Well, I'm back everyone! Managing to keep my monthly schedule going for now. Hopefully that will continue. In the long run, I'm not sure just how long this story will end up. It's gonna be a long one though…so everyone better buckle up. Also wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted or added this story to your favorites. Your support is what helps me keep going with my writing.

And a huge shout out and thank you to my beta reader and brainstorming pal Tellemicus Sundance. Thank you for all of your help and work on this!

Hope that you all enjoy and please leave a review if you feel so inclined to do so!

Standard disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Fire or Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars.

Chapter 11

Pushing through the rumble blocking his path in the middle of what had once been a road through the city, Jon paused for a moment to catch his breath. As he did so, he stared upwards at the imposing structure before him. While the curved walls were not particularly tall nor in the greatest of shape, for Jon, in this moment, he might as well have been staring at the Wall itself for how imposing the structure was to him. 'Finally,' he sighed in relief. 'The breeding grounds of the ancient Valyrian Dragons. The place of my Trials to become a Sith like Master Nox.'

Taking a few calming breaths, Jon started towards the breeding grounds while running the instructions Master Nox had given him before the two had left the Vault and gone their separate ways. 'To the east near the outskirts of the city proper, you will find a building that looks like a coliseum. According to the Archon, this was a hatchery that held the dragon eggs when it became time to bind the hatchlings to their riders. That time has long since passed. But there are still artifacts and talismans and perhaps even tomes, if we're lucky, that will prove useful in the fight to come. Trust in the Force, and you will find what will help us. But be wary. For there were protections, protections created by the Force users of Old Valyria. And I sense that those protections are still very much active and capable of ending your life if you are foolish.'

Arriving at the entrance, which had been completely closed off due to rubble and years of disuse, Jon closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, trying to find something, anything, that resonated. But try as he might, there was nothing. Just the cold feel of stone. 'Come on,' he thought, tightening his eyes as he delved deeper and deeper into the structure through the Force. 'Give me something…anything.'

Just as he started to feel that this was nothing but another false trail laid out by Lord Nox, he felt it. The slightest of a resonance on the edge of his senses that he nearly overlooked. Concentrating, he focused solely and only on the slight resonance. It was faint. So faint that it was as if he were trying to spot a minnow in a murky river at night. But it was still there. And the longer he focused in on the resonance, the clearer it became. But instead of just breaking his concentration and running into the structure, as he was tempted to do, he held himself in check. Instead, he continued to focus on the resonance and the immediate area surrounding it as his Master had hammered into himself and his trueborn siblings time and time again.

'Rushing into an unknown situation or location will only get you killed.' He remembered Master Nox lecturing them as they all sat before the weirwood in Winterfell's godswood. 'Before heading into any situation, even if it is life or death, take a moment to analyze everything you can with all your senses and through the Force. A moment's preparation could mean the difference between survival and death. Both for yourselves and your loved ones.'

After feeling that he'd mapped out the immediate area around the resonance as best he could, Jon pulled his senses back into himself and opened his eyes once more. 'Well, I have an idea of where I need to get too… Now the question is: just how do I get there?'

The front of the building, indeed most of the building, was in ruins with no clear passageways leading to the outside. But by visually scanning the outside, he found another way in. It was a single opening, whether intentional or not, on the second level of the structure. Keeping his eyes on his target, he channeled the Force into his body, focusing it into his legs to strengthen the muscles as he'd done so many times before that it was now almost second nature. Bending at the knees, he pushed mightily off the ground with the aid of the Force strengthening him. The calm air rushed by in a gust of wind as he flew up to the small opening on the second level, landing just barely inside the small hole and throwing his weight forward to make sure he didn't fall backwards. 'Alright, that's step one,' he thought, frowning as he investigated the darkened room he'd entered. Thankfully, a combination of the roof mostly missing, and the dim light of the sky made it so that he didn't need a torch. But who knew how long that luck would last him.

Keeping the slight resonance he'd felt at the forefront of his mind, Jon made his way through the darkened ruined halls. His eyes were continuously moving as he searched for any sign of structural damage or potential threats. During one of Master Nox's many lectures, he'd briefly touched on his experiences exploring abandoned or ancient ruins, a topic that had never failed to keep his sister Arya thoroughly enraptured. And it was those lessons and the dangers that such places often held that Jon was putting to use now as he began to make his way through it.

He was only within the ruins for a few minutes before he came across his first obstacle. A hole in the ground that stretched the length of several men and went from wall to wall. Kneeling at the edge, he carefully examined the edges of the hole, looking for a way to possibly go around. 'Looks deep.' He frowned, picking up a rock and letting it drop, waiting to hear the echo in order to gauge just how far down it went. 'Very deep. I might be able to jump it, especially with no roof overhead. But the question is if the other side can support my weight when I come down? Is it even worth the risk? From what I can sense, the resonance is down in that direction…but do I drop down or continue on this path?'

Deciding that he really didn't have the time to just stand around and argue with himself, Jon steeled himself for a moment before stepping off the edge and down into the hole. Using the Force to slow his fall, Jon bent at the knees the moment he felt his feet touch solid ground to cushion the blow. 'Huh, that wasn't that far of a fall actually,' he thought, looking skywards. 'Strange. It looked so dark from up there. But now that I'm down here…it's not that bad. In fact, I can see better down here in the dark than I could from up there. Like this corridor is filled with the light of the full moon. Strange…very strange.'

Despite the oddity of the light where there shouldn't be any, there was something else tugging at the back of Jon's mind. A nagging sensation that something just…wasn't right. It wasn't that much of a feeling, not much more than slight unease in his gut, but it was persistent. And it only started once he dropped down the hole.

'I don't have time to worry about it,' he thought, steeling himself as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other down the hall. 'Master Nox says we can't stay here for long lest his protections wear off. And I, for one, do not want to become some mindless beast attacking everyone.'

As he walked, he gradually became aware of carvings on the walls surrounding him. Carvings that had somehow managed to survive the test of time and the Doom of Valyria. 'Strange,' he thought, pausing to examine one such carving, which showed a man or woman standing before what he could only assume was a dragon with their arm held towards the massive beast. The carving itself wasn't necessarily strange, the Valyrian's were known as the 'Dragon Lords' after all. No, what was strange was the almost emphasis that was put onto some object that was on the person's arm. 'What could that be?'

Looking back in the direction he came from, Jon found himself dumbfounded. 'Wait, I came down a straight corridor…That turn wasn't there just a moment ago!' He found himself less than a few paces from a sharp corner that he swore wasn't there just a moment before. Leaving the carvings, he started to make his way back, only to find that he didn't recognize anything. The corridors weren't the same as the one he'd pass through after dropping down the hole. The carvings on the wall were different and the twist turns that he suddenly found himself constantly encountering were not there before.

'Not good…Not good,' he thought, starting to become panicked as the thoughts of being stuck down in this place started to crawl through his head. 'No, stop thinking like that! If I get lost, Master Nox will…No…I can't rely on him to save me. This is my trial. This is something I have to do myself!'

Stopping, he took several deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. 'Breathe, just breathe. Feel the Force. The Force will grant me victory…and through victory, my chains will be broken.'

The strange resonance he'd felt before coming down here flared up once more, stronger than before. 'It's close,' he thought, opening his eyes. 'Very close. Just a little bit further an – What is that noise?'

Turning at the sound of something that sounded like tapping on the ground, Jon had just a moment of warning from the Force to duck as something passed over his head close enough that the wind of its passing brushed through his hair. Scrambling back, he found himself face to face with…something. Something shaped like a man but cloaked completely in black cloth that even covered its face, and which also stood a full head and shoulders above him.

'Gods! Is that…a man?' he thought as he scrambled back further as he began to recognize the object that the being held in its grasp and had apparently swung at him. 'Fuck! That's a sword!'

Drawing his own short sword, Jon clashed with the unknown man. Their blades locked momentarily before the cloaked figure hissed and pushed him a surprising distance away. Keeping his feet under him, Jon brought his sword up into mid guard Lord Nox had shown him with the tip of the short sword pointed up towards the ceiling. Of the seven sword forms Lord Nox had forced him to practice time and time again, Jon had found himself most drawn to the second and seventh form styles, Makashi and Juyo. He found that quite enjoyed Juyo the most, he loved the feeling he got when he immersed himself in the fight, especially when he was able to beat his opponents soundly. But he also loved Makashi, specifically the strategy that was required with the form. And against such a large foe and in such tight corridors, he knew that Makashi was his best bet now.

Waiting until his opponent struck, Jon quickly shifted his feet to his left to sidestep the downward swing before using his sword to deflect the blow towards the ground and using the recoil to help quicken his backstroke towards his larger foe. Jon expected the man to dodge or move or something. But what happened was not what Jon expected. The man did not move. Instead he caught the edge of Jon's sword in his bare hand.

'What?!That's – Oh shit!' Jon cursed as he had to let go of his sword in order to dodge the larger man's backswing which threatened to cut him in two.

Now without a weapon, Jon did the only thing he could in this situation. Setting his feet firmly, he threw his hands out and lashed out with the Force as hard as he could. The man, or whatever he was, was clearly not expecting the attack as it was flung back into the darkness behind him, dropping Jon's sword as he did. Picking up his sword, Jon prepared himself for another attack from the shadows. But nothing came. The man that attacked him had…disappeared into the darkness. He couldn't even sense him through the Force either.

"What the hell?" he muttered out loud, keeping his guard up as he slowly backed away from where the larger man had disappeared, waiting for him to reappear and resume his attack.

'Fuck, I don't have time for this,' he thought. He quickly scanned the area once more with both his eyes and the Force but found nothing. 'I can't go chasing after him now. Just have to keep going forward.'

Keeping his guard up and his senses stretched, Jon turned his back on where the man had disappeared and took off at a light run towards the resonance he'd been chasing. Almost without warning, Jon turned a corner and suddenly found himself within a large room that was perhaps half as large as the great hall within Winterfell. And if the fact that he suddenly found himself in the room wasn't odd enough, there was also the fact that the room was as bright as the city outside the breeding grounds. But where the light was coming from, he had no idea. The ceiling was intact, there were no windows and no torches lit. But he could see perfectly fine.

Scanning the room, he noticed that it was devoid of, well anything. The only apparent decorations in the hall were a dozen or so statues of men and weapon that were standing in the center of the room facing one another. All of which were still fully intact. "Alright," he muttered, slowly entering the room as he sensed the strange resonance coming from the far side. "As if things couldn't get any stranger."

Walking into the room, he made his way between the statues while constantly keeping his eyes open and his sense outstretched. The moment he walked between the statues he suddenly doubled over as it felt like something invisible struck him in the gut. 'The resonance!' he breathed, straightening and looking around. 'It's here!'

Looking around widely, he tried to find whatever had drawn him here, but failed to spot anything of note. That was until he made a second turn and noticed a slight flickering of light on the arms of one of the statues. Stopping midturn, Jon walked over to the statue. And on the statue's arm was a golden bracer the length of a man's fist adorned with large red jewel the size of a man's thumb in the center. 'Whatever the hell that thing is, that is definitely where the resonance is coming from,' he thought as he reached out to grab the armlet off the statue.

Just before his fingers could touch the armlet, he heard something behind him. A slight hiss followed by the sound of leather rubbing against stone. A feeling of dread filled him as he turned around…and found himself nearly face to snot with the largest snake he had ever seen in his entire life! The damn thing was nearly as thick as Jon's torso. It had also reared upwards and poised backwards slightly so, to Jon, that it seemed even bigger than it already was. But what truly made Jon nearly piss himself was the snake's hide. It had a faint orange glow…something he had only seen once before in his entire life. And that was just after they passed by the oversized sea turtle that was at the mouth of the river when they'd first departed the Sea Wolf.

"Fuck!" Jon screamed, jumping to the side behind one of the other statues. He was just in time to dodge the firewyrm's head as it struck, smashing the statue with the armlet into a cloud of debris and dust.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Not good!" Jon yelled, running behind yet another statue as the snake recoiled and reared itself up again.

The glowing orange of its hide brightened up considerably mere moments before its jaw opened, and Jon could see the flames swelling within the back of the beast throat. "Fuck!" He cried, running away once again, only this time with the flames of the firewyrm right behind him instead of the snake's head. "How the fuck am I supposed to fight this thing?"

Using the Force to lift a larger piece of the statue that'd been destroyed, Jon flung it as hard as he could at the snake, hitting the beast upside the head. The snake hissed loudly, an angry sound that chilled Jon to his bones despite the residual heat of the flames nearby, as the firewyrm coiled in on itself briefly before lunging for him once more.

"I think that only pissed it off!" Jon yelled to himself as he tried to think of something – anything! – that he could use against the beast.

But as he moved to hide behind another statue, he saw something. A flutter of something in the darkness that soon emerged from the shadows and charged the firewyrm. "That's…That's the same man who attacked me in the hall!" he breathed, watching completely dumbfoundedly as the man who'd tried to kill him not moments before completely ignored him as it charged the firewyrm with its sword held high.

The firewrym seemed to completely forget about Jon as it turned its attention to the large man charging at it. Opening its jaw, the serpent sent out another wave of fire, which seemed to do absolutely nothing to the seeming man as he completely ignored the fire and slashed at the underside of the snake with his sword.

Peeking around his hiding place, Jon watched transfixed as the man went toe-to-toe against the firewyrm, dodging the snake's lunges and seemingly to be completely unbothered by its flames. As he watched, he noticed something. The destroyed statue was not far from where Jon presently was and that the golden armlet was still intact. 'Not going to get a better chance than this,' Jon thought, deciding to risk it while the two creatures that'd just tried to kill him fought one another.

Dashing out from his hiding place, Jon slide across the ground feet first through the gravel and shrapnel of the destroyed statue, grabbing the armlet as he passed it. The moment he laid his hand on the armlet, he knew exactly what its purpose was. It allowed the wearer to control fire, as long as the wearer had magic, or the Force. How he knew that he didn't know, all he knew was that he knew it to be a fact. Slapping the armlet onto his arm like it had been formerly worn by the statue and securing it, Jon sprung to his feet, ready to face the firewyrm and the dark cloaked figure. But the two seemed to still be completely ignoring him as they continued to fight one another.

'Okay, this is going too well,' Jon thought, as he slowly inched back away from the two. 'As long as they're fighting one another, I can make a break for it and get the hell out of here!'

But just as he was about to make his break, he saw the firewyrm lunge out once more, only this time the dark cloaked figure wasn't able to dodge in time. The result was the snake being able to tear his sword arm clear off. The cloaked man immediately fell to his knees, clutching at the bloody stump that had once been his arm. The firewyrm rose to a height twice as tall as the man, its glow brightened again as its mouth opened and flames welling up in the back of its throat as it prepared to roast the man alive.

'Firewyrms do not kill their prey, not right off.' The words of Prince Oberyn fluttered back to him as he watched the scene before him. 'They'll burn their prey, but they won't kill them. At least that is what little evidence we have says. No one has really studied them, considering how dangerous they are. But it is believed that they'll roast their prey slightly and then implant them with their larvae or hatchlings. And then the prey becomes a host. A host which is slowly roasted alive from the inside until the larvae grow large enough to consume their host. It's a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy… Well, maybe one or two. But it is definitely one of the worst ways one could ever possibly imagine dying from.'

The cloaked man may have just tried to kill him, but Jon couldn't just leave him to suffer such a fate. If he did, he would never be able to face his father or siblings ever again, or call himself a Stark, even if he was just a bastard. "Fuck," Jon cursed out loud, holding out his arm with the armlet. "You better not attack me again after this!"

The fire of the firewyrm shot out of the snake's mouth and descended upon the helpless man. But just before it could reach him, the jewel on the armlet glowed brightly and the flames stopped and instead of roasting the man alive started billowing upwards and around the intended victim as if hitting a brick wall. After just a split second of this, they suddenly seemed to warp back on themselves and back towards the snake.

One of the many exercises Master Nox had forced Jon and the others to undergo was making fire dance. It was a nearly impossible task, and one that couldn't be maintained for long. Holding onto the fire and manipulating it was like trying to hold onto a freshly-caught slime covered fish that was the size of your arm. And that was just with a candle's flame. But now, with the armlet's augmentation, Jon could control the fire with such ease that it honestly felt like cheating.

The snake hissed in pain as its own flames attacked it. As the snake thrashed about, Jon let go of the flames and charged forward with a cry, his sword held high as he readied himself to cut the firewyrm's head off.

But the moment Jon's sword was about to contact the snakes hide, something happened. There was no resistance. In fact, there was nothing. It was like Jon's sword was cutting through mist as it passed uselessly through the air and struck the ground where the snake had been.

Catching himself, Jon readied for whatever counter the firewyrm was about to launch, but there was nothing. The room was…empty. No giant snake. No cloaked man. No flames. No destroyed statues. Nothing. The only thing that remained was the amulet on his arm.

"What in all the hells was that?" he muttered still not understanding or believing that all of that had just happened.

But just as he was beginning to question his sanity once more, he felt another resonance from the Force. Unlike the previous resonance with the armlet, this one was almost like a physical pull so strong that nearly took him off his feet. And in the center of the room he found a box, roughly the size of a man's head just…sitting there. A slight white glow coming from underneath the lid.

Not entirely sure just what was going, or even sure that the box was even there, Jon cautiously approached the box and used the tip of his sword to open the lid. Within the box he found the source of the light. It was a small white jewel the size of a man's thumb that seemed to glow with the light of sun somehow contained within it. A jewel that was practically calling out to him through the Force. But that wasn't the only thing in the box. Resting underneath the jewel was a large, scaled black stone with light grey stripes running around the numerous scales' edges.

'No,' he thought, kneeling and inspecting the contents of the box. 'Not a stone…An egg. A dragon egg.'


Deep within the darkness of a ritual chamber buried within the Fourteen Flames, two figures performed a dance of death as old as time, circling one another with blades unlike any other. Nox's blood-red lightsaber illuminated the surrounding area, the only light source available to see within the chamber as the blade spun around in quick movements. Its counterpart, a Valyrian steel blade, and its wielder, the false-sorcerer god 'Balerion', did everything in their power to keep up with the sorcerer. The hall leading to the surface echoed with the hissing and clashing of their blades as the two moved steadily down the corridor towards the outside world. Exactly where Nox wanted the false god.

Ducking beneath a wild swing and placing his left hand on the ground, Nox spun on his hand in a move that would make any dancer green with envy as his feet left the ground, only to plant themselves in the chest of the would-be god before following up with an upswing that cut the creature from hip to collarbone diagonally across it's body. But as had happened countless times before, the mortal wound closed almost immediately after being inflicted. Though, Nox noticed the regeneration seemed a touch slower than it had been when the fight began. Before he could fully regenerate, Nox let loose a barrage of Force lightning, flinging the would-be god across the slight expanse left in the corridor and out into the land of Valyria.

"You…are…infuriating!" The false god shouted, his power flaring in response to his temper. "Why won't you die already!?"

Again, the fool was basically telegraphing his attacks as his anger and ego overrode any common sense. So, it was but a trifle matter for Nox to swat the attack aside once again. An attack which was little more than a barely solidified bout of dark side energy that obliterated a nearby rock formation.

"Many better than you have tried," he remarked idly, slowly spinning his lightsaber in his right hand as he waited for the false god to provide him an opening once again. "They have all fallen to my power and blade. And you shall be no different."

The false god sneered at him for a solid minute before its features morphed from one of frustration to one of confidence. "Ah, I see… That is your weakness!"

Raising a brow over his sightless eyes, Nox tilted his head. "Okay, this ought to be good. What is my weakness?"

"Your feelings!" the false god laughed. "You feel a sense of comradery for those you brought with you, yes… I have been watching you ever since you and those you brought with you entered my domain. Because of that comradery, you've overextended yourself and your power from trying to protect them from my influence for days. Yes, your weakness is that you can be distracted by them! And with the protections around Valyria that those foolish Archons put in place with their last breaths now weakened…how easily it will be to influence some of them to attack the others! Yes…I will do just that! Many were already set to betray you and it will be nothing to give them just the right push in that direction to accelerate the process. With all that treasure you have found, it will be easy to sway their hearts and minds! They will attack the others and kill them! And what will you do then? Rush to defend them? Or continue our fight here? Haha, yes! Your weakness is your care for those you brought with you! And now, it shall be your downfall!"

Lowering his lightsaber, Nox fixed the false god with a sightless glare.

"You truly are an idiot, you know that?" he asked, shaking his head and chuckling, much to the bafflement of the false god. "I already know that there are those that are planning on betraying me within my expedition force. You see, I made sure that the force I brought with me was composed of all of those who were willing to betray me as well as a counterbalancing force that would be able to handle them easily. So, go ahead: influence those traitors into making their move. Have them make the moves I have already predicted and already have countermeasures against. You see, I knew that I needed a decent sized force to reach Valyria. But I don't need the same size of a force to leave. You will actually be doing me a favor by exposing the traitors and helping me clean house before leaving these shores. You will find that those who are vital for my long-term plans or those who are not traitors are shielded such that you will find no purchase in their minds."

The false god faltered, then sneered as it gathered its resolve. "You think you're so smart. Don't you, slave?"

"Yes," Nox responded with a shrug. "I won't pretend I'm the smartest man in existence, but I am, at the very least, smarter than you."

"Insolent slave!" the false god screamed, fire springing to life along the length of his blade. "Perhaps you have accounted for potential traitors in your midst, but your paltry minions will not stand against my army which will soon descend upon them!"

"You mean the roughly three-dozen stonemen that are making their way towards Valyria from the northwest over that way?" he asked, waving his hand towards the north. "Yeah, we were already prepared for stonemen as well. We were heading into Valyria after all, and the Smoking Sea is known to have a colony of stonemen that have chosen to exile themselves there. So, not really a surprise that there would be some in the area. Honestly, I was more surprised that there were not any stonemen that'd laid claim to the city. But again, your taunts are meaningless. Those that I brought with me are prepared to fight your infectious 'army'. And I have the means to mitigate any damage after the fight as well. So, nice try."

He could feel the fury coming from the false god, his emotions such that the dark side itself was reacting. Forming small wisps of miasma around the being's form as it stood fuming before Nox. "You! Are! Nothing! Slave!"

"Wrong," Nox countered, leveling his lightsaber at the being. "I was a slave. But then I was thrown to the darkness and left to die. But in the darkness, I learned. I learned peace is a lie and there is only passion. Through passion, I gained strength. Through strength, I gained power. Through power, I gained victory. And through victory, my chains were broken. The Force set me free. And with this code, I became something far more than you could ever comprehend."

"Pathetic drivel that means nothing! Fitting that one such as you would spout it!" Balerion cried, holding his sword up high. "Let me show you the true meaning of power!"

Holding his lightsaber before him, Nox braced himself for the attack while gathering the energy to create a Force Barrier between himself the false god. The buildup of Force energy from the fake deity was immense and sudden. But as quickly as it came, it went…with no adverse effects to Nox at all. "Rise! Rise, my companion of old! It is time to unleash your fire once more! Time to feast on flesh once more! Rise! Rise and smite those who dare to challenge the God of Valyria!"

Frowning, Nox followed the path of the Force energy that'd been unleashed. He found it settling on a pile of rocks along the edge of the volcano. A pile of rocks that began shifting and rising, dust and loose ash falling to the ground as a large shape began to pull itself up and out of the place it'd been buried for so long. Nox only stared with a blank expression as he observed how the Force was being twisted and warped into recreating a deceased artificial life.

"Have you prepared for this, slave?!" the false god laughed as the last rocks fell away, revealing a winged creature the size of several troop transports rising from its grave. "My companion! My dragon! The mount of Balerion! Fly forth once more and lay waste to those who dare desecrate our sacred city of Valyria!"

There was little Nox could do but marvel as the undead dragon spread its wings, which somehow managed to retain their webbing despite centuries of being buried beneath the ground and took the sky. Its path was clear as, with a few powerful beats of its massive wings, it headed straight for Valyria, giving off an earth-shaking roar as it passed the two of them by. "Well, slave. Did you plan for my dragon as well?"

"No," he answered plainly. "Honestly, encountering an undead dragon being raised and sent to attack those under my protection was perhaps one of the last things I expected to see when I was planning this voyage."

"Haha, so the slave is not all-knowing," the false god laughed. "So, what will you do now? Without those you came with, you cannot hope to defeat me, nor can you ever leave this place. You. Are. Mine!"

"You should've had the beast attack me instead of sending it after my expedition force," Nox continued on calmly, observing the undead beast through the Force as it struggled to stay in the air with its tattered wings.

Disappearing, the false god reappeared almost within arm's reach of him, his Valyrian steel blade aiming to remove his head. "The damage will be the same." The false god laughed as Nox almost lazily leaned back and let the blade pass uselessly through the air. "Already your moves are sluggish. Your attention is divided! This fight is—!"

Twisting, Nox shifted to ataru, flipping over the head of the false god and cutting his head in half and landing behind him. "You talk too much." Nox murmured, shifting back to soresu and ignoring the dragon for now. "Victory is never assured until your enemy lays dead at your feet. And as for your dragon…I care not. My acolyte is more than capable of handling such a beast, especially now. And if he is not, then I have wasted my time training him."

Cracking his neck as his head reformed, the false god turned towards him. "And what gives you such confidence in that uncultured barbarian Westeros boy you call your acolyte?"

"Simple," Nox smirked. "Let us just say, that the Archons of your time were not wrong in their beliefs."


Standing on the edge of the stone pier overlooking their boats, Prince Oberyn idly cleaned the blood off his newly acquired spear as he watched the man he'd just killed bob in the water for a moment before the weight of the steel plate he'd been wearing beneath his tunic dragged him below the surface of the water. Turning aside, he saw the Mormont girl cleaning a man's brain off her mace while Asha retrieved one of her new throwing axes from the back of another man. Hearing a growl, Oberyn turned his attention to Small Jon Umber, who was returning from down the dock with Eddard Karstark and two other north men that'd stayed true to their cause.

"Fucking bastards disappeared into the damned wilds," Small Jon spat. "Couldn't even bloody my new sword….lucky bastards."

The mutiny, for that was exactly what they'd faced, had been poorly thought out and even more poorly executed. A group of ten sailors had apparently decided they wanted the treasure for themselves and had concocted a half-crazed scheme to take the women hostage before jumping on the boats and sailing off into the distance. Apparently, they'd thought that his daughter, the Mormont girl, and the Greyjoy would be easy for the taking. Or perhaps they thought that the Greyjoy would join them considering her family history. Stupid, but the plan did have an inkling of sense in that they at least waited until most of the men, with the exclusion of Oberyn himself, had left the docks to make one last run at the vault before making their move. Of course, their plan had gone tits up the moment they pulled their poorly hidden daggers and tried to grab hold of the women. His daughter had gelded the man who grabbed her before slitting his throat nearly to the bone. The Mormont girl had simply thrown her head back, breaking the nose of the one that tried to grab her before swinging around with her mace and braining the poor sod.

'Pathetic, stupid…ill conceived, and costly,' Oberyn thought as he observed the bodies littered across the ground. They'd started out with forty strong, eight men to a boat. They lost three on the trek up the river. Now, ten more had mutinied. Of the ten, six were dead and four had scattered to the wind. But before that, they managed to kill two others that'd stayed loyal to the expedition. Bringing their number down to thirty. 'Thankfully, they waited until the boats were mostly loaded before launching this hairbrained scheme of theirs.'

The looting of the vaults had not been an easy task, just as the sorcerer had predicted. The first problem had been locating anything that would be able to carry the valuables. Thankfully, there were lower levels within the palace and other homesteads in their immediate vicinity that were still moderately intact, and they were able to find the chests and crates to load the valuables. The second obstacle came to transport them out of the city. Despite the three losses on their voyage, they were still numbering fifty strong. And the boats simply couldn't hold much in the way of valuables and men and stay afloat. Which was why, if he'd been a pious man, he would've thanked the Seven and the Old Gods when one of the sailors stumbled upon a small building that had several small skiffs located inside. None of which by themselves were seaworthy. But with a bit of rearranging, they were able to tie two of the skiffs together and create a large enough raft that, while definitely not useable on the open sea, would be able to float down river easily enough and hopefully out to the Sea Wolf. And best of all, they had been able to load it with over a dozen extra chests of loot.

The last issue present came about exactly as the sorcerer had predicted. And that was with what to take. The smallfolk of the crew had wanted to take all the gold coins they could find, while the Lords wanted to horde as much Valyrian steel as they could hold. Even his own daughter was not immune as she had eyed several Valyrian weapons she wanted to bring. Surprisingly, only the Greyjoy and the Mormont had shown the slightest bit of foresight. Coins were good, as was Valyrian steel. But gold was heavy. And if you could learn the secrets of Valyria, particularly how to reproduce their steel, then they could easily recoup the loss of leaving behind most of the weapons. So, it was with no small amount of moaning and groaning that the expedition began filling the first several chests with scrolls and books. After filling five to the point where they could hold no more, he had them move on to the strange crystals that the sorcerer had been admiring, which had filled another three chests before he decided they had enough. And while Oberyn himself could not see any value in the things, as they were obviously crafted crystals from a forge, he had learnt to trust the sorcerer to a degree where if the man said they were valuable, he would take his word for it.

With the books, scrolls and crystals loaded, Oberyn then directed their attention to the Valyrian steel. While most of the blades were too big to be placed into chests, they were easy to load onto the skiff once they were rolled up in whatever cloth they could find. The last four chests that went onto the skiff were loaded with gold and jewels. As a compromise, Oberyn had agreed that each man present could find a satchel and load it with whatever they wanted from the Vault and keep it as payment for their services. He'd hoped that would've been enough to satisfy the men, but he should've known better. Greed was a powerful motivator, after all.

"They can't have gotten far," his daughter stated, a hard look in her eyes. "If you lumbering fools can't track them, give me five men and I'll track them down and end them."

"Let them go," Oberyn ordered, surprising his daughter and several others. "We've all seen what is out there. Those four won't last but a few hours. And neither would we if we pursued them. Best just to leave them to their fate and let the land itself take care of them."

His daughter, nor the Northmen, seemed particularly pleased with his orders, but as the sorcerer had made it known that in his absence Oberyn was in charge, they wisely kept their opinions to themselves. Walking slowly back towards the others, he made certain to keep a close eye on each of the fallen, just to make sure they didn't have any sleepers waiting to strike when his back was turned.

"Fucking fools," Dacey Mormont spat as he approached the young she-bear and the Greyjoy girl. "What the fuck were they thinking?"

"In short, they weren't," Oberyn sighed, not for the death of the men, but rather for the inconvenience it was creating. "Their greed blinded them to the cost. And now their short-sightedness is going to cost us more than it already has."

"Aye," Asha nodded, throwing the rag away that she'd been using to clean the blood off one of her axes. "We've lost a quarter of those we set out with. It will be difficult rowing back downstream, especially given what it took to get us here. And now we got the skiff to consider as well. We'll have the current to help take us downstream, but it won't be enough to offset what we've lost."

She was right. The voyage upriver had been anything but easy. All of them, himself included, were nearing the point of exhaustion, he could feel it in his very bones. The current downstream would help. But as Asha correctly pointed out, losing a quarter of their number meant they had a quarter fewer to row. Which meant they would either have risk rowing to the point of near exhaustion, or risk staying in this accursed land longer than necessary, or they could leave behind some of their loot. None of which sounded particularly appealing to Oberyn.

"Perhaps we should wake up the Lannister." Dacey muttered. "The lions might not have much in the way of honor and he might be half out of his mind, but at least he'd be one more pair of hands to man the oars."

The idea was not without merit, as much as he loathed to admit it. And, granted, Gerion was not his brother nor the Mountain. But still, the idea of having to rely on a Lannister for anything was not something he was willing to entertain. 'Nox has seemed to have had a counter plan for any potential issues that arose so far this voyage,' he thought, his eyes flickering to the boat where the Lannister man remained asleep. 'I wouldn't be surprised if he even suspected a potential mutiny before we left. Let's just hope he has plans for how to get all of us out of here in a timely manner.'

The shifting of rubble away from a wall brought all of them around, their weapons leveled and ready to fight. Only to hold themselves in check as Jon Snow appeared on the other side of the rubble and stopped dead, his hands held out in a nonthreatening manner while his eyes took in the scene with the several dead men scattered across the pier. "What in the name of the gods happened?"

"A slight dispute on the proper distribution of pay," Oberyn replied almost on reflex as he raised his spear. "A few of our number thought they were entitled to all of what we found and fully intended on leaving the rest of us behind. The rest of us had issue with that idea and, well, they lost the argument."

"Oh," the bastard of the Warden of the North replied elegantly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, well, what do we do now?"

"Now?" Oberyn replied, hefting his spear over his shoulder. "Now, we wait for the sorcerer to return from whatever fight he's hogging all to himself. And then we figure out how to man our boats plus an extra skiff with less than a quarter of the manpower we started with. Either that, or we begin sorting what we have and start leaving things behind. Something that I'm sure no one wants to have happen."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the boy frown in thought before turning northwards and staring off into the distance. Oberyn considered himself a master of reading people, one had to be if you were to survive the games of nobles and the games in the fighting pits. In a fight, the slightest twitching of a hand or shifting of the eyes or even the shifting of one's weight could tell the opposition exactly what their next move would be. And in the game of the nobles, one's eyes or twitching or one of a hundred slight tells could give away a lie or the truth. So, when Oberyn saw the bastard of the North go stone still as he faced the north when he was relaxed but a moment before, a hundred warning bells started sounding in his head.

Tightening his grip on his new spear, he moved to stand side by side with the boy. Jon's eyes were pointedly facing northwards and had an almost…detached look to them. As if he were seeing without seeing, if that even made sense. "Master Nox is still fighting…something dark. Something strong, but…wrong. So very wrong. It's as if the Force itself is rejecting the thing's very existence," Jon said almost emotionlessly as if he were describing the weather.

Looking at the boy out of the corner of his eye, he kept his attention northwards. "Is he winning?"

Jon shook his head. "I…I can't tell from this distance but… Wait. What – What is that?"

The sense of dread increased tenfold as he watched Jon turn whiter than the snow of his homeland. "What is what boy?"

Jon's answer came in a single word as his eyes grew large and went skywards. "Run!"

Not a moment later, an ear splitting, chest rumbling roar came from the sky, chilling the very blood in Oberyn's veins as he looked skywards. What he saw was impossible. Yet, it was there. Dropping from the clouds and flying low enough to scrap the tops of the buildings was the very creature that allowed the Targaryen's to conquer almost all of Westeros. A dragon. "Scatter! Now!" he yelled, running off to his left and, on instinct, grabbing Jon by the waist and putting himself between the dragon's path and the young boy.

The heat was the worst. Even though Oberyn was well clear of the dragon's path, he could still feel the heat of the dragon fire down to his very bones as the beast of legend passed them by, scorching everything in its path. Which included two more of their number who were too awestruck to move. The only saving grace he could think of was that the flames of the dragon killed the two hapless sailors so quickly that they didn't even have time to scream nor, he hoped, to truly feel the pain of the fire turning them to little more than piles of ash.

"Someone better tell me I'm fucking sleeping on a pile of gold back in the fucking vault!" the young Umber yelled. "Because there is no damn way that a dragon just passed us by and tried to fucking cook us!"

"This isn't a fucking dream, Umber! It's a fucking nightmare! And one we're all sharing!" a second voice, the Karstark boy he believed, shouted back.

"We need to get into the buildings!" Dacey Mormont shouted. Her mace held tightly in her hands as her gaze remained skywards. "The thing can't burn us if it can't find us!"

"No!" Oberyn blinked, the voice hadn't come from him, but rather from the young bastard boy he'd been protecting, who'd suddenly shrugged him off and marched out into the open. "Dragonfire can melt stone, even this stone here in Valyria. We go in between the buildings or in them, and that dragon will turn them into ovens. And we can't stay here, if one of those flames hits the boats, we lose our only way of getting out of here in any timely manner."

He was reasonably impressed with the boy's logic. Between the buildings would give them the option to hide, but it would limit their mobility and if the dragon hit them with a burst of fire, those stone homes would turn into ovens to cook them alive. Out in the open had its risks, but it was the better option. But regardless of out in the open or into the city, they had to get away from the boats to prevent the dragon from targeting them. Hopefully.

"Listen to Snow! Get your asses towards the outskirts of the city or I'll kill you myself and save the dragon the trouble!" he shouted, motioning with his spear in the direction they were to go before turning and speaking quietly to Jon, "I hope whatever task the sorcerer sent you on, boy, gave you some kind of trick to deal with the dragon."

"I just might have a 'trick up my sleeve', Prince Oberyn!" Jon Snow shouted as the two ran towards the outskirts of the city.

The movement was brief, but out of the corner of his eye Oberyn noticed Jon touching the sleeve of his tunic on his right arm. 'I see, he meant that quite literally. I'm interested to see just what the sorcerer sent him after.' "Careful with that cavalier attitude, boy! I might just start taking a real liking to you! And, if not me, then Ellaria certainly will. She likes witty young men af-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Asha shouted from just ahead of the two of them. "Think with your cock later, Prince! Dragon first! Fucking after!"

Despite the situation, Oberyn felt his face split in a smile under his mask as he stared at the Greyjoy woman's backside. "Is that an offer, Lady Asha?"

"Here it comes! Scatter!"

At Snow's warning, everyone scattered off to their left or right, taking whatever cover they could find. 'Shit,' Oberyn cursed, tucking himself behind a building's corner just as he could hear the dragon's roar and the beating of the beast's wings. 'We're not out in the open yet! That thing lets loose a blast like last time, and we're all cooked!'

Just as he could start making out the form of the dragon through the mist, he noticed something that had slipped his attention when he ducked for cover. And that was the fact that Jon Snow was no longer beside him. In fact, that boy was standing out in the middle of the street, staring down the dragon that was on a direct path for him. 'Fucking fool!' Obery cursed, ready to burst out from his hiding place and tackle the boy out of the path of the dragon. 'I don't fancy taking a swim in these waters, but if I go fast enough I should have enough to take the both of us into the water and – Whatis he doing?'

Any action he was about to take halted as he watched Jon casually raise his arm. This action allowed his right sleeve to roll back and revealed some sort of golden armlet on the boy's right forearm with a ruby gem in the center. A gem that started glowing brightly just as the dragon's maw opened and flames leapt forth, consuming the boy and everything around him.

Ducking back, Oberyn closed his eyes. 'Fuck…I got distracted! I couldn't save the boy! Damn it! What was he fucking thin—' His thoughts were cut off as a torrent of wind rustled his clothes. The flames from the dragon weren't dissipating. If anything, they were gathering, right above where Jon had been standing.

The Prince of Dorne had seen and experienced a lot in his life, more than almost any could ever hope to see or experience. But the sight of the Bastard of Winterfell, standing amongst a raging vortex of flames with his hand held above his head, his face twisted into one of great concentration? That was something else. Something new, even for him. With a yell rivaling any war cry he'd ever head, Jon turned, the vortex of flame following his movements as if a slave to his will. The flames formed into a ball and, launched like it was a stone out of a trebuchet right into the back end of the dragon. The beast of legend gave of a cry as it flailed in the air before crashing through several buildings.

After picking his jaw up off the ground, Oberyn was the first to react. Eyes bouncing continuously between the downed dragon and the boy, he slowly and cautiously approached the Bastard of Winterfell. "Alright, I'll bite. What in the Seven Hells did the sorcerer send you after that allowed you to do…that?"

"It's this talisman," Snow answered, his face looking more than slightly drained, but his eyes remaining in the direction where the dragon had fallen. "I'm not sure how, but it almost…enhances my Force powers to manipulate fire. But only fire. Master Nox never spoke of anything like it before."

"Well, that's convenient," Dacey Mormont remarked, her mace at the ready as she took kept her eyes in the direction of the fallen dragon. "But please tell me you weren't dumb enough to use that thing on a dragon without knowing it would work."

"Well, I wasn't sure that it would work that well against dragonfire," the boy said before hastily adding. "But I did use it to kill a firewyrm with its own fire. At least I think I did. So, I just assumed that it would work as well against a dragon."

The ease with which he said drew many up short, no doubt as they remembered their first and only encounter with one of the most dangerous creatures in perhaps the entirety of the known world, now that dragons were extinct… Well, maybe not completely extinct seeing as they were now facing one. But as Oberyn drew close enough to touch the boy, he had to reassess his original thoughts on him looking drained. Drained would be an understatement. He looked as if he'd just sprinted from Sun Spear to the Water Gardens during midday. 'Not surprising. While I might not know about this brand of magic the sorcerer and the boy use, there has always been one rule that all magic abides by. It's taxing. Those two have been using their magic nonstop for days to guide us and keep us safe. And Jon, by his own admission, has already finished fighting off firewyrm and now he just used his power to deflect dragon fire. A feat thought to be impossible!'

"The boy has given us a chance," Oberyn called out, forcing himself out of his thoughts and back to the matter at hand. "He's brought the dragon to the ground, which gives us a chance to kill it."

"Wait, you want us to go on foot and hunt that fucking thing?" The Karstark lad all but shouted. "Did you see how fucking big that monster was!?"

"Yes," he nodded. "And while it is in the air, that big fucker will be impossible to kill without a heavy scorpion or ballista. So, our best – our only – chance to survive this is to try and kill it once it's on the ground where we can reach it."

"But how are we supposed to kill it?" Umber growled. "We might hate those dragon fuckers, but we know of them well enough. Their skin is tougher than heavy plate armor. Not to mention, you ever try and hunt a bear? You corner them and they get ten-times as vicious, which this beast now is. And not to mention, you need to drive your spear damn far into the bear in order to kill it. How the fuck are we supposed to get in close enough to not only stab it, but I doubt even our new Valyrian steel weapons will be able to get past those scales."

"Master Nox's lightsaber," Jon spoke up, stopping the retort that was on the tip of Oberyn's tongue. "A lightsaber can cut through anything. I've seen him cut through steel, wood, even solid stone with little to no difficulty. If there is a weapon that can kill a dragon, it is that. Master Nox is far away but, I can sense he's returning."

"Then that's what we'll do," Oberyn decided, ending the discussion. "Snow will use his…magic to nullify the dragon fire. The rest of us will keep it occupied and once we get it to ground, we try and kill it. And if all else fails, we hold it off long enough for the sorcerer to get back and have him finish the job with—"

"Something's coming out of the mist!"

Turning, Oberyn squinted off into the distance of the mist clouding wall that was just barely visible that had once served to contain the city of Valyria. At first, he couldn't see anything through the mist. But that didn't last as he soon saw figures shaped oddly like men limping through the fog. Mishappen men with skin the color and texture of the very stone walls that surrounded them. And as if to truly make their situation any worse, he could hear the distinctive beating of heavy wings and the roaring of the dragon as it once again took to the sky.

"Fuck me," he muttered. "Just what we needed right now. Fucking stonemen."

The reaction from everyone was about what he'd expected as everyone, from noble to laymen and from man to woman, took a step back in fear and disgust. Grabbing the sleeves of his tunic and making sure they were fully covering his arms; he popped his collar up and then took a two-handed grip on his spear as he stepped forward. "Form lines! We fight in groups of ten to give others the chance to rest. Make sure every piece of exposed skin you have is covered in something before you step forward to fight."

No one moved to join him. No one save the one who couldn't as Snow proved to have the biggest set of balls as he rearranged his sleeves and drew the short Valyrian sword Nox had given him from the vault. "Not you, boy," he said, holding out his spear and blocking the boy's path. "You're the only one who can deal with that fucking dragon when it comes back around. The rest of us will keep the stonemen from reaching you."

The boy looked like he was about to protest, but a distant roar from the dragon still in the sky must've brought the situation they were now in around to the boy. And with little more than a nod, he moved back as his daughter, Asha Greyjoy, Dacey Mormont and the Small Jon all stepped forward with weapons held at the ready.

"Well, it appears you women have bigger balls than most," he smiled under his mask as the stonemen started picking up speed towards them as they advanced. "Let's just hope you are as skilled."


Lashing out with a high-spinning hook kick, Nox felt the attack find purchase against the face of the false-god, stunning the being as his Force-empowered limb sent him stumbling back. Capitalizing on the opening, Nox used a Force push to send the stumbling Balerion reeling head over heels down a small ravine. Reaching back, he grabbed hold of a boulder, easily lifting the nearly one-ton object over his head and sending it down the ravine. The false god had just barely managed to right itself in time to see the boulder approaching, and by then it was far too late to do anything but take the attack head on. Which resulted in the boulder passing almost effortlessly through him as it turned his body into a bloody red paste, forcing Balerion to once again expend the energy to create a new one rather than just repairing the old.

Knowing he had a moment, Nox let his sense of awareness expand. 'Almost there. Just a small distance further and this will end.'

Feeling a disturbance, Nox ducked in time for Balerion's sword to pass over his head. Switching to form four, Nox twisted and turned his body, becoming the very weapon he wielded as he danced and parried around Balerion's desperate attacks.

"Die! Die! Die! Die already, you fucking slave!" the false god shouted as he continued chasing Nox, his blade finding nothing but air and the edge of his lightsaber as Nox stayed ahead of Balerion.

The once-man was powerful, there was no doubt about that. In fact, if the battle was to be decided by sheer power alone, Balerion would probably have been able to best him. But power was only part of the battle. To be a true warrior, one had to be skilled enough to wield both the power and one's self effectively. And while the man was decently skilled with a blade, he could not combine his power and skill and transform them into something greater. At best, he could be considered on par with a high-ranking Lord of the Sith. Not even a Darth, let alone a Dark Council Member. The only reason why the fight had not already ended was because of his more than slightly annoying regeneration capabilities.

Deactivating his lightsaber, Nox twisted into an aerial as Balerion overextended a down sweep with his sword at his legs. Before his feet touched the ground, Nox hit Balerion with a Force push and used the recoil of the attack to flip and twist himself over backwards so that he landed on his feet facing the false god, his lightsaber activating the moment he solidified his stance on the ground. Digging the point of his lightsaber into the ground, Nox channeled a rivulet of dark side energy though the blade and into the ground. Dragging the lightsaber through the ground, Nox sent a wave of dust and superheated debris towards his adversary, temporarily blinding the still recovering Balerion and allowing Nox to once again get a killing strike in. This time piercing the being's heart, or at least where his heart should've been, before wrenching the blade out through his chest and under his arm.

Not giving his enemy the chance to recover, Nox flicked his left middle finger off his thumb on the lightsaber hilt, sending a concentrated burst of Force energy the size of a fist into the unwounded side of Balerion's chest. The concentrated strike hit the false god with the force of several tons packed into a few square inches, throwing the man back through the air for nearly thirty meters before his back struck a wall. The wall collapsed from the force of impact, covering the immediate area in a shower of debris composed of stone, mortar and wood. Raising his left hand, the newly freed clump of debris rose into the air a good fifty feet. Closing his fist, he compacted the debris into a single sphere before throwing it down on the false god, the mass just barely reaching terminal velocity before it impacted the ground where the false god still lay.

Throwing up a Force Barrier, Nox defended himself against the falling stone and wood that was thrown up into the air in result of the makeshift asteroid he'd just hurled down on his opponent. Once the debris had stopped falling, Nox let his barrier drop and calmly walked towards the broken wall. 'I'm actually impressed that he managed to go through this wall without disintegrating in a 'splat'again,' he thought as he observed the hole that had created in the wall surrounding the ruined city of Valyria. 'Either he's durable, or this wall was not nearly as impressive as it looked. Although…considering they had dragons that could fly over any wall built, I'm sure they didn't really care if their constructs were structurally sound or not.'

Walking over the debris, he calmly observed the swirling mass of dark side energy as Balerion once again reformed his body. "Your regeneration is slowing considerably, 'Balerion'," he said the name mockingly, jumping down from the pile of debris so that he could watch the finalization of the reformation. "I suppose that I should welcome you home…But I know for a fact that the current tenants are not all that pleased with you, so I wouldn't really be expecting a warm reception here."

Once whole again, Balerion looked around wildly as he spun in the debris. Slowly, a low rumbling began in the creature's chest that quickly turned into a fully belly laugh. "Ahaha, so this was your great plan, slave? Bringing me to Valyria, my home, the place I have been unable to set foot into since my Ascension. And why? Did you think the Archon's spell would weaken me? Make me mortal? Ha! They are but toothless worms pretending to be dragons, when I am the only true dragon of Valyria!"

"Do you care to put that to the test?" Nox asked calmly. "The Archons gave their very lives to erect the barrier that has kept you barred from this place for nearly four hundred years. Are you so sure of your victory know that you are willing to put your will against not only mine, but of the lost Archons as well?"

The creature faltered. It was only for a split second, but Nox caught it. 'Good, all according to plan.'

"I do not fear those dead worms!" Balerion shouted, and in the distance Nox could hear the undead dragon howl in response to his master's cry. "They are dead and gone! And their magic has worn off such that I can step foot in this city once more! And now, slave! You shall die!"

'Jon. It's time.'


Standing in the center of the twenty men at arms and nobles, Jon kept his eyes and his senses firmly skywards. Around him, the others fought to keep the stonemen away from him, which allowed him to keep his concentration on locating the beast overhead that was trying to fry them all alive. Sensing the dragon swooping lower through the fog once more, Jon focused on the talisman in his right hand as he prepared himself to once again fend off the dragonfire that could melt stone.

Concentrating on the talisman on his arm, he held his hand high as the dragon got close enough that he could see the beast's jaw open as the fire swelled within the back of its throat. Bracing himself for what he knew was coming, he kept himself fully focused on the dragon as the flames spewed out. The heat was almost unbearable, as well as the pressure that seemed to weigh on his shoulders as the gem on the talisman shined, giving him the strength and focus through some means he still didn't understand to hold the flames at bay. But this attack was different from the last, and vastly different from the very first onslaught. It was…well, weaker. He hadn't been able to notice it earlier. But now that it'd come to his attention, he could sense that with each pass the dragon made, the flames were getting weaker and weaker for some reason.

'Am I getting stronger?' he wondered as he directed the flames into the river water, quenching the flames. As if to answer his unasked question, his body answered him as one of his legs gave out and he dropped to a knee as darkness began creeping in on the corners of his vision.

"Jon!" several voices shouted at once as Jon struggled to regain his footing.

The plan, if one could call it that, had been going well for a time. The arrival of the stonemen had forced them to forgo going outside the walls of the Valyrian to fight the dragon in the open field. Which unfortunately left them boxed in with buildings to one side, water to the other and only a single path forward and back. Thankfully, the stonemen were neither numerous nor were they attacking from all directions, which allowed Prince Oberyn and the rest to prevent any of the diseased from reaching him. But it had also cost the group two more of their number to do so. Despite the almost insurmountable odds being sent against them in the form of the dragon and the stonemen, they were holding their own. But there was a problem. A major one.

"I'm alright," he forced out, doing his best to hide just how badly he was lying with that.

He was nearing his limit and he knew it. A lot of Master Nox's training had been focused on, what he called, surpassing his limits. Which usually meant running, lifting stones, or fighting until the point of physical exhaustion and then using the Force to either purge that exhaustion or to perform some other task. Other times, though, he would have Jon, Robb, and Arya use the Force until they fainted, usually by forcing them to hold stones several times heavier than a man in the air for hours on end. And having succumb to that form of training more than once, Jon knew that he would not be able to keep using the Force like this for long.

'Jon. It's time.'

The sudden voice in his mind sent a shock through him as if he'd been doused with a bucket of icy water. "Master?"

"The sorcerer is back?" Oberyn yelled as he speared a charging stoneman, then sidestepping to allow the once-man to fall on his face dead. "It's about time! Where is he?"

"Aye," Jon nodded, trying to not divide his attention too much from the dragon overhead as he searched for Master Nox. "He's…in the city again!"

"Good!" Umber yelled, cleaving a stoneman in half with his new Valyrian great sword while making sure to stay clear of the corpse when it fell to the ground. "Tell him to kill that god's damned dragon then!"

"It doesn't work like that!" Jon shouted back as the dragon descended once more. It was the truth, he wasn't sure how exactly Master Nox was able to speak to him in this manner, but it wasn't as if he was hearing him. It was more like…feelings and pictures from a book that left a message in his mind.

Fighting through the exhaustion screaming through his entire being, he channeled the Force into the talisman once more, just as the flames of the dragon descended upon them. 'The flames are getting weaker!' he thought as he once again pushed the flames away from himself and the others. 'But…why?'

"Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Asha asked her axes held at the ready, waiting for the next group of stonemen to jump out from the ruined buildings surrounding them.

As if to answer Asha's question, the sound of something crashing through multiple walls, followed quickly by the sound of a building collapsing brought Jon and the rest around to face down a pathway leading into the city. Something, gods only knew what, had crashed into a home less than a few hundred paces from where they were. They weren't given long to wonder either as a dark…mist almost, came from the wreckage and formed into almost arrow-like objects before firing off into the distance like they'd been loaded into a ballista.

The bolts of mist didn't make it far as they simply…ceased to exist midflight. Then Lord Nox was there, his blood-red glowing blade alight in his hands as he ran directly into the building the dark figure had broken through not a moment before. Within moments of him disappearing, the dark figure was flung out of the wreckage and across the wide street into the buildings on the opposite side. Once again, Lord Nox appeared right behind the figure, only… By the old gods, Jon had seen Master Nox fight in the past. Hells, he'd sparred against him for years and he'd always thought that he could somewhat hold his own against his Master. But now, watching Lord Nox defy almost every law of nature as he all but flew through the air, performed flips and turns that even mummers would think impossible…Jon knew without a shadow of a doubt that Master Nox had only been playing with everyone who'd ever sparred against him in Winterfell.

"No time for daydreaming!" Prince Oberyn shouted, shaking Jon and several others out of the trance they'd fallen into, so enthralled were they with the battle between Lord Nox and the strange figure in the distance.

Clenching his fist, Jon forced himself to look away from the fight between his Master and the unknown figure and turned himself back to the task at hand. 'I'm not angry he's been holding back!' Jon said to himself, whether he was trying to convince himself that or not, he wasn't even sure. 'But now, now I have a true goal to reach! I will reach Master Nox's level! And it starts now!'

Eyeing the dragon, Jon concentrated on the talisman, pouring as much power as he could into the object as he could as the ancient beast once again descended from the sky. Only this time, it wasn't heading for Jon and the others. No, this time it was heading for Master Nox instead.

"It's heading for Lord Nox!" Jon shouted, breaking off from the rest as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him towards his mentor and Master.

The world seemed to almost slow as he watched the dragon draw closer and closer to Lord Nox. The ground shook and several ruined buildings lining the street collapsed as the dragon landed onto the street, its body acting as a barrier blocking Jon's path, preventing him from reaching Lord Nox.

"Master Nox!" Jon yelled as he watched on, helpless, as the dragon's head lowered, and its maw opened.

Dragon fire erupted from the beast, covering the street and all the nearby buildings that surrounded Master Nox and his advisory. 'No!' Jon thought, his steps faltering as he watched the man he admired, trained under, and looked up too as a second father was blanketed in a wave of fire. 'No!'

"Stop worrying so much, acolyte! If it was this easy to kill me, I would've died a long time ago."

Jon could've wept with relief at hearing Lord Nox's voice in his head once more. And even more so as a Master Nox leapt out of the flames and landed on top of the nearest building that would put him above the level of the flames.

'Now, Jon! Use what you have! Trust in the Force! And it will set you free!'

Jon didn't need telling twice. Channeling what little strength he had left, he forced his legs to move as he ran head long towards the dragon. Behind him, he could hear the Prince Oberyn, Asha, and the others yelling for him to get back, but he paid none of them any heed as he focused solely and only on the black eyes of the dragon. Sliding feet first, Jon could nearly feel the heat of the dragon's scales as its spiked tail passed over his body. Slapping his hand on the ground and pushing with the Force, Jon threw himself into the air, twisting his body in the air as the dragon's maw snapped shut in the air where he'd once been. Reaching out a hand, he grabbed hold of one of the dragon's horns, using it to stop his motion and pull himself down on top of the dragon's head.

He could feel the rage, the hatred…the pain coming from the powerful beast beneath his feet as the creature began bucking and thrashing, trying to toss Jon from his head. Putting his faith into the Force fully as he held on with only one hand, Jon reached above his head blindly with his right hand and…felt something solid strike the palm of his outstretched hand. Pulling his hand down, Jon could only gawk at what was in his hand. 'Lord Nox's….lightsaber…It's…It's lighter than I thought it would be.'

'Stop daydreaming, boy, and finish that beast!'

Copying the movements of Lord Nox, Jon pressed his thumb down on a specific spot on the hilt. The blood-red blade shot forth, startling Jon. For just a moment, he could do little more than stare at the light coming from the blade. 'It's…so light.' Reversing his grip on the hilt so the blade was pointed towards his feet, Jon stared down at the top of the dragon's head he was standing upon. Letting go of the beast's horn, he grabbed the hilt with both hands and brought the sword down with as much force as he could.

The lightsaber cut through the hide and bone of the dragon's head with only slight resistance, like he was using a freshly sharpened knife to cut through boiled leather. Beneath him, the dragon let a cry of agony as Jon fought to keep his balance atop the beast while cutting deeper and deeper into the dragon's head. Slowly, the bucking of the dragon slowed as the beast collapsed, its head flopping down heavily on the ground and throwing Jon from his spot.

Ducking his head, he let his shoulder absorb the hit from the ground as he rolled just as Lord Nox had taught him. Coming out of the roll he brought the lightsaber to bare as he turned, ready to face the dragon once more. Only…the dragon wasn't moving. The ancient beast was merely, laying on the ground less than a few paces from him. One blackened eye open and staring at him.

"End it!" The voice that rang in his head was louder than the bells of Winterfell, nearly bringing him to his knees as he fought against covering his ears. "End this!"

Shivering, he met the eye of the dragon that was staring at him. 'That…That was the dragon. I…I didn't think dragons could talk.' Cautiously, Jon met the dragon's one remaining eye as he reached out to the downed beast through the Force. What he felt nearly made him loose his stomach. Pain. No, anguish. Fear and…longing, a longing to rest. 'It wants to die,' he realized, keeping the lightsaber held firmly in front of himself as he slowly approached the dragon. 'It's…very existence is pain. What…Why? What…What happened to it to bring it to this state?'

Reaching the dragon, he transferred the lightsaber to his left hand and gently laid his right hand on the dragon's scaled head. 'You…You're already dead,' Jon realized with a start, looking down into the dark pool that was the dragon's eye. 'You're dead but…your rider has been forcing you to stay alive, somehow. Stuck between life and death, but neither one nor the other. Gods…why?'

Letting his hand drop, he took a moment to compose himself before clutching the lightsaber with both hands and raising it above his head. 'May you finally find rest,' he sent out to the dragon before bringing the lightsaber down once more upon the dragon's head.


Hearing the dying cries of the dragon brought a smile to Nox's face as he sensed the intoxicating fear and despair coming off the would-be 'god' of Valyria as his dragon was brought low by a mere boy.

"No!" Balerion yelled, his movements becoming more and more frantic as he felt his companion being ripped away from him. "No! This cannot be! I am a god! I am immortal! You shall no—!"

Having grown more than tired of the monologue, Nox, now without his lightsaber, calmly brought his hands forward and unleashed a blast of Force lightning into Balerion's chest. The would-be god tried to fight back against the current, but as he was now, there was absolutely nothing he could do.

"I told you before we began that your ritual was a failure," he said after ending the onslaught and letting Balerion drop to his knees. "But I never specified why I said that, did I? You did manage to collect the souls of your followers and the slaves you sacrificed and added their power to your own. But you made one egregious mistake. You collected their power, instead of absorbing it. Which means that all those thousand plus souls within you have retained their individuality, even after all this time."

"There is no difference!" Balerion shouted, rushing at Nox with his blade held high.

It was almost pitiful with ease that he was able to sidestep the attack before burying his armored fist into the creature's gut, dropping it to the ground where it was left gasping desperately for air. "The fact that you do not recognize the difference only serves to prove my point, idiot."

Not even bothering to dodge what he knew was coming, Nox simply used the Force to strengthen the palm of his hand and caught the edge of the Valyrian steel blade as Balerion tried to cut him with a weak backhanded strike. "What?" Balerion gasped, staring dumbly at the edge of his blade, held firmly in Nox's grip. "This…This cannot be happening! I am a god! You cannot be more powerful than me!"

Wrenching the blade from the would-be god's grip, Nox casually tossed the blade aside before delivering a full arching kick straight to the man's jaw. He could feel the bone break under the pressure of his foot as Balerion was lifted off his knees and sent careening into a nearby wall.

"At the start of this fight, you would've been correct in saying that I was not as powerful as you," Nox lectured as he squatted down a fair distance from Balerion and watched him through his sightless eyes as he tried to reform his jaw. "But, like many before you, your pride and belief in your supposed immortality led to your downfall. I must thank you for not even bothering to block my first couple of attacks, by the way. That allowed me to not only form a theory, but to test it as well. Do you want to know what I learned? I learned that you imprisoned the souls within your body and then started to channel the power from those spirits. While this method does allow one to become more powerful, there is a problem. A problem that exists with all prisons. In that prisoners can escape."

He could sense Balerion startle as fear began pouring off the fool. "Utter dragon shit!"

"I have no reason to lie to you. And you know that I'm telling the truth." Nox replied dismissively as he advanced on the now cowering being. "Each time I delivered a fatal blow to you, I weakened your hold on the souls imprisoned within you. And then you did me a favor by overextending yourself by manipulating the stonemen and using a fair portion of your power to reanimate your dragon. But now, your dragon is dead, and the power you used to reanimate it is gone. And what little power you have left, you need to use to keep your spirit anchored to this plane. In short, your powerless now."

Growling, Balerion threw his hands forward, dark mist forming in the palms of his hands. "I'll show you powerless, slave!"

Nox didn't even bother trying to form a defense. The attack was so pitiful that the dark mist simply bounced off him before dissipating harmlessly into the air. "As I said, powerless."

Holding his hand above his head, Nox began pulling heavily on the dark side of the Force as he prepared himself to call his wrath down upon the fool. "Unfortunately for you, you still have quite a few souls left to help anchor you. So, I'm just going to have to kill you again and again and again until all those souls you imprisoned are set free. And you are once again mortal."

"Wait!" Balerion screamed, hands held out pleadingly as the being scrambled to get to its knees before him. "I – I will swear myself to you, my Lord! My knowledge will be yours! You will be able to take over the world! And I will serve at your side for eternity!"

If the being expected Nox to be moved by his plea, well, he was correct that it moved him. But not in the direction it'd been hoping. Snarling at the kneeling man, Nox paused what he had been preparing and opted instead to simply lay into Balerion with a blast of Force lightning.

"Did you think that kind of plea would work on me?" he all but yelled as he carefully maintained the current of the lightning to optimize the pain but making sure it wouldn't kill him further. "You sacrificed thousands to get here. Destroyed an entire civilization in your pursuit of power! Now, you dare to plead for mercy! How fucking pathetic! At least have the decency to die like a fucking man and not a sniveling coward! And besides, I already made a deal. A deal to end your pathetic existence for good."

Ending the attack, he once again raised his hand towards the sky. As he did, he could feel the powers within him shift once, twice, thrice and again and again until the seven beings he'd contracted temporarily separated themselves from him so they could be revealed before Balerion. For his part, the would-be god could do little else but whimper as he stared at the now eight faces glaring down at him.

"I told you. Had you used your full power from the moment you saw me, you potentially could've defeated me. That was not a chance I was willing to take. So, before confronting you, I took my time to track down the seven Archons who gave their lives and bound their spirits to the barrier to protect the souls of Valyria from you. It didn't take much to get them to agree to be temporarily bound. I just had to give them my word that they would have a front row seat at seeing you being obliterated. In return, they would grant me their powers. And now, now it is time for me to uphold my end of my bargain. May you rot in whatever hell you believe in, God of Valyria."

He could feel as the seven Archons gave up their forms and returned to him, boosting his connection to the Force like a dam that had all its floodgates opened simultaneously. The sky above him crackled and boomed as lightning arched through the sky and the wind began to blow fiercely enough to kick up dust and even start to move rocks. On the ground, the false god begged again and again for its life, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Nox let the storm of Force energy saturate everything around him. Dropping his hand, Nox unleased the strongest Force Storm he'd ever conjured.

The wind surrounding them whipped up into a frenzy, tearing buildings apart as its cyclone spread around the two of them. Force lightning fell all around the two of them, reducing everything to ash and sand before crystalizing it due to the extreme heat before vaporizing the crystallization once more. And in the center of it all, the false god convulsed on the ground, screaming as loud as the being could as its body was torn down to a molecular level. Only to be reformed by its own power, just so that it could be torn asunder once more. As he poured more and more power into the onslaught, he could even feel the fabric of space and time around the would-be god begin to tear, ripping into the creature even more deeply than the lightning. And, through it all, Nox stood his ground, acting as judge, jury, and executioner on the one who brought about the Doom to Valyria. Nox had no idea just how long he remained, standing amongst the storming winds and lighting of the Force as the creature sufferer. But, eventually, the last of the souls held captive within the creature were ripped from him, leaving Balerion defenseless. Snarling, Nox focused harder on the being, condensing the Force energy around him as he ripped his connection to the Force from him before using the Force to tear him apart cell by cell until there was nothing left of him. Physically and in the Force.

Letting go of the power, Nox leaned his head back as the storm slowly started to dissipate around him. As it did, he could feel as the seven archons left him, only to reappear before him in their astral forms.

"Our pact is done, sorcerer from the stars," Archon Dracequitem said, standing in the middle of the archons. "The fool is gone."

"Aye, he is."

Nox was tempted, Force knows he was tempted. But he knew the risks of keeping the spirits bound to him indefinitely like this. While the Force Walking Technique allowed one to bind a Force ghost, there was a price to pay. Binding four Sith Lords had nearly killed him and would have killed him had he not all but remade his body down to a molecular level. Binding seven beings of nearly equal power…Well, that was not going to end well.

Going to his knees, Nox lowered his head on as he called upon the power within him that he hadn't even known he was capable of until he met Ashara, and later Nyra. "May my light, what little there is, redeem your spirits in the Force. And may you find peace as you leave this plane and become one with the Force."

One by one, the spirits of the last Archons of Valyria glowed brightly before dissipating as they became one with the Force. Soon, only Dracequitem was left standing before Nox. As his body began to glow, the Archon asked, "The boy. The one whose presence you guarded when we first met. The one you sent to the breeding grounds. Is he—?"

"He is," Nox stated, cutting the spirit off.

He could practically feel the relief and joy that was coming off from the spirit as it began to disappear. "In the end, our will was done. Train him well, sorcerer. And see him safe." With his piece said, the last Archon of Valyria became one with the Force, and Nox was left alone.

'Well, that's that I guess,' he thought, rising to his feet and rolling his neck as he took a moment to study the land now that the Archons and the false god were gone. 'The land is still heavily tainted in the dark side of the Force. And without the Archons' protection, the various monsters that call this land home will be able to start claiming parts of the ruins here. But give it a century, maybe two, and this land might actually start to become something close to habitable for again.'

Turning his back on the where the Archons had disappeared from, Nox made his way across the freshly ruined landscape towards where the rest of the expedition was standing. 'Perhaps that was a bit overkill,' he thought as he listened to his boots crunch through the ground, which had been partially transformed to glass. From what he could tell, everything within a half mile radius of where he'd been standing had been reduced to nothing. There wasn't even any evidence left of the structures that had once surrounded him. 'But highly satisfying. Now, I know that creating a Force Storm of such magnitude is indeed possible. And not only that, but at that level of intensity,it was warping time and space, creating a wormhole effect. Interesting. I wonder if such a phenomenon could be controlled.'

Standing near the edge of the ring of destruction he'd caused were the surviving members of his expedition force. Each of whom, from Oberyn to his acolyte and the sailors, were all staring at him with varying degrees of shock, awe, and fear.

"What's our status? Have the ships been loaded and are they still in one piece?" he asked as he stepped out of the ring of destruction before his men and women.

"Gods, that's the first thing you say?" Oberyn asked with a forced chuckle as Nox calmly brushed some dust and debris off his overcoat. "People say that I like to showboat on occasion, but you, sorcerer? You give a whole new meaning to the word."

"That was not me 'showboating'," he said, only slightly lying. "That was simply the level necessary to destroy the fool who was responsible for all of this. Now, what is our status?"

"We…We still have all the boats and a skiff Prince Oberyn managed to find and repair, Master," his acolyte said, tentatively stepping forward and holding his lightsaber out for him to take back. "But there was a mutiny and, with the dragon and stonemen as well, we only have half of our original number, my Master. If we want to take everything with us, we'll have to tow the boats down the river."

Taking his lightsaber back, Nox gave it a quick check to make sure Jon hadn't damaged it in some manner before reattaching it to his belt on his left side. "Then that is exactly what we'll do. Spilt the boats in half, three will carry our spoils along with this skiff and those of us still alive will be in the remaining three. Scour the docks for chains or ropes or anything that we can use to lash the boats together. Now."

"You heard the sorcerer!" Asha yelled, being one of the first to break out of her stupor as she rounded on the others. "He's given you lot an order. Now get your asses in gear before I put my boot up it! Now!"

Except for Jon and Prince Oberyn, everyone all but jumped as their senses came back to them. Then it almost seemed like a race to see who could get away the fastest leaving only the two men and the boy at the edge of the ruins.

"Jon," Nox said, turning towards his acolyte. "Show me the talisman."

Jon hesitated only a moment before rolling up his right sleeve, revealing the talisman attached to his arm. "I see," Nox said simply after only a moment's investigation. He had a pretty decent idea about just what the talisman would do, but it never hurt to confirm one's suspicion. "I must admit that I have not seen many items like this in all of my travels, and that is saying something. For the Dragon Lords to have been able to construct such an object, perhaps they were more Force adept then I had originally theorized."

"And, for those of us who don't speak your cryptic tongue, sorcerer, care to translate?" Prince Oberyn asked, eyeing the talisman on Jon's arm warily.

Reaching out, Nox laid a single finger against the talisman. "A full explanation would more than likely leave you even more confused then you are now. Suffice to say, when the Dragon Lords crafted this talisman, they imbued it with the Force with the purpose to give the wearer the ability to control flames, even those from a dragon. Such Force constructs are not unheard of, but it takes a certain level of knowledge of the Force in order to achieve such a specific result. Perhaps, yes. If they were able to manipulate the Force to such a degree and create an object with such a specific purpose, they could also…Is it that simple? It must be… Interesting. Hopefully, one of the tomes we collected will have the answers. But then the question would become how to mass produce it without a sufficient heat source. Hmm."

"Um, Master Nox?" Jon called out tentatively, breaking Nox out of his thoughts.

"It is nothing," Nox responded. 'At least not now, but soon it could be much more.' "And what of the crystal you gathered? Let me see it."

This time Jon didn't hesitate in removing a small coin purse he had tied to the waist of his pants. His acolyte didn't even need to open it for Nox to know what was inside. But even knowing what his impressive acolyte had found didn't fully prepare Nox to see the small finger-size kyber crystal in Jon's outstretched hand. It wasn't the fact that Jon had found a kyber crystal that had surprised Nox so much so. While rare outside of Ilum, other veins of kyber crystals were known to exist elsewhere. No, what truly surprised Nox was the fact that the crystal in Jon's hand glowed with a steady white glow. A feat only obtained when a corrupted kyber crystal became purified.

'But Jon couldn't have purified the crystal,' he thought, examining the crystal through the Force. 'To do so takes a tremendous amount of time and energy, not to mention a level of understanding of the Force that is currently beyond my young acolyte. Which means the Valyrian's either corrupted a kyber crystal and then purified it somehow, or they took an already corrupted crystal and purified it. Perhaps I was a little too hasty in dismissing the spirits of the Archons before I could bleed them for more information.'

"Do you know what you have in your hand Jon," he asked rhetorically. He hadn't yet explained to Jon or any of his acolytes just what a kyber crystal even was, seeing as how he doubted that he would ever encounter another outside of the lightsabers he'd brought with him when he crash landed on this planet.

"No, Master Nox," Jon answered honestly. "But I could feel it through the Force. Like—Like it was calling out too me. And…it feels like your lightsaber, on—"

"Prince Oberyn, perhaps you could assist the gathering and disposing of our dead," Nox interrupted his acolyte as he turned to face the Prince of Dorne. "You've been a great asset to this expedition so far, and my acolyte and I have words that must only be said between the two of us."

On the outside, Oberyn didn't appear to have registered anything as he gave Nox a polite nod before moving away to go about the task. Nox though knew that was furthest thing from the truth. Oberyn was sharp. And Nox didn't forget the primary reason as to why the Prince was even in Essos in the first place. To gather knowledge about Nox and his powers. And while his display did give Oberyn a good idea about just what he could do, Jon had just given the Prince a clue as to how some of his abilities could work.

"Master, what—?"

"You need to learn to watch that mouth of yours Jon." Nox lectured his acolyte as he used the Force to fashion himself a chair of sorts before sitting down. Between the journey to Valyria and the fight with Balerion, even with the aid of the Archons, he was starting to feel the familiar signs of fatigue beginning to wear him down. "Oberyn is not our ally. Not yet. And he is not a Sith nor a Force user like yourself or your Stark brethren. Yet you have just given him vital information that is not known. That is not acceptable. You must watch your tongue in the future. Anything you say, even if it might seem trivial to you, can be used against you by your enemies if they are cunning enough. Or even your friends, if they are ambitious enough."

Jon seemed thoroughly confused as he tried to put together what had just happened. "But…What—?"

"What is this?" Nox asked, motioning towards his lightsaber.

"Your lightsaber," Jon replied without hesitation.

"Yes, now, have you ever seen a weapon like this before? Or do you know of any who can create this type of weapon?"

Frowning, Jon shook his head. "No."

"And that is because no one besides myself and those I decide to teach in the future will know how to make them. Let alone what needs to go into their making," Nox lectured, leaning forward so he could rest his elbows on his knees. "But one of the key parts to creating a lightsaber, the very core of a lightsaber in fact, is the utilization of a kyber crystal. A fact that you just now hinted to Prince Oberyn with your offhand comment. Now, it is highly unlike, improbable even, that some smith and scholar working together could manage to hit upon how to make a lightsaber based on what Prince Obery now knows, or some weapon that is similar to a lightsaber. But if it ever did happen, what do you think would happen once those weapons start to become as common place as, say, Valyrian steel? Don't answer right away. Think first. Think of what my lightsaber can do, then think of it in the hands of those unworthy of wielding it. And what that would do to the lay of the land."

He could see the wheels turning in Jon's head as he thought everything through. "I'm…I'm sorry, Master. I'll be careful with what I say in the future."

"Good," Nox nodded. The boy was learning but he still had a long way to go. "Despite your slip of the tongue just now, you have done exceedingly well. Kneel."

Jon's eyes widened as Nox stood while he went down to a knee before him. Resting a hand on Jon's head, Nox added a little more flare than he usually did to his acceptance. "You have stood against that which many cannot. You have survived your Trials and come out stronger than you were. You still have a long way to go, but you are no longer an acolyte, Jon Snow. From this day forth, you are now my apprentice. Rise."

He could practically feel the pride and joy bursting off the young boy, but thankfully he was at least able to keep most…well, some of it from showing on his face. "Um, what now, Master?"

"Now?" he questioned. "Now, you are going to help Prince Oberyn with the last details on loading our boats and getting ready to leave this place."

Jon nodded. "And what will you be doing, Master?"

"Me?" he asked, a grin coming across his face as he thought of what was to come. "I have a few degenerates to teach a lesson to. Oh, and by the way, that other thing you found in the hatchery? Make sure you keep it safe and hidden. No telling what will happen if it becomes common knowledge about what else you found."


Catching himself with his hands on his knees, Theo Snow – or Theo Pyke, when he was out of the North and back where he belonged on the Iron Islands – resisted the urge to rip the blasted leather mask off his face so that he could breathe properly. But despite his deep hatred for the sorcerer, he couldn't deny that the man was intelligent, frighteningly so. And because of that, when the sorcerer spoke of the dangers of Valyria, Theo listened and obeyed. Even if he had been planning on stabbing the man in the back ever since before the Sea Wolf set sail from White Harbor.

Glancing to his left and right, Theo took stock of the few that were left who he'd managed to convince to go along with his little plot. Of the ten he'd convinced to follow his lead in leaving the sorcerer and taking the treasures for themselves, only four, including himself, remained. There was some bastard, from the Riverlands he thought, and two others from the North. The Riverlands fuck was bleeding, curtesy of the Red Viper's cunt of a daughter. And one of the men from the North was nursing a broken arm, thanks to that Mormont bitch's mace which she'd taken from the Vault. The other six were all dead. Killed when that skeleton-fucking-dragon decided to show up and breathe fire down on the ruins. And then there were the fucking stonemen that came right behind the beast…

'Two of us are lame…and we're weighed down,' he thought, his eyes glancing to the leather saddle bag he had hanging around his shoulders. A saddle bag that was filled to the brim with more gold than he'd ever seen in his entire life. Enough gold to set him up with his own ship and his own crew. This bag was his future…and he would be damned if he would let it out of his sight. 'Our best…and only – hope is that the fucking dragon and stonemen managed to finish those noble fuckers, the sorcerer, and bastard boy off.'

"Never should have listen to ya…Fuckin Iron Born cunt."

Glaring to his left, Theo spared the Riverlander a sneer. "You were just as ready to betray the fucking sorcerer as I was. So, don't give me no shit just because you wanted to get your fucking cock wet in that Dornish cunt."

"Probably couldn't even get his cock wet," one of the northerners chuckled as if there was something amusing about their current situation. "Bet that one is as dry as the deserts those snakes call home."

"Cunts, cocks, fucking, gold…none of it fucking matters right now, just in case none of you pieces of shit realize how deep of shit we're fucking in," the other Northerner spat, surprising Theo as he actually spoke a semblance of sense. "We've all seen the horrors of this godless land, and now we're stuck in the middle of it, alone, without the fucking sorcerer to guide us and no boats to hide on."

"We won't be out here for long," Theo countered, resting his back against the rocks they were resting behind. "Between that dragon and the fuckin stonemen, no way those noble pricks survived. And even if they did… Well, they won't stay here long. All we need do is hide out here a day and then go back. If they're dead, we loot their corpses and take the boats. Then continue with the plan to convince the others on the Sea Wolf to turn on the fat fuck, and then the Sea Wolf, the treasure, and the path to Valyria will be ours to sell to the richest Lords and Ladies in Essos. We'll live like fucking kings still. Mark my words."

"And what if they're not dead?" the riverlander challenged. "If the…the sorcerer ain't dead… What then?"

Shrugging, Theo tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. "Then we wait until they're gone. Fashion a raft out of all the rubble that the Viper found along the docks and make our way out to Essos. Either way, we still get to leave here with as much coin, jewels, and Valyrian steel as we can carry. I doubt the sorcerer, if he is even still alive, will care about us. All we need ta do is hide and wait."

"I wouldn't be too sure about me not caring."

Theo felt all the blood in his body freeze as it suddenly felt like he was standing naked atop the Wall.

'No…It can't be,' he half whispered, half prayed to the Drowned God as he slowly turned around as his sight traveled upwards. But the Drowned God could not hear his prayers, not in this forsaken land. For squatting atop the very rockpile he was leaning against was none other than the Northern Sorcerer. His rumored eyeless face hidden behind his ever-present cloth and the leather mask he made them all wear. "You know, while hide and seek isn't my favorite game, I'm not all that bad at it either. Wouldn't you lot agree?"

Theo had heard stories from the ones who'd survived the massacre of The Pyke. Tales of the sorcerer being the Storm God reborn. That he destroyed the very walls of Castle Pyke with thunder and lightning he'd summoned forth. How his sword of fire cut through wood, steel, and leather as if they were nothing. Of how battle-hardened Ironborn now pissed themselves out of fear just from the thought of getting too close to him. But Theo had always thought the stories to be horse shit, especially after traveling with the man for months. But now, staring up at that mask and cloth covered face, Theo felt as if he were staring into the very eyes of the Storm God and the Stranger of the Seven, had they somehow combined into this one vengeful being.

"Run!" he hardly even recognized his own voice, and he wasn't even sure just how he managed to pull the dagger from his sheath and throw it at the sorcerer. All he knew was that one moment he was staring down death and now he was running for his very life.

'Fucking – Shit…! Ass-fucking nobles!' he cursed, squinting as he tried his best to see as the land became darker and darker. 'Fucking Balon Greyjoy ordering me to come! Fucking sorcerer!Fuck that Greyjoy cunt! Bet she's fucking the sorcerer and that's why she didn't join us! She probably sucks his cock and kisses his ass whenever he tells her too! She's nothing but a fucking puppet he's going to send back to the Iron Isl—' "Ahh fuck!"

His screams echoed as the ground beneath his feet gave way to nothing. He could feel the air rushing past as he fell deep into darkness, his hands reaching desperately for anything to break his fall. And suddenly it ended as his back hit the ground, driving the air from him. "Fuck," he coughed, rolling over and noticing that he wasn't the only one who'd fallen into this pit as the other three had joined him. Getting his hands under him, he tried to clear his head as his hand…slipped across the ground. Despite his slightly dazed state, he could immediately tell that that wasn't normal…whatever it was he'd put his hand in.

"What the fuck?" one of the others mumbled, lifting his hand, which was covered is some…strange substance. "What is that fucking stench! And what the fuck is this shite?"

"That 'shite' is a viscus secretion from a rather unpleasant creature that calls this area it's home."

Looking up, Theo found the sorcerer, once again squatting above them all. Only this time he was on the edge of the hole that they'd fallen into. And hole which seemed to be as deep as four men standing atop one another. Turning away from the sorcerer, he tried to find some way of getting out of this hole, but the dim light barely provided them with enough light to see much of anything in the hole they were stuck in. Quickly giving up on looking around, Theo yelled up at the bastard, "What the fuck are you on about cunt?" as he was trying to get to his feet…only to slip in the strange substance.

With the dim sky light backing him, Theo could do little more than watch as the sorcerer picked up a stick of some sort and scraped one end around the inside of the hole, collecting the strange substance on the end. "This slime is a mucus secreted from a slug-like creature. And that smell you noted is a compound that, if I had to guess, is a type of petrochemical. In other words, it is highly flammable. Shall we test that theory?"

The air hissed as the sorcerer's strange fire-blade came to life. Holding the stick in one hand, the sorcerer brought the fire-blade to the end of the stick he'd rubbed inside the hole, and to Theo's fear, the stick burst into fire as if it were coated in oil. "Interesting. Highly flammable. And the gel consistency isn't affected by heat. In fact, the heat almost seems to be hardening the gel, making it cling even more tightly to whatever is on fire. Interesting defense mechanism. The dragons were the alpha predators of this land…so these creatures developed a natural defense against them by fighting fire with fire. So, if the dragons burned them or tried to eat them, their secretions would ignite, burning and sticking to whatever killed them. Makes one not want to mess with them. Such a curious evolutionary trait."

"What the fuck are you on about, sorcerer?" Theo shouted, finally rising to his feet and looking around. If this shit did burn like the sorcerer was showing, then Theo really did not like the way the sorcerer was holding that torch so close to the edge of the pit. "You…You fucking caught us. We surrender."

"Surrender?" the sorcerer asked, his head turning back towards them. "Oh, forgot you lot were there. Sorry about that. I tend to get carried away when I find something fascinating. Oh, and as for your surrender, that's going to be a 'no'."

"No?" one of the Northern men barked. "I – I'll take the Black for my crimes! You – You serve the Starks! I've decided to take the Black! So, you're honor-bound to see me to the Wall!"

The fire-blade disappeared as the sorcerer stood to his full height. "Am I? While it is true that I do serve Lord Stark, that is primarily because one: I like the man. And two: for the time being, our goals align. But that does not mean that I share Lord Stark's sense of honor. You lot have been planning this mutiny with the others since before we departed Braavos. I know you lot planned on leaving the rest of us to die. That you planned on using the riches of Valyria to make the other crewmembers of the Sea Wolf turn against Ser Manderly. I also know that you either planned on either selling Lady Talisa and Lady Ellaria into slavery or turning them into your own version of Salt Wives. And I also know that each of you were sent to White Harbor to spy on the North. You, the Riverlander, were sent by House Frey. You were sent by the Lords of Skagos. You were sent by the Lords of the Three Sisters. And you, loudmouth, were sent by Balon Greyjoy. Each of you had orders to sabotage the expedition or to make sure I never returned to the North. So, what makes you think that I would show you mercy now?"

Theo felt his blood run even colder, if that was even possible. "Horse shit!"

"Didn't you find it odd?" the sorcerer continued. "That you lot were always thrown together during the voyage? I knew that you were all planning on trying to kill me and the others, even if you didn't know that about each other. I planned this all from the very start. I made sure you traitors were always together. I even gave slight…encouragement to your planning. I was the one who planted the idea of leaving me to rot here in Valyria."

With each word, Theo found himself involuntarily taking a step back until his back was pressed against the slime covered wall of the pit. He didn't want to believe the sorcerer…but…it all fit. He hadn't even questioned the fact that his bunk, isolated in one of the lower levels of the ship, was with so many others that were of similar mindset to his own. And he hadn't even thought twice when all of them eagerly jumped at the chance to join the expedition…Nor had he baulked when the suggestion came about that, instead of stabbing the man in the back, that they would leave him to die in Valyria. 'No…He's spewing horse shit! He—He couldn't have planned all of this!'

"Yes, I did plan all of this, Theo Pyke." The words made his breath catch as he suddenly couldn't breathe. "You see, I knew it would require a decent amount of manpower to get to Valyria. However, the same amount of manpower would not be needed to leave. In fact, keeping the same number would be a nuisance as it would mean that I would have to leave some of the lost knowledge of Valyria behind. And Force only knows when I'll be able to come back here to gather more. So, the most obvious solution is that I needed to leave with fewer men than which I came with. And you and your accomplices provided the perfect solution to that. After all, no one will question the loss of traitors. And speaking of which, I suppose it's time we wrap this up. If I were you, I wouldn't let this touch the ground."

Time slowed as the sorcerer held the torch over the pit and then let it go. The others with him started yelling as they tried to get away, but he knew it was no use. This slime was everywhere. Which meant there was only one chance for survival. Tracking the falling flame, Theo waited until just the right moment before snatching the torch from the air.

"Hahahahaha!" he laughed, holding the torch high and glaring at the sorcerer. "Is that the best you can do, cunt!?"

"No," the sorcerer shrugged. "I can do far worse than that. But, if I were you, I would be far more worried about those things, especially as I am no longer holding them back. I wonder if they'll simply eat you or if they'll use you as incubation hosts for their young. But, eh… a study for another time, I guess. Oh, and by the way, I do believe they are attracted to heat signatures… So, if I were you, I would find a safe place to put that torch down."

A loud chittering noise followed by the sound of flesh tearing and a scream of agony brought Theo and his torch around. One of the Northmen was on the ground…covered in…large slug-like creatures nearly half as tall as a man. And when one pulled back away from the screaming man, it came with a strip of the Northman's flesh as if he'd been flayed.

"Fuck!" Theo shouted, drawing his dagger in his hand as he back peddled away from the dying and screaming man.

Hearing more chittering from behind, he whirled about just in time to duck as another slug flew through the air, it's maw open like a fucking lamprey, showing off rows of thick serrated teeth as it passed him by, only to land on the chest of the Riverlander, bringing the poor fucker to the ground where he was immediately swamped with other slugs coming up from the ground. "Fuck this!" The other Northman yelled, going from the pit wall.

"We can climb this! Just need to find the right f–! Oh fuck!" A piece of the pit wall gave way, revealing no less than two more of the slug creatures which immediately lurched out, one going for the man's face and the other going for his crotch.

"Fuck!" Theo yelled, dodging his way through the pit and trying to block out the sights and sounds of the others being torn to pieces. Holding the torch above his eyes, he looked to where the sorcerer had been standing, prepared to get on his very knees and beg for his life, only to find empty space.

"Fuck," he murmured, not caring as his fear drove him to piss his pants as he turned back to the pit. The light of the torch revealing a swarm of the slug creatures rising from the slime and coming towards him. "Fuck…Fuck…Fuck you, sorcerer!"


Resting with his back to a wall, Prince Oberyn allowed himself a slight grin as he watched the last of their plunder be loaded up onto the boats and skiff that were tied off in the harbor. While the sight of chests of gold, Valyrian steel, and other valuable loot was enough to make anyone grin, that was not the true reason why he felt the way he did. No, what was causing his mood was the young boy who had, without even seeming to have realized it, taken over command of the expedition while Nox was off doing whatever it was a sorcerer did in his free time.

He'd always been one for the more under privileged of the nobility, especially bastard children. Which was understandable considering he had seven bastard daughters of his own and, gods willing, hopefully more in the future. But he had an especially soft spot for those who did their best to rise above what the 'civilized' nobility thought their place was. His own squire back in Dorne, Daemon Sand, was one such bastard. His eldest daughters could also be considered amongst that group. And now, Jon Snow was with them as well, having earned the respect of the only true sorcerer of Westeros to the point where the man had taken the boy on as his official apprentice, a position akin to being a squire if his somewhat limited knowledge of the sorcerer and his ways meant anything. And, without a doubt, it was an honor and privilege just about any Lord or Lady in Westeros and Essos would kill to have. And, at least to Oberyn, the honor was well deserved. The boy did manage to not only hold off the flames of a dragon for gods only knew how long until Nox could return and put an end to the skirmish by killing whatever the hell it was that he'd been fighting, but he also managed to kill said dragon as well.

Thinking of the fight dampened his mood more than slightly. For a long time, Oberyn had considered himself one of the more knowledgeable men in all of Westeros, especially in matters of the arcane. Unlike many in the Citadel, he took his studies of the high mysteries seriously. He'd bore witness to a shadow priestess ritual. He knew of the warlocks of Qarth. And while he had not had the pleasure, or displeasure pending on one's viewpoint, of meeting the Faceless Men of Bravos, he knew the assassins used some form of magic to aid them. But his short time here, perusing some of the tomes of ancient Dragon Lords, reminded him of a lesson he'd long since forgotten. That no matter how much one thought they knew, there was always more out there. Whatever magic the dragons used, it was far beyond anything he'd ever seen or even heard of from other people. And watching just what Nox had done, well, that was so far beyond what even the Valyrians could probably do that he was relatively sure that had he been borne during the Valyrian Empire, the sorcerer would've either been given one of the highest seats in the Empire, or be considered a god reborn.

To say nothing of his fighting prowess, the man's power was far beyond anything Oberyn could have ever imagined. He was able to call down a storm that completely obliterated a fair portion of a city. Not destroy. Obliterate. And, as if that wasn't enough, he was able to stand in the midst of said storm and emerge without a single hair out of place. And when Oberyn added what he'd seen to the rumors he'd gathered from the battle of Pyke, rumors that he was now sure were understating Nox's capabilities, he was left with one conclusion. That Nox was, without a doubt, the most dangerous man in all of Westeros. Perhaps even Essos and Sothoryos, and all other land masses as well. And not just because of his power, but his mind as well. The man was a born strategist and a beyond excellent player of the Game, on the same level as his brother…or perhaps even greater. A thought that chilled Oberyn to the bone.

'My brother sent me out to learn what I can about Nox and report back to him. Specifically, if there is anything we can use to entice him to our way of thinking in the times to come,' Oberyn mused, glancing out of the corner of his eye at his new Valyrian spear. 'Well, after spending weeks with him, I can safely say that any rumors or stories about the man and his abilities are, if anything, understating his capabilities. And as for enticing him to our side, according the Northerners with looser lips, the sorcerer has a woman he cares deeply for waiting for him back in the North. He has the respect of the North for all his actions, which have placed him on the same level as Ned Stark in their eyes. And with this little venture into Valyria, he now has more wealth to his name than perhaps even Tywin-fucking-Lannister. In short, there is nothing we can do to entice him to leave the North. And facing him either on the field of battle or off is akin to suicide. But, perhaps, the answer to our problems lay not with the sorcerer himself. But rather…in someone who would be more…malleable. Someone young. Someone who doesn't stand to inherit anything from his father because he laid with a woman who was not his wife.'

The idea had merit. But it would take time. The sorcerer obviously cared for his new apprentice, though how deep that relationship went, he still wasn't sure. But if, within a few years, Jon Snow could wield even a fraction of the power Nox had, then he could change the course of a war with his mere presence.

'And there is the added benefit that Snow and his trueborn siblings are being raised as if they were truly siblings. Meaning there is love between them.' Oberyn mused, watching as Jon coordinated the efforts to finalize their departure. 'If there truly is family love between Snow and the future heir of the North, then that could be potentially leveraged if we were to gain control, or rather the allegiance, of the boy. I doubt controlling him will be an option, given who his mentor is. Though, the reverse is true as well. Any action taken against the North and his family would firmly put Snow against us. It will be a fine line to walk…but it is possible.'

"That is quite the pensive look for you, Prince Oberyn."

'Damn,' Oberyn cursed, just barely managing to keep himself seated instead of jumping up and grabbing his spear. 'I need to learn how he can sneak up on people so effectively. I know of many assassins that would do just about anything to have his level of skill.'

"I find myself in a pensive mood, sorcerer," Oberyn responded, slowly rising to his feet as he turned to the man he was starting to consider a friend. Or at least a man that he knew he couldn't afford not to befriend. "I take it you dealt with our wayward sailors."

"No," Nox responded, shaking his head. "I let the land take care of them. I just led them to the right spot."

Oberyn didn't really have much to say in response. The men tried to kill himself and take one of his daughters as a plaything. As far as he was concerned, whatever ill fate befell those fools was well deserved. "Well, as long as they're dealt with, I guess that is all that matters."

"Indeed," Nox agreed before turning towards the boats. "Is everything set?"

"Yes," Oberyn nodded. "The boats are filled to the point where they're about to capsize. And they're chained to the others so we can tow them out of this godforsaken land."

"Good," Nox nodded, his tone lighter than it had been for days. "Then let us get out of this hellhole and start discovering just what kinds of treasures we have managed to procure from this costly venture, shall we?"