Chapter 11

Sundas, 20th of Morning Star, 4E 205

Craster's Keep, Westeros

The journey further north towards Craster's Keep was just as difficult as the journey towards the Wall, if not more. The thick, snow-covered forests north of the Wall lay stretched out before the Dawnguard as far as the eye could see. If not for the rangers that Ulfric had sent with them, the Dawnguard would have truly lost their way. Isran did not take all one hundred Dawnguard members with him. According to the message from Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, they had suffered heavy casualties at the Fist of the First Men. Only around three hundred rangers remained from the original thousand that were stationed at the Fist. Isran only took about half his force, but he brought Florentius and a few other healers with him as well. No doubt there were wounded among the survivors. He also had Gunmar stay behind with the trolls. As much as he wanted the trolls to accompany them, there was no need to put them in danger if they could be useful later.

"It's a few more miles this way, ser." One of the young rangers called out to Isran.

"Thanks, ranger," Isran responded gruffly as they walked through the forests. A biting cold wind picked up and almost all of the Dawnguards shivered and pulled their cloaks closer to their bodies. Despite the cloaks they were given from Castle Black, they did not have much of an effect. The weather was colder than what any of the Dawnguards were used to, especially to those members who lived in the far north of Skyrim. Isran looked at the ranger that had just spoke, "What's your name, young man?"

"Matthar, ser." Matthar said, just able to stop himself from shivering under the imposing leader's gaze.

Isran turned to one of the other rangers with him, "And yours?"

"Balian, ser."

"How long have you two been rangers?"

"Both of us took the Black two years ago," Matthar answered, before turning to face Isran. "How do you know Lord Commander Stormcloak?"

"He led a rebellion back in Skyrim. It led to civil war. He obviously failed, but the champion of the Empire, Nakos Nalldiir, was merciful. Rather than executing Ulfric for his crimes, he spared his life. Thus, the Empire sent him here to the Wall."

There was a pause before Matthar spoke again, "If I may ask, Ser Isran, Lord Ulfric says you're a monster hunter? He says you hunted… vampires? I've never heard of them."

"They're undead monsters that feed off your blood and drain you dry." His curt words brought wide eyes from the rangers that accompanied him. "They're an abomination, and I seek to kill them and all other abominations that walk this earth. Like the wights and White Walkers. All of them are creations of Daedric Princes, and it's my job to see that they are destroyed." As an afterthought, Isran was quick to correct his previous statement slightly. "Most of them anyway." Serana's willingness to kill her own father, and the fact she had fought beside Nakos and his Dawnguard hadn't gone unnoticed by the otherwise hard-hearted vampire hunter. That kind of sacrifice and willingness to lay it all down for the side of humanity had earned Isran's hard earned respect, even though Serana herself was an abomination. She was the rare exception to his general hatred of all things Daedric.

"Is that what you all do?" another ranger asked as he looked over the Dawnguard, "Hunt down monsters?"

"Aye," Sorine answered as she examined her crossbow for any faults. It was quickly becoming a habit since the forests they were riding through had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"And women are allowed to join?" He tried to stifle a chuckle, but failed miserably.

She forgot all about her unease when she turned to the man that had opened his mouth. Sorine narrowed her eyes, "You have a problem with that, ranger?"

The man immediately regretted his words, "No no no no no, my lady." His quick, frantic apology brought chuckles from the Dawngaurd, "It's just that… here in Westeros, all women stay at home and take care of the kids. Or they marry lords and become ladies. They don't wear armor and fight alongside men."

Sorine shook her head, obviously upset at the mindset of the men of Westeros, "Let me ask you this. If a woman can fight just as well as a man, wield weapons just as good as a man, and stand by your side as you fight, would you want her to?" The ranger was speechless. Sorine said nothing, but left it at that.

They reached Craster's Keep that night; it was nothing more than a small homestead surrounded by the forest, and a few hundred tents surrounded the small house. As the Dawnguard walked past the house, Isran could see the men were in poor spirits, and he could understand why. The White Walkers and wights had nearly wiped them out and they had no doubt lost dear friends in the battle. He remembered the feeling he had when he heard vampires had almost annihilated the Vigilant of Stendarr and destroyed the Hall of the Vigilant. Isran had had many friends in that order as well. Despite his falling out with the order, he had still kept tabs on them.

"Rangers approaching!" Matthar called out. At his announcement, several rangers came out from the tents to investigate. Matthar approached one of them, "Where's Lord Commander Mormont?"

The ranger didn't answer, but simply nodded his head towards the forest past the house. In the distance, Isran could see a large group of men standing out in the direction the ranger had indicated. Matthar motioned for the Dawnguard to follow and they approached. As they approached, Isran could see the men were very quiet as they faced a lit funeral pyre.

"His name was Bannen," an older man said aloud. Isran assumed he was Lord Commander Mormont as he was much older than the rest of the men. "He was a good man, a good ranger. He came to us from …" he paused, seemingly forgetting where the dead man came from. He turned to a younger ranger standing next to him, "Where did he come from?"

"Down White Harbor way." the young man answered.

"He came to us from White Harbor," Jeor continued, "Never failed in his duty. He kept his vows the best he could. He rode far, fought fiercely. We shall never see his like again."

"And now his watch has ended." the group of men said together.

"And now his watch has ended." Jeor repeated after them.

"Lord Commander Mormont," Matthar called out, "We've received reinforcements from… Skyrim."

Jeor raised an eyebrow, "From Skyrim?" he looked back at the younger ranger, "Lord Commander Stormcloak comes from Skyrim, does he not?" Murmurs rippled throughout the men as Jeor looked over Isran and the Dawnguard, "What brings men…" he noticed the women amongst them, "and women from across the Sunset Sea here to the Wall?"

"White Walkers and wights," Isran said curtly, bringing more murmurs from the men. "Ulfric has sent us here to make sure you get back to the Wall in one piece."

"You have women among your numbers?"

"Aye," Isran nodded, "That won't be a problem, will it?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Jeor looked over them one more time, "I'll think about that later." He made his way back towards the house. The Night's Watch and the Dawnguard all followed behind, Jeor and Isran at the front of them. "Right now, we have wounded amongst our numbers, most of them are severely wounded and will most likely not make it through the night. We can't move until our wounded are strong enough."

"If you wish, we have healers among us. Your men could be on their feet in no time."

"Healers?" Jeor scoffed, "I need my men battle-ready within days. Not weeks."

"I can have your men battle-ready by sunrise." Isran stated with no small amount of pride.

Jeor laughed, "How?"

Isran paused before answering, "Magic."

Jeor stopped in his tracks. "Magic?" Magic hadn't been seen in Westeros since the time of the Children, eons ago.

Isran could sense in Jeor's tone of voice that he was very suspicious and knew he had to speak quickly before Jeor rejected his offer for help. "Do you trust Lord Commander Stormcloak? Do you trust Ulfric?"

Jeor nodded, "He's one of the best men I've ever known. One of the bravest. He's helped the Night's Watch become strong again. Not as strong as it used to be all those years ago, but stronger than it was three years ago."

"Then trust me, Lord Commander Mormont. Lord Commander Stormcloak sent me and my hunters to help you. We're here to protect Westeros from these abominations… and rid this land of them if the Nine will it."

Jeor said nothing for a moment. "Let me see what these healers of yours can do."

Jeor was naturally suspicious of the healers, especially since they wielded magic. But after seeing Florentius' ability first-hand, he was more than happy to have the healers do their work. If all went well, by dawn all the Night's Watch's wounded would be back on their feet. As they waited for the healers, Isran, Jeor, and several of the Dawnguard and Night's Watch sat inside Craster's house.

The inside of Craster's house was dark and cold, only lit by a few torches and a small fire in the middle of the room. The mood amongst the Night's Watch was lightened somewhat, now that their wounded brothers were being looked after. But the heaviness of the White Walkers' attack still lingered in the air, and Craster's attitude did not help them in the least. Isran learned from Jeor that Craster allowed his keep to be used as a haven by the Watch whenever they traveled North of the Wall. However, many of the rangers particularly disliked him because of the incestuous relationships he had with his daughters: marrying them and having more children by them. And if any of them gave birth to sons, he would "sacrifice" the baby to the White Walkers. Isran wanted to strike Craster down where he stood, but Jeor informed him that the Night's Watch had to tolerate this, as Craster was one of their few sources of information and shelter beyond the Wall. So Isran just stood in the house, all the time glaring at Craster, who sat in his chair in the middle of the room in front of the fire eating meat, as if he was a king, while the Night's Watch was complaining of hunger.

Craster ignored the Redguard's gaze, focusing his attention on berating Mormont. "You have one son, don't you, Mormont?" he asked as Jeor looked through a journal, "I had my ninety-ninth. You ever meet a man with ninety-nine sons?" He gave an evil smile as he looked around at his daughter-wives, "And more daughters than I can count."

Jeor didn't look up from the journal, "I'm glad for you."

Craster laughed, "Are you now?" He looked up at Isran, "And who the fuck are you?" Isran said nothing and Craster sneered as he eyed Isran up and down, "You're here to take the Black?"

"I'm here to get Lord Commander Mormont and his men back to the Wall safely," Isran said finally, "Anything else is none of your business." If Craster heard the menacing tone in Isran's voice, he didn't comment on it.

Instead, Craster chuckled, "Ah, but it is my business. You crows are here on my land. I could kick you all off if I wanted. You can thank the old gods and the new that I'm letting you stay here and not leaving you out there to die."

"And you can thank the Nine that I don't kill you where you sit." Isran retorted. "You fuck your daughters, kill your grandsons-"

Craster laughed at Isran's threat, "You would attack a man under his own roof? You don't know what wrath the gods would rain down on you if you do."

And which gods are those, you sick fuck? The old ones, or the Walkers? While he left that thought unspoken, Isran slowly walked towards Craster, and gave voice to another one in a low, menacing growl, "Your gods are not my gods."

Craster stood and picked up an axe, ready for a fight, "Come on then! Fight me! Kill me!"

Jeor quickly rose from his feet and stood in between Isran and Craster. "Enough Isran! The gods will curse you if you do this." Isran was fuming. He wanted to send the end of his warhammer straight through Craster's skull. But both Jeor and Craster were right. Not because he feared the wrath of their gods, but because he was a guest under Craster's roof. It was common courtesy not to attack or kill a man under his own roof.

Craster simply laughed, "I'll be glad when you and yours have gone, crow."

Jeor turned to face him, "As soon as our wounded are strong enough."

Craster once again laughed, "They're as strong as they're gonna get. Them that's dying, why don't you cut their throats and be done with it? Hmm? Or leave them if you've not the stomach and I'll sort them myself."

"No one is going to die, Craster." Jeor shot back, "Thanks to Ser Isran's help, our men will be back on their feet by dawn."

"They'll be on their feet," Sorine acknowledged, "But they'll still be hungry. Craster's given them nothing but bread to eat, and they tell me there's sawdust in the bread."

"If you and the crows don't like it, bitch," Craster spat, "you all can go out there and eat the snow."

Now it was Sorine who stormed towards Craster, "What in Oblivion did you call me?!"

"Stand down, Sorine!" Isran called out, "Wait outside."

"Look at him," she complained as Craster sat down again, an evil smile across his face, "He's sitting there drinking wine, eating meat, while his guests starve!"

"I gave the crows enough," Craster said, "I've got to feed my women!"

"So you do have more food lying around?" Another Dawnguard spoke up.

"I am a godly man." Craster called out.

"You're a fetcher is what you are!" A Nord snapped back.

"Enough!" Jeor exclaimed, "Out! All of you!"

At first, no one moved. Then Isran nodded and the Dawnguard made their way outside. Once outside, Jeor turned to face Isran, "I know you're upset, Ser Isran-"

"That's an understatement," Isran interrupted, "And you call him an ally?"

"He's one of the few allies we have. And I'm not going to have you ruin that relationship! You're here to get us back to the Wall. Do that. And keep your comments to yourself. If we lose ties with Craster, we won't be able to know what happens on this side of the Wall." Isran bit his tongue and said nothing else. "Now, let us tend to our wounded and do what we can to prepare for the journey back to the Wall." With that Jeor turned on his heel and walked back into the house.

"We're not going to just let Craster treat us like this, are we?" Sorine asked Isran.

"We have to," Isran answered, "I'm not going to kill a man just because he treats us like dogs. Let the Nine deal with him."

The Riverlands

At first light, Laniel, Mjoll, and Arya had set out from the Brotherhood without Banners hidden hideout. They were of course led away from the hideout blindfolded. Laniel was on Shadowmere with Arya, and Mjoll was on her own horse. As soon as they were a safe distance away, the blindfolds were removed and Laniel could see they were surrounded by plains and hills. Thoros and Anguy were with them.

"Keep going north-west until you reach the Red Fork river," came the direction from Thoros, "then follow it north. You'll reach Riverrun in a few days' time." He looked over Laniel and Mjoll. "Are you sure you can't stay? The Brotherhood could really use you two, especially since you served the Starks."

"I would like to," Mjoll had said, "but I made a promise to Lady Sansa Stark that I would serve her mother."

"And I," Laniel had added, "wish to return Little Wolf to her mother."

Thoros had nodded, "I understand. Well, safe travels. May the Lord of Light guide you."

The three of them made their way north-west and traveled for a few hours, stopping to rest for a while. While they were stopped, Laniel saw an opportunity to teach a lesson to Arya. "It's time for another lesson, little wolf."

"On what?" Arya said a little too loudly.

Laniel shushed her and indicated Mjoll with his eyes, "Killing isn't the only thing an assassin is good for, little wolf. Pickpocketing is the best tool you could ever use. I can't tell you how many times I've 'secured' useful items. Taking keys from a guard could save time and open doors that would have never been opened before."

"Can't I just pick the lock?" Arya wondered.

"You could," Laniel replied, "but picking locks takes time. Only do it when you're sure you won't get caught. Picking locks will come later once you've mastered stealth. But right now, you should learn pickpocketing." He indicated Mjoll with his eyes again, "Pickpocket Mjoll."

Arya looked her over, "What do you want me to take?"

"Anything," Laniel said with a smile. "And of course, don't get caught."

"Aren't you going to distract her?"

Laniel shook his head, "If you can pickpocket someone while they're on their guard, pickpocketing someone while they're distracted will be easy." He tapped her forward, "Now go." He watched as Arya walked a ways into the woods, as if to relieve herself. Smart move, little wolf. It gave her an excuse to walk towards Mjoll from behind and accidentally run into her.

"I'm sorry, Lady Mjoll," Arya apologized, her hands quickly going for the coin purse on Mjoll's belt. She was not stealthy enough, as her hand bumped into Mjoll's back. Feeling this, Mjoll quickly spun on her heels and caught Arya's wrist just as Arya lifted the purse from the belt. Laniel stifled a laugh at Arya's failed attempt.

"And what do you think you're doing, little girl?" Mjoll glared into the girl's eyes, firmly holding on to the girl's wrist which held her purse.

"Training, Lady Mjoll." Arya tried to act brave, but Laniel could tell she was scared out of her mind.

"To be a thief?" Contempt spilled from Mjoll's lips. She'd had her fill of thieves, especially after living with a whole city of them for a whole year. She had lost count of the number of break-ins in her friend's Aerin's house. "I hate thieves. And if you're a thief, we're going to have a problem."

"No, my lady," Arya began to panic, "It's just…"

"She's training with me, Lioness. There's no need to give her a heart attack." Laniel came to her rescue. "Although if you feel the need to break a finger or two for her failure to lift your purse without your notice, I wouldn't stop you."

Arya's eyes went wide. "Whose side are you on?"

"Mine, of course. Failure gets-"

"Me killed, I get it." Arya huffed and walked past Laniel, bumping into him in frustration.

"Why in Oblivion are you training her to become an assassin?" Mjoll wondered as she watched Arya walk back to the horses.

"Why did you become a self proclaimed adventurer and protector of a city full of thieves?" Laniel asked, knowing the answer to his question.

"Because of my father," came her response.

Laniel knew a half truth when he heard one. "Ah, but also because you wanted to make a name for yourself. Besting dungeons and powerful foes alike, there is no rush quite like it. Arya seeks the same kind of strength, she just chooses a different path. Some opponents you can hear coming, while others you don't even know are there until their blade finds your throat."

"You lead her down a path no child should ever venture down."

"Trust me when I say there are worse things than being an assassin. You had the benefit of a family that cared. Not everyone is so fortunate. Arya has been separated from her parents and family for two years. She was there when her father was beheaded. She has seen things no child should see. And I…" Laniel's voice trailed off as memories of his harsh childhood came flooding back. Images of blood and his dead parents and siblings. His hands covered in their blood as he cried out in pain and sorrow. He quickly brought his mind back to the present, "I was a child once, and I still bear the scars of that time. So tell me brave Lioness... what would you suggest?"

Mjoll digested his words and nodded, saying nothing for a moment. She then looked at Laniel and smiled, "I suggest you get your purse and dagger back." It was only then that the assassin looked to his belt and realized Mjoll was right. He turned on his heel and laughed loudly when he saw the smug look on Arya's face as she twirled his dagger between her fingers, while his money pouch hung on her belt. "It seems she is quite the apprentice."

"Indeed, and quite a good job, little wolf." He said, his voice full of praise for the girl's developing skills. Only a few could have done that and gotten away with it, and he could number them on one hand, Nakos was of course one of them, followed closely by Babette.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to notice." Arya said with a smile as Laniel chuckled at the brave girl's words.

Mjoll walked over to her horse, "We've been here long enough. We should get moving before dark."

"Do not fear the dark, Lioness. There are worse things out there than bandits."

She fell into the verbal trap head first. "Who?"

"Us," was Laniel's simple response, a dark grin on his face.

Windstad Manor

Sansa was becoming a quick study in wielding her destruction magic. She could now cast the Frostbite spell for about ten seconds straight before becoming winded. But according to Serana, that was all the time she needed as Sansa's training shifted to using both the spell and a dagger at the same time. Serana brought the wooden dummy from the basement out behind the house, at the same time giving a hint of how strong she truly was as she hefted the heavy target with ease before sitting it down, "Keep your spell up as you approach," Serana instructed as Sansa cast the Frostbite spell at the dummy and walked toward it, dagger in hand. "Circle around! Now strike!" Sansa quickly slashed with her dagger and Serana nodded her approval. "Well done. Again."

Sansa followed her orders, circling around the wooden dummy and casting the Frostbite spell, then swiftly striking with her dragonbone dagger. The blade easily cut through the wood, adding to the myriad of slices and cuts that covered the dummy. Serana didn't need to be a mind reader to guess Sansa was imagining Joffrey in place of the practice dummy, and while she couldn't blame her in the slightest, she needed to set an example. Maybe a trip to Winterhold isn't such a bad idea. With a nod of her head, Serana put a hand on Sansa's shoulder just as she prepared to deliver another attack. "That's good. Take a rest." She could tell Sansa needed it, if for no other reason than to stop her imagined attacks on the boy king before she turned that dagger on her next in a fit of uncontrolled, blind rage. Besides, the layer of sweat clinging to the young Stark girl was a physical sign of exhaustion. She needed food and a good nap at the very least before the vampire would suggest the idea of traveling to the College of Winterhold.

Serana tossed a Magicka potion to Sansa, who finished it in a breath. "You should be happy, Sansa. You've made some progress, and started to hone that body of yours against a dummy." The sarcasm made Sansa huff in annoyance, but she didn't comment as Serana continued. "I think it might be time for us to move on. I've been thinking about heading to the College of Winterhold. They can teach you more than I could, and a lot faster for that matter. But," Serana held up a hand just as the girl was about to speak, silencing her on the spot, "don't think you're getting away from me that easily. I plan to stick around. I have friends at the College, and besides, we might not even make it to their door since bandits and worse still prowl the roads. I hope I don't have to explain more than that."

Sansa's anger disappeared as surely as a puff of smoke. For all her imaginings, she still shivered at the thought of being solely responsible for another man's death, and Serana was always quick to remind her of just how big such an action was. Intellectually, she understood there would be no choice if she wanted to live to see another day if they were attacked along the road, but knowing something and actually experiencing it were vastly different things. The last couple of years had exposed her to all kinds of horror, but she had yet to personally partake in them. That 'little bird' was still there, fluttering in the back of her mind, quietly whispering all of her old lessons and telling her all of this was meant for men, not women. And as much as she tried to silence it, it had yet to truly die, and so Serana's constant reminders still held sway. "I understand, Serana." Sansa finally said.

"No, you really don't, but you will. Hitting a wooden target is easy. Hitting a living, breathing target? That's something else entirely." As she had said before, Skyrim was not for the weak. That was one lesson she couldn't teach though. Sansa would have to experience it for herself, and she didn't look forward to what would likely follow in any event. There was no question about Serana stepping in if Sansa couldn't handle a threat to her person, but the vampire was far more concerned with what would follow if the girl actually killed her first man. She knew she hadn't taken it well, once upon a time, and she hadn't been able to blame it on her vampirism either. "Stock up on health and magicka potions, food, and water. You're going to need them. We have a few days ride ahead of us."

"Ride?" Sansa looked in the direction of the private carriage that waited outside the house, "Can't we just take the carriage?"

Serana laughed, "You're still used to getting pulled around by coaches and having people wait on you, Sansa. If you want to survive here, you're going to have to learn how to have more independence. Otherwise, what was the point of letting you keep that dagger, or teaching you how to use magic?"

Sansa sighed heavily, "Fine."

"Good girl." Serana chuckled again, but considered, briefly, the idea of ripping one of the carriage wheels off so Sansa didn't get any bright ideas. But then she considered what Nakos would likely do to her, and filed it into the back of her mind. If she made the mistake of going for the carriage, then she'd sabotage it, but for now, she left it be. "Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"Yes."

"At least there's that. I won't ask if you know how to take care of one since I know the answer to that."

"Very funny," Sansa quipped as she walked through the back door of the house.

"I wasn't joking." Serana followed her inside. "Taking care of the horses is just as important." The vampire continued as she followed the Stark girl through the manor. "Mistreat them and they turn wild and unruly. Run them ragged and they are likely to die on the side of the road, leaving you stranded in the middle of nowhere. Trust me, a lame horse is not something you want on your hands. And before you say a word, I'm telling you all this to keep you alive, and not because Nakos asked me to. I happen to like you. Gods know why, but there it is."

Sansa processed this. it was one of the few times someone actually cared for her that wasn't her family. The Hound, although he served the Lannisters, had cared for her, in his own way. Nakos and Mjoll did as well. And all three of them had played some part of saving and shaping her life. And if Nakos trusted Serana, then she had no problem trusting her. "What else do we need to bring?"

They left Winstad Manor about an hour later, stocked with food, drinks, potions, and some books for Sansa to read. They traveled northeast towards Dawnstar. From there, Serana told Sansa, they would take the road from Dawnstar directly to Winterhold. But for now, they needed to travel through hills and forests to get to Dawnstar. Sansa took one of the horses from Nakos' stable: a horse with a red dun coat, while Serana took a horse with a steel grey coat. As they rode towards Dawnstar, Sansa couldn't help but notice how slow the horse seemed compared to the horses of Westeros. Though she had rarely rode them, she saw how fast they were. It got to the point that she couldn't keep her opinion to herself any longer. "I could probably outrun this horse." Sansa remarked with more than a little annoyance at the slow pace they had been setting.

"Skyrim horses aren't bred for speed," Serana said with a shrug, personally uncaring about her opinion on the matter.

"I noticed." Sansa said, a small smirk crossing her lips.

"No one's in a great hurry to get everywhere like you, Sansa. Skyrim is about endurance. So long as you can outlast your opponents, you have the advantage. The same goes for the weather. Surviving the elements will make you strong. An iron will will see you through anything in life. That's the difference between Skyrim and Westeros. You people are too short sighted and too quick to jump on the wagon. Besides, I prefer to ride."

"But you can outrun a horse."

"Yep, but you can't." Serana said with a smile, but it quickly went away when she saw movement in the corner of her eye. The bushes were swaying back and forth, too quickly to have been moved by the wind… especially since there was no wind. "We've got company." Serana said softly, and indicated Sansa's dagger with her eye. Sansa hesitated, but quickly drew her dagger.

Five bandits jumped out of their hiding places and blocked the road: two Nords, two Redguards, and an Orc. Sansa was surprised to see that two of them, one of the Nords and one of the Redguards, were women. It was true that women could be anything in Skyrim, but she was disappointed to see that some women chose the life of crime. As Sansa looked them over, she noticed their weapons. The male Nord and male Redguard had swords in their belts, the female Nord held a war axe, and the female Redguard held a bow in her hands, a quiver of arrows strapped to her back, and a dagger in her belt. Though Sansa was scared of them, the orc scared her the most. He held an evil-looking warhammer across both his shoulders and was almost as tall as the Hound. She also noticed he was wearing thick steel armor while the others wore simple leather. She quickly glanced at Serana, who shook her head ever so slightly. Sansa understood. Don't say a word, Sansa, was the silent command from the vampire.

"Well, lookee here," the Orc said, "Two lost little ladies." His taunt brought chuckles from the other bandits. "You picked a bad time to get lost, ladies. This here road requires a toll to pass through. If you don't pay," he glanced over at his friends, "we kill you and take your gold anyway." More chuckles from the bandits.

"We have no gold," Serana lied, "We're just looking to pass through." Any other day, she wouldn't have spared the highwaymen a second glance before putting them six feet under, but she had Sansa to worry about.

The Orc laughed, "You sure you don't have no gold in all those bags of yours?"

"Even if we did," Serana snapped, "what makes you think I'm gonna just give it to you?"

"Because," the Orc growled back, "there's five of us and only two of you. There ain't no way you're gonna stop us." As he spoke, the male Nord, female Nord, and male Redguard began circling them, trying to surround them. Serana watched as the female Nord walked over to Sansa's horse and took hold of the halter. The male Nord walked over to her and did the same, while the male Redguard circled behind them. Both of the horses neighed as they tried to pull away from the bandits, but they kept hold and did not let go. The female Redguard nocked an arrow and aimed it at Sansa. Sansa tightened her grip on the dagger in one hand, the reins in her other hand and said nothing, but Serana could tell she was scared out of her mind. Here was a woman ready to send an arrow between her eyes. All of these people were ready to kill both her and Serana, all for a few gold coins.

Serana noticed the danger Sansa was in and glared back at the Orc, "Try anything, and it won't end well for you."

"Oh ho!" The Orc bellowed, "A tough lady, eh?"

"If you try anything," she repeated, "I'll kill all of you." She glared right into the eyes of the Orc, "but I think I'm going to kill you last."

The Orc brought the warhammer from his shoulders, "I'd like to see ya try!" It was then that he noticed Serana's eyes, and his own eyes went wide with fear, "VAMPIRE!"

"I'm far more than that." In a flash, Serana sent an ice spike through the female Redguard's head, nearly taking the woman's head off her shoulders, and taking Sansa out of danger… for now. She quickly jumped from her horse and sent another ice spike through the male Redguard's chest. The ice spike burst through the back of the man and he collapsed instantly. The male Nord and the Orc charged at Serana while the female Nord tried to pull Sansa off the horse. Sansa kept the bandit at bay, wildly slashing away.

The Orc and male Nord faced off with Serana. With a cry, the Orc brought his warhammer across his body in a wide arc. Serana easily dodged out of the way, using her vampiric speed and agility to her advantage. The Nord slashed at Serana, but hit only air. Serana quickly cut the Nord's inner leg with her dagger, causing him to bleed out profusely. He fell to his knees, and tried to keep the wound from bleeding with his hands, but an ice spike to his head put him out of his misery.

Meanwhile, the female Nord managed to grab ahold of Sansa's arm and roughly pull her to the ground. The Nord drew her war axe and brought it down over her head, but Sansa quickly rolled out of the way, the blade striking the ground where her head had once been. Sansa's heart was beating out of her chest; she was literally fighting for her life, and the look in the bandit's eyes told her that she was more than willing to kill Sansa over the money she had. Sana was almost frozen in fear; she had only practiced on a wooden dummy... never on a real person. Though she had always imagined it was Joffrey or Cersei she was killing, her skills were actually being put to the test… and it was frightening. She was so scared that she almost forgot about her Frostbite spell entirely… almost. Sansa quickly got up and cast the spell at the Nord. The bandit screamed as the blast of cold wind and ice enveloped her, and she put her left arm up, as if to stop the spell from striking her in the face. Sansa circled the bandit and rushed at her, bringing the dagger in a downward angle. The Nord screamed as the blade sliced through her raised arm, almost cutting it to the bone. The next thing Sansa felt was exhilarating, restoring her ability to fight. It was as if she was imbued with life… as if life had entered her through the dagger. She was so distracted by the feeling that she stopped casting the spell.

The bandit used the distraction to her advantage. She swung her war axe at Sansa's head. Sansa ducked and again sliced downward with the dagger. The bandit held the axe up at both ends of the handle and tried to block the blow, but the dragonbone was far stronger and easily cut through the handle of the rusty iron axe, cutting it into two. Frustrated, the bandit tossed the remains of her weapon aside and tackled Sansa to the ground, knocking the air out of her. The bandit got on top of Sansa and began punching her. Sansa tried in vain to block the punches, but they continued to land, doing some damage. The bandit then grabbed Sansa's right wrist and tried to wrestle the dagger from her grip. Sansa struggled with the Nord, but she knew she wouldn't be strong enough to hold onto the dagger. With her left hand, she cast another Frostbite spell directly in the bandit's face. Again the bandit screamed in pain, instinctively bringing her hands to her face. Sansa quickly plunged the dagger into the bandit's chest, and held onto the dagger as the exhilarating feeling returned. But this time, she felt renewed… as if she had never been hurt. The bandit let out a few gasps as the dagger had struck her heart. The bandit let out a last breath and collapsed on top of Sansa. She tried to push the body off, but the Nord was much heavier than she was. Sansa suddenly felt a release as Serana easily pulled the body off with one hand, and Sansa stood up with a cry.

After a few deep breaths to calm herself, Sansa pulled her dagger out from the Nord's body and looked up at Serana. Was she watching me fight the whole time? "Where were you?! Why didn't you help me?"

"Why do you think?" Serana retorted firmly. Sansa started to retort, but then said nothing. She realized that this was another lesson. Sansa could not always rely on others to help her. She had to rely on herself first. If she always relied on others, there was no way she was going to survive. But if she knew how to fight for herself and defend herself, then she would have a better chance at surviving. "You know, don't you?" Serana asked.

Sansa nodded and looked around. The rest of the bandits were dead… well, almost all of them. Besides the Orc, the rest of the bandits lay lifeless on the ground, ice spikes protruding from their bodies. The Orc lay on the ground, breathing, but seemingly unable to move. Sansa pointed to the Orc, "What are we going to do with him?"

"I'll take care of him." Serana walked over to the Orc and knelt at his side, "You may want to look away and cover your ears, Sansa." she said before placing her mouth at the Orc's neck.

Sansa quickly turned away and covered her ears, but the screams of the Orc still came through. She looked at the dagger in her hand, wondering about the feeling she had experienced. It was then that she remembered about the enchantment Nakos had placed on the dagger: an enchantment that would drain the life from the person she struck and transfer it to her. The feeling of another person's life force being transferred to her was… exhilarating, to say the least. It was a feeling she had never felt before… she had felt powerful, unstoppable. She looked down at the dagger, a small smile crossing her lips. Then the realization of what she did came rushing back to her and her breakfast came back up and onto the ground.

Astapor, Essos

Nakos walked behind Daenerys Targaryen as she, the translator, Jorah Mormont, and Barristan Selmy walked through the large gates that led into the city's main square. Several of her Dothraki guards carried Drogon, the largest of her dragons, in a large covered cage. Daenerys had still said nothing on why she was willing to give Astapor a dragon in exchange for eight thousand soldiers. But Nakos knew that Daenerys wasn't about to let go of her most prized possession, so he was interested in seeing what plan she had in mind. As they walked through the large gates into the plaza, Nakos could see that all eight thousand of the Unsullied were gathered in the city's main square. There were other men and women of Astapor in the plaza. By their dress, Nakos guessed they were nobles or worse… the slave-owners. All around the nobles were slaves in heavy chains, serving them refreshments.

As they approached, the Good Master Kraznys spoke through the translator, who Nakos learned was named Missandei, "The master says they are untested. He says you would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Should you take captives, the masters will buy the healthy ones and for a good price. And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys you send them may be Unsullied in their turn. Thus all shall prosper."

All eyes were on Daenerys as he walked over to the covered cage and brought out Drogon on a long chain leash attached to its foot. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Drogon flew some feet in the air and hovered. Daenerys walked over to Kraznys and handed the leash to him, and in return he gave her the whip that he had been holding since they met him a few days ago.

"Is it done, then?" Daenerys asked, "They belong to me?"

After Missandei conversed with Kraznys in their language, Missandei confirmed, "It is done. You hold the whip."

Kraznys made another comment that Missandei did not translate, and Nakos swore he saw a look of contempt cross Daenerys' face. Daenerys walked and stood in front of the eight thousand soldiers. Then, to the astonishment of Nakos, Jorah, Barristan, and Missandei, she spoke in the exact same language that Kraznys and Missandei had been speaking in since their arrival into Astapor. She spoke some words, and the Unsullied moved forward. She spoke again and they stopped. Nakos was amazed. Kraznys, however, was too distracted to notice. He was trying to control Drogon and pull him closer, but the dragon was stubborn and would not obey. He spoke to Missandei in the foreign language, and Daenerys responded in the same language. A stunned look crossed Kraznys' face as he finally noticed that Daenerys was speaking to him in his own language.

Nakos placed his hand on Missandei's shoulder, but she anticipated his question, "Daenerys speaks Valyrian. It is her mother tongue."

Daenerys turned back to the Unsullied, speaking in Valyrian again. The Unsullied obeyed her without hesitation, and instantly began attacking all of the assembled slave-masters. As the Unsullied began striking down the slave masters, Kraznys yelled at the soldiers, but whatever he said, they did not listen to him. Daenerys turned back to face him and said a simple word, "Dracarys." In response, Drogon breathed fire onto Kraznys, completely engulfing the man in flames. Drogon then flew across the upper walls where the other slave-masters were watching, burning them all to death while the Unsullied proceed to sack the entire city.

Nakos looked at Missandei, and she again anticipated his question, "She has ordered the Unsullied to kill all of the slave masters, along with all of the household soldiers and any man who holds a whip. She told them to spare any children, and to strike the chains off any slave they see."

Once the one-sided battle was over, there was dead silence, save for the cry of birds as they flew over the sea. Nakos, Jorah, Missandei, and Barristan followed Daenerys through the ranks of the Unsullied, still in awe of what had transpired. Daenerys mounted a white horse that stood in the middle of the ranks and addressed the Unsullied. Missandei translated for the Queensguard, "She tells them that they have been slaves all their lives, but that today they are free. Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. She gives her word. She asks them if they will fight for her as free men."

For a moment, none of the Unsullied said or did anything. Then one soldier started tapping the end of his spear against the ground. One by one, the others joined in until all eight thousand were striking their spears against the ground in support. Nakos could see a smile appear on her lips and he couldn't help but smile as well. In fact, Jorah, Barristan, and Missandei, were smiling along with them. The Unsullied were theirs. Soon, all of them were marching out of the city of Astapor, Daenerys, Missandei and her Queensguard leading the Unsullied on horseback. They began marching north towards the next slave city: the city of Yunkai.

The Next Day

Morndas, 21st of Morning Star, 4E 205

Northeast of Astapor

After a long-needed rest that night, Daenerys and her soldiers broke camp at first light and continued their journey to Yunkai. The sun was high in the sky and the weather once again reminded Nakos of the deserts of Hammerfell. This time, there were no staunch body odors to ruin the feeling of nostalgia. He smiled to himself as he mentally recalled the travels he had with his father and sister throughout Hammerfell, and the deserts and the oases they passed through during their journeys. As luck would have it, the journey to Yunkai happened to pass through a small oasis. It had been a while since both horses and men had drank water, so Daenerys decided to stop for a brief rest. Nakos had ridden alongside Jorah and Barristan the whole way, sharing a little about his background in Hammerfell and Skyrim, just as he had done with Tyrion.

"What about your red dragon friend?" Jorah had asked, "How are you able to ride him, and communicate with him? or talk with Khaleesi's dragons, for that matter?"

Nakos had always anticipated that he would be asked about this, "I am Dragonborn, a mortal blessed by the god Akatosh with the blood and soul of a dragon. I have the ability to speak to, control, and ride dragons." Nakos left out the part about him killing dragons and what happened afterward. He also decided to tell them about the Thu'um later. The conversation then turned to their experiences in battles and war. Jorah began talking about a battle he fought in with a king called Robert Baratheon. When Nakos heard the last name, he wondered if he was in any way related to Joffrey, but did not ask for obvious reasons.

"It was a bitch of a siege," Jorah said as they approached a small body of water.

"You were first through the breach at Pyke?" Barristan asked.

"The second," came Jorah's answer, "Thoros of Myr went in alone, waving that flaming sword of his."

Barristan chuckled, "Thoros of Myr. Bloody madman. Robert knighted you after the battle?"

"Proudest moment of my life," Jorah mused. He looked at Nakos, "What about you, Ser Nakos? What mighty battles have you fought?"

"Several," Nakos answered, "One in particular remains burned in my memory. It was the battle that ended the Skyrim Civil War. The Battle of Windhelm. The Imperial Legion and I fought our way to the gates of the city. I myself led the charge. We lost many good men that day… and I lost a good friend. Hadvar, his name was. But we won the war."

"Were you knighted?" Jorah inquired.

Nakos shook his head, "We have no knights where I come from."

"I remember when Robert knighted me. One knee in the dust, the king's sword on my shoulder, listening to the words, 'In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.' All I could think of was how badly I had to piss." Both Barristan and Nakos laughed as all three dismounted their horses and led them to the water. "In full plate metal for sixteen hours. Never occurred to me till the fighting was over. I was very nearly the first man knighted to piss on the king's boots."

Barristan laughed some more, "Robert would have laughed. He was a good man, a great warrior," he paused before adding, "And a terrible king. I burned away my years fighting for terrible kings."

Jorah narrowed his eyes, "You swore an oath."

"Yes. And a man of honor keeps his vows, even if he's serving a drunk or a lunatic. Just once in my life before it's over, I want to know what it's like to serve with pride, to fight for someone I believe in." He nodded his head towards the approaching Daenerys. "Do you believe in her?"

Jorah nodded, and the three of them bowed as she passed by, "With all my heart."

Daenerys and Nakos shared a look and a smile, and this silent exchange did not go unnoticed by the two older knights, "It seems Daenerys has taken a liking to you, Ser Nakos." Barristan said with a smile.

"As have I," Nakos continued to watch her trot down the shore on her horse.

"And why not?" Jorah added, smiling as well, "You both have dragons."

"She is beautiful," Nakos found himself saying, and the older knights exchanged looks and chuckled. "What's your point?" Nakos couldn't help but smirk, despite his best efforts to hide it.

"No point," Jorah's face became hard as stone, "but if you break her heart, I will kill you. She has endured too much as it is."

"I won't." Nakos said, his voice holding every bit of conviction he could muster.

Jorah nodded, "Good."

"Ser Nakos!" Daenerys' voice called out to them some distance away.

"Khaleesi beckons you, Ser Nakos," Jorah teased, the smile once again returning, but Nakos noted it didn't reach his eyes.

Nakos bowed slightly to the two older knights before walking over to Daenerys, "Khaleesi."

"There is something I would like to ask of you. I want you to serve as my right-hand." At Nakos's surprised expression, Daenerys continued. "You have led men into battle, Ser Nakos, have you not?"

"I have, Khaleesi, but why do you ask me? I am sure both Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah could advise you just as well."

"They do not have dragonblood," she said firmly.

Nakos was quick to give her a small lesson in humility. "Before I became the Dragonborn, I had nothing. I imagine I'll end up in the ground with nothing as well, but if the Divines are kind, that won't be for many years yet. Having dragons at our back, and dragonblood in our veins, only makes us stand out in a crowd. In the end, we're both just people. Dragonblood or not, thinking yourself above the masses will only lead to sorrow. From what I've heard since becoming a part of your khalasar, your brother made that mistake."

"My brother was… unstable." She began slowly before gaining speed. "The Targaryen madness was beginning to show. But I am not my brother. And I will not go mad, unlike him… or my father, or my great-uncle."

"I doubt you have anything to fear. Unlike most of those that ride with you now, I will never lie, or try to flatter you, Khaleesi. You ask for my council and my advice, and I'll give it with respect, but I won't censor it to spare your feelings if it comes to that. Honest words make for honest work, or so my own father would have said if he were still alive."

After a tense silence had fallen between them, Daenerys hesitantly asked, "Who was your father?"

"A blacksmith. We lived a comfortable life for the most part since good steel is always in demand. Anything from nails to swords, my father knew how to make it in his forge. I learned what I could before the troubles started with the Thalmor, a rival kingdom that inhabits a small island nation." Nakos paused. It was not something he wished to talk about at the moment. "Let us say that the Thalmor were the source of many of Tamriel's woes, and leave it at that for now."

Daenerys nodded in understanding, needing no further explanation for the moment. "Sometimes I wish I had been born to a simpler life. A life without a family dynasty as large as it was legendary. I realize now that my brother must have felt crushed by what he thought he had to live up to, to try and surpass and make it his own, and more the fool was he."

"I can empathize with him to a point." Nakos' reply took Daenerys by surprise. "The legend of Dragonborn is just as encompassing. The vast majority of those before me were heroes without equal, their valiant deeds sung to every corner of Tamriel and beyond. Jurgen Windcaller, who founded the Way of the Voice, still holds sway with those that train and mentor Dragonborns to this day. Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, and Felldir the Old were the first to fight the mighty Alduin and prevail during the ancient war against the dragons. So yes, I can understand all too well, Khaleesi. But I found that obsessing over such a thing is no way to go about life."

"Then why do I feel such a powerful urge to rule?" Rule was a kind way of putting it. Merely thinking on the word had her blood urging her to make Nakos and everyone in her khalasar bend to her will. If not for the fact such an action would undermine everything she had built already, she probably would have succumbed to it already.

"That is the dragonblood inside you. The same blood that courses through my veins. There is not a day that goes by when I don't feel the urge to rule, just like you do. Dragons were made for that sole purpose. It is all they ever think about." Nakos was quick to correct himself after a moment's thought. "Most of them, I should say. Some have risen above their base instincts, and have chosen another way. Odahviing is one. Another is a wise, ancient dragon that once served Alduin like a brother, but he gave up his alliance with the black dragon long ago. His name is Paarthurnax." Nakos saw that he had her undivided attention, "As my master, Paarthurnax once told me, it is better to overcome great evil than it is to be born good. If you would like, I could teach you how to suppress the darker side of your blood, so that you do not become a cruel, heartless ruler, Khaleesi."

"I would be quite grateful if you did, Ser Nakos. And please," Daenerys said with a smile, "Call me Daenerys."

"And you can call me Nakos. No 'ser'. I was never a knight, despite being a soldier." Nakos replied with a small smile of his own appearing on his face.

Daenerys nodded her head, "Very well… Nakos."

End Notes; Vergil1989; Yet another chapter is in the bag. I've really started to enjoy working with this literary master, I just hope the feeling's mutual.

DoctorEagle: It is! Mos def!

Giselle; I say he's been too kind by far. You and Nakos both are idiots if you think this is going to end well.

Vergil1989; Be nice G. Not everyone can afford to be as blunt as a hammer you know.

Giselle; Says the fool that wrote me into existence.

Nakos: Oh, Giselle, you should do some meditation with Paarthurnax. It may do you some good.

Giselle; As I told Molag Bal, what I do is none of your concern.

Nakos: We're both Dragonborns. I think it should concern me what happens to a fellow Dragonborn, no?

Vergil1989; In all seriousness, we hope you enjoyed the show folks, and that little snippet between our respective stars from Skyrim actually started out as wild chat imaginings, but who knows, it might become something more. For now though, hope to hear those wonderful reviews for this and my own story, Heed Our Voice. Adios and may the Nine bless your path!

DoctorEagle: It has been fun working with Vergil and we'll try to do it more often. But until we meet again, my friends!

Nakos: Talos guide you!

Babette; Don't you mean Sithis, dear Brother?

Laniel: So true, Brother.

Nakos: No, if I do that, then they may end up de-… oh, reader. Is that someone behind you?