Chapter 6

Arron groaned slightly as he got out of bed, the sun rays waking him from his slumber. Slowly he pushed himself out of bed over to desk that had a bowl of water on it, and washed his face, removing the last traces of sleep. As he got dressed he couldn't hel but glance at his appearance in a nearby mirror on the wall. Short cut dirty blonde hair with chiseled features, a lightly trimmed beard, with a lightly tanned skin from spending most of his life in Dorne, though he wasn't naturally tanned, not following his Dornish blood. Though he didn't actually follow his Valyrian blood either, his purple eyes being the only indicator that he was a decendent of the dragon lords of old Valyria.

A strange mix of Dornish and Valyrian. He was Arron Sand, the only bastard son and male Sand Snake of Prince Oberyn Martell, born of a Valyrian prostitute in Lys, or so everyone believed.

Arron let out a loud yawn, he was tired, very tired. Truthfully he hand't been sleeping that well lately. He'd been having strange dreams lately, ones that made absolutely no sense at all. In fact he even kept a journal of everything he'd dreamed. Some members of his family mocked him for it but he didn't care, because he knew that their was more to these dreams then met the eye, although they greatly confused. Only two nights ago he'd dreamed of a stag prancing around what looked like a small mountain.

Arron exited his chambers and walked down a series of steps to the breakfast table, where a couple of the girls were already eating food. His uncle Doran had sent him to Tyrosh to oversee some of the families businesses and to gain an understanding of finance and economy. Of course it had been his father's idea of a joke that he should instead manage one of House Martells whorehouses in Tyrosh.

As he sat down at the table he couldn't help but notice that one of the girls were missing. "Where's Lucy?" He asked the assembled girls. The girls shared worried looks with each other.

"Garin and Daemon brought her in an hour ago." One of them, Stacy informed him. "She was hurt pretty badly."

Immediately Arron stood up and marched towards Lucy's room and opened the door, horrified by the sight that greeted him. 'Pretty badly' did not cover it. Lucy's face was no longer the pale wight but instead red and blue and one of her eyes even appeared to be swollen shut, Garin treating her as she slept while Daemon stood to the side of the room. Garin was one of the orphans of the Greenblood while Daemon was his father's former squire and a bastard of House Allyrion. The two of them were good friends pf his and also served as his guards.

"Quiet." Garin snapped at him. "She's finally got to sleep and is getting some much needed rest."

"What happened?" He whispered furiously at them.

"Ironborn." Daemon muttered with complete and utter loathing.

"Everything." He told them to explain.

"Apparently one of Victarion Greyjoy's men wanted to have a go at her but she told him he had to pay upfront," Daemon began explaining as rage filled his voice. "He didn't like that and began beating her black and blue."

"Did he..." He began asking, not quite avle to finish the sentence.

"No." Garin spoke and relief filled him. "At that point Daemon and I arrived and Daemon took his head off."

"Follow me." He told them.

"Where are we going?" Daemon asked.

"To find Victarion Greyjoy, and make him pay."

"How are we even going to get money off an Ironborn?" Garin asked him as they walked through Tyrosh towards one of the minor and less populated ports of the Free City. The Greyjoys wouldn't risk going to one of the more populous ports, even in the Free Cities the Ironborn were despised.

"Simple. You ask him for it." Arron told him. "Garin get a clear spot, Daemon sneak around them." He ordered them.

Arron walked towards the Ironborn captain immediately scanning the area around him. He counted ten Ironborn in the immediate area. For a captain like Victarion Greyjoy this seemed an unusually small number, but then again Ironborn rarely liked to leave their ships. With a nod to Daemon and Garin to get in position Arron started walking towards the captain of the Iron Fleet. A part of him was nervous, after all Victarion was a large man and a skilled reaver, he would be a fool to not be wary of him, but he was also angry, a fire like fury in him that wanted to see the Ironborn punished.

"What do you want?" Greyjoy demanded as he noticed him walking towards them.

"A girl called Lucy. A few of your friends decided that you could do what you wished." Arron reminded the Ironborn, although most of them didn't seem to care, and actually laughed at the reminder.

"She was a whore, what about her?" Victarion questioned, not really caring about what his men did to some random whore.

"You see she's a friend of mine," Arron informed them as he walked closer to Victarion who stood up to face him, although while the man had a large two bladed axe nearby he didn't appear to have any weapons on his person. Arron knew that speed would be his best advantage against him and that he would have to act fast. "And you are gonna sort her out."

"What do you mean by that?" Victarion questioned as he looked him over and then seemingly dismissed him. Arron knew why, he appeared unarmed to the Ironborn, but like all decent Dornishment Arron knew how to conceal weapons perfectly.

"Your paying, and then your leaving Tyrosh." He told them.

One of the Ironborn muttered something that Arron couldn't quite catch but it caused a few of them to chuckle.

"No one's talking to you sweetheart," Arron said to the Ironborn, though he didn't take his eyes off Victarion. "You sit their and be quiet otherwise I'll have to put an arrow in your lard loving thigh." He warned what was probably Victarion's first mate.

The Ironborn, Ralf Kenning though he doesn't know his name, simply laughs in response to the threat and at that moment Garin releases an arrow right into the man's lard loving thigh.

With a speed that would have made the Red Viper proud Arron withdrew a dagger then he'd concealed in the sleeves of his shirt and rushed at Victarion Greyjoy and pushed him to the floor and held a knife to his throat before the man could. At the same time Daemon rushed at three of the Ironborn warriors and very quickly disarmed them, with a speed and skill that showed that he truly was one of Dorne's greatest swords.

"Get back." Arron bellowed at the Ironborn as he held the blade to their captains throat, while his face was going red, out of anger or humiliation he didn't know. Likely both.

Victarion was tempted to wrestle his way out of this, it was clear that while this boy was no doubt strong he had no doubt that he could overwhelm the boy. But clearly the boy knew that as well as he pushed the knife into his neck, prickling him as a warning that should he struggle he would have his throat slashed right open. Victarion was no coward, but such a humiliating death would in no way earn him a passage to the Drowned Gods watery halls.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving, but I'm leaving with a years wages." He told the Iron Captain as he pulled the man's rather large coin purse from him. "And in case you have any notions of revenge, remember that you live only because of the mercy of a greenlander, but I will not show mercy a second time." He warned him as he walked away from the enraged Ironborn, Daemon following close behind hum.

Victarion felt like snarling as he watched the arrogant young bastard walk away, a bag of gold in his hand, as the two men with distinct Dornish appearances followed him. He had been humiliated by a boy who looked no older then eighteen namedays, if he was even that.

"Captain what do we do now?" His first mate, Ralf asked him as he removed the arrow that was sticking out of his thigh.

"We kill them." He answered.

- Line Break -

Arron, Garin and Daemon were on a small village on the other side of the Island of Tyrosh, conducting business with a Dornish merchant ship. Every three weeks they met the same merchant captain in his uncle Doran's employ who kept them informed on the affairs of Westeros. And a lot had certainly happened in the last few weeks.

Apparently the Usurper had decided to scorn his Lannister brat in favour of his Stark daughter. Arron was surprised that the Lannisters hadn't already declared war on the Baratheons, but by all accounts the Old Lion was biding his time. The answer was simple enough to understand after he thought about it, the Lannisters may be the most powerful house in Westeros but they weren't more powerful then the rest of Westeros combined. The Lannisters had married into the Baratheon- Stark- Tully- Arryn alliance formed during the war but that alliance was more likely to support Selene Baratheon due to her blood ties to the Starks and the Stark- Tully marriage. Though he knew that it would only delay those lion bastards for a short time.

After the Dance of the Dragons Arron wouldn't have thought that any king would try name a daughter over any legitimate sons, but it seemed that Robert Baratheon had. As a result Arron was very curious about the Usurper's daughter. Unlike his cousins and the rest of the Sand Snakes he never had a chance to meet her when she had visited Sunspear over a year ago, having been in Myr at the time. Though from his uncle's reports she was a woman who believed in justice and the death of Elia Martell was apparently a large wedge in the relationship between the Usurper and his daughter. That alone gave him some respect for her.

As he walked through the village a loud bell sounded, alarming everyone. "Pirates." Someone yelled as they rushed away and panic ensured and Arron could see a group of armed men heading straight towards them.

"No, Ironborn." Arron said as he, Daemon and Garin all drew their swords along with over a dozen men with all sorts of weapons of their own, not at all willing to the let the murdering skum destroy their homes without a fight.

What followed was without a doubt a bloody battle and Arron acted completely on instinct. He slashed and charged, managing to kill one Ironborn relatively quickly, and he didn't have a chance to focus on it as he was once again forced into another fight.

Arron didn't know how much time had passed, he'd managed to kill at least four Ironborn, though not without injury. He could feel blood poring down his face from a gash above his eye and his left arm was killing him due to a large wound.

"Boy," A loud voice called to him and looking he saw Victarion Greyjoy glaring at him with pure hatred. "We have an issue to settle." The Iron Captain told him as he charged right at him, swinging his massive double bladed axe.

Arron was a good warrior but against the massive Ironborn he was greatly outmatched. Arron fought as well as he could, taking great pride as he managed to slash at Greyjoys side and cause him to grunt in pain. But the wound was a mere flesh one and Greyjoy shrugged it off like it was nothing.

The battle soon took a turn for the worse when Greyjoy managed to knock the sword out of his hand. Weaponless Arron was forced to back away into what looked like an outdoor blacksmiths workshop as he franticly looked around for a weapon, not that it stopped Victarion from chasing him. Arron grabbed a chain from a nearby bend, and much like Nym used her whip, he used to strike at Victarion, even managing to take his axe from him, though at the loss of the chain, which left him defenceless before the enraged Ironborn.

Victarion smirked as he grabbed hold of the brat, and then forced his head onto a burning furnace, looking forward to the screams of pain that would soon emerge, but they never did.

Arron closed his eyes as his face hit he furnace, but relief like nothing he had ever felt before filled him as he felt no pain. 'It seems its true, fire cannot kill a dragon,' Arron thought with a smirk as he felt Vicatrions grip loosen in surprise. Taking advantage he quickly grabbed his dagger from his belt and drove into Victarion's stomach, the poison on the blade immediately pumping through the man's body.

Vicatarion howled in agony as he backed away, pain coursing through his body like nothing he had ever felt and it was at that moment he realised what it was. Poison.

Arron picked up the discarded battle axe and prepared to take the Ironborn's head. "If I am to die tell me who you are greenlander?" Victarion snarled.

"I am Aegon Targaryen, and I sentence you to die."

- Line Break -

Yara walked through the halls of Ten Towers, desperate to speak to her uncle, the only sane one that she actually had. Word had reached the Iron Islands of her uncle Victarion's death. When they first heard of his death many had scoffed at the idea of a veteran and skilled reaver like Victarion Greyjoy being killed in some nameless shit village in Essos. Some, such as Damphair, whispered that he had been killed by her other uncle Euron.

That Yara honestly found more believable then the truth. The fact that the captain of the Iron Fleet had been killed by a boy, who was six and ten name days, younger then she herself was, was something hard to comprehend.

Yara wasn't bothered by her uncle's death. True the loss of such a respected and capable commander was a blow to the Ironborn but in the end Victarion was an obstacle in her path to claiming the Seastone chair. The biggest obstacle in fact. She was all but confirmed as her father's official heir; Theon was seen as nothing but a greenlander, Euron was banished, while Aeron was a member of the Drowned Priests and unable to sit the Seastone chair. Victarion was the only one who not only could have challenged her but likely would have won.

Yara entered her uncle's private library, without a doubt the largest library in the Iron Islands, maybe even one of the largest in Westeros. Her uncles title of 'The Reader' was well earned, she noted as she saw him sitting by his desk, a large book in front of him and pair of Myrish glasses over his eyes. "Uncle." She greeted as she took a seat opposite him.

"Yara, what brings you here?" Rodrik asked as he looked up from his book to his niece.

"I was wondering if you heard the news?" Yara asked her uncle, who snorted slightly at the question.

"Hermits on Lonely Light have no doubt heard the news of your fool of an uncle's death." The Reader told her.

"You are a hermit." Yara japed with smile. "You spend so much time with your books that hermit is just one of many titles you have."

"I could care less what the fools on these islands call me."

"Doesn't change the fact that getting away from these books will do you good." She replied back.

"Ah Yara," her uncle said tutting slightly. "Much like your father and brothers you underestimate the value of books." Rodrik replied. "But you didn't come here to talk about my books. Why are you here?"

"Father has always been waiting for the Seven Kingdoms to be vulnerable enough to declare independence, but things have changed."

"How so?" Rodrik questioned, not because he didn't know but because Yara knew he was testing her.

"Being bested is one thing, being bested on the seas is another. The Baratheons shattered the myth of our fleets invincibility, and while it has been rebuilt it isn't the only one. My father called himself king yet he didn't fight in a single battle, many privately call him coward and it was Victarion who kept the unruly in line. Then their's Euron's banishment. The Crow's Eye may be a mad dog but he was a clever mad dog, who's responsible for our only victory in the rebellion." Yara listed just a few problems facing House Greyjoy. Individually it wasn't worrying, but combined those factors spelled trouble.

"My father believes that we can amass 200 war galleys and 600 longships, manned with 20,000 reavers. I say 100 war galleys, 400 longships and 15,000 reavers being generous. I'm here uncle because I want your advise." Yara admitted. Yara considered herself a realist, and while she liked the idea of an Iron Kingdom once again she was smart enough to know that such a thing would likely never happen.

"The Baratheon girl." Rodrik stated.

Yara raised an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised by Rodrik's answer. She only knew of Selene Baratheon by reputation. "Why her? She's half Stark and Theon is fostered with the Starks. I see no reason why she should want me to rule Pyke as opposed to my brother?"

"The Baratheons have lost the support of Casterly Rock. If a war breaks out between the lions and the stags, she can't turn down 15,000 Ironborn ready to burn the coast of the Westerlands." Rodrik answered logically.

"So your idea is to be a thrall to someone who likely needs me more then I need her?" Yara questioned feeling far from satisfied with her uncle's solution. "To bend the knee to her?"

"If their's one lesson that your father has given you that I agree with it's that their is no shame in bending the knee if it means rising again harder and stronger. As for being a thrall. Well Harlaw has been a thrall to House Greyjoy, and before them the Hoares for millennia, yet we remain the richest house on the Iron Islands by far. One doesn't need to be king to be powerful. A lesson you would do well to learn if you wish to avoid the same fate as your brothers, the fate your father is planning on heading down once again, and I doubt the Baratheons will allow him, or the rest of House Greyjoy to rise again if they don't have any type of ally in you."

With that Rodrik went back to reading his book and Yara exited her uncle's library, recognising the dismissal. Yara tried to think of what she knew about Selene Baratheon but her mind came up with very little. But the more she thought about it the more she realised the logic in her uncle's words. Yara needed allies, both within and outside of the Iron Islands.

The Lannisters were out of the question, the burning of their fleet and the sacking of Lannisport by her uncles would likely earn her a slow and painful death if she tried to approach the Old Lion. The Tyrells were also out of the question. Yara knew that in order to gain their support she would need to marry one of the fat flowers sons, and while they would support her claim to Pyke, it would be the Tyrells who ruled, while she simply sat on the Seastone chair.

The Martells might be willing to work with her. It was obvious the Martells had a plan for revenge against the Lannisters, and due to their laws and customs they would probably be willing to support her claims to Pyke. While she would likely have to marry one of Prince Doran's sons, at least neither had a reputation for sword swallowing and neither were crippled like lord Tyrells sons.

And then there was the Baratheons. Selene Baratheon was in all but name the ruler of the Stormlands, with Renly Baratheon preferring the court of Highgarden and the Tyrells rather then his own castle of Storm's End and interacting with his bannermen. The Stormlands had also been steadily growing stronger ever since her banishment to the ancient fortress of Storm's End. No longer buying food from the Reach, and with large numbers of people from King's Landing migrating to the Stormlands expanding their settlements. And recently reports had indicated that they had began building their own fleet, an easy task with two of the three largest forests in Westeros located in their lands.

It wasn't an easy choice but in the end Yara decided to get into contact with Selene Baratheon. Not that it would be difficult to do so. King Robert had already announced a feast welcome to all lords of the realm to celebrate his daughter when she returned from the North, though by all accounts that would likely take a good few months. And while a Greyjoy might not necessarily be welcome they could hardly refuse her.

Yara smiled as thoughts of sitting the Seastone chair filled her mind.

- Line Break -

Eddard watched the honestly vicious duel between Rodrik Forrester and his niece Selene. Many Northern sons and heirs, and daughters in the case of Dacey and Alysane Mormont had taken to challenging his niece to duels over the last few days, and so far none had been able to beet her. A couple had come close to defeating her such as Smalljon Umber and Dacey Mormont but they hadn't quite been able to best her. Rodrik Forrester however was exceptionally skilled and the ferociousness that the two traded blows with each other honestly left it difficult to tell who would emerge as victor.

"She fights as someone who's seen combat." Ned couldn't but state.

"That's because she has." Turning he saw Ser Arys a few steps behind him. Ned could remember Robert knighting Arys during the Greyjoy rebellion for his bravery and for slaying Maron Greyjoy and in the aftermath of the battle Arys asked for place in the Kingsguard when Robert offered him anything he wished. He had been worried about how Theon would react to Ser Arys, but no incidents had occurred so far. Either Theon wasn't aware that it was Ser Arys who had killed his brother or he didn't blame him. Ned suspected the former.

Ned really wasn't entirely sure what to think of Ser Arys, though he had no doubts about his skill with a blade and his loyalty, he wasn't sure about the man as he was rather young. Barely nineteen namedays when Robert made him a member of his Kingsguard so the man wasn't the most experienced member of its order. Although in her own words Selene said that of the current seven kingsguard she only trusted Sers Barristan, and Ser Arys. Sers Presten, Meryn and the Kingslayer were all loyal to the Queen, Ser Boros was apparently a coward and according to Selene Ser Mandon Moore was loyal apparently to no one, or at least not any member of the Royal family as far as his niece was aware off.

"What do you mean by that?" Ned questioned sharply.

"The Stormlands are often plagued with slavers and pirates from the Stepstones, and even a few of the Free Cities and the princess is hardly someone to stand by and do nothing when she can make a difference." Arys replied, and thinking about it Ned could't actually picture Selene standing aside and doing nothing.

"How come your standing up here instead of down their?" Ned asked gesturing towards the courtyard. To Ned's amusement Ser Arys actually blushed.

"Hiding from your daughter and her friends." Arys answered and realisation dawned on Ned.

"Ah." Ned simply stated. Sansa and her little group of friends still had dreams of knights and fair maidens, and Ser Arys was a knight of the Kingsguards and an admittedly comely man, someone that would attract the attentions of his daughter. A part of Ned wanted to shake the ideas of knights and songs out of his daughter's head and more then once he felt like cursing that horrid Septa Mordane, but then he reminded himself that her daughter was only eleven years old, and it was not a large concern at the moment if she believed in songs and fairy tales, she would mature as she got older.

Ned turned back to his niece just to see her getting knocked down to the ground by Rodrik but she was quickly on her feet again before the heir of Ironrath could end the duel between them. "It's a close one." Ser Arys stated.

"It is. Who do you think will win?"

"She will. Forrester's got good form and considerable strength and speed, but the princess has stamina. If she can't beet him through skill then she'll simply wait for him to exhaust himself." Arys answered, showing considerable knowledge of combat.

Ned could tell that Ser Arys was right, Rodrik's blows were becoming steadily sluggish and clearly starting to lack in power. Selene like a wolf noticing a weakened pray pounced for the kill. Launching a campaign of blows that were mere blurs to the eye, Selene quickly but Rodrik on the defensive. After failing to go back on the offensive, Rodrik attempted to put some distance between them by backing away but Selene clearly wasn't allowing that to happen as she continued her assault, quickly knocking the sword out of Rodrik's hand and holding her blade up to his throat before sheathing it as the courtyard exploded in cheers.

Most young men would not like being bested, especially by a woman younger then them but clearly Rodrik Forrester wasn't one such man as he and Selene engaged in a discussion with each other, both going over each other's styles while other Northerners, many Selene had bested in combat while being in Winterfell, including Jon and Robb joined them.

"Lord Stark, there was actually something that I wanted to speak to you about," Ser Arys started and Ned gestured for him to continue. "I wish to take your son Jon as my squire."

"Can I ask why?" Ned asked in an even voice, quite an achievement considering the alarm that was coursing through his body at the request.

"Well for starters his skill. He's more skilled then I was at fourteen, and I truly believe that he could be one of the best swordsmen in Westeros with the proper training." Ser Arys began. "Second I know of his desire to join the Night's Watch. There's nothing wrong with that," Arys stated quickly so that he didn't the wrong idea. "But Jon seems intent on joining the order as soon as he comes of age, maybe even before that. I don't regret joining the Kingsguard, and I serve the princess proudly, but sometimes I wish that I spent more time to enjoy my life outside of duty before I joined. I don't want Jon to make a decision that will impact the rest of his life when he is still a child, especially if it is a decision that he may come to regret."

Ned was silent for a few moments as he contemplated what the kingsguard said. "Have you spoken to either Jon or Selene about it?"

"The princess approved of the decision, but I've yet to speak to Jon. I wanted to ask you first."

Ned thought about Arys' offer. He did not like the idea of Jon going South, where the risk of his heritage wold be far more likely to be revealed, and if that were to happen Ned really couldn't predict what could happen. But though he wished too, he couldn't deny the logic within Ser Ars Oakhearts words.

"I'll inform Jon of your offer, and it will be up to him if he wishes to accept." He told the kingsguard.

- Line Break -

Selene sat in her chambers, a large book in her hands. It was one of the many tomes from the vault, but this one was different. Most of the books were about the deeds of Starks long since passed, this one however was about magic. For the first time since she was born in Westeros she had honest to the Seven proof that magic had indeed existed.

The book was about the Children of the Forest, a description of them and their abilities. The book also held a few very detailed drawings of the children, that were very intriguing. Many maesters, those who acknowledged their existence at least, believed the Children to be a race of dwarfs, which would explain the Faith of the Seven's negative stance on dwarfs. Selene personally believed that they were likely similar to House elves. The book proved both her and the maesters wrong.

The Children appeared to possess rather sharp and pointed features, with large eyes and delicate frames, and though she couldn't completely tell from the faded picture they appeared to also dress in sticks and thin pieces of wood curved around their bodies. But their physical appearances meant little to her when the book explained in remarkable detail about the magic that the Children wielded.

The Children had used a form of ritualistic magic, often doing spells in groups and pooling their power in order to make their spells more effective. They also used Dragonglass in a lot of their spells. In fact the small dragonglass spheres that she had discovered actually acted as something akin to hand grenades, although Selene didn't even recognise the spell used to activate the spheres. The spell wasn't written in any language that she recognised, not Valyrian, the Old Tongue or even the common tongue.

Selene attention was drawn from her book as she heard muffled voices from outside her chambers.

"Princess, Lady Stark is here to speak to you." Ser Arys informed her from outside the door.

Selene repressed a groan as she heard this. 'This is going to be a fun conversation,' Selene thought sarcastically to herself. "Okay Arys, let her in." A moment later Catelyn entered with Arys following behind her. "You may retire for the night Arys." She told him as she placed the book on her bed.

"Are you sure princess?"

"I'll be fine." She told him as he bowed and left her. "So Lady Stark, what did you wish to talk to me about?" Never know the woman might actually surprise her.

"It's about the bastard." Or maybe not.

End of chapter 6. Please review. I'll be honest, I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter and I actually rewrote it twice and this is the best version that came up, so there you are. But Aegon finally makes an appearance, although the first parts of this chapter were inspired by King Arthur: Legend of the sword.