Well, I'm back! Sorry for the longer than normal delay in getting this out. All I can say is that real life can be a royal pain. Especially this year. Anyway, not a whole lot to discuss before getting into this one. So, I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted or added this story to your favorites. Writing is a stress reliever of mine, and the knowledge that there are so many out there enjoying what I wrote really helps to motivate me to keep going.

One thing I do want to point out, this story is following the books far more closely than it is the show, however I am utilizing aspects of the show that I liked (the few there were outside of the visuals). Also, like the book, there will be a lot more magic and mysticism in this story than in the show.

And once again, a huge thank you to my beta reader Tellemicus Sundance, whose been a huge help not only in beta reading, but in also helping with my brainstorming and helping me keep some of more wilder ideas from making this story go sideways.

Standard disclaimer; I do not own Star Wars, Game of Thrones or A Song of Fire and Ice. If I did…well I wouldn't have to break my back working fifty plus hours a week lol.

Hope that you all enjoy! And please feel free to leave a review if you feel so inclined! And one last thing, pairings for the Stark children and other couples have been decided. And, minor spoiler, they are not the more common of pairings, but ones that I enjoy.

Chapter 9

Standing next to the helm of the Sea Wolf, former Darth Nox, Lord of the Sith, member of the Dark Council of the Sith Empire and a current Lord of Westeros and the Northern Sorcerer, watched through the Force as the massive ship cut through the waves of the ocean with barely a tremor felt. The ship's massive size granted it such stability that unless they encountered a large wave, the calm to choppy waters of the Narrow Sea did little to disturb the passengers and sailors on board as they sailed down the coast of Essos heading ever closer to their destination. Leaning his head back, Nox took in a deep breath of sea air.

He hadn't really realized it before, as he hadn't had a chance too, but he'd missed this. Not the sailing, although that too was enjoyable to a point. No, what he missed was the adventure. Heading off into the unknown. Searching for secrets long since lost and returning with knowledge worth more even more than raw coaxium. Ever since the end of his 'apprenticeship' under his former master Darth Zash, Nox had not had a moment to truly head out and pursue this type of venture again. After Zash's death, he was stuck running for his life from Darth Thanaton before wading through the swamps of Taris and then the frozen wasteland of Hoth. And after that, he was stuck trying to keep his body from deteriorating from the Force Walking ritual so that he could finally confront Darth Thanaton and kill the son of a bitch. Which then led to his ascension to the Dark Council and the end to any potential 'free time' he might've had as he suddenly found himself responsible for an entire sect of the Sith, maintaining his own fleet of Imperial ships and soldiers, while at the same time keeping an eye out for any potential upstarts within the Sith that thought they had a chance at taking what was his.

The only thing that could've truly made this little venture of his more enjoyable would be if Nyra was by his side. It had honestly surprised him how fast the once timid girl had worked her way into his life. But now, now she was as much a fixture of his thoughts as Ashara had been, and still was. But while the two women might be equal in his heart now, they were quite different. Oh, they both had the same fire and drive that attracted him so. But if he were being completely honest, Ashara was the stronger of the two. He'd tried to teach Nyra to fight, but she'd been…well, miserable at it. He'd been persistent with her, and while she did learn a few things and could probably hold her own for a time against most, she would never be able to truly stand by his side on the field of battle as an equal. But while she might not be the warrior that Ashara was, she was strong in other areas. Which was why he'd had no qualms about leaving her in charge of his affairs while he was away. He trusted her, probably above all others, to do what needed to be done.

'At least this time I won't be going skinny dipping in a toxic waste dump on Balmorra.' Nox thought, chuckling lightly to himself as he remembered the defector Imperial doctor that he dragged back from a Republic base. 'Although, based on what I've learned of the so-called 'Doom of Valyria', I could very well be walking headfirst into a similar situation.'

Ever since he'd had the vision before the weirwood tree in Winterfell all those years ago, Nox had been dedicating almost every moment he could to deciphering it. While some aspects of the vision he could make sense of, for every one of those occurrences there were still ten or more that did not make much sense. The great darkness that was threatening to overrun Westeros for instance was still a mystery to him, although after digging through the library and speaking discreetly with the denizens of the North, he had a fair idea of just what, if not who, the darkness was. But the other dark presences around this world still eluded him. Not something that he was accustomed to, nor something that he was comfortable with. And due to the lack of effective transportation, he was unfortunately stuck with dealing with the threat's closest to him for the time being.

Whenever he entered a deep state of mediation, he could almost feel the individual dark presences across the globe. And besides the strangely clouded presence far to the north of Westeros, there was only one that was close by. And it resided in a land that few dared to tread. Valyria: the perfect place to hide. And there was not a doubt in his mind that whatever this dark presence was or is, it had something to do with the 'Doom of Valyria'. 'It had to be some sort of Force Ritual gone wrong. Or right, pending on one's point of view.' Nox pondered while idly drumming his fingertips against the railing of the ship.

Nox could think of several rituals off the top of his head that could have a backlash, intentionally or not, that could equal the devastation reportedly caused by the Doom. And none of those rituals were pleasant. Well, not that many Sith rituals could be considered 'pleasant' in the first place. But still, there were a few rituals that any Sith with barely a mediocre amount of sense in their heads knew to stay well away from.

The only other theory he had for the Doom was a natural disaster like a volcanic eruption. But that seemed more and more unlikely with each new fact he learned about Valyria. The land was rife with 'magic'. And even a novice Sith Acolyte would've been able to sense such a disastrous event well before it occurred. Then there was the Smoking Sea itself, a simple strait that became a sea after the Doom shattered the peninsula that Valyria once sat upon. The sea constantly smoked, and the water boiled. And then there were the demons and stone men were said to room within its depths. Not something that Nox considered to be a 'natural' phenomenon.

Hearing a commotion from the main deck of the Sea Wolf, Nox pulled his senses back into himself and to the ship. Standing on the main deck of the ship, surrounded by a good portion of the crew, were two individuals who, despite sharing the same name, were complete opposites in terms of size from one another. 'Small Jon' Umber, although Nox was sure the name was ironic as the newly turned twenty-year-old man stood even a full head above Nox, was making small circles around his much small opponent, Nox's own acolyte Jon Snow. While to the passerby it might look like the two were sparring, they were instead playing a game that Nox had introduced to the crew as an attempt to alleviate some of the boredom and stress that can come from long voyages such as this. On each of their backs, they had a strip of red cloth the size of a man's arm tucked into the waistline of their pants. The objective was simple: the first one to get the cloth from the opponent won. And the only rules were no weapons and no drawing blood.

However, despite the severe size mismatch, Jon was holding his own as he used his smaller frame to deftly dodge around Small Jon's light punches and attempts to grab him while those who were surrounding the two were shouting words of encouragement or taunts as coins and verbal bets were being passed between one another. Of those trading the taunts and barbs, the ones who surprised Nox the most were Dacey Mormont and Asha Greyjoy. Not because the two were in the crowd joining in with the others, but rather because the two were standing side by side and laughing with one another.

Despite the long history of animosity between the two young women's Houses and their relatively frosty introduction to one another, the two women had developed a strange comradery during the voyage. And now, it was almost strange to find one during the day without the other right next to her. Their relationship was probably helped by the fact that, being the only two women onboard the vessel, they were placed into the same cabin with one another. So, they were forced to either try and find some common ground between themselves or be faced with a very long voyage ahead.

Hearing a chorus of cheers and groans as well as the sound of coins changing hands, Nox focused on Jon and Jon. His Acolyte had managed to jump and flip over the much large man's head and had grabbed hold of the red cloth on his opponent's back, before tucking and rolling away from him. Ending the match between the two as he came up with the cloth in hand and a grin that nearly split his face in two.

Even though this voyage had only just really begun, the changes in Nox's young Acolyte were astonishing. The boy had grown by leaps and bounds, not necessarily in terms of power, but rather in confidence. Something that he needed desperately but was heavily stunted due to his time in Winterfell and to his status as a bastard. While Nox had noted that the Northern people did not care for a man's status but rather his deeds, the title still held a heavy weight over the boy's head. 'Primarily because it had been drilled into his head for years before I arrived and could cease the berating.' Nox thought sourly. 'It's taken a long time to undo years of conditioning.'

Their brief stop in Braavos to resupply had done wonders not only for Jon, but for many of the men of the North. Most of whom had never stepped foot outside the Northern territory in their entire lives. Of course, he was sure that many of the men were just happy with the few silver stags that were presented to each member of the crew. Which Nox had no doubt immediately went into the hands of the brothels near the port. Small Jon certainly hadn't been shy about boasting about his own trip to the local brothel where, by his more than likely overstated claim, he had been able to satisfy four whores to such a degree that he actually had to convince them to keep the coin he paid them with.

Jon of course, had turned red at the tale. His acolyte might have already bloodied himself in battle, but he was still just a boy of twelve, nearly thirteen years of age. And while puberty had set in, due to his upbringing, the boy was far too timid around the fairer sex for Nox's liking. 'The boy needs to get over his unease towards women. In Braavos, the boy went completely red and he lost his focus simply because a whore flashed him her tits and offered him the time of his life. Should he ever come across a female opponent, either on the field of battle or off, he could and will be easily distracted if she knows what she's doing. And such a distraction can prove fatal. It's why a few female Sith I knew fought in such skimpy outfits. They used their bodies as a distraction to a great effect against those who were not ready for it.'

The simplest answer was simply to get Jon laid. But considering the boy was only twelve years of age, that was not really an option. Sure, there was no true 'age of consent' on this backwater world. But it still wasn't a route that Nox was willing to go down. 'Asha has been a good influence on the boy, and Dacey as well.' Nox thought as he watched the only two women, who had both opted for loose fitting clothes that left little to the imagination due to the heat they were experiencing on the ship, walk up and congratulate Jon on his victory, which made the young man freeze and go red slightly. 'But it is not enough. Perhaps locking him in a room with a dozen naked women…not to have sex, but rather just to get him used to the female form would work?'

"Lord Nox."

Turning away from the scene occurring on the main deck, Nox turned his attention to Ser Wendel Manderly, who was considered to officially be second-in-command of the Sea Wolf even though he was said vessel's Captain. Although, unofficially, on this voyage he was third after Asha who'd taken to the ship as if it were her own. And while he certainly wasn't as robust as his father, the man had some girth to him. Such that Nox was surprised that the floorboards of the ship didn't groan whenever he walked across them. "What is it, Ser Wendel?"

"I just finished going over the charts, Lord Sorcerer," Wendel stated, pawing at his long mustache that fell around his lips and down past his chin. "Should the wind hold, we should be reaching the Stepstones within two days, my Lord. Was also wondering if you want us to stop in Tyrosh to resupply before we make our way through. The men could surely use another day at port. Braavos did wonders."

"That it did," Nox nodded in acknowledgement. "But no, we will not be stopping in Tyrosh. We'll be sailing past the Sea of Myrth soon enough, and Tyrosh is too close to Myr for my liking. And considering all the Wolf and Mermaid banners and emblems on this ship, I'd rather not give Myr the chance to organize some sort of accident to befall us as we make our way through the islands and around the Disputed Lands."

Wendel didn't necessarily look pleased, but he nodded his head in agreement. "Aye, I can see your point, Lord Sorcerer. The North certainly isn't high up on Myr's list of friends as of late, considering how much coin we've cost them. I'll inform the crew that we won't be stopping in Tyrosh, my Lord. But, if not Tyrosh, then where will we make port again?"

"Volantis," Nox answered without hesitation. "I want us to be well and clear of the Disputed Lands before we make port."

"Very well, my Lord." Wendel nodded, moving aside as Nox strode past him towards the steps that led down to the main deck.

Without saying another word, Nox turned the moment he was on the main deck and made for the back of the ship where the cabins belonging to the Captain and the First Mate lay. Though, right now the captain's cabin belonged to Nox and the First mate's cabin belonged to Dacey and Asha while Wendel and his first mate had moved down into the lower level of the ship and had taken one of the cabins below deck for their own.

In true Northern fashion, the captain's cabin wasn't overly ornate nor large. There was a bed, a cloth screen that sectioned off a small corner of the room where his lavatory was, and the middle of the room was dominated by a table. Once in his cabin, he moved immediately to the table where several charts and dozens of books were scattered. Letting his fingers glide across the surface of the table, he stopped when his fingers brushed across the spine of one of his many books. Without even having to focus on it, he knew exactly which book it was. 'A History of Volantis since the Doom of Valyria,' Nox thought, reading the title of the book without even looking at it.

While almost all the crew, including Asha and Dacey if the rumors were to be true, where chasing pleasures of the flesh in Braavos, Nox had spent his time chasing something else entirely. Something that was far more valuable than a few brief moments of relief. Knowledge.

The library of Winterfell was extensive, almost unbelievably so. Some of the books and scrolls that Nox had stumbled across while perusing the shelves dated back thousands of years, almost to the time when this world first began to learn the written word. But despite the deep history found in the Winterfell, it was lacking significantly in anything related to the lands outside of Westeros. Which was why, the moment he'd stepped foot off the Sea Wolf in Braavos, he'd set off for the nearest bookstore he could find.

Unfortunately for him, there were only a few in Braavos as the written word in the land was still done by hand. And each tome was quite expensive. But thankfully, after years of aiding the North and with his own private income from his business ventures in the North and other parts of Westeros, he'd collected a fair amount of coin to his name. A fair portion of which he'd brought with him on for this exact purpose. After three stores, coincidentally the only three that were housed in Braavos, and spending nearly all of his coin, Nox had collected a small library for himself and had ordered it to be delivered to the Sea Wolf and set up in his cabin.

After procuring nearly a king's ransom in books, Nox had taken his time in exploring Braavos. Outside of Winterfell, Pyke, White Harbor, and a few other Northern keeps, Nox had not had the time to truly look around this world that he found himself stranded in. Braavos had been…enlightening. A massive sprawling metropolis that valued commerce. A step forward from the current way of life in Westeros as far as Nox was concerned. But given time, Nox would be able to elevate the North into a such a land, and later the rest of Westeros. He'd already acknowledged that he would never be able to get Westeros to the point where there might be even the possibility of reaching the stars once more, but the straggler of hope remained in the back of his mind. Constantly reminding him with all his advancements that maybe, just maybe, there would be a chance. But after seeing Braavos, that hope was gone. The best that he could do was to make peace with his new lot in life and hopefully set up a future where his name and legacy would not perish.

Besides reaching that conclusion and killing the last vestiges of potentially returning to the stars, there was one other noteworthy occurrence during his time in Braavos. And that was when he'd stumbled upon a rather unassuming building sitting upon a rocky knoll near the outskirts of the city proper. A squat and sparsely decorated building with no windows and a black and white door that had a moon-like face that was carved half and half onto each opposing door. It wasn't the unremarkable architecture, nor even the strange choice of coloring on the door that drew him in. But rather the strange Force presence he felt from the building. Neither light nor dark…but one that had a note of finality to it.

'The House of Black and White,' Nox had later learned it was called. 'The Temple belonging to those who follow the 'Many-Faced God', or the god of death in layman's terms. Also, home to the Faceless Men, an elite order of assassins known across the world. Even Winterfell's library had mention of the notorious order.'

After discovering the temple, Nox had spent the remainder of his time in Braavos trying his best to discreetly learn as much as he could about the Temple and its inhabitants. Unfortunately, after three days on shore, what he learned could be summed in less than a single written page. The temple was where people went to die or, if you had the coin or something of equal trade, the place you went to contract the Faceless Men. Although none knew what the prices were nor how to even get the enigmatic followers of the Many-Face God to accept their contract. Nor did anyone know what exactly made the 'Faceless Men', well, faceless.

But Nox had a feeling he knew how they did it. It had to be some sort of Force ritual that involved the essences of those that'd passed. Being a practitioner of the Force-Walking technique, Nox had a rather unique relation with the dead, specifically the spirits of the dead that refused to become one with the Force upon their passing. He could sense them, pacify them, and, with time and the correct ritual, even devour them. Though he had yet to do the last part. And it was that unique connection with the dead that flared to life when Nox had approached the House of Black and White that gave him the clue as to how they did what they did.

'And they definitely warrant looking into further,' Nox concluded, letting his fingers slide across the various tomes as he circled the table while his mind wandered. 'Highly trained assassins, even in a backwater world like this one, are dangerous. I should know, given some of the training I went through. And if said assassins had the ability to manipulate the Force to change their appearance into one of the deceased that lay in their halls, then that makes them even more dangerous. Luckily, I should be able to detect such a deception… But still, without actually seeing one of the Faceless men nor studying their techniques, I won't know what even to look for in the first place.'

Letting out a tired sigh, Nox dropped down into the lone folding cloth chair in his cabin and pulled one of the larger tomes that detailed the recent history of Volantis over to himself. 'I will have time to worry about the Faceless men later,' he thought, flipping open the book to where he had left off as he slowly let the Force surround him and be his eyes. 'One issue at a time. And for now, I need to learn everything I can about Volantis well before we make port.'


Listening to the soft crunching of the spring snow beneath her leather boots, Nyra of Winterfell, lover to the Northern Sorcerer Alim Nox and his unofficial Hand in all matters, walked from the Sorcerer's Tower, formerly the Broken Tower, of Winterfell towards the Great Keep. She'd been summoned to appear in Lord Stark's solar just a short time ago, and she knew the exact reason why the Warden of the North had called for her. And she was not about to come before the Lord Stark with her head down. No. She was of the North. Not some cowed southern cow that didn't have a brain between her ears.

She respected Lord Stark, she truly did. But some of his choices since his ascension to Lordship were not the wisest, not that she would ever voice her opinion. The building of the Sept in Winterfell had rankled her more than slightly. She was of the North, a follower, if only slightly devout, of the Old Gods. And the Sept represented the New Gods, the Seven who are one, the god of the Andals. The same people that had been trying to thousands of years to conquer the North and destroy the faith of the old gods. But despite her misgivings, she kept her opinion to herself. Afterall, at the time she was but a low serving girl with no family.

Then when his daughters came about, he appointed a Septa as their sole teacher. A Septa. Teaching the daughters of the Warden of the North. And she knew from the whispers around Winterfell, whenever the thought of bringing in another Northern Lady to teach the girls was brought up, the Lady Stark immediately shot the idea down. Sure, Maester Luwin taught the girls their numbers and a few other odd lessons here and there. But the Maester was just one man, and his duties vast. So, he did not have the time to give the girls a proper education. And it was because of that that she was being summoned to the Lord's solar before the evening meal.

Approaching the solar, Nyra noted the two guards standing like statues outside the door. Nodding to the two men, she raised her hand to knock and – "Come in Nyra."

Keeping her head high, Nyra pulled on the latch and entered the warm solar. Within the room she saw Lord Stark sitting behind his desk, his Lord's face in place as he sat completely passive and without emotion. To his right sat his wife, the Lady Stark, who was looking at Nyra as if her very presence was insulting. And to the right of Lady Stark stood the reason why Nyra had been summoned. Septa Mordane stood a pace behind and just off to the side of Lady Stark, a large bruise forming around her eye and a split cutting her lip in two. Courtesy of Nyra, and something she was quite proud of.

"Lady Nyra," the very title still felt odd, but she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride running through her as she heard Lord Stark address her so. "I believe that I do not need to say why I have asked you here today."

"Aye my Lord." Nyra nodded, casting a brief look towards the Septa, who was glaring at her. "And while I will apologize for losing my temper, I will not apologize for my actions. I merely responded in a way any true Northern Lady should when dealt an insult to her honor. But I'm sure the Septa has spun a fascinating tale on my heathenistic and deprived ways and my horrible influence on your daughters. And I'm sure most is complete and utter horse shit with only a sprinkling of truth."

"How dare you accuse me of lying, whore!" The Septa cursed, taking a step forward only to stop as Lord Stark raised his hand.

"I told you that I will handle this incident, but only once I have heard both sides, Septa. And you have said your piece. Now you will be quiet." Lord Stark demanded. His voice was as cold as the North itself.

"Of course, Lord Stark," the Septa immediately responded, cowed as she backed away behind Lady Stark, whose eyes were flickering back and forth between the Septa and Nyra. She'd noted the slight twitching of the eye when Nyra had made her comment about a 'true northern lady'.

"Good," Stark nodded, turning his attention to Nyra. "Lady Nyra, if you would please tell us of why you felt it necessary to blacken the eye and split the lip of Septa Mordane."

"Yes, my lord. But I fear that to tell it properly, I will need to provide a bit of clarification to what forced the confrontation between myself and the Septa." She waited until Lord Stark nodded before continuing. "Shortly after Lord Nox left on the expedition, Lady Arya approached me and asked if I could provide instruction for her in absence of Lord Nox. Unfortunately, I cannot as I have not been blessed by the old gods with the ability to utilize the Force like Lord Nox and your children, my Lord."

She couldn't help but notice the huff coming from Septa Mordane, nor the narrowing of the eyes of Lady Stark. And she knew for certain that Lord Stark noticed both as well. "After denying her, she asked what I was working on. I explained to her some of the duties Lord Nox had left me with, trade routes, negotiations and several other needs both within and outside the North. While I talked, I noticed that the young Lady seemed most confused with several of the trade needs of the North that I was describing. So, I started asking her questions. Northern Houses, customs, importance and why certain things needed to come and go from certain regions. She couldn't answer any of my questions. Questions dealing with southern customs, Houses and anything related to the Seven that I could think of she could answer. But almost everything relating to the North, including our own gods, she could barely answer. And from that day I took it upon myself to tutor the young Lady whenever I had time. And forgive me for saying, Lord Stark, but her level of education is shockingly poor. So poor that today I couldn't hold my tongue any longer and confronted Septa Mordane about what she was teaching the girls. Or rather the lack thereof. Our exchange became heated once she told me that I had no say in the girls' education. And that should I continue my lessons with Lady Arya, that she would inform Lady Stark that I was corrupting her daughters and have me removed. I may have called her a shrew. I cannot remember as I fear my temper got the better of me. But she retaliated by saying that I was a heathenistic whore who had damned her own soul by laying with the sorcerer. And that if I had any sense in my head, I would leave the sorcerer and repent my sinful ways by joining the Silent Sisters and pray that the sorcerer hadn't put a seven-damned hell spawn in my womb before he left the North. I'm afraid that at that, I lost my temper and blackened her eye. And if you need proof, there are three guards I can name that can give testimony supporting my words."

Throughout all her explanation, Lord Stark merely sat there, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Guards," he called out after she'd finished, prompting the two Stark guards standing just outside to enter. "Fetch my daughters and Jayne Poole as well. Bring them here immediately."

"Yes, mi'lord," both men intoned, bowing before making a hasty retreat.

Once they were gone, the Septa seemed to think it was her turn to talk as she stepped forward once more. "Lord Stark, I-"

"Will be silent for the moment," Lord Stark commanded, his voice brokering no argument. "After I speak to my daughters, I will let you have your say."

It only took a scant few minutes for the girls to arrive. Sansa and Jayne both looked more than slightly nervous about being called to the Lord's solar. But Arya didn't seem nervous at all. No doubt the lessons Nox had been impressing on the girl about controlling and calming herself was already starting to payoff.

"Have a seat, girls." Lord Stark said, motioning for the girls to take the seats directly across from him and waiting until they were seated before continuing. "Before we start, I want to say that none of you are in trouble. Having said that, though, I want to test your knowledge. I will be asking you all a variety of questions, some easy and some not. And I want your honest answers. Do not be afraid to say that you do not know, for some of what I will ask will be beyond what you should've learned by now."

"Yes father."

"Yes, Lord Stark."

"Good," Lord Stark nodded. "Then let us begin with something simple. If I were to invite House Cerwyn, House Bolton, and House Manderly to Winterfell for a feast, how many places would I need to have the Great Hall prepared for?"

What followed was a regular gauntlet as Lord Stark fired one question after another off at his daughters and the young Jayne Poole. Questions on Northern Houses, Southern Houses, courtesies, questions of faith concerning both the old and new gods. He also posed hypothetical situations to the girls to gauge their responses. He posed questions on how best to prepare for winter and how best to use excess stores once winter was over. And with each question asked or hypothetical situation posed, she could see the anger slowly rising in Lord Stark as his daughters and Jayne failed to correctly answer almost any question that didn't deal with the Faith of the Seven or sewing. She could even see Lady Stark's eyes starting to tighten around the edges as her knuckles turned white from clenching her fists. Although, as a note of pride, Nyra noted that there were a few questions that Arya was able to answer that her sister and Jayne were unable too.

Finally sated, Lord Stark ceased his onslaught of questions and leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his brow tiredly. "I have failed you three."

"Father?" Sansa asked tentatively, looking towards Jayne, her mother and Septa Mordane before turning back to her father. "How…did we…Are you displeased with us? We can do better!"

Nyra almost winced at the heartbroken voice. While she might think Sansa was still a bit naive about the world, although it was understandable considering the girl has just turned ten namedays, she still cared for the young girl. And seeing her distraught expression at having failed her father was life a dagger to the heart.

"I am displeased, but not with you, my daughter," Lord Stark replied tiredly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows against his desk. "As those born to Noble Houses, we were born into privilege, girls. But that privilege comes with a price. The smallfolk look to us for guidance. While the smallfolk serve us, so too do we serve the smallfolk. We must be the shield that protects them from those who would do them harm. We must be the voice of reason to settle disputes between them. We must be the ones they look to for guidance when the snows come. Our nobility is both our privilege and our chains that bind us to duty. And it is my responsibility as your father and Lord to make sure that you are ready to take on this daunting task when the time comes. And I have failed you in this."

Taking a moment to visibly compose himself, Lord Stark met his daughter's eyes as he spoke. "From here on out, your lessons will be significantly different. You will still have lessons with Septa Mordane, but they will be limited. You will be spending time dividing your lessons amongst Lady Stark, learning how to run a household, as well as Lady Nyra and Lady Bethany to supplement your lessons alongside Maester Luwin. This is not a punishment, girls. But you need to be ready for what is to come as future Ladies. Understood?"

Each girl nodded. "Good," Lord Stark nodded back with a slight smile. "You three have the rest of the day to yourselves. Go and have fun in the spring snows while it lasts."

The three girls didn't need telling twice as they nearly tripped over one another in their haste to leave the solar. And once they were gone, the feeling in the room instantly shifted from lighthearted to one of dread as Lord Stark's eyes shifted to the wolf's yellow.

"Lord Stark!" the Septa hissed. "I cannot condone letting Ladies of your daughters standing to be taught by those who are infer-"

Nyra, the Septa and Lady Stark jumped as Lord Stark's fist came down on the surface of his desk with enough force to crack the wood. An impressive feat considering the desk was made of ironwood. "What you condone is of no consequence to me, Septa Mordane." Lord Stark nearly spat, his eyes the darkest yellow Nyra had ever seen. "I trusted you with the education of my daughters and of my Steward's daughter. And you have failed most spectacularly. The only reason I haven't thrown you over the Wall and left you to the mercy of the Wildlings is out of respect for my lady wife! You will teach my daughters lessons of sewing, courtesies, and other aspects of being a lady. But that will be it! The rest of their education will not be decided by you. You're dismissed, Septa. Leave my sight before I let Lady Nyra make your eyes a matching set."

The Septa was beyond stunned as she just stood there for a moment, gaping like a fool. Not even Lady Stark, who'd been an avid supporter of spreading the Faith of the Seven through the North, looked to be willing to support the Septa in this matter. Realizing that she would get nowhere fast now, the Septa did the first smart thing Nyra had seen her do all day by bowing slightly and making a hasty exit for the door.

Now alone with the Lord and Lady Stark, Nyra felt more than slightly awkward. "Um, is there anything else you need from me, my Lord?"

"No," Lord Stark said, shaking his head. "That will be all for the day."

Backing towards the door, Nyra was almost free when the voice of Lady Stark stopped her cold. "Lady Nyra."

Nyra blinked. Once. Then twice. Then turned back around. 'No…There is no way that Lady Stark would actually be showing me some measure of respect…is there?' The Lady of Winterfell's head was held high, her face completely neutral as she stood beside her husband. "I appreciate you teaching my daughter a few lessons where her Septa has failed." Lady Stark said, stunning Nyra. "But in the future, please refrain from physically striking the Septa. My daughters look up to you, and as such I am expecting you to set a good example for them on how to be proper Ladies."

Whatever Nyra had been expecting, this was not it. "Um, very well, Lady Stark," she said, bowing. "I will make sure that there is no repeat of what happened today. But I will not stand for my honor being insulted again, my Lady. No Lady should."

"Of course not," Lady Stark acknowledged. "But there are more ladylike ways to counter a dishonorable statement rather than relying on your fist like a Wildling."

'Not a Wilding, true Northern Lady,' Nyra wanted to say. But instead she merely bit her tongue and, with one last low bow, left the Lord and Lady Stark so that she could continue about her day.


The city of Volantis was indeed an awe-inspiring sight. The port was perhaps the largest Nox had ever seen in his life. It dwarfed White Harbor and even made the port that was under the Titan of Braavos seem small in comparison. The city itself was divided in half by the Rhoyne river that spread up through Essos, the only connection between the two being the so-called Long Bridge that merged the two parts of the city together into one. But perhaps the most distinguishing part of the city were the Black Walls on the eastern half of the city that served to separate the upper class from the rest of the denizens of Volantis. And it was under the towering walls that Nox found himself, barely even an hour after stepping foot off the Sea Wolf, in the accompaniment of what he could only assume was an honor guard of some sort, given how the dozen men's armor who were escorting him seemed more ceremonial and elaborate than traditional combat armor.

The Sea Wolf had just barely made port before they'd been greeted by the men that were now escorting Nox through the city and into what he could only assume to be the palace that housed the ruling class. The only words they spoken was that they'd been sent by the Tiger Triarch of Volantis who wished to speak with him, and only him. Besides announcing whom they were looking for and why, the only clue as to their identity was the strange small nexu-like creature that was engraved onto the chest of their armor. A tiger, if Nox remember correctly. And the symbol of one of the two main ruling powers of Volantis. Naturally, the men of the North appeared more than slightly put off on the manner to which he'd been summoned, but Nox had dismissed their concerns. If anything, Nox was curious as to how exactly the Triarchs of Volantis knew he was here. And more specifically, why one of them requested a meeting with him before he could even take two steps on dry land.

"Hold," one of the guards called out just as they were about to enter the palace proper while holding out his hand. His accent thick and the word sounded odd, as if he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying. Obviously, the Westerosi tongue was not native or widely spoken in this land. "Weapon."

Reaching down to his waist, Nox pulled out his lightsaber hilt and flipped it around and held it out for the guard to take. The guard who'd asked hesitantly reached out and took the offered hilt before looking the object over, confusion as to just what he was looking at clear across his face. As he did, Nox subtly waved his hand across the front of his chest. "It is no real weapon. I am carrying no weapons."

The guard scoffed. "This. No weapon." He said in broken Westeros before handing his lightsaber back. "Come. Tiger Maegyr waits."

While they walked through the expansive palace, Nox let his senses flow, taking in everything he could. Which, surprisingly, wasn't much. The palace, despite being the middle of the day, seemed almost empty save for a few servants, or rather slaves, that were scurrying about trying to complete their assigned tasks while making sure to pay no mind to Nox and the guards that were escorting him through the corridors. 'This Tiger Maegyr apparently doesn't want our discussion here to be known.' Nox concluded as he pulled his sense back into himself. 'Yet he had his personal guards pull me off the ship almost as soon as we docked. Hmm. Politics at its finest I see.'

As they left the slaves behind and entered what felt like a more residential part of the palace, Nox quickly started going over everything he'd learned about Volantis's ruling structure. 'They are rule by a Triarchy, three men from two different political stances. The Tigers and the Elephants. The Tigers are considered the 'old blood' and represent the more militaristic side of Volantis. While the Elephants favor trade and are backed by the merchants of the city. A representative of Westeros being presented to the Triarchs wouldn't be unheard of, but they care little for Westeros and consider the land a backwater. But I am not being brought to the Triarchs as a whole. Just one. The Tiger Maegyr. And with the amount of security and secrecy, he doesn't want my presence here with him to be general knowledge. Which means, he wants something. Well, if nothing else, this little excursion will certainly break up the boredom that months on the water has brought about.'

Soon enough, his escort stopped outside a seemingly random and, frankly, ordinary looking door given the décor of the palace. Reaching out with his senses, he could sense only a single individual within. "Inside." The guard who'd asked for his weapon commanded, stepping aside as the rest of the guards took up positions outside the door. "We wait. Listen. Trouble start, you die."

"Fair enough," Nox acknowledged, pushing open the door and entering the room.

Just like the door, the room seem to go against the opulent nature of the rest of the palace. The room was small and sparsely furnished with plain-looking furniture. The center of the room was dominated by a table and sitting at the table across from the entrance was the only other occupant of the room. A glass pitcher of what looked like wine next to him and two glass cups, both filled, sitting before him. The man himself stood in stark contrast to the dull room. His robes were made of silk, inlaid with gold accents around the cuffs and collar. White streaks ran through his dark hair that was combed back and oiled down. And despite himself, Nox found himself taking a liking to the man. Not because of his looks, blindness did have its usefulness, but rather his presence in the Force. While not Force sensitive, the man had a commanding presence that Nox had only experienced a few times in his life. Primarily amongst the highest echelons of the Sith Imperial Military. This was a man who carved his own path. A man that Nox felt like he could come to respect.

"Lord Nox of Westeros," the man said, rising to his feet. His accent heavy even though his words were crisp and flowed as if he had always spoken the Westeros tongue. "The Northern Sorcerer, Scourge of the Iron Born and Breaker of the Greyjoys. Your reputation precedes you. I am Triarch Malaquo Maegyr of the Tigers. I welcome you to Volantis and thank you for coming on such short notice. I do hope my men were not too brash. They are loyal, but often times the Tiger Guards can lack the…subtly that is needed."

"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Triarch Maegyr," Nox greeted back, inclining his head. "And do not worry, your men were completely professional. But I must admit that you have me at a disadvantage, Triarch. I was not aware that my name, nor that I would be here in Volantis, had reached your ears."

The Triarch smiled, a sense of not quite pleasure but close, raced through him. No doubt he was pleased at seemingly catching Nox off guard. "The Ironborn and their deeds are known across the world, Lord Nox. Hearing that you blackened their eyes and humiliated them brought more than a few smiles to more than a few merchants across Essos and even the Summer Islands." Pausing, the Triarch retook his seat, motioning for Nox before continuing. "And as for how I knew you would be here in Volantis, well, let us say that I have a few friends in Braavos that informed me of your presence and your possible destination."

Taking the offered seat, Nox met the man's gaze with his sightless one as the two sat across from one another. "And I take it that the reason that I am meeting you here in this seemingly infrequently visited part of the palace instead of the main reception room, and why your men brought me through what seemed to be an infrequently used entrance, and why the other two Triarchs are not present, is because you have something you wish to discuss with me and me alone. Something personal."

The Triarch's lips twitched as he pushed one of the chalices towards him. "I can appreciate a man with a direct approach such as yours. So much time spent taking in circles with the Elephants while trying to discern their plots within plots and games. It makes you truly appreciate the few times you can have an honest conversation with someone. And you are at least mostly correct. The reason I asked to speak with you is because of a rather…delicate situation I find myself in. A situation that, if handled incorrectly, could lead to a serious backlash not just for myself, but for my family as well."

Taking the offered cup, Nox paused as he let a gentle wave of the Force to saturate the wine, checking for anything nefarious. Finding none, he raised the cup and took a slight sip. "If my reputation has proceeded myself like you say, then you will know that I am not one for random acts of charity."

"You will be compensated, my Lord. Perhaps not in gold, but in something even more useful. Information."

Now Nox was intrigued. "You have my attention, Triarch."

Taking a small drink, the Triarch took a moment to collect himself. "Half a year ago, my family nearly experienced a great tragedy. My son and daughter were playing on the walls bordering the Rhyone River with some of their friends. My son, barely even a boy, slipped away from everyone while they were distracted. By the time anyone realized he was missing, he had fallen into the river and the current had swept him under. No one knew where he was, save for one… A slave of a fishing vessel who saw my son fall into the water. He dove in after him, pulled him out, and, once ashore, breathed life back into my son's lungs. However, that is when the true hardships began."

Leaning back, Nox idly swirled the contents of his glass. "I take it that in Volantis, it is against the law for a slave to put their hands on one of noble standing. And such an action carries a penalty of either the loss of said hand, or death. Am I correct?"

The Triarch nodded. "You are correct. Had the man been of free blood, I would've seen him and his family richly rewarded. But as he was a slave, I was forced to have him executed for not only laying his hands on my son, but for cracking his ribs as well, even though he did so in order to try and save my son's life. Had I not…"

"Then your opponents in the Elephants would've jumped on the political advantage and campaigned that you flaunted the law in favor of your own family," Nox finished for him. "My people have a saying for such an instance as the one you described. Stuck between a rock and a hard place."

"That saying is more apt than you might believe in this instance," the Triach agreed. "The Tigers pride themselves on following the law to the letter. Had I not executed the man, I would've lost respect and standing amongst my fellow Tigers and, as you mentioned, the Elephants would've jumped on the incident in an attempt to ostracize not only myself, but my family as well. My wife understood the situation, and thankfully my son is still too young to realize what all had happened. But the same cannot be said for my daughter. She was very vocal in her opposition to my handling of the situation. And now she means to take what she can and leave Volantis behind and strike out on her own. And short of locking her up in a prison, I fear there is nothing I can do to stop her."

Nox began putting the pieces together as to why he'd been summoned. But a nagging sensation in the back of his mind was telling him that he didn't have the whole picture yet. "And a ship that makes berth in northern Westeros, a land that is well known to have harsh laws against slavery of any kind, would be the ideal ship for her to barter passage aboard. I take it that you wish for me to deny her said passage?"

Sighing, the Triarch downed his glass in a single go. "Unfortunately, no. If you were to deny her passage, my daughter will simply find another way to leave our shores. She's far too smart and resourceful for her own good sometimes. I wish for you to accept her onboard your vessel and see to it that she reaches the shores of Westeros in good health, and perhaps even introduce her to House Stark as well."

Nox scratched at his chin as a few more pieces fell into place. "And what do I get out of this? You say that you can't pay me in gold, but rather information? I take it that you know what my destination is, so I take it whatever information you have to trade regards Valyria in some form?"

"You are correct," the Triarch nodded as he reached down and brought forth a leather binder and set it on the table. "A century ago, the Triarchs of Volantis launched an expedition to Valyria in hopes of recovering some of the lost secrets of the Dragon Lords. The expedition was met with failure as not a single ship returned. However, that was merely the story the Tigers, and my family specifically, told the public. In truth, a single vessel returned from the Smoking Sea. The few men that managed to survive were mad, to say the least. They spoke of monsters that swam in the waters protecting the broken peninsula. Of Stonemen that attacked any boat that got too close to shore. And worsening nightmares as they drew closer to the heart of Old Valyria. Men driven mad by voices in the shadows. Beasts shaped like men but with little thought. Things that could make even a man's worst nightmare seem tame in comparison. Fearful of what the men had witnessed, and worried they would incite a panic, my ancestors had the crew killed to the last man and the ship sunk before reporting that there were no survivors. The only thing that survived the destruction was this…a single map that shows the route the ships managed to take to navigate through the Smoking Sea and the Broken Peninsula to the heart of Valyria. As payment for taking my daughter on your vessel and your guarantee of her safe passage and an introduction to House Stark, I offer you a copy of this chart."

It was all Nox could do to not allow his surprise to show on his face. Such a chart would be invaluable to him and the expedition. To be sure, he could use the Force to navigate through the Smoking Sea but having the chart would make such navigation much simpler. 'That chart is almost priceless in the right hands,' Nox thought. 'And, certainly, worth the cost of passage on board the Sea Wolf. But it is almost—no, not 'almost'. It is overkill. His love for his daughter is as clear as day through the Force. But still… What isn't he telling me? The chart for passage and protection for a single individual and to introduce her to the Starks…oh, there it is. Now the pieces are in place.'

Setting his glass down, he gave the Triarch a half grin. "Well played, Triarch Maegyr. Well played, indeed. For one who apparently despises the plots of the Elephants, this scheme of yours is one of the more well-crafted I have ever encountered. Well played, indeed."

He could feel the surprise race through the Triarch as the man drew himself straight. "I do not know what you mean."

"Yes, you do," Nox countered with a smile. "Your plan is incredibly well thought out. You will not only be able to recover your political position that is being threatened after the whole incident with the slave saving your son, but you will actually be able to enhance your position."

The Triarch's surprise turned to curiosity as the man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And what, pray tell, plot do you see in trying to ensure the safety of my daughter?"

Smirking, Nox went about laying out the man's plan. "You love your daughter, there is no doubt of that. I can hear it in your voice and see it through the Force. However, her open rebellion against the laws of Volantis have caused you and your family strife, politically speaking of course. But what would be worse than her outspoken views would be if it became common knowledge that she ran away from her family over a slave. That would certainly damage your reputation and no doubt ensure that you will never hold the Triarch seat again. And while you saw to it that this meeting between us would be confidential, my visit will become common knowledge soon enough, and the fact that I spoke with you in private. Combined with the fact that your daughter will be seen publicly leaving on a Westerosi vessel, the tale will spread that you sent her to Westeros, instead of her just running away. But that is only the beginning of your play. Once she is confirmed to be safe in Westeros and in the company of House Stark, word will spread about her location, either by your own mouth or through an intermediary. The only daughter of Triarch Maegyr of the Tigers not only in Westeros, but under the protection of House Stark, will cause more than a few brows to rise. Particularly in Myr, the only other competitor in the glass trade the North has."

Pausing, Nox let his words sink in before proceeding. "Of course, you have no intention of seeking a formal betrothal between your daughter and House Stark, but that doesn't matter. The mere fact that your daughter is in the North will be cause for concern for Myr, as they have lost almost all their business in Westeros to the North. And now even Braavos and Pentos are starting to import Northern glass. With your daughter in the North, and the 'knowledge' that she didn't run away of her own accord spread, Myr will naturally think that you are seeking to make some sort of trade agreement between Volantis and the North. In turn, they will no doubt be willing to renegotiate terms of their trade agreement with Volantis in the hopes of keeping your business. And with this new negotiation, you will be able to save the merchants and the nobles in the city hundreds of thousands over the years. And you, because of that, you will gain the grudging respect of the Elephants, as well as the continued respect of your own Tigers, thereby reaffirming you hold on your seat as one of the Triarchs of Volantis."

The Triarch remained silent throughout it all, his face completely passive, but his emotions anything but. By the time Nox had finished, the Triarch's emotions had ranged from surprised to angered before finally settling on impressed. "I must say, Lord Nox, your reputation failed to mention your mastery of the 'game', as the Westeros nobles like to call it. But I must ask, what gave me away?"

"For starters, the information you offered," Nox answered. "In short, you overpaid for your daughter's safe voyage. A lesser man might not look at such a gift with suspicion, but I have had experience with offers that seem too good to be true. Then there was also the insistence of your daughter's introduction to the Starks. Not to mention, this glass pitcher you have. I don't know how you got your hands on it, probably a trader from Braavos. But it is Northern glass. An odd piece to have, seeing as how Myr has tightened their hold over the glass trade south of the Stepstones in the past year. And your potential counter that you could not have thought of this so quickly went out the window the moment you informed me that you knew of my impending arrival after receiving said information from Braavos. Which would've given you a week or two at least to develop this plot. And, may I say, it is indeed a masterful play. Your daughter gets to live her life as she sees fit, your family's reputation gets repaired and even enhanced, and you get to hold onto your seat. As I said, masterful."

Refilling his glass, the Triarch smiled. "Impressive, Lord Nox, most impressive. But now you leave me in a quandary. Had you not laid out my plans before me, we would've gone our separate ways with no issue…but now…" Taking a sip, the Triarch sighed. "Killing you is out of the question. I've been caught in my own plot in that regards as I need you alive. Which means I need to buy your silence. Thankfully, I have one other piece of information that I believe will be enough to make sure that what was spoken here today remains between the two of us."

Downing his own glass, Nox fixed the Triarch with a grin. "Let's hear it."

"There are certain…individuals currently in Volantis that I believe you would be most interested in learning about, Lord Nox," Triarch Maegyr stated. "One of whom, just happens to be asking quite a few questions about you in particular."


Standing in a side street off of one of the many busy market streets of Volantis, Jon Snow slowly spun in a tight circle as he took in his surroundings as best he could with both his eyes and through the Force as his Master had instructed him. The voices of the merchants and citizens speaking in several tongues were so loud that he could barely even hear himself think. But despite the noise ringing in his ears, he was able identify a dozen armed guards, Tiger Guards he thought they were called, walking through the market on patrol. Their brightly polished armor shining in the midday sun. Though, those weren't the only guards, just the ones he could see with his eyes. Through the Force, he could sense another dozen men that were shadowing their armored counterparts through the crowded streets.

The formation of the guards seemed…odd to Jon. Why would they have one set in full plate armor and a second set following close behind in plain clothing that any common man would wear? 'Don't think like you would in the North, Jon.' He remembered his Master telling him before they even stepped foot onto Essos soil. 'This is not the North. Not all men have honor like the Starks have. If anything, my travels have shown me that your family is more of an outlier than the norm. As much a shame as that is. So, if you see something you don't understand, think of it froma less…honorable manner.'

Watching the guards, Jon tried to put into play what Nox had told him. 'The ones in front don't even have their hands on their weapons…and they're not making any strange movements…They're just…there. Almost as if they're trying to bait… Wait…could that be it?' The more Jon thought about it, the more it made sense to him. The guards in front, while sticking out like a sore thumb, as Master Nox would say, did not have their weapons out or even have their hands on their weapons. And none of them seemed ready to respond to any attack. But the ones tailing behind, Jon could sense just how alert those men were. And that was the point. If there were any law breakers, they would see the guards in the front, purposefully. And they would miss the ones tailing behind. It was…strangely ingenious.

Letting his head fall back against the building he was leaning against, Jon let out a sigh. While watching the people of the city was interesting, if more than slightly disheartening considering the just how many slaves lived within the confines of Volantis's walls, that wasn't exactly why Jon was reaching out with his senses. No, he was reaching out through the Force to try and locate his Master Nox…or rather any of the Northmen that departed the ship and had tried to follow Nox. Why? Because Jon had become separated from that group and now…now he was utterly and completely lost!

He'd thought Braavos was large, and it certainly was. Nearly double the size of White Harbor, and the seat of House Manderly was the largest settlement in the Northern Kingdom. But Braavos completely dwarfed White Harbor, and Volantis was easily far larger than Braavos. Jon honestly couldn't understand just how, or why, so many people would choose to live so close to one another. In the North, such proximity was necessary to fight against the cold. But that wasn't an issue here. If anything, the people of Essos had the exact opposite problem in that it was far too hot in this land.

'Enough, Jon,' he scolded himself as removed himself from the wall and started walking down the alley way, his mind wandering slightly as he stretched out his senses, trying to find his Master or anyone from the North. 'This isn't time for sightseeing or wondering how so many people live so close to one another without having the city smell something awful. I need to fi- ouch!'

Stumbling back a few steps, Jon blinked as he righted himself to see just what he'd run into. 'Running into someone…Master Nox is never going to let me live this…down…' His thoughts faded as he spotted what, or rather whom, he'd run into. On the ground just before him was a young girl that was perhaps his own age at the oldest. With blond-silver hair and striking violet eyes.

"I – I'm sorry," Jon stammered while holding out his hand to help her up. "I – I didn't see you there. Here, let me help."

He just barely managed to suppress his wince from showing as he immediately felt a spike of fear roll off the girl as she unconsciously slid back slightly from his offered hand. Her eyes staring at him wide eyed and fearful. "I – I'm sorry," Jon said, lowering his hand slightly and trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "I didn't mean to scare you and I don't mean you any harm and…and you probably don't understand a word I'm saying…do you? I probably sound like a fool, don't I?"

"I – I speak the Common Tongue," the young girl said, slowly reaching out and taking his offered hand, shocking him in more ways than one. "And I don't think you sound like a fool."

Taking a hold of her hand, which he couldn't help but notice was very soft, Jon helped the young woman to her feet. 'She speaks the Common Tongue. Her hands have no calluses on them. And that dress looks like it cost a small fortune,' he thought as the young woman brushed the dirt off her dress. 'She has to be a noblemen's daughter.' "Are – Are you here alone, my lady?"

The young woman froze. "Um…no. I, uh…I'm here with my brother. We – We travel a lot. We have too. Ever since, well… We can't stay in one place for too long. Not without help."

It was obvious from her tone that she did not care for her current situation. And for some reason he felt some sort of…almost connection to the young woman before him. It was strange. He never felt this sort of…protectiveness before. Well, that's not true. He felt this way around Arya. But this young woman, she was a stranger to him, yet still he wanted – no, needed – to help her. Almost as if she were kin. "I'm sorry to hear that, my lady. Is there anything I can do to help?"

The young girl looked surprised as a warm feeling flooded from her. But that warm sensation and her face fell immediately as Jon felt someone approaching them. "Dany! Where the fuck have you–?! Who the fuck are you to touch my sister?! Fucking peasant scum! Remove your hand or I will have it removed!"

Spinning on his heel, hand reaching for the small dagger, while unconsciously putting the young girl protectively behind him, Jon faced the source of the voice. The man had the same blond-white hair as the young girl, Dany he guessed her name was, and he had her same violet eyes. But that was where the similarities ended. At least to Jon and through the Force. Where the young girl – Dany – was obviously timid, there was a strength and compassion just under the surface. This man, however? The only word that Jon could think to describe what he felt was: putrid.

"Brother," The young – Dany, said warily. "I—"

"Enough! I care not for you excuses! Now come. We are leaving this infernal city and those pathetic fools who should've supported my claim with open arms!" The man nearly shouted, spittle flying from his lips as he reached out and roughly grabbed Dany by the arm and began pulling her along. "Come now! You don't want to wake the dragon, do you, sister? Then stop your sniffling and move!"

Jon's hand tightened on his dagger as he stepped forward to intervene. No brother should ever dare to treat his sister in such a way! He might not always get along with his trueborn siblings, but he would never dare even think of manhandling them in such a manner! He'd started to move, little more than a slight shifting of his weight, but he was stopped as Dany turned her violet eyes to him. She looked…resigned. Not only that, but her eyes were almost begging him to not do anything. As if she were afraid for him, rather than being afraid of what was happening to her. So despite wanting so very much to run his dagger into the man's heart and end his life, Jon forced himself to let go of his dagger and stand back as the man pulled Dany away from him before disappearing into the crowded street.

Even after they'd left, Jon wanted to go after them. He could sense her. He didn't know how or why, but if he closed his eyes he could easily point to where she was in the crowd. 'Why her?' Jon thought, trying to fight against his urge to go after her. 'This isn't one of Sansa's silly stories where the knight swoops in and sweeps the maiden off her feet and they kiss. I don't want that…but I do want to protect her. But why her? I've seen something like that happen at every other street corner since I got lost in this city. But never once had I felt such a desire – no, need – to protect someone. Just what is ha—'

Jon's world spun as he felt his legs go out from underneath him. His back hit the stone road hard, driving the air from his lungs as a boot came down on his throat. "Pathetic, acolyte. Having your head so far in the clouds you couldn't even sense my approach nor intent. Had I wished, you'd be dead right now and never even know it."

The boot left his throat, and Jon was left coughing as he tried to bring some air back into his lungs while looking up at the sightless face of his mentor. Even though the cloth covered his eyes, Jon could feel the disappointment in them at his pathetic display. "Sorry, Master," he coughed, rising to his feet.

Nox didn't offer to help him rise. Not that Jon had expected him too. If there was one thing that Nox could never be accused of, it was being soft to those who he deemed worthy of his time. He'd lost count of the number of times he, Robb, and even Theon could barely walk from the training grounds. Whether it be from pure exhaustion, or from the simple fact that the three had been beat so mercilessly that they could hardly walk without causing pain. He'd thought, along with the others, that Arya's addition to their training would soften the sorcerer slightly. But they'd been wrong. Nox hadn't relented just because Arya was with them. If anything, he grew more demanding. And what was the most embarrassing was the fact that it was his little sister, the She-Wolf Reborn as the people of Winterfell had taken to calling her, that was always the first to get back to her feet and ready to face the next challenge.

"Next time I won't be so lenient, acolyte."

"Yes, Master," Jon nodded, dusting himself off. "Where…Where were you, Master? Those men just took you and you…disappeared."

Motioning for him to follow, Master Nox turned and marched away, leaving Jon almost running to catch up as the two began weaving through the crowded streets. "The Triarch wished to speak with me. On what matter I will not say now. But his reasoning will become apparent to you soon."

"Yes, Master," Jon replied dutifully, before looking around and noticing that they were moving in the opposite direction of where Jon believed the harbor was located. "Um, where are we going, Master?"

Nox didn't spare him a glance, not that he could, nor did he break his stride. "Apparently, there is someone who wishes to meet with me here in Volantis. Someone who has been trying to dig into my past. So, we're going to meet him. For now, you will stay in my shadow and be quiet and observe. And don't even think that I have forgotten about your lack of self-awareness just a few minutes ago. We will be discussing that, at length. And I doubt you will be making the same mistake twice."

Jon could only gulp as he dutifully followed the sorcerer through the crowded streets, fearful of just what sort of twisted and no doubt painful lesson Nox would have in store for him later. 'I should've just gone after that girl.'


Coming upon the place that'd been given to him by the Triarch, Nox paused outside the building as he realized just where he'd been sent. Which was more than slightly obvious given that some of the 'wares' were out on nearly full display on the street near the entrance. 'I take it this was a joke that the Triarch decided to play on me.' The brothel, for that was exactly what the establishment here was, was quite immaculate. He could tell that all the women and men that were posing and showing off their offerings were well taken care of. Then there was the structure itself. Open and spacious, golden and glass drinking pitchers scattered throughout the main reception hall. All in all, this establishment obviously catered towards the Lords and Ladies of the land rather than the poor.

While Nox had no qualms about entering such an establishment, the same could not be said for his young acolyte by his side. "Um, Master Nox…This…This place –"

"Is a brothel, Jon." Nox replied, turning his head towards the young man. "And what of it?"

Jon was practically shaking in place as he pointedly looked everywhere besides at the workers of the brothel. "Won't…Um, won't Lady Nyra be upset with you, um, visiting a place like this?"

"Yes, but only if I came to such an establishment looking to partake in the services offered," Nox replied. "Now, control yourself, Jon. Think of this as a test. I've known women fighters who went as far as flashing their tits at their adversary in order to gain an advantage. I'm not saying that such a thing will happen to you, but you must be ready for anything and everything. Which means getting over this hang up you have with the fairer gender. And before you start trying to deny my words, don't. I can sense your emotions probably better than you can. And, in case you forgot, we share a cabin and you talk in your sleep…Dacey and Asha at the same time, huh? Quite the imagination you have."

He didn't need to see to know that Jon's face had gone red from his neck to the roots of his hair. Chuckling, he turned heel and marched into the main reception hall of the brothel and walked up to a woman standing near a desk who was bent over a book with a quill daftly scribbling notes on the page. Once Nox and the still blushing Jon, reached the desk the woman looked up, a smile plastered across her face as she started talking in High Valyrian. "Greetings my Lord, welcome to…Oh…Another blasted mummer looking for a free lay."

Tilting his head, Nox regarded the woman before him through the Force. 'Arrogance. Anger. Annoyance. All wrapped into one.' "Forgive me, but my High Valyrian is not that good. But did you just refer to me as a mummer for some reason?"

The madam of the brothel scoffed and shook her head before waving her hand. "At least the foolish mummers that came before you at least had the decency to learn a civilized tongue before trying to get a free lay. And while you may make a decent replication of the Northern Sorcerer, the Chosen of the Lord of Light, that does not entitle you to free services. Now pay like everyone else, or my two guards behind you will remove you from my establishment."

Nox could sense the two men that'd quietly made their way behind himself and Jon. Each were taller than Nox by at least a head and were twice as thick. Both physically and mentally judging by the quick pass Nox did over each man. By his side, he could sense Jon tighten, ready to pounce at a moment's notice if need be. "I assure you madam, I am no mummer. And I am not here to partake in your establishment's specialty. I'm merely here seeking one of your patrons."

The madam's annoyance only grew with his words. "That information is privileged, foreign mummer. Now if you aren't here to partake, then leave. Time is coin, and I have no desire to waste more speaking with the likes of you. Remove him."

"Very well," Nox sighed, "I guess we do this the hard way then."

Closing his hand, Nox raised his left hand. Cries of alarm sounded with the unmistakable sensation of fear as the two towering guards were lifted into the air by an invisible Force. Both men clutching at their throats as they desperately tried to breathe through Nox's hold on them. Keeping them aloft for a moment, Nox waited until he had everyone's attention before throwing both men through one of the columns in the room, shattering bone and stone as the two men went clean through the pillar. Sensing another guard rushing at him, his right hand moved with a motion honed from years of training as he effortlessly summoned his lightsaber into his right hand and igniting the blade. The man, seeing the sudden appearance of his lightsaber, tried desperately to halt his advance, but his size and momentum worked against him and without even having to move, Nox took the man's right arm clean from his shoulder as the guard passed him by.

Bringing his lightsaber forward, Nox held the humming blade in front of the madam of the brothel. "Now, shall we try this again? Or do I need to make more examples of your guards?"

Instead of answering, the madam of the brothel completely floored Nox as she nearly ran around counter she was standing behind and threw herself at his feet. Prostrating herself and refusing to look up at him. "Chosen of R'hllor…I beg your forgiveness, my Lord! I never thought you would ever step foot in my establishment. Please, forgive my ignorance! If you wish, I will have a dozen of my best girls, or boys, ready and willing to serve your every whim, regardless of what that might be."

Deactivating his lightsaber, Nox flipped the hilt around and tucked the weapon back into the folds of his robe. Expanding his senses, he absorbed everything in the immediate vicinity of himself and Jon. The madam's anger and arrogance were long gone. Replaced with a tremendous amount of fear and awe. As if she were both delighted and scared shitless at his mere presence. And she wasn't the only one. Most of the patrons and workers of the brothel were in similar states as the madam. Many of whom had dropped to their knees and had their heads bowed low.

'Well, fuck,' Nox cursed. Having been the figurehead for a cult on Nar Shaddaa, he could easily recognize the sudden shift in the room regarding his presence. These people worshiped him. Useful, but dangerous as well. Devotees like these were useful, but one needed to handle them with care as their devotion often blinded them and made them more trouble than they were worth. 'Followers of the Red God, R'hllor. I was mostly sure that the Triarch was overstating my standing amongst the Followers of this Red God. But, apparently, he was actually understating things.' Nox thought, trying to plan out his next few moves carefully. 'Perhaps I should've talked with that Red Priest, Thoros, more during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Perhaps then I would understand more on just why these people seem to think I'm their messiah.'

"Rise," Nox commanded, prompting almost the whole room to immediately rise to their feet. "There is no need for you to kneel before me now. And while your offer is enticing, I will have to pass. I am not here seeking the pleasures of the flesh. Rather, I am here to speak with someone. A Westerosi man who is asking question about me specifically. I'm sure I don't need to tell you more than that, madam."

The madam, who'd quickly rose to her feet at his command, nodded. "Yes, Chosen One, I know who you speak of. However, he and his companion arrived just before you and your…ward. And requested the services of some of my best. I can disturb them, however, if you wish."

Shaking his head, Nox waved off her recommendation. "There is no need. However, I would like a quiet place to sit and relax while I wait for your guest and his companion to finish."

"Of course, Chosen One. I have the perfect room for you and your ward. And I will send word to the one you wished to speak to that you desire a meeting when he is finished." The madam nodded before turning her head and speaking in High Valyrian. "Slave! Bring the Chosen of R'hllor to the best resting room and see to any needs he and his ward might have! And be quick about it or I'll see you sent down to the brothel at the docks!"

A young girl with black hair and sun-kissed skin with a single large red teardrop tattooed beneath her right eye stepped forward, her eyes cast firmly downwards. "May…I escort you…my Lord?"

Staring at the young woman, Nox felt the familiar knot form in his gut whenever he was face to face with a slave. Having been a slave for a good portion of his youth and having experienced the cruelty of such a position, his views of slavery were not favorable. But at the same time, life within the Sith Empire had forced him to accept the reality of slavery. So, while he hated the practice, he was accepting of it. A contradiction to be sure, but one that he could not help. But perhaps…there was an opportunity… It would take some time…but with his apparent standing amongst the faith of this land and the moves he'd already begun to perform… Perhaps he could gain something similar to his Screaming Blade Cult from Nar Shaddaa before he left Volantis's shores in a few days.

"Please do," Nox nodded, motioning for Jon to follow. "Come on, Jon. Keep your head on straight and your mind open. Try not to get too distracted by what you're about to see and hear."

Walking through the brothel was…interesting, to say the least. While he couldn't see them physically, Nox wasn't immune from the Force sight of women and even some men running from room to room nearly or completely naked. And then were the noises emanating from the rooms, needless to say the sights and sounds more than slightly distracting. But where Nox was able to ignore the sights and sounds, Jon was not. The young man was completely flushed as he kept his eyes firmly trained on the floor as they walked. But that still didn't help. And his emotions were going crazy with all of the lust and desire nearly overriding his senses. 'Hmm, not good,' Nox thought, an idea of a new training regime coming to mind. 'It would definitely test the acolytes' abilities to stay focused… But I doubt Lord Stark, let alone Lady Stark, would agree to having a few whores going at it on the sidelines while the boys and Arya went through their daily training regime.'

Coming upon their room, the slave opened the door and dutifully stood off to the side to allow them to enter before her. The room looked as if it would cost a small fortune to rent out. Spacious with several couches with silk coverings and pillows scattered throughout and a balcony that gave one an almost perfect view of the Rhyone River and the soon to be setting sun. But that wasn't all that there was to the room. The moment he had stepped in, the noise of the brothel had almost completely disappeared. 'Interesting. They actually figured out a means of soundproofing a room.'

Without uttering a word, the slave girl went about preparing the room for the two of them. Setting out cups and placing a pitcher nearby, even fluffing the pillows and straightening the silk sheets as well. After a minute of her moving about the room, the slave girl meekly stood before him. Excitement and desire coursing through her. "Is there…anything else this one…can do for the Chosen of R'hllor? This one is…yours to use."

"No," he stated, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. "Thank you, but we would like some privacy until our guest arrives. I will send my compliments of your service to your madam."

The girl preened under the praise before swiftly curtsying so low she nearly touched the floor and scampering off. Now alone with Jon, Nox sat down on one of the couches and took one of the cups and the pitcher. "Have a seat, Jon." Nox ordered, taking a whiff of the liquid inside the pitcher, a very fruity wine, and pouring himself a glass. "We have a bit to discuss."

Jon, finally getting a hold of himself, took the seat across from Nox. "Yes, Master Nox. Umm, what, uhh – "

"Enough stammering, Jon." Nox demanded, cutting his acolyte off. "You need to control yourself better than this."

Swallowing, Jon nodded. "I'll try."

Flicking his fingers, Nox sent a small burst of the Force at Jon, slapping upside the back of his head. "What have I said about 'trying'?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Jon looked down at the floor. "That if you try, you will fail. There is no try. You either do, or you do not."

"Correct," Nox nodded, leaning back and taking a savoring sip of the fine wine. "So, tell me. What just occurred that seemed odd."

He could almost see the gears turning in his young acolyte's head as he ran the last few moments through his head. "The people here, they…almost seem to worship you."

"Not almost, they do," Nox countered, his own thoughts wandering on the situation he suddenly found himself in. "They seem to have concluded that I am their god's 'Chosen One'. And therefore, I am basically the living embodiment of the Red God in their eyes."

"Why?" Jon asked, leaning forward. "I didn't think you worshiped the Red God…or any of the gods for that matter."

"I don't," Nox nodded. "I follow the will of the Force, which can be argued to be the will of the gods if you wanted to be philosophical about it, but that is not the point. Think. Why would the followers of the Red God think that I am some 'Chosen' of their god?"

Jon stared off towards the balcony watching over the city. "I…I don't know."

"Apparently, I need to have you start spending more time in the library with your friend, Samwell, instead of spending so much time in the training yard. Or perhaps you believe that since something is not native to the shores of Westeros, that it is no concern of yours, hmm?" Nox sighed, making Jon recoil in on himself. "But to save you from further embarrassing yourself, I'll educate you this time. The Red Priests are known to perform feats of magic, akin to what you and your kin can do. But unlike myself and those I train; the Red Priests and Priestess do not believe that their power comes from the Force. Rather, they believe that the power they wield is a gift from their God. Compared to us, their acts of magic are mere parlor tricks and they know it. And before you ask, I had a few conversations with a Red Priest that was in accompaniment of King Robert during the Greyjoy Rebellion. And he told me himself, that no Red Priest or Priestess in all of their history even wielded a fraction of the power I have."

"So, because you can use the Force and you're far more powerful than them, they believe that power is because their god gifted it to you?" Jon half questioned half stated.

"Is it really such a strange concept?" Nox asked, trying to open his young acolyte's mind more. "Many in the North believe that I, yourself, and your Stark kin have been blessed by the Old Gods. And there are rumblings south of the Neck that perhaps the Seven blessed the Starks for Lord Stark taking a faithful Andal wife. People often look for simple explanations to that which they do not understand. And religion, no matter the place, can offer those answers. But I do not believe that it is my power alone that has driven the followers of the Red God to believe I am some 'Chosen One'. No, I believe that is because of something else, along with my power. My lightsaber."

At this, the look of understanding on Jon's face quickly vanished. "Your lightsaber? Why would that make people believe you are some god's chosen one?"

Wetting his lips, he swirled the wine around in the glass. "It has to do with one of the more infamous stories within the religion of R'hllor. The story of Azor Ahai, if I pronounced that correctly. Long and short of it, he was some figure in history who apparently defeated a great darkness by wielding a sword called 'Lightbringer'. The blade was said to glow red and carried the heat of Azor Ahai's lover within. The blade could burn through any armor and cut any enemy down. And was the only weapon that could defeat the great evil Azor Ahai fought against. And the followers of R'hllor believe that one day, their ancient savior will return and with him Lightbringer will come forth once more to defeat a new great evil. Whether the tale is true or not, we may never know. But the followers of the Red God believe it to be so. So, can you see how my lightsaber might be the fabled Lightbringer?"

"So, the people who follow this Red God believe that you are some promised champion destined to lead them in battle against some great evil?" Jon pieced together. "But…how do you know all of this? I didn't think that the library of Winterfell had any books or scrolls that tell of this Red God."

"I know because, unlike some, I take the time to study any land that I am about to venture into," Nox said, fixing his acolyte with an accusing sightless look that had the young man squirming in his seat. "But you are right. There are very few tomes in Winterfell that have details on the different religions or histories of any land outside of Westeros. But while we were in Braavos, I procured several books and have spent our time since learning all I could. Now, I believe that will conclude this lesson. Our guest is about to arrive. While he is here, keep your mouth shut unless asked something specific and watch carefully. Perhaps you might learn something."

The words were just passed his lips when the door to their sitting room was flung open, allowing their guest to march in. His tunic was unbuttoned, and his breathing labored slightly as sweat still clung to his skin. The man's presence in the Force was not necessarily what Nox was expecting. It was refined. This was a man who, despite his being born into privilege, worked hard to refine his skills and it showed. But with that refinement came a degree of…arrogance. The man was good, and he knew it. And just behind the man was a woman who was still in the process of arranging her dress as she labored to keep up with her lover.

He could feel the man assessing the room the moment he walked in. He acknowledged Jon's presence, but seemed to dismiss him quickly enough as his attention landed on Nox. "I must say, a brothel in Volantis is the last place I ever expected to make your acquaintance, Sorcerer Nox."

Rising to his feet, he motioned for Jon to do the same. "Usually, you would be correct, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne," Nox greeted the man, inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement. "As for yourself, given your reputation, the largest and best brothel in a city would always be the first place I would come looking for you."

He could feel the Prince's amusement flutter. "Well, I suppose that I could ask why you have sought me out, but that would just be insulting a man of your intellect. So, I'll skip that part and proceed straight to who your young companion is. He's pretty enough, but certainly not a pleasure boy."

"This is Jon Snow of House Stark." Nox said, motioning for Jon to take a step forward and properly greet the Prince of Dorne. "And my acolyte in the Force."

Oberyn's curiosity spiked, as did that of his companion's. "Lord Stark's bastard son?" he questioned, making Jon flinch at the title, which Oberyn noticed. "Did I offend you boy? It was not my intent. In Dorne, being a bastard does not hold the same stigma that it does in the rest of Westeros. Indeed, in Dorne, bastards are viewed as those who were born from moments of intense passion and are treated just like they were trueborn. In fact, I have six bastard daughters, and a seventh on the way, all of whom I love fiercely. One of whom is even in the city with us now. Enjoying her own entertainment in the fighting pits, no doubt. And this lovely woman by my side here is my paramour, Ellaria Sand, daughter of House Uller and mother to two, soon to be three, of my lovely bastards."

"My lady," Nox greeted the woman, taking her offered hand and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. "I might not be able to see you as your lover does, but your spirit and strength shines through the Force with a brilliant vibrance."

"Thank you, my Lord," Ellaria greeted back, her voice soft, warm, and almost flirtatious. "I must say, if Oberyn hadn't just finished showing me such a wonderful time, I would be tempted to see if the…rumors regarding your vitality are indeed true."

"A tempting offer," Nox smiled. It was indeed a tempting offer. The woman was beautiful in the Force. But she didn't hold a candle to Nyra or Ashara. "But I'm afraid that I have a paramour of my own waiting for me back in the North. And should I make such an indulgence without her presence or consent, I fear I will be eligible to join the Unsullied."

"Well, we can't have such a fine man like yourself fall to such a fate," Oberyn laughed. "So, perhaps Ellaria and I will have to venture North one of these days and see if we can tempt you and your paramour into a night of debauchery unlike any the North has ever seen."

"Perhaps, one day," Nox chuckled. "But let us leave such talks for a later time. Or else I fear my innocent acolyte here will die from embarrassment."

"Very well," Prince Oberyn agreed, taking one of the couches across from Nox and pulling his paramour into his lap. "Dare I ask why you have called me out? Outside of the obvious, of course."

Taking his seat, he motioned for Jon to sit down as well. Holding out his hand, he used the Force to float two more cups from the rack near the wall towards him before filling both glasses with the sweet wine and floating both over to Oberyn and Ellaria. "Well, I was curious as to how your search for information on me has been going so far. Call it…professional curiosity if you will. And please, there is no need to go for that poisoned dagger on the small of Ellaria's back. Before it could even leave your fingers, I would have it buried in your throat."

Oberyn's amusement jumped even as the woman on his lap froze with a spike of fear. "Well, you can hardly blame a man for being careful, can you?" Pulling his hand out from behind Ellaria's back, Oberyn produced a small finger length blade and tossed it off to the side. "Doubt it would even be of any use against you."

"One never knows," Nox shrugged. "But, as I've learned throughout my life, it is better to err of the side of caution. You tend to live longer."

"Wise words," Oberyn nodded. "So, tell me sorcerer, what brings one such as you all the way out to Volantis. As flattered as I am that you called on me, I don't think you made the trip all the way around the Free Cities just looking for me. And I doubt you are here simply for pleasure, nor are you here to negotiate some sort of trade deal with the Triarchs given how far Volantis is from the North, which means… Ah! Interesting. You're here to mount an expedition to Valyria. Bold of you, sorcerer."

"I see your time in the Citadel was time well spent," Nox nodded, motioning for Jon to remain still as he sensed the spike of surprise and fear emanating from his acolyte. 'He needs to control his emotions more. Fuck, I'm sounding like a Force-damned Jedi.' "You are correct, Prince Oberyn. The Sea Wolf will be here for three days only to resupply. And then I, along with a coalition of Northern volunteers, will enter Valyria with the purpose of discovering some of the lost secrets of the Valyrian Empire."

"Well, that is quite the ambitious adventure you have set your sights on, sorcerer," Oberyn smirked, his hands idly running up and down the sides of his paramour, who'd gained a worried feel to her. And it was the feeling coming off her and Oberyn that left no doubt in Nox's mind what the wayward prince was about to ask for.

"Before you ask, Prince Oberyn," Nox said, raising his hand and catching the prince just before he could ask his question. "There is still room on the Sea Wolf for yourself, your paramour, and yes, even your daughter. You will all have to share a single cabin of course. But if you wish to join the expedition, then as Lord Stark's appointed representative, I hereby welcome you aboard."

Oberyn seemed to be simultaneously caught off guard and pleased with his offer. "And what is your price for allowing me and mine to accompany you, sorcerer?"

"Obedience," Nox answered back immediately, holding up his hand to forestall the Prince's kneejerk reply. "Not indefinitely. Just for the duration of your time onboard the Sea Wolf. I say jump, you jump. Second, we will not be returning to Volantis. So whatever vessel that brought you here will need to return without you, hopefully to your brother with an explanation as to your absence. Third, while you will be allowed to keep some of what is taken from Valyria, I must approve of you taking it before you do so, if only for your own safety. If you can agree to all of that, then you will be a welcome addition to the crew."

To his credit, Oberyn appeared to be considering the offer for all of a few seconds. "For the chance to explore Valyria…those terms are acceptable, sorcerer. You have my spear until you bring myself, my daughter, and my love here back to Dorne."

"Excellent," Nox said, rising to his feet and motioning for Jon to follow suit. "We cast off in three days, Prince Oberyn. I trust you will be able to find ways to amuse yourself before we leave."

"Oh, I'm sure that I can find a way, sorcerer," Oberyn called out to the two of them laughingly as they left the Prince of Dorne in the sitting room.

"Master," Jon said lowly as the two of them made their way out of the brothel, pausing only to thank the madam who nearly curtsied to the floor. "What was the purpose of all of that?"

"Partially, to gain the alliance of a strong fighter, Jon," Nox answered as the two weaved their way through the packed streets back towards the harbor. "Prince Oberyn's skill on the field is known throughout the realm. He is considered on the same level as the former Sword of the Morning as well as Ser Barristan the Bold. Such a man will be useful if we run into any problems. And besides his skill with a blade, the man's mind is incredibly keen when not clouded with emotion. And it never hurts to have an outsider's view on something. This will also serve to strengthen Northern ties to the Dornish, who have quickly become one of our premiere trading partners for raw materials. Lastly, we will be here for three days, acolyte. There is no doubt in my mind that the Prince would've learned of our presence in such time and come to us. If he had, he would've been ready for us and we would've been on the backfoot. But by coming to him in such a way…"

"We put him on the backfoot," Jon finished the thought. "And with your quick offer before he could ask, you surprised him enough that he would agree to your terms before fully thinking them over."

"Very good," Nox congratulated his acolyte. "Perhaps you are truly listening to my lessons, after all. Now, Jon, tell me about this young woman and the man that you ran into in the street. The blond one that is currently dominating almost all of your thoughts."