Chapter 6

Fredas, 13th of Evening Star, 4E 204

King's Landing

The tension and anticipation of war lingered in the air as the soldiers prepared for the oncoming battle. Stannis Baratheon was fast approaching with 200 ships, outnumbering the Lannister fleet and the Lannister soldiers. The rest of the army was with Tywin Lannister at Harrenhall, according to Tyrion, and would not reach King's Landing in time to reinforce the soldiers. For now, the city was on its own. Nakos looked down from a balcony onto the stone courtyard. Several soldiers were practicing their archery skills on targets while others were sparring with each other. The Hound was down there too, watching them silently. The sight reminded him of Solitude as he trained with the Imperial Legion during the Skyrim Civil War. Nakos could tell that the soldiers were nervous and afraid. He could understand; even the most hardened soldiers felt fear, especially when they were outnumbered. It didn't matter how many battles a soldier fought. One can never shake the fact that every battle could always be their last.

Cheers from down below caught Nakos' attention. He looked down to see Mjoll sparring with another soldier and she appeared to have the upper hand. All the men cheered as Mjoll kicked the soldier to the ground and placed the point of Grimsever at his neck. She had won. Nakos applauded from his spot on the balcony.

Mjoll looked up and saw him, "Nakos!" she called out, "A few of the men would like to train with you."

"Of course." Nakos walked down from the balcony to the group and pointed out two of the soldiers. "You two."

"Two, Ser Nakos?" One of the soldiers asked. "Why two?"

"Do you always expect to be fighting one-on-one in the battlefield? What if one of your enemy's fellow soldiers comes to his aid and you find yourself fighting two at once?"

The soldiers murmured in agreement.

Nakos drew his ebony swords, "Come."

The two soldiers stood across from him, and began their attack. Nakos moved swiftly, using his great agility to his advantage. He always kept one soldier in between him and the other soldier and fended them off. The friendly bout continued for several minutes. One soldier then ran at Nakos, sword high above his head. Nakos quickly backed up, keeping the soldier between him and the other soldier. He blocked the soldier's swing with one sword and quickly countered with a strike to the soldier's right leg with the other sword. The soldier fell to his right knee and Nakos quickly tapped him on the back of the neck with one sword, "Dead."

He moved towards the second soldier, who attacked with a wide horizontal swing. Nakos blocked the stroke with both swords and countered with a strike to the man's neck, stopping just before the sword made contact, "Dead." The men cheered loudly.

"What about you, Hound?" Mjoll asked. The men grew quiet as they looked at Sandor, awaiting his response.

The Hound scoffed, "I could easily beat them all. It wouldn't be a fair fight"

"Who said anything about fighting them?" Mjoll smirked, "Care to fight me?"

Murmurs and chuckles rippled among the soldiers.

"Do you think you can?" The Hound shot back as he drew his sword.

"We shall see."

The two squared off against each other. Mjoll was beaming and the Hound was smirking. The soldiers watched with earnest as they circled each other, feeling each other out. But soon the bout began. Both Mjoll and the Hound were very evenly matched and it was unclear who had the upper hand. Then, in a quick succession of strikes, the Hound seemed to gain the advantage. His quick attacks forced Mjoll to quickly back away as she continued to block them. The Hound quickly placed the blade at her neck, "You're dead, Lioness." Cheers and laughter erupted from the soldiers.

She smiled, "So are you… Hound." She glanced down. The Hound followed her gaze and found Grimsever right at his inner thigh.

At that, all the soldiers cheered and laughed even louder and some even began chanting, "Lioness! Lioness! Lioness!"

"The Hound and the Lioness!" A soldier called out and everyone cheered. Nakos was laughing right along with them. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate slightly as the men laughed and joked with each other.

"Ser Nakos," a voice came from behind Nakos. He turned around sharply to see Podrick, Tyrion's squire.

"Podrick," Nakos acknowledged, "What is it?"

"Lord Tyrion wishes to speak with you promptly."

Nakos nodded, "Lead the way."

Podrick bowed and quickly led Nakos away towards the Tower of the Hand. Mjoll watched as they left.

The Hound walked up to her, "You fought well, Lioness. Are all women fighters where you come from?"

"Not all," Mjoll responded, "Women are free to choose their occupation. If they want to join the army, they can. If they wish to be a sellsword, they can. If they want to stay home and open up a shop, they can. Women are not confined to staying at home or being a noblewoman."

"Women fighting in an army alongside men? Now that is something I would like to see."

"You may see it soon enough."

"You will fight alongside us?"

Mjoll nodded.

The Hound eyed Mjoll up and down, "For all the fighting you've done, I don't see any scars."

Mjoll leaned in his ear, "I have no scars that you can see."

Tyrion's chamber was silent as Tyrion pored through stacks of books. Bronn sat across from him, cleaning his fingernails with his dagger. Nakos stood at another table, surveying a map of King's Landing. Neither of them had said much for a long time. As Nakos focused on the map in front of him, he was once again reminded of Solitude. He, General Tullius, and Legate Rikke had pored over a strategy battle map many times as they made their plans to reunify Skyrim. Nakos didn't really have a great mind for strategy like General Tullius had, but Nakos did learn a few things from him. One of them was still fresh in Nakos' mind: "Avoid where the enemy is strong and strike where the enemy is weak." If Stannis was as smart as General Tullius, then he would probably strike at a weak point in King's Landing's defense.

"You should start wearing the gold cloak." Tyrion's voice snapped Nakos out of his thoughts. "Both of you."

"I don't want to wear a gold cloak." Bronn retorted.

"Neither do I," Nakos added, glancing up from the map.

"Both of you are commanders of the City Watch." Tyrion pointed to Bronn, "You shouldn't be dressed like a common sellsword." He then pointed to Nakos, "And your armor would barely survive in battle. The Gold Cloak's steel armor would suit you much better."

"You'd be surprised at what my Nightingale armor can do," Nakos responded. "I've tempered it so it can withstand even more damage than steel armor."

Tyrion sighed, "If you say so."

"I don't like the cloak they wear," Bronn grumbled, "A cloak slows you down in a fight, makes it hard to move quietly. And the gold catches the light, so you're nice and easy to spot at night."

Nakos nodded, "I agree. I prefer the shadows and sneaking around, though my cloak as never been a problem for me. And my armor is black, so it's much harder to spot me."

"Well, you're not sneaking through alleyways any longer." Tyrion scoffed.

Nakos smirked, "How do you know I'm not?" Tyrion looked at him speechless. "I'm kidding."

Tyrion shook his head, "You're supposed to stand out."

"We had a deal," Bronn affirmed, "and wearing a gold cloak wasn't part of it. Am I right, Nakos?"

Nakos nodded, but said nothing.

"Fine, fine," Tyrion relented, "No gold cloak."

Nakos went back to looking at the map. The room was quiet again for a while. Then Bronn groaned, "I'm not doing anything. Why am I here?"

"To help me plan the defense of King's Landing," Tyrion answered. "Stannis will be here any day."

Bronn picked up a book, "And one of these explains how to beat him?"

Tyrion looked at the book Bronn was holding, "A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros. By Archmaester… Chevalteesh."

Bronn scoffed, "I'd swap all your books for a few good archers."

"Archers are a great asset," Nakos noted. "We should place archers along the wall."

"That is our plan," Tyrion agreed.

"If you need another archer, I can help." Nakos offered.

"Are you a good archer?"

"In Skyrim, I was one of the Legion's best archers and scouts. A few of the Legion's soldiers were captured by the Stormcloaks and I led the rescue. I snuck into the fort under the cover of night, and stealthily took out all the guards with my bow. No one ever raised the alarm."

"At night?"

"Aye. My night vision is very good."

Tyrion was impressed, "Well, If we need you, I will let you know."

"Thank you." Nakos noticed a small gate on the map, vulnerable to Blackwater Bay, "Where is this?"

Tyrion got up to look at the map, "That's the Mud Gate."

"This is where Stannis will attack," Nakos said urgently, "From what I can see, it looks like the weakest spot of the city."

Tyrion stared at the map, "By the Seven, you're right."

There was a knock at the door, and Varys entered, "My Lord Hand. Commanders."

"Varys." Tyrion acknowledged.

The three men began talking to each other about thieves in the city, but Nakos wasn't listening; he was focused on the map. Now that he had found the weak point of the city, he needed to find a way to protect it. He pored over the map, thinking of various ways to do so.

"Ser Nakos," Tyrion interrupted his thoughts again, "Bring the map."

Nakos placed the map on Tyrion's table.

Tyrion pointed to the map, "Ser Nakos found the most likely spot that Stannis will attack: the mud gate."

Nakos sat down at the table, "A good ram will batter it down in minutes and it's only 50 yards from the water. That's where he'll land."

Varys frowned, "And if Stannis does attack the mud gate, what is our plan?"

"I have an idea," Nakos offered.

"Good," Tyrion tented his fingertips, "We could use one."

"I could set traps on the shore leading to the walls and the mud gate," Nakos indicated the shore on the map, "This, along with the archers, and a squad of men protecting the gate should slow Stannis down considerably."

"That could work," Bronn suggested.

"What kind of traps are you thinking of setting, Ser Nakos?" Varys inquired.

Nakos shrugged, "Does it matter? They'll slow Stannis and his men down." He pointed to Blackwater Bay on the map, "There's still the matter of Stannis' fleet. He has 200 ships. How are we going to stop them from reaching on the shore?"

Tyrion smiled and glanced at Bronn, "Pig shit."

Nakos was confused, "What?"

"Wildfire," Tyrion explained, "a rather flammable and volatile substance."

"What do you plan to do with it?"

Tyrion smile grew, "You will see soon enough."

Later that night…

Harrenhall

Laniel savored the silence and darkness of Harrenhall. The ruins were no longer filled with the screams of tortured soldiers and Tywin Lannister had left with almost all of his men. Only a small squad of about 30 men remained behind, patrolling the ramparts. As they watched the soldiers, Laniel shared stories of Skyrim and of the Dark Brotherhood, and of course, of Nakos.

"The Listener killed a bride at her very own wedding?" Jaqen's eyes were wide with surprise as he and Laniel crouched in the shadows.

"Made it look like an accident too," Laniel whispered, "Pushed a loose gargoyle statue onto her when she made her address to the wedding guests. And that was only one of the assassinations he performed."

Jaqen's interest was piqued, "What other lives did the Listener offer up to the Red God?"

"Well, he killed the Emperor of Tamriel."

Jaqen gave a small laugh, "A man has great respect for The Listener."

"If I ever see him again, I will pass it on."

There was a long pause as they watched the guards pace back and forth.

Jaqen tapped Laniel on the back, "A man thanks a brother for his help."

"Is Arya ready?"

"A man told a girl to walk through the gates at midnight with her friends. Does a brother remember the plan?"

"I do."

Jaqen smiled, "Good. A man and a brother must move quickly. Midnight is approaching."

The two assassins moved swiftly, using the shadows as cover. One by one, the guards fell to their blades and were pinned in place so as not to raise the alarm. In less than half an hour, all the guards were killed. Jaqen and Laniel waited in the shadows, overlooking the gate. Soon, Arya and two young men walked through the gate. Jaqen and Laniel followed them, sticking to the shadows.

Loredas, 14th of Evening Star, 4E 204

King's Landing

Nakos walked along the shore, casting runes on the ground. He did his best to make sure the runes were not too close to each other. If they were, they could set off a chain reaction and cause the other runes to explode prematurely. But Nakos was confident of his plan. When Stannis and his men reached the shore, the runes should decimate most of his men as they made their way to the gate. The archers and Nakos' squad could then pick off the rest. Nakos cast one last fire rune on the ground and headed back into the city and onto the sea wall overlooking the Bay to join Tyrion and Varys. They didn't notice him as he approached and were deep in a conversation of their own.

Varys was speaking, "This morning I heard a song all the way from Qarth beyond the Red Waste. Daenerys Targaryen lives."

Nakos stopped in his tracks. Targaryen?! The family that rode dragons? He stayed back a few paces, out of their field of view, and began to eavesdrop.

Tyrion was dismissive, "A girl at the edge of the world is the least of our problems."

"She has three dragons," Varys said, "But even if what they say is true, it'll be years before they are fully grown. And then there will be nowhere to hide."

"One game at a time, my friend," Tyrion urged.

Nakos' mind was racing. Three dragons? If this Targaryen could control and ride dragons, like Aegon and his sisters, or if she was a Dragonborn like himself, things could get very complicated very fast. But if she wasn't a Dragonborn and if she could not control her dragons, then things would be even worse. Who knows what her dragons would do if they were to get out of control. Whatever the reason, Nakos knew that he needed to find out. Once he was finished here, he had to go to Qarth, wherever that was.

He waited a few seconds before approaching Tyrion and Varys. "Tyrion. The traps are in place."

Tyrion smiled, "Good work, Ser Nakos."

Nakos bowed his head and was about to leave when Tyrion called out to him, "Ser Nakos, I'm curious. What gods do you worship in Skyrim?"

"We have nine," Nakos replied, "Akatosh, Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Mara, Stendarr, Talos, and Zenithar. Why?"

"Varys and I were just talking about the various gods here in Westeros. Stannis worships the Lord of Light and burns his enemies alive to honor him. Are any of your gods as vicious as the Lord of Light or the Drowned God? Do they require human sacrifice?"

Nakos joined them on the wall, "The divines do not. The daedric princes on the other hand are a different story. They don't require sacrifice, but they see humans as little more than amusement… playthings. They don't have a sense of "good" and "evil", and it's difficult to determine a prince's true intentions, although several of the princes do take pleasure in annihilating humans."

Tyrion scoffed, "They sound like the gods here."

"Some of them are. Others aren't so bad."

Varys interjected, "I told Lord Tyrion of a goddess in the Summer Isles. A fertility goddess with sixteen breasts. Is there a goddess like that where you come from?"

"Dibella, although she doesn't have 16 breasts. We call her the Queen of Heaven, Goddess of Beauty, Lady of Love. She has many cults in Cyrodiil, and some are devoted to… erotic instruction."

"Perhaps we could sail there too, Varys." They all shared a laugh. Then Tyrion's face became serious, "Well, pray to all the gods, goddesses… or princes that you know. Because this battle is not going to be easy. In fact, we may all die tonight."

Later that night…

Sansa Stark stood out on the balcony of her chambers overlooking the city with Nakos while Mjoll and Shae sat inside. Nakos had just told her of Cersei's deal. "And do you trust Queen Cersei's deal?" she asked.

"She knows what would happen if she decides to break her promise," Nakos replied pointedly.

"And what will you do if she does break her promise?" she asked fearfully, tears in her eyes, "Where would you take me, Ser Nakos? There's no where I can go in Westeros where Joffrey or Cersei can't find me."

"I was considering bringing you to Skyrim."

Sansa gave him a look of surprise and fear, "Skyrim?"

"It's not a place Joffrey would expect to look. And even if he does, I don't think he would wage war with or send an army to another country all to bring you back. If he does, he's dumber than I thought."

Sansa didn't respond right away, but simply stood there in silence, looking out over the city. This was probably her one and only chance to escape King's Landing. But her hope was soon replaced with fear. The thought of moving to another country across the sea from her mother, brothers, and sister plagued her with fear.

"What about the rest of my family? My mother? My brothers? My sister? I can't leave Westeros. They're still here."

"With all due respect, Lady Sansa, that's exactly what Joffrey and Cersei would expect. If they do break their promise and come looking for you, the first place they will look is wherever your mother or brothers are. You will be much safer in Skyrim. Trust me."

Sansa digested Nakos' words. As much as she wanted to look for her family, she believed and trusted Nakos. He had done everything in his power to protect her from Joffrey and Cersei. There was no way she could not trust him now.

"What is Skyrim like, Ser Nakos?"

Nakos smiled, "It's a wonderful province. The northern half is cold and covered in snow. The southern half is pretty temperate … almost like the weather here. There are nine regions known as holds," he motioned in the sky as if there was an invisible map in front of him, "Haafingar, Hjaalmarch, The Pale, Winterhold, Eastmarch, The Rift, Whiterun, Falkreath, and The Reach. Each hold has a ruling jarl."

"Where will you take me?"

"I have several houses around Skyrim. One is in Hjaalmarch. I call it Windstad Manor. My steward Lydia looks over the house, and I have two adopted children living there as well. I think you may like it there."

Sansa's eyes lit up, "I would not have taken you for a father."

Nakos glanced over at her, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Sansa shrugged and smiled, "It's a good thing, I suppose. What about the… jarl? Would he allow someone from Westeros to live in Tamriel?"

"I don't think she would have a problem with it. Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone of Hjaalmarch is a good friend of mine. But to be safe, I suggest not using your real name while you're living in Skyrim."

"Of course, Ser Nakos."

Nakos looked out over the city, but Sansa continued to look at him. She noticed Nakos was unusually calm. For a young man who was about to fight a big battle, she would expect him to be more nervous… more scared.

"Aren't you scared, Ser Nakos?"

"Of course I am, my lady. I've learned to keep calm at times like these. And Talos will guide me."

"Talos?"

"The God of War. He will guide our hands and give us victory."

There was a knock on the door of Sansa's chambers. They turned around as Mjoll opened the door. The Hound stood on the other side.

"Ser Sandor," Sansa walked back into the room, Nakos right behind her, "What is it?"

"My lady," the Hound bowed, "I'm actually here for Ser Nakos and the Lioness."

"What is it, Sandor?" Nakos asked with a smile.

"Will you two join me for a drink?" he asked with a small smile, "One last drink before we die on the battlefield?"

Mjoll chuckled, "I don't expect we're going to die. But I won't leave Lady Sansa."

"Go, Mjoll," Nakos offered, "I'll watch Lady Sansa."

"Are you sure?"

Nakos nodded, "Go."

"The Hound and the Lioness!"

The soldier's greeting was met with thunderous cheers as Mjoll and Sandor walked into the room. Many of the soldiers were drinking and carousing with some prostitutes. Bronn was there too, with a naked woman sitting on his lap. Mjoll and Sandor sat at an empty table.

"Welcome, friends," Bronn called out to them, "This round's on me." He motioned to a young male servant of about twelve, "Give them some ale!" The servant quickly brought two mugs of ale to the table.

Mjoll took a mug and held it up, "Thank you, Bronn."

The Hound said nothing, but silently raised the mug before downing his drink. Bronn smiled and whispered something in the naked lady's ear. The soldiers went back to talking and laughing, and a few of them were singing a song:

And who are you, the proud lord said,

that I must bow so low?

Only a cat of a different coat,

that's all the truth I know.

In a coat of gold or a coat of red,

a lion still has claws,

And mine are long and sharp, my lord,

as long and sharp as yours.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,

that Lord of Castamere,

But now the rains weep o'er his hall,

with no one there to hear.

Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,

and not a soul to hear.

As Mjoll listened to the words, she felt chills run up and down her spine. The haunting melody carried a thick macabre tone. "What are they singing?" she asked Sandor.

"The Rains of Castamere."

"Is there a story behind it?"

"The destruction of House Reyne by Tywin Lannister," Sandor answered matter-of-factly.

Mjoll sighed, "The songs the bards sang in Skyrim are not nearly as depressing as this one." She took a swig of her ale and nearly choked at the awful taste. She had a coughing fit, bringing some of the ale back up onto the table.

"You don't like it?" Bronn chuckled.

She groaned, "Tastes like piss!"

"You've tasted piss before, eh?" He and the men laughed uproariously.

Mjoll shot him a look before laughing along with them. She called the servant over, "Do you have mead?"

"Aye, lady." The servant quickly walked to the back room.

"I'll take your ale, then." The Hound snatched up Mjoll's mug and drank. "So… Lioness, where did you learn to fight?"

"My mother," Mjoll answered. "She was a strong woman... she's the one who instructed me on my swordfighting techniques. Can you imagine?"

"She was a good teacher. You fight very well. What about your father?"

"My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps as a hunter, but I set my aspirations a bit higher. He never complained…" She bowed her head. She hadn't thought about her father in a long time, "I miss him." She could feel her emotions rising. The same emotions she felt when she and her mother stood by her father's side in the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun about six years ago. Age was finally catching up to him, and after eight-five years of life and adventure, he was ushered into Sovngarde. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it off.

"You must stay strong, Lioness," Sandor said softly.

She nodded, "I'm sorry, Hound. I haven't really thought of my father for a long time." The servant returned with a mug of mead. Mjoll took a swig. It was much better than the ale; the honey taste was very refreshing and calming. She sighed and laughed to herself.

"What is it?" Sandor asked.

"I was just thinking. I've seen enough death to last three lifetimes, yet I never tire of a good fight. And now here I am… about to fight again. What do you make of that?"

"It means you enjoy fighting. You enjoy killing. Killing's the thing you love. You're just like me."

She shrugged, "Maybe I am. I'm about to help defend a city against a whole army. But you know the worst part? King Joffrey will be out on the battlefield," Joffrey's name was like poison on Mjoll's lips, "I hope he endures a slow, painful, agonizing death on the battlefield. Or a quick and brutal one. I don't care."

"You should watch your tongue, Lioness," Sandor warned, "Many soldiers here are loyal to the Lannisters."

"Fuck them. I don't care." She paused and looked at Sandor, "Are you one of them?"

Sandor scoffed, "I could care less what happens to Joffrey. He's a vicious cunt who deserves to die." Sandor took a drink of ale.

Mjoll tapped Sandor's mug with her own, "Fuck the king," she whispered.

Sandor smirked, "Fuck the king."

They both downed their drinks and Sandor called for more.

"What about you, Hound? What's your family like?"

At that, Sandor's face grew sour, "They're dead. All except for my brother… Gregor."

Mjoll could sense the hate in his voice, "You're not close to him?"

He pointed to the large burns on his face, "You see this? This is what my fucking brother did to me. He held my face into a burning brazier. All because I played with one of his toys without his fucking permission."

Mjoll's face dropped, "I'm sorry."

Sandor downed the rest of the ale, "Don't be. I don't give a fuck about him."

Mjoll looked at Sandor as he stared at the table, not noticing the servant returning with two more mugs. She placed her left hand on his right hand. He turned to look at her. She looked deep into his brown eyes and he stared back into her hazel eyes. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before Sandor broke eye contact. He slowly removed his hand from hers and took a drink from the new mug of ale.

Suddenly, the sound of bells filled the room. All the soldiers quickly got up and finished their drinks before rushing out of the room. Mjoll downed her mug of mead and Sandor downed his mug of ale.

Mjoll smiled, "Shall we go?"

Next Time: The Battle of the Blackwater

Author's Note: Hello all! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As you can see, I decided to write a little from Sansa's POV because I plan to have some epic awesome stuff happen with her. So expect some more characters to have a POV in the upcoming chapters. This way, the story won't get mundane with writing only from the POV of Nakos, Mjoll, and Laniel all the time.

Also, there will be a few twists and deviations from the show coming up. Some plotlines from the TV show will still be included, some may be changed, and others will be completely new! And who knows? Some plotlines from the Skyrim game may make an appearance in this story! So get excited! I know I am :)

I finally got around to mentioning Daenerys into the story! She will make an appearance in the chapter after the next one. So hopefully, the next chapter will focus solely on the Battle of the Blackwater, and then we'll get to meet Daenerys! And speaking of Daenerys, I am at a crossroads trying to decide whether she should be a Dragonborn or not, because of her family's backstory and ability to ride and control dragons. So I am leaving the decision to you. What would you like to see? I am putting a poll on my profile page with three choices:

1) Daenerys is a Dragonborn

2) Daenerys is not a Dragonborn, but has the ability to learn one or two shouts at most (like Ulfric)

3) Daenerys is not a Dragonborn, nor has the ability to learn shouts

You'll have time to vote up until I publish the next chapter, which will hopefully be in a few weeks, since I still have Shakespeare performances to complete over the next two weekends.

Thanks for all the support and look out for the next chapter!