Chapter Four

Believe, Achieve, Succeed

-Motto of House Black

..

..

..

"That's a little bit extreme isn't it?"

Prince Imrahil simply shrugged watching the mixture of scowling and impressed expression that the heiress of the kingdom of Arnor is making as she observed her father's "surprise gift" for her twenty-first birth day. It had been two years ever since the daughter of their king have landed here and succeeded without help from her father on winning the souls and hearts of the entire kingdom. If she and Sirius ever got into a fight for the crown, Imrahil would bet his castle of Dol Amroth that the illegally-beautiful black-haired princess would trump over her father in spades. Whereas Sirius is noble and good-hearted, wearing his heart on his sleeve, Alya is cunning, wise beyond her years and can be cold-hearted when dealing with justice on the court (as such few it is that appear on the kingdom). Everyone loved their princess and that is saying something since the population of Arnor lacked very little and it takes a great deal to win the absolute loyalty of people who had everything.

As for Imrahil, he'd be lying if he denied that he had fallen to love the Black-haired beauty as a sibling. He still haven't forgotten the debt he and his people owned when Alya showed them the great rice terraces mountains of Dol Amroth only a day's march away from their city and their current food supply. The large farmlands etched on the sides of the three barren mountains looked like it had been carved by giants instead of worked by hands of men.

He had been at her side since then, leaving the rule of Dol Amroth under the regency of his younger brother who like him had been saved by Sirius and brought here. He had quite a talent and hobby for organizing things despite the tender-age of twelve that Imrahil never had, thus he had been the one managing the castle much to the Prince's relief.

That gave him time to focus on more urgent priorities like today, where the Kingdom of Arnor will first introduce themselves to the outside world with Alya Black leading the trade negotiations. Sirius had volunteered to be the one leading it, but the five lords and Alya overruled him, mentioning that as powerful and brave as he may be, he'll be torn apart by cunning merchants who will trump him upside down. Sirius is many things, but not a trader.

That doesn't mean that she would be alone though. Four swan ships would be making the journey, each ship having sixty men and women each handpicked from the Tower of the Guard, the ones in charge of the Royal Family's protection while Alya, her handmaidens and the few merchants that is brave enough to face the outside world once more would be on the final boat with forty of Dol Amroth's knights, chosen by Imrahil and Sirius themselves; honorable and noble men willing to go to the depths of hell for their princess.

Prince Imrahil didn't need the private conversation that his king had taken him to, to make sure that no aspiring boys touch her daughter or leer at her in such frivolous ways not befitting her station. The cleaver that he had strapped at the edge of his belt would be the perfect tool that would be called into service if that ever happens. Nobody looking down at his surrogate sister for simply being a woman and a baby-maker would be able to escape the wrath of that particular weapon then.

"At least he succeeded on surprising you princess," replied Imrahil neutrally, he had tried arguing with Sirius that his "surprise gift" is a little bit extreme, but the man insisted on it since it would be a "surprise" after all. He had warned his king about it but the man as eccentric as ever wanted to impress his daughter.

"Oh I am surprise alright. And impressed if I might add; in fact, I believe that the next ten generations of this world would be both surprised and impressed?" sarcasm dripped from her every word and Imrahil can't help but wince slightly. She had a point there.

The Argonath, Sirius called it, two massive three hundred and fifty statues of him and Alya standing parallel side by side with their palms out to the open waters. It is the only entrance to Arnor due to the reefs guarding the narrow straight that leads to the bays of the great island nation. Any ship that tried sailing past the sides of the Argonath would be wrecked immediately by the reefs. It is also the only indication through the mists of the Sunset Sea going west, farther west than the ships of this age dared to tread. It is said that this part of the ocean is where the storms are born, but what many don't know is that passed the storms is the great Mist which is Arnor's borders and passed that is the Argonath which opens to the Sea of silver, as the Arnorians call it thanks to the millions of flying silver fish that tends to keep up with the Swan ships of Arnor every time they sailed the Calm Sea.

"You had to admit that it is a marvel of architecture though," pointed out Imrahil as the Swan ship bearing the colors of Minas Tirith passed the looming shadows of the massive statues.

"It is indeed," nodded Alya, Imrahil mentally sighing in relief at the now pleased expression on her face. "Our artisans truly have exceeded themselves this time,"

Despite himself, Imrahil can't help but chuckle in agreement. One of Alya's greatest traits that her people admired is her faith on them and their success. That's one of the reasons why they tried so hard to do their best, only if to make their beloved princess proud. Imrahil's good mood however went to the drain at the sudden mischievous look that appeared on Alya's face, the only indication that she is up to something that will embarrass him again with either words or actions. No matter how….serious she is sometimes, her blood is their king's also and with that came….pranks and a million jokes along with it.

"I had one question though Imrahil, why in the world is your face not there?"

Imrahil sighed as he knew that this would be one long journey for him.

..

..

..

There's nothing more boring than standing on watch duty, it doesn't matter if you're a soldier or a princeling. Syrio Forel, also known as the First Sword of Braavos is unfortunately stuck on one such duty. Not because of punishment, no, no far from it in fact. The First Sword is not only the protector of the Sealord but also his representative on the arriving merchants and traders a few hours a day. It's basically propaganda to make the people more welcome at Braavos and entice even more people to come to their city due to their hospitality. That's the reason why only nobles and very few peasants arise to the position of First Sword. Having correct education and awareness of the merchant trade and how to interact with different representatives that come here to do business with the Iron Bank is needed. After all it won't do for Braavos to accidentally insult a customer due to ignorance on propriety.

That doesn't negate the fact that it is still boring work.

Three hours now Syrio had been standing on the same spot ignoring the heat of the sun beating down on his head and the soreness of his knees as the permanent smile on his face remain plastered as he greeted another noble from another city. It is tiring and boring work, but one that is required from the honor of holding the title as First Sword.

The First Sword of Braavos however was broken out of his stupor of boredom at the loud gasps that came from the people on the docks. Frowning a bit as he saw the gathered crowd staring at the Southern part of the wooden posts, Syrio strode forward, people standing aside as they recognized the surcoat of his leather armor and his position as he checked what is causing the commotion.

It did not take long for him to find out.

At the light of the morning sun, four sails that he didn't recognize approaches in speeds that he had never seen yet before. Black is their colors, with a white tree and five stars imprinted at the middle of the square. The four boats shone like silver as they glided easily like seabirds on the coasts towards the docks. Estimating their speed and the distance, Syrion guessed that it would take them at least another fifteen minutes before they finally reached his position.

"Call the city guard," ordered Syrio Forel immediately to one of the hired guards who had also gathered to check the commotion startling him. "Have them gather here immediately and in full livery,"

"You!" he turned to one of the slimmer merchants who looked like a lot fitter compared to the other lub of whales those merchants tend to be. "Go to the Sealord's palace and tell him that there are unknown ships approaching. Have him send notice to the Iron Bank, we may need their men if these unknown ships plan to invade,"

It is not the first time ambitious pirates or warlords tried on invading Braavos after all, not with the Iron Bank situated here.

"Yes sir," the merchant bowed before bursting off to the Sea Lord's palace as if the Seven Hells is running after him leaving Syrio Forel and the people who is slowly being pushed back by what City Guard that is assigned to the docks to relative safety just in case a fight would happen.

It was only a few minutes of waiting, but for the First Sword of Braavos, it was almost an eternity as he stood there with his hand on the pommel of his sword as the Swan-designed-ships finally reached the docking harbor, the black sails closing, and a fine contrast to the white wooden colors of the ships.

He nodded to the guards that are the substitute for the normal dock workers who immediately sprang into action catching the ropes thrown from the ships to tie into the harbor while preparing the plank that served as the walkway from the stone cobblestones to the ships side. Waving the other remaining men to follow him, Syrio Forel walked forward, and stopped a few steps on the cobblestones away from where the plank is interconnected as he waited for the newcomers. He could feel the harbor master at his side almost rattling the stones in his nervousness.

The first impression that Syrio got immediately is "rich", and that is stated in an undermining manner. Pairs of men stepped out from the ship, each taller than a head from the guards that helped tie the ship to the pier. Their armor is finely crafted, finer than anything that Syrio has ever seen in his life. Its metal is literally gleaming on the morning sun alongside the silver lining it had on its sides. The symbol that is flown on their sails before are engraved on each man's breastplate with the same color of the metal of their armor. Their helms are unique too, it is oddly shaped like wings going up and the only part of the men that Syrio can see is their piercing eyes as a black cloth covered the lower part of their nose and their faces. Black capes trailed behind them as they held the spears of metal at their hands giving each an aspiring look. In fact, the only flesh that Syrio can see from them is their eyes and the upper part of their noses, everything else is covered with light metal armor or black cloth. His warrior instincts are screaming danger at him that these men are dangerous and it would be a bad idea to fight anyone of them.

"So this is Braavos," a musical voice brought Syrio out of his observation at the guards who immediately bowed on their knees and heads as the most beautiful woman that Syrio had ever seen stepped out of the boat.

Beautiful women had been a common cause for leaders of the Free Cities in Essos to fight over. Syrio himself had called it folly. He never believed that beauty could be a reason for men to spill their blood over. However seeing the noble beauty standing in front of him right now, Syrio found himself evaluating that if there is one woman kingdoms would fight and die over for, this was one.

Her hair is colored in ebony with high cheekbones, piercing blue and black eyes with the fairest face that he had the lucky to see. She's a lithe figure but tall and had the bearing of someone who can put even the more stuck-up nobles to shame but not let you feel as if you are insulted. Her beautiful smile promised something akin to mischievousness, showing a light that witnessed many things both good and bad.

In fact this beautiful woman, barely out of girlhood took the word "beauty" on astonishing heights. This was a gem at which kings and gods would fight and die over for.

Her attire is also different from any other woman or man he had ever seen. Instead of dresses or loose clothes and tunic, she wore instead a simple light blue shirt hugging her body and bearing witness to its shapely form. The cloak she wore he had not seen its design before, in fact it looks like another shirt instead made of black leather with an open front that showed the shirt she wore beneath. This one however is loose. The pants she wore are also black and like her shirt, hugged every contour and line of her shapely legs. In fact, she made the clothes that men wear extremely feminine and arousing in a very unknown manner.

Walking a few steps back, looking like her personal guards are men who wore almost the same design as the armor of the ones who disembarked first. Unlike them however their armor had blue linings at the edges supporting also a blue cape and a crescent helm instead of the winged ones of the guard. Piercing grey eyes all of them had roaming curiously over the docks, to the gathered people and the ships.

"Good morning my lady," greeted Syrio Forel diplomatically bowing in respect to the black-haired beauty who had walked forward to him, the other men stepping after her. "Welcome to the grand city of Braavos. I am Syrio Forel, the First Sword of this city and let me be the first to welcome you,"

"Indeed," nodded the woman in front of him with a neutral smile that almost disarmed Syrio right there and then. How could someone looking so trusting bear ill will?

"Truly the tales held little imagination to the beauty of your city. I am Alya Black, eldest daughter of King Sirius Black of the Kingdom of Arnor and all its supporting realms,"

Syrio's eyes immediately widened as the word "Daughter of a King" registered on his mind as he bowed low befitting this…princess' station.

"Forgive me your grace, I didn't know that you are a….,"

"Oh stand up already. I don't want people flopping down like dying fishes the moment they see me," groaned the girl gesturing for Syrio to straighten up, looking curiously at the guards of the Princess snickering while she held a small scowl.

"This man beside me…," the princess gestured to a long-haired man with piercing grey eyes and a look that literally screamed "I am a handsome knight, come and see!"…is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, one of my father's vassals,"

"It is an honor to meet you First Sword of Braavos," the knight greeted extending a hand forward that Syrio immediately took.

"Just Syrio would do fine Prince Imrahil," smiled the shorter man before letting it go as he stared at the Princess in front of him.

"Forgive me for asking your Grace, but tell me. What is your purpose for coming here with so much many men? Braavos would not tolerate invasion or to be forced as vassals for any kingdom,"

"And you not need worry Syrio Forel," replied Alya raising a hand in peace. "We've come to Braavos with the same intention that every merchant come here for, to trade. The fame of Braavos as a merchant city roamed far and wide and since my father's kingdom now pulled up the isolationists policy that we have for the first time. I found it prudent to choose your city as the first one that our kingdom would connect with. Did I make a mistake coming here?"

"No, of course not your grace," smiled Syrio quite glad that he's not supposed to tangle with any of this men standing in front of him. He is interested however on sparring with them, if only to state his curiosity as to how they fight.

"So that's why I haven't heard about any kingdom named Arnor. Braavos is honored that you chose our city to meet first. Since this is your first time here and for the praise on our city, all docking fees for your ships would be free this time. Any goods that you buy for today will also be deducted. However you're Grace, if it isn't much of a problem. Would you mind accompanying me to the residence of the Sealord. His eminence would be honored to meet you your grace and formally welcome you to our city. It's not every day we received such beautiful and eloquent dignitaries," said Syrion flamboyantly as the Princess stared at Prince Imrahil in a silent exchange of words before the Prince of Dol Amroth finally nodded.

"I'll come with you alongside Prince Imrahil and our guard," the Princess finally said gesturing to the forty or so grey eyed men who had stood in formation at her words. "The rest of my men will stay here and set up a small stall where we might showcase the goods that we have brought to trade from my homeland. Is that acceptable First Sword?"

"Of course it would be Princess. I'll send the runners throughout the city to inform the masses of your presence here. Mayhaps they would be interested on the merchandise that you have come to sell,"

"Good, now lead the way, Syrio Forel,"

"Of course your Grace," the First Sword of Braavos gestured to ten of the guards to the flanks to stop the curious crowd from coming too close to this new dignitary as he led them through the…nicer…streets towards the Sealord's palace. He made a mental note though to batter on the field later the three guards at the rear guard to pieces. They could cause an international incident with the way they're ogling the shapely rear of the Princess of Arnor through her pants.

..

..

..

AN: For some of your questions readers. I'm sorry if you're wondering as to why Harry is female here and ive got quite a few messages about the f/f.

Im sorry if I didn't state it right. Alya would be like Oberyn interested on the other sex as well as the fairer one. The pairing here correctly would be (Alya X Elia X "the one who is supposed to be her official husband" still under thoughts). So that's that for now. Hope ya like the first contact readers.

Please Review if you can. The more opinions there are, the better inspired I would be for writing this.

PS: Forgive me for not updating regularly, I've got Preliminary exams next week.