A/N: I won't say sorry for the wait, but I will say it is worth it:) Credit where credit is due-I own nothing.

Lyla walked through the lively streets of Braavos that night, wishing desperately for a distraction. Tonight she was so off-put that she even allowed herself to wear her own eyes-her real grey eyes. Those grey eyes looked like a drizzly day. She was the only morose face in a sea of lively bars and pleasure barges. Music blared from every tavern. Drunks roared with laughter and anger as the night wore on. The noise in the city wasn't what was caused her to wince though.

The voices in her head were at it again.

There was nothing she could do to stop it, she reasoned with herself. It had to be done.

Cat of the Canals agreed and patted the girl's shoulder in an act of solidarity. It had to be done. For the sake of the mission.

FUCK THE MISSION! The young girl with slate grey eyes yelled as she fought to get out of her cell that No One had locked her in long ago, during the training with the Kindly Man. You're better than this! Think back to what the bitch king of Westeros did! He had Nymeria's sister killed! If you keep this up you'll be no better than him.

Lyla winced as the faded memory of a red haired woman-child crying "Not Lady! She's good!" came to the forefront of her mind.

He was a little shit, Cat conceded nonchalantly.

Valar Morghulis, whispered No One. The spawn got his and now the Many-Faced God has demanded another life. The mission is to destroy him; an animal cannot get in the way. What needed to be done is done.

Aye, that he did, whispered Cat, looking with mixed emotions as the young girl in the cell began to cry angry tears and yell curses at the lot of them. And his demands are just that. Demands that cannot be ignored. He has demanded it; we obey.

Lyla sighed and kicked a pebble into the canal where she was walking. "He has demanded it-the wanker," she muttered to herself as she leaned on the railing that protected unexpected tourists from falling into the canal.

"Who's demanding what now?" asked a slightly slurred male voice from behind her. Lyla didn't even bother turning around. Everyone in Braavos drank. Westerosi, Tyroshi, Braavosi-it didn't matter. At the end of the week everyone got shit faced drunk. But no one knew how another person would act when drunk so it was best just to ignore people after sunset.

He must be fresh off the boat if he doesn't know that rule yet, Lyla thought to herself.

"Must be a real prick to be making demands of a young girl."

Lyla continued to ignore him.

"I'd beat him bloody for you, if he's bothering you that much."

Lyla snorted, unable to contain herself. This guy beating the shit out of the god who demanded human lives as sacrifice-that's a riot.

"Glad to see you have some sort of sense of humor." Lyla felt him take a few steps closer. "Want to let me see your face m'lady?"

Lyla whirled around, about to insist that she was no lady and to tell the intoxicated man to bugger off. But she stopped and closed her eyes instead. Her old self was brewing too close to the surface and Lyla needed to hold it together.

"No. I don't. Go back to your ale, foreigner. Enjoy the city while it still holds some magic for you."

"They've been telling me Braavos is the city where you can become whoever you want to be. A whore, a merchant, a warrior," the man sighed and leaned up next to her on the railing. She turned her face away from him, really not wanting to be disturbed.

"I just want to be whole again," he half whispered. Lyla rolled her eyes. Great, not only a persistent drunk but a sappy one as well.

"Do you even know what the word means?" He asked to nothingness. "Complete, full, intact. I was intact once. For a moment. She made me complete. The little lady was just a girl but she was the only family I had."

He paused for a moment and then said bitterly, "But I threw it all away. Shattered myself in the process. For some men who promised I could be their brother. And they sold me out!" He pounded down on the railing with his fist. "To a bitch who told me I had a duty to do. A legacy to uphold. 'Ours is the Fury, '" The man snorted and then fell silent again. Just as Lyla thought he was about to leave he continued in a hardened warriors voice

"Well I'm furious now. Furious that they took her from me. And I'll make them pay. The rightful king's last bastard, fighting in a ring, drunk as a skunk and swinging a hammer just like his old man. Won't that be one for the songs?"

Lyla stood quietly as the man took one last swig of his bottle and ambled back into the bar. He paused in the doorway and said, "Don't let what they do shatter you m'lady. It's still your choice."

She tensed up at his last words and finally turned around to retort, to scream at him that it wasn't that simple, that it was not her choice stupid, but as she did so all she could see was the silhouette of another drunk man passed out on the streets of Braavos. Without a second thought she turned and ran back to her apartment as fast as her legs could carry her.