A Fist Full of Stags; A Dragon's Lure

The Corsair

The smell. Of all the sensations of reaving he never thought he'd ever get used to the smell. The roasting of a pillaged settlement was unlike any other. The heavy charcoal scent mixed with the sharp tang of roasting flesh. If they were lucky it would only be the salted pork put away for winter that would sting their nostrils. Casually he mounted the crest of the holdfast's ramparts. A paltry thing, it was little more than a longhouse surrounded by a stone stockade. It had given the iron men less than a moment's pause as they scaled it with climbing hooks and grapnels. A shame really he had been looking forward to a decent fight; if only to blood in the newer members of his crews. He had left the isles with a mean enough harvest, mostly youths with grand ideas and dreams of plunder or stone faced pious types forever muttering about the purity of the old way without ever having left sight of shore. Scarce ten men of noble stock stood with him and his meagre fleet of five longships had to suffice. Even his flagship, Salt Wife's Caress, would only class as a middling class of long ship in the iron fleet. But what more could the disgraced third son of a house with already dubious heritage expect? No, that privilege would have to be earned, to carve his name into the isles that all would tremble at the word of his coming. Daelleon Greyjoy had work to do he thought as he turned back toward the open doors of the longhouse, its sickly scent wafting toward him as the screams wailed from within. Oh yes. Every song needs a beginning; let us go write the first verse.

The man was cowering by the throne when he found him, quivering and blubbering like a scolded page. With a rough jerk, the mailed fist of Eurek Codd wrenched him forward, stumbling to land at Daelleon's feet. 'Pathetic' Codd sneered, striking the man across the back of his head with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. The man was a wreck, his clothes torn an empty scabbard at his waist, a single sign of defiance that had been token at best. He had lost a mere four raiders in putting this village to the sword. Barely worth the effort but it gave his crew a chance to exorcise some of their demons, give them a taste of things to come. They had come like wolves from the woods, borne upon swift easterly winds; by the time they had rounded the headland behind which the village sheltered it had been too late. They had descended with fire and sword, raping and killing like the great Krakens of old. His motto was We Do not Sow but in this soil he had planted a seed, one that would grow in the hearts of men. He had but to water it with the blood of those like the man who cowered before him. Erik lifted the man bodily, a savage glee lighting his eyes, slamming him into the backrest of the carved wooden throne at the longhouse's heart. 'Good morrow nuncle' Daelleon said with a smile as he crouched before the man. 'My mother named me Daelleon what's yours?' The man moaned and wept, blubbering like a infant. Daelleon rolled his eyes. Why was it always so difficult to find civility? 'We could discuss the weather but I feel your mind may be on other things' Daelleon straddled the chair in front of him, his piercing blue eyes finding tan brown of the village elder's. 'why?!' the man blubbered as Codd shook him once again. Mewling he repeated the question over and over. "Because you were born of the land, growing fat and indolent. It has made you weak. All this easy living you've enjoyed cowering under the protection of Volantis, it's killed you' gesturing to Codd, Daelleon rose. Eurek looped a cord around the man's neck, hauling him upright against the hardwood of the throne's back. The man squirmed trying to work his fingers underneath the cord's grip. Just enough to restrain him not quite enough to cause his vision to darken. Eurek was good at that. Casually slipping his knife from it sheath Daelleon took his time crossing over to the man, making sure to keep the exquisitely polished blade firmly in the man's field of vision. 'We are of the sea. And like the oceans that spawned us we are wont to fall upon the land sweeping all before us' With the tenderness of a lover he caressed the elder's cheek with the razor sharp tip of the blade allowing but a single drop of blood to trickle down the man's face. 'Our home makes us strong. The strong take what they will; the weak suffer what they must'

' But we have nothing'

'O I wouldn't say that. A man may consume all he takes. Coin can be spent. Articles lost but there is one thing more valuable than all of it. Information'

'The ship?' The village elder's eyes went wide.

'The ship' Daelleon smiled with the sadistic curl of lip, reminiscent of a shark that had blood in its nostrils. It had taken him four months, three cities and an unpleasant episode in a brothel to lead him to this village. 'but you cant possibly hope to…' The man said an incredulous hint creeping into his voice.

' Hope? No my good fellow it is more than a hope; some mindless ambition concocted in the arms of a tavern wench' he smiled his rictus grin. His high valyrian was passable as it should be having spent half his life combing through the brothels of essos. 'The only snag I've hit upon is that ship's route is proving damned difficult to find seeing as for some strange reason it's owners have chosen to arrange escorts from every major port'

'Why us?'

'You see the ship is being kept secret. In the larger centres anything they need is readily available. No need to stockpile or divulge to busy body clerks or harbourmasters until arrival. Stop's them earning a sideliner and wetting their beaks I suppose' he mused wistfully. The knife danced along the elder's ear. 'Now we come to the wrinkle I mentioned earlier; some noble minded soul burned the ledger meaning the way of getting that information is for you to divulge it. He nodded to Eurek, who produced a pair of pliers from his belt. 'So my friend…will you tell me of Belicho's Ram?' It was then the screaming began.

The Reaver

'Why do you always dress straight after?' The question was odd from a whore but Aurageon, the Lord of Smiles, had to admit it was a valid one. The girl who'd asked was slightly petite but her slender torso gave way to a womanly waist and long slender legs of alabaster. She smiled at him from across the room, reclining leisurely in the large armchair opposite the bed.

'Because' he said pulling on supple boots of dark calfskin leather that reached to his knees 'I have had the occasion to be caught in these situations before' he flashed her the rakish smile that was reputed to have melted half the hearts of the Pentoshi nobility. 'There are no jealous husband's here' she replied the hint of a coy smile creeping to the corner of her alabaster mouth. "Men have an odd notion of ownership once they pay for something. All the same better not to be caught with my…trousers down as it were'. Aurageon's hand slid to the top of his boots. Good, still there he thought. With the Grace of panther she slunk from her repose and playfully crawled across the bed, one silken hand moving to brush a stray black lock from his face. Aurageon was not an unattractive man, his long hair was usually tied back to accentuate his high cheekbones and his overall demeanour left the impression of a man well formed but not entirely memorable. A trait he himself considered an advantage in his line of work where anonymity could be crucial. He was tall, yes but not freakishly so standing a few inches over six feet, his body leant itself to that of a lithe dancer; muscular but not overly bulky. His brother had once said he had the grace of jaguar with twice the cunning. The only truly exceptional quality was his eyes which were the roiling green of the southern oceans, one moment emerald another almost grey. 'Whenever you dress I fear you'll leave' the girl pouted. He looked away from her gaze. 'Is it me you'd rather remain? Or maybe my purse' a puckish smile beginning to curl his lips. 'In this city you'll find the two are joined at the hip. Some girls would charge you double' quick as a viper he snaked his arm around her waist and lifted her into the air. She squealed; half in surprise half in delight.

'And some girls would charge me nothing at all' he said kissing her. Tentatively she returned his kiss before he deposited her on the bed. Sprawling herself, she reached for a ewer of wine that stood on the night table. 'Don't let Priscilla hear you saying that' she warned. 'None of her girls give charity. We earn or we're out on the street. Forced to steal, starve or service who knows what'

'As if I'd ever let that happen to you'

'You may be the first man to say that sober and after' She poured two cups and handed one to him. "I may even be inclined to believe you…if you hadn't told Camille the same thing on your last visit to us' she smirked. He took the cup raised it to his lips and hesitated. She caught the motion laughed and drained her glass. 'Your purse is still far too full for that' she laughed 'exactly what must you think of we Lyseni?'

'That you practise arts second to none. The first is this' he said as his hand snaked between her legs. Her eyes closed as she began to sigh. 'I wondered if I'd experienced the peerless skills of Lys what other specialities you might introduce me to' withdrawing his hand he smiled and strode to the open window, throwing back the heavy velvet curtains. The dying embers of sunset filtered in tanning her pale skin gold. 'You don't play fair' she said.

'Show me the advantage in fair and maybe I'll consider it' he smiled.

'Naughty boy' she scolded in mock chastisement. He strolled over, draining his goblet, to lie next to her. Almost instinctually she slid a hand across him and rested her golden locks across his bare chest. 'Have you ever been to the Summer Isles?'

'Why do men of the seas always think a girl will be impressed by their journeys? In a lover it serves to remind us of your near permanent absence' a cheeky smirk accompanied the barb. ' So you don't want to hear of the wondrous world I have seen?'

'I would…if you could remember my name'

Seven hells he thought. She'd stumped him there. His mind ran like quicksilver through a veritable cornucopia of names but none seemed to quite fit. He was not a religious man but he'd thank the mother and the maiden for a little inspiration.

'I thought angels had no names; only faces' this elicited a chuckle from his bed mate as she gave him a light slap in consternation and proceeded to kiss him. Given his leave he waxed lyrical about the wonders of Tall Trees Town, of the great golden heart trees of the colours sights and sounds of the metropolis, the skill of its sailors and the energy of its people. His tales spun on as she lightly drew her fingers in shapes across his chest. Of the wonders of the long bridge of Volantis and the great obsidian walls of the Old city. Wherever his travels took her he neglected to mention the women. Of the beauty and ferocity of maidens; from darkest night to palest moonlight, they all somehow escaped his recollection. Doubtless she had heard many similar tales within the last week but he let the time slip by in his rambling occasionally indulging in wine where his stories lagged.

Finally as he saw the last light of day scamper from below the sill of the window he rose. Reaching for the ocean azure shirt that rested over the back of a chair in by the night stand. He kissed her once more, whispering platitudes and promises as he slipped from her embrace and left. The pouch of silver on the nightstand a little heavier than had been agreed. The corridor was cool outside, the air hitting his lightly perspiring flesh and sending a shiver through his frame. "Thought you'd be in there all night' said a gruff voice from the darkness. In the half-light of candles burning low a man stepped forward, his baldhead gleaming in the soft glow of hallway. He was big; the was no other word to describe him. Standing taller than Aurageon he was thickly muscled, broad in both chest and waist in a jacket of studded brown leather. "What can I say she was a great conversationalist'

'Coming from you I can only imagine the maiden would be the crone before you were done'

'All quiet?'

'From what I can see. Jonaquil is below drinking with some Bravoosi. Not bad sort but asking questions'

'Best to make ourselves scarce before questions become blades or worse: the Sealord's curiosity'. They started down the stairs passing a slip of a girl with an armful of candles. Exchanging a glance, the big man said 'evening shift lighting?'

'Five stags says she takes her time and listens at every keyhole' Aurageon whispered. "Out the back it is then, away from prying eyes'.

They entered a large, lavishly draped common room bedecked in a riot of colours from deep violets to palest yellow and pink. Curtains of sheer silk and large comfortable sofas served to offer respite for the patrons as scantly clad girls of every form corralled and giggled entertaining customers that would no doubt soon be led up to one of the well appointed rooms that occupied the upper floors. Who would look at them twice with such an ocular feast? They spotted Jonaquil in one of the curtained booths sharing a silver jug of dark wine with men dressed in deep purple, pointed black beards to a man. 'Lucille?' the single word was directed at the Pale skinned Pentoshi amongst them. A shake of the head made his golden curls swirl like a dancers dress. "Gentleman you will have to excuse my dear friend' he said as the man rose. 'If you are looking for good sport there is a summer islander called Akalya who I'm sure you would greatly enjoy'

' We fuck no slaves. we are Bravoosi. Men of honour' The tallest of the men said moving his heavy fur coat aside to reveal a thin bladed dagger at his hip. Aurageon glanced toward the door; to the big Dothraki, his bronze skinned hand never too far from a wicked looking arakh.

'In that case we beg you pardon' he bowed deep

'We had mistaken this for a brothel. Mother forgive us' the big man said cracking a shark's grin. Aurageon shot him a sharp look. All three extended a deep bow and then turned toward a small, unassuming door in the shadow of the grand staircase. As he reached for the handle, a hand seized his arm. Spinning on his heel his hand went to top of his boot. He looked into the eyes of a Westerosi larger than the big man and twice as ugly. "The Mistress wants a word with you, Arg of Oldtown'.

Aurageon rolled his shoulders, loosening the stiffness. They had not been gentle when they patted him down. Some might call it down right invasive. A curved dagger of smoky grey steel with a dragon bone hilt lay on the desk in front of him. Why do I keep it in my boot?! He raged at himself. It was always the first place they checked. He considered the room before him. It was lit only by candle light which emanated from the large ornate oaken desk behind which was sat a woman of middling years, age had done little to strip her of the great beauty she must have been but it had leant her an austere aura so at odds with the frolicking temptations of her workforce that he was surprised they shared an occupation. She was dressed in a long woollen skirt exposing little but hinting at broad hips which lay beneath. What paltry viewing existed was seen through her yellow slashed satin sleeves that billowed from the deep tan leather of her bodice. Maybe that was the point; to separate her from the sordid world she surrounded herself with. Focussing he saw obscure outlines in the shadows behind her; two figures in spiked helmets and leather chest plates standing to attention just at the edge of vision, never fully present but peripherally too close to ever be forgotten. Even as he mused at the irony of unsullied working in a brothel his attention was brought back to the Westerosi. He had a wild greying beard with crow's feet at his eyes and skin drawn tight at his cheeks. In his red fur trimmed cloak he was huge; seeming to swallow the space behind his mistress. A northerner or Aurageon would throw himself into the lagoon of Bravos. At least they'd left him his big man, standing quietly in a corner likewise disarmed.

'Honoured as I am to meet the proprietor, I do have to ask what I've done to earn the pleasure?' he said cracking a winning smile and trying to look as innocent as the Maiden herself.

'come now' the woman said in a voice entirely too soft for his liking. 'From what I hear you are a shrewd man let us dispense with pretence'

'If this is about the daggers…'

'While that was a sour au d'oevre, I think it would be better if we spoke about the heart of the matter' her high valyrian had a certain alluring tang to it. He could tell when he was being played with.

'whatever it is, its plain to see you have an interest'

'and why do you imagine that?'

'because if you didn't we'd be halfway to the bottom of the harbour by now'

"You are a shrewd one if not a little reliant on stereotype'

'I find there tends to be stock in reputation; it had to have been earned…trust me I know'.

'My my!' the madam clapped her hands with a giggle 'the girls told me you had a silver tongue…it extends to speech. Show him Cregan' She gestured to the northerner who produced an ornately wrought warhammer chased in silver, myrish work, two and a half feet long capped with a butt spike and headed by a toothed head and crow's beak. Aurageon looked at her quizzically. 'Has the Archon made carrying weapons illegal?'

'It betrays you not by its presence but by the story it tells' she said leaning toward him and fingering the head of the warhammer. 'You submit it to Yaro on arrival and every time he tells me that there is a new notch here or a scratch there…'

'Weapons are for protection. The man with the clean sword is usually the one they bury'

'Tell me how poor of a merchant are you if you run into trouble every time you leave port, dangerous waters are rarely crossed twice' she smiled wryly. She had trapped him. There was no way of manoeuvring. 'I think you are not the merchant you claim. Your purse is always full and yet you are known to do regular business with none of the major suppliers in this city. A good trader needs regular contacts and yet you never appear to sell the same thing twice.'

'And how would a madam come to hear such things'

'Because my girls service the men you sell to; here and in Volantis, Pentos and any other place they hear of the lord of smiles. Happy men like to talk'. She sat back considering him as her slender pale fingers interlocked in front of her great almond shaped purple eyes. Aurageon stayed silent. 'It occurs to me that your cargo changes because the ships you rob changes, and that of late corresponds to the men who end up in her bed' she snapped her fingers and a figure came into the light. She was a tall girl, womanly in shape with pert breasts, ash white hair tied in long braid that reached her navel. She wore a silk dress so sheer it was almost transparent, the curve of her thighs visible when she moved. Large ocean pools of blue stared out from dark pits of artificially shadowed sockets. No tears. Had she given him up freely then? He sighed. Lucille.

He sat in the half-light considering his options. After a moment he spoke. 'You have the right of it I suppose. But before you haul me off consider one thing; my ship sits in harbour along with all the others'

'Don't worry boy I know you are discreet, subtle with a taste of restraint. The fact you haven't got the navies of the three daughters looking for you is the reason your not lying in an alley with your throat open'

'This establishment is a wonder. You are clearly a businesswoman. So…let us speak of how we can be friendly with each other.'

' A man of your…enterprise already knows the value of information and where to source it' she said gesturing to Lucille. 'Men talk idly, especially to the girls they view of as nothing more than playthings; functions with no faculties other than the one's they use'

'And that is what you would provide'

'Naturally I would curtail such information to allay suspicion from this house. If affluent merchants no longer port here then we both lose'. Aurageon leant back considering the offer, she would dictate his access to prizes…that would be difficult to swing with the crew but potentially could mean a greater breadth.

'My contacts are far reaching there is barely a vessel leaves harbour in the three daughters and Pentos I can't provide. Insurance, escort…my girls can pry it all. One sigh at a time'

'Lys isn't a city that thrived on charity and no man found aught but his doom in unfounded kindness; what do you get out of this?'

'Why my dear boy' she said leaning forward till he could taste the sent on her, intoxicating, flooding his senses and stirring the great beast in his chest, whispering in his ear 'forty per cent of course'. He laughed

'they said easterners were swindlers and con artists when I left home but I never believed it till this day'

' A fair offer, with the trade I stand to lose'

'Better five per cent of something than forty of nothing. My crew will desert me within the week on those terms; I'd like to see an empty ship board a galleass'

'Thirty then and special cases will be negotiated separately'

'Ten and my bosun, quartermaster and I get a discount on the girls' he said eying Lucille hungrily, she really was the most exquisite of creatures.

'Twenty with the discount and I get the use of your ship for certain…irregular items'

'Now now my dear lady, you cant just add smuggling to our agreement. As you said we were good honest gentlemen of fortune' a smile creased his lips, the wicked grin of one who realised this woman who had such a distain for the services she sought of him was not above a sideliner or two herself. He leant forward considering his options; on the one hand she held an open palm that may make him rich and his job safer. On the other if he failed to cut a deal he would be dead before the sun rose.

'Fifteen…with the irregulars'

'They told me you were a smart boy' she said nipping his ear affectionately as she withdrew. 'Fifteen! The men will be outraged!' the big man finally spoke.

'I'll square it with them' Aurageon shot as he turned to glare at his quartermaster. Reclining the madam smiled with great mirth.

'As a sweetener I have something for you; a sign of our new partnership'

'If your whispers are so valuable why haven't you offered your services to some king or other?' he jibbed.

'I'm sure she's serviced many a king' the big man snorted derisively. Cregan moved quicker than he imagined possible for a man of his size, half drawing the longsword belted at his hip but his mistress waved him back.

'What do you know of Belicho's Ram?' He looked at her puzzled.

'Nothing'

'In a few days that will be everything…in the mean time' she gestured to Lucille. The girl stepped forward her arm slipping inside his, fixing his gaze. His green meeting her blue.

'Avail yourself of our hospitality'

Lucille led him toward the door. 'Before you go I would know your name'

'Arg of Oldtown'

'No no your real name ser' she said standing. 'All this time trading and not one shipment of arbour gold or dornish red? If you were a reachman surely the contacts you had there would lead you to some goods from that far flung post?'

' A shrewd woman is a blessing from the crone and mother. And if that isn't the two men pray to least for they walk him hand in hand to the stranger'

'Your true name' she insisted. He bowed low his hand over his heart

'Aurageon Waters, Bastard of High Tide at your service ma'am'

'Then Aurageon Waters, we can be of use to one another'

" I would remind you of your own words and advise you to keep to them' he said as he turned for the door. "And what do you mean by that' a sneer sneaking into her tone.

'Beware. Dangerous Waters are rarely crossed twice'