some to trade and some to keep. His work rivals most that I have seen. It seems he has a natural talent for it."

"It is unusual to hear you speak so generously of him," said Jane, eyeing him inquiringly.

"I have improved a little myself," Gunther shrugged in response, reaching past her to pluck a sword from the wall. "I am not as thoroughly disliked as I was when we were children." He did not look at her as he spoke, but rather studied the engraving that decorated the centre of the blade.

"Of course not," said Jane, allowing a hint of affection to enter her tone as she added "I have barely hated you for years now."

She smirked as she spoke, and Gunther smiled back.

"The cook will have something edible prepared soon," he said, returning the live steel to its rack and reminding Jane why he had left her in the first place. He crossed to the other side of the small room in two quick strides and drew two dull practice swords from a barrel. "Spar in the mean time?" He offered, giving both blades a quick twirl.

Jane grinned, tempted by the chance for a little swordplay after so long. "I am a little rusty," she warned Gunther.

"All the more reason to say yes," he said encouragingly. "We would not want you to get completely out of touch. Besides, you know how I love to win!" He taunted.

"You had best prepare for disappointment, then!" Jane retorted, snatching one of the swords from his hand.

Gunther laughed and led the way to the upper deck.

The day had stretched on while they reminisced; the sun had risen high in the sky and was well into its descent, but the sting of its heat had yet to ease.

There were a lot more crewmen aboard the ship now than there had been when she arrived. Some looked startled to see her, while others looked rather worse for wear after their time ashore. A few others lay around sleeping.

Gunther walked to the centre of the deck and turned to face her, while Jane took in the assembled crowd.

"An audience?" She asked, tossing her practice blade from hand to hand, enjoying the familiar weight.

"How else am I to show them how it is done? And who better to help me than my old training partner?" He asked, smiling in anticipation.

"Very well," Jane shrugged. "But do not expect me to go easy on you in front of your friends."

Gunther twirled his sword in his hand again and then lunged, with Jane blocking just in time.

"No more so than I did when we were being watched by yours," he promised, before releasing his weight from her sword and moving to strike again.

Although she was concious of their audience at first, Jane soon forgot about them as adrenaline and nostalgia combined and she was back in the training yard at Kippernia Castle under the hot Summer sun, sweat pouring off her as she battled against Gunther, the encouraging shouts of her friends the only other sound apart from the clanging of metal when their blades met.

Advance, strike, block, deflect, strike, guard, guard, guard, strike, Sir Theodore's voice echoed in her head as she moved with the force of habit, memory burned into her muscles from countless hours spent just like this. Their movements grew faster as it all came flooding back, and then they were moving, back and forth, this way and that as crewmen scurried to get out of their way. At one point they even leapt over the sleeping form of one where he lay unaware.

They consumed the deck beneath their feet, attacking and counter attacking around masts and barrels, crates and rope. Up to the helm and then down again, Jane using the stairs to gain the high ground and Gunther being so damn tall now that he barely noticed.

The sun burned and her body ached and her heart hammered and Jane felt alive in the way that she only felt with a sword in her hand and someone to challenge her, in a way she had missed for two and a half years.

They would have to stop eventually, of course. They were both hungry and thirsty and it was so hot, but neither of them were relenting. Jane knew her stamina would fail her soon; she was too out of practice to continue much longer. Her movements were slowing again and Gunther could feel it too.

He grinned at her, a wolfish, confident, gloating expression that suggested he had already won.

Glowering, Jane pushed back, waiting . . . Hoping.

"Master Gunther, your food is ready!"

Ah ha.

Gunther was distracted for just an instant as the ship's cook yelled at him, but it was enough. Jane shifted her weight, causing him to lurch forward, equilibrium lost. She dropped low then, hooking her leg around his and pulling him down to the deck where she knelt and lowered her sword to his throat.

"Yield," she gasped, too breathless to say more.

Gunther lay on his back and smiled, far too amused after his sudden fall.

"That was a dirty trick," he said without malice.

Jane shrugged unapologetically.

"Pirates fight dirty too," he continued, and then nodded slightly at Jane's abdomen. "So I have learnt to adapt."

He had a dagger at her ribs, and it was not a blunt one.

They stayed in place, gasping, for several seconds longer, grinning at one another while the sailors roared with excitement around them. Then Gunther withdrew his blade, and called out over Jane's shoulder.

"Take it to my cabin," he told the cook. "You are not what I would call rusty." He added to Jane as she stood up and offered him her hand.

"I feel it," she assured him, gulping lungfuls of air.

"Come along," he clapped a hand on her shoulder. "A drink will surely help."

He handed his sword to one of the sailors clamouring around them, and Jane followed suit.

They passed the stairs and Gunther opened a door beside them, ushering her into a small but comfortable cabin.

There was a bed, a chair at a desk covered in sheets of parchment, and a small table holding two plates of food, a jug and two cups. There was even a small window looking out over the sea, with a red curtain drawn to the side. Her sword and cloak had been placed by the door.

Jane smiled at the bed piled with pillows and linen. Obviously Gunther still enjoyed his sleep.

"Being the boss has its benefits," he was saying, kicking items of clothing under the table. "I do not deny the Captain of his cabin as my father does, but this serves me well enough."

"I imagine the Captain likes you better for it, too," said Jane.

"He tolerates me," Gunther smirked, pouring a drink and passing it to Jane, who drank deeply. It was a rich, red wine.

There was a loud thump outside, and he laughed. "You have inspired them to practice." He told her, as a yell and the clanging of swords could be heard through the cabin door.

"Something I must do more of," Jane said ruefully, rolling her shoulders.

"An opponent helps," Gunther pointed out. "But Dragon does not seem the type."

"No," Jane agreed. "Although occasionally he finds me a dead tree to strike against. I need to find you wandering in marketplaces more often."

"A little more regularly than once in two-and-a-half years would benefit us both. Please." He gestured towards the chair before sitting on the bed, with the table positioned between them.

The food was simple and plentiful, and Jane ate hungrily.

"You caught us at a good time," Gunther said between mouthfuls. "The fresh food will run out soon enough once we are travelling home again and it will be back to salted kipper stew." He grimaced at the thought, making Jane laugh until a small snort escaped and she covered her mouth.

Gunther's eyes twinkled with amusement. "The castle is not the same without you, Jane," he said.

"I can not believe you find my absence so unbearable," she teased.

"You should," he replied, before adding quickly, "We all do. You and Dragon added a great deal of interest -and noise- to our daily lives."

"We returned home after the first year," Jane reminded him. "But you were away on business with your father."

"That was unfortunate," Gunther said, before biting a chunk of meat off his knife.

Jane nodded in agreement. She had not minded at first, as she was busily catching up with her parents and friends, but as the day of her and Dragon's departure drew nearer she found herself anxiously watching the gates, hoping to see his familiar form.

Would it have still been familiar then, she wondered, or had he already done some of the growing that had taken place in her absence? Had she grown at all? It didn't feel like it when they stood side-by-side.

"What?" Gunther asked, breaking her from her reverie, and Jane found herself staring.

"Have I changed?" She asked, without really intending to. "I mean, you are taller."

Gunther leaned back to study her, and Jane fought the urge to look away. He was handsome -had that always been the case?

"You are, unmistakably, Jane Turnkey," he said at last. "But I did not believe my eyes when I saw you this morning. You are a little taller too." He smiled then, teasing her again, but Jane found she did not mind.

He refilled her cup and she drank again before pushing away her empty plate, one hand resting on her stomach.

"That was good," she half groaned. "But too much."

"We rarely entertain guests on board, I think Cook got a little carried away."

Gunther stacked his empty plate on top of Jane's and picked up his wine before leaning back against the pillows on his bed.

"Today has been a rare day," he said, as if speaking to himself.

Jane hummed in agreement, turning to stare out the window as sunset colours played across the water.

"It is getting late," she said, hesitantly.

"Not at all," replied Gunther, reaching out to loosen the tie holding the curtain so that it fell across the view. "See?"

Jane huffed good naturedly. "Perhaps I can stay a little longer, but now we need a lantern."

Gunther pointed to the desk behind her, where Jane found a lantern and lit it. Soft light filled the room, spilling over the parchment pages. Jane glanced across at Gunther and found he had closed his eyes, relaxing in his nest of pillows. She pushed some of the pages aside, her curiosity besting her again.

There were lists of goods traded, goods needed, and other boring business scribbles. There was also . . . Was that poetry? The page was covered with partial verse, crossed out and re-written several times.

"I thought I had thrown that away," said Gunther, startling Jane. She turned to find his gaze on her, gleaming in the lamp light. "I could not get it right."

"You are full of surprises," Jane told him.

He stood up and placed his cup on the table, before stepping towards her. "Allow me to keep some of my secrets or you will soon find me boring." He took the page from her hands and placed it back on the pile on his desk. "Come and tell me about where you will fly next."

He pulled her back across the room to sit beside him on the bed. "Or I can tell you more news from home. Did I mention Pepper and Rake are betrothed?"

Jane laughed, kicking her shoes off and tucking her feet beneath her.

"Is that so? Do tell me more!"


She woke sometime later, her head on Gunther's shoulder and the lantern flickering. She blinked blearily before looking up to find Gunther watching her once more.

"I thought I had dreampt you," he said softly. "Yet here you are."

"And here you are," said Jane in return.

"Here we are," said Gunther, in almost a whisper.

He lowered his head until his lips met hers, tentative and gentle, and perhaps it was the wine, or the way he tasted like home, but Jane kissed back.

On the corner of the desk, the lantern guttered and died.