Well, here we are again folks! Got one more chapter out before the holidays! Don't know quite how I did it to be honest. Just got into a rhythm and kept on going. That being said, with the holidays upon us I'm not entirely sure just how much writing I'm going to get in over the next two weeks at least, so probably don't be expecting the next chapter until the end of January right now. One thing that I do want to address that a few reviewers have stated, this will not be a 'harem' story. But, having said that, let's just say that it isn't unheard of for an individual to have two wives in the history of ASOIAF and leave it at that. And one other thing that I wanted to say, one of the reviewers have hit the nail on the head. I love leaving breadcrumbs in my stories (at least my longer ones, reference IATB). And right now, there are dozens of breadcrumbs littered throughout this story which can give hints to what will be happening in the future.
Again, huge shout out to my beta reader and brainstorm partner Tellemicus Sundace. The help has been invaluable so far. And another huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, alerted or reviewed this story so far. Your support is what keeps me going! So if you feel so inclined to leave a review, please do! They really do help me get my mojo going and get the next chapters rolling on.
Lastly, I do not own Disney, nor am I Lucas or Martin; so I have no ownership of A Song of Fire and Ice, Game of Thrones or Star Wars. This is purely for fun with no profit being made. And with that out of the way, let's get to the chapter! Stay safe out there everyone! And please remember, just because a vaccine starting to be administered does not mean we are out of the water yet! Keep the course and we will beat this shit one day!
Chapter 13
Leaning his head back against the warm soft stone in the bath, Nox let out a content sigh as he felt the warm scented water begin to relax the muscles in his back and legs. Outside of jumping into the sea on occasion, it'd been months, hell since they left Winterfell, that he'd had a full bath. He wasn't entirely sure if it was Arianne, Oberyn or Doran who set them up with private baths in the Tower of the Sun for their visiting noble guests, but he was thankful. The baths were a gift from the Force. As were the women who took their time to massage each of them with scented oils. Though their backs, legs and necks were not the only things the woman were sent to take care of. And judging by the sounds coming from some of the private rooms and the beet-red face of Jon after he all but ran from his private room, many were taking advantage of the women's skills.
But despite the pampering and relaxation, Nox couldn't help but feel more than a slight twinge of annoyance creep into his being. Not from the prospect of having to stay for a feast tonight. No, he had expected that they would have to stay one night in the company of the Dornish ruling family after returning with their wayward Prince. But rather his annoyance stemmed from the conversation he'd had with Asha and Wendel Manderly just prior to entering the baths. Apparently, neither the Sea Wolf nor Asha's yet unnamed galleon had managed to escape their little skirmish completely unharmed. And because they were docked, both decided that now would be the most opportune moment to see to their repairs before starting their next leg north. Unfortunately, the damage to both ships, while not extensive nor enough to make either unseaworthy, was worrying. And at best would take a few days to repair fully. So, with nothing better to do, the crew dispersed into the city while those of more noble birth took guest rooms in the Tower of the Sun. The only two who decided to stay on the ship were Gerion Lannister and Talisa Maegyr. The latter because she wanted to work on finalizing her notes for their greyscale cure. And the former because he was a Lannister, and despite as much good will as he might've earned with Prince Oberyn he didn't want to test the hospitality of the Martells by forcing them to welcome a Lannister, and the brother of Tywin Lannister no less, into their home.
Ever since they'd left Valyria, he'd been receiving, well, not visions but feelings. Sensations. Sensations that were emanating from the North. Something was happening in the North. Something important. Something that he needed to be there for. Yet here he was. Stuck in Dorne for several days while he waited for their ships to be fully repaired. And while he sat on his ass, that strange sensation only grew in annoyance. What was worse, he couldn't see what was causing the strange disturbances. In fact, his sight had been quite clouded by something ever since they'd passed by the Stepstones. He'd thought that after taking out the dark side entity that'd made its home in Valyria that he would gain some better clairvoyance in his visions, particularly the one that led him to make his home in the North. But instead, the exact opposite had happened. His visions were even more clouded now than they were before. It was almost as if something or someone was on purposefully blocking his sight. Though the who, where, what, and how currently escaped him.
"You know, sorcerer, if I didn't know for a fact you got a woman waiting for you back in the North, I would swear that you prefer the company of a man in your bed rather than women."
Rolling his head to the side, he turned in the direction he knew where Small Jon Umber was currently relaxing in a stone bath of his own. "Oh, and why do you say that?"
The Small Jon snorted, "what are we supposed to think sorcerer huh? Bravos, Volantis and now here in Dorne. All these exotic cunts to sample and yet you keep it in your pants. Think you're the only man on the ship who hasn't gone for a taste. Except for young Jon here, eh, boy? Unless you decided to sneak off and sample some foreign cunt while none of us were looking, eh?"
Jon went redder than before and tried to disappear beneath the edge of the tube he was in. "Come off it, 'Small' Jon," Nox groaned. He could understand being excited for sex. But honestly, between the Small Jon and Theon, he wasn't sure just who had the more one-tract mind when it came to the subject. "Snow here hasn't even hit three-and-ten yet. And, as for myself, I am content with Nyra waiting for me back in the North. And I told her I wouldn't lay with another woman till I returned to her, and I am a man of my word."
"Hahaha! She's got ya by the balls, eh, sorcerer?" Small Jon gaffed, splashing water out of the tube as he made to pinch the rear of the woman rubbing his shoulders, and getting a sultry chuckling in response. "Come now, we're in Dorne, sorcerer! Dorne! And these girls know a good find when they see one! Why not take advantage of our hosts' hospitality? Unless you're more than a little…disappointing below the belt, eh? Bet that's it. Gotta compensate with your magic, huh?"
Shaking his head, Nox rose from the tub he was in to reveal that he had gone without a towel when he stepped in. Life as a slave and as a Sith had removed most reservations of modesty from him. And add to the fact that he couldn't physically see added to the fact that he didn't care who saw his body. "F-F-Fucking hells, sorcerer!" Umber stuttered as the woman who was massaging his shoulders ceased her menstruations as Nox got out of his bath and reached for a nearby towel. "Was your father part horse or something?! For gods' sake, leave something for the rest of us to compete against you with!"
"Now why would I do that?" Nox asked as he tied the towel around his waist as he rolled his neck and headed towards the exit of the bath. "Just because you can't 'measure up', doesn't mean I should limit myself in any manner."
Entering the separate room for changing, Nox found that all their clothes were gone and had been replaced with fine silken clothes of varying colors. For Nox, he found a pair of loose-fitting pants, a black silk shirt with gold trim and a light long overcoat that would reach the floor. 'Either Ellaria was taking careful note of our clothes sizes during the voyage, or Sunspear has some very talented seamstresses in their employ,' he thought as he chucked the towel aside so he could dress in the clothes laid out for him.
Just as he was finishing up the lacing on his pants, he was joined in the room by his Apprentice, who had yet to get the heat in his face under control. "Um, Master Nox, where are our clothes?"
"More than likely being laundered," he answered, pulling on the shirt. It was a remarkably good fit. "Or destroyed. Seeing as how long we've been wearing them and what we've been through, I would put my money on the latter."
"Oh," Jon replied ineloquently as he awkwardly went over to where his new clothes were located and began going through them. "Umm, how did they know they would fit?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Nox shrugged, not really caring just how they got the new clothes but thankful for them nonetheless. He had been more than slightly tempted to simply burn the ones he had been wearing. "We need to speak of the feast tonight, Jon. And what is expected of you."
Jon paused with his hand halfway towards his new clothes. "I've been to a feast before, Master."
"In the North, yes. Here in Dorne, no, you haven't. And outside of the pure cultural differences between the North and Dorne, there is also the fact that you will more than likely be seated near, if not at, the high table with myself and the Martells."
Now he had Jon's full attention. His eyes going wide as his nerves raced about the prospect. "I – me…sitting near the high table? But – But I'm just as basta-"
"What have I told you time and time again about that title, Apprentice?" Nox asked, leaning forward and fixing his full presence on his Apprentice, making the young man shiver slightly as the dark side washed out of Nox and over him. "That title only means something if you allow it to mean something. Stop using it as a crutch or I can guarantee you that next time you use it in my presence as such, you will need a crutch for the next several months. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Master," Jon nodded shakily.
"Good." Nox nodded, pulling his aura back into himself enough so that Jon could breathe properly. "You are an Apprentice to a Sith now, Jon. It's high time you start acting like one. Now, thanks to your little display in the yard in humiliating Ser Dayne as well as defending the honor of Princess Arianne, you have garnered quite a bit of favor within Prince Doran's court. But at the same time, you have more than likely made a few enemies as well. You must be on guard tonight. Those who are seeking your favor will be obvious. The women will want to bed you or stake a claim on you. And the men will either want you for their daughters or will be looking to poach you away from your family. And the enemies you made will be looking to belittle you and make you make an ass of yourself to lower your standing. Understand?"
Jon's flush, which had started to dissipate after being under Nox's aura, flared back to life. "Um, I – I think…I mean, yes. But why would the women want…well…me. And – And would it be so bad if—?"
"Think with your head, Jon, not your cock," Nox sighed, throwing the overcoat around his shoulders. "You need to get over this aversion you have to the fairer sex and sex in general. And I suggest you do so quickly before I take on that aspect of your training as well by locking you in a brothel and forcing you to watch the whores ply their trade until you can talk to or about beautiful women or men and think of sex without stammering like an idiot."
Stumbling as he attempted to put on his pants, Jon started stammering once more. "But – But that—! I – I don't…I know where to pu – I mean, I know how! Lord Stark talked to Robb and I about…duties and – and expectations and—"
"And knowing about sex is a lot different than knowing about sex, Jon," Nox sighed. "Finish dressing already and take a moment to compose yourself. The feast begins soon. And I will not have my first Apprentice in this land make a fool of me tonight."
Staring down at the glass of watered down Dornish red wine before him, Jon did his best to keep himself focused as all around him the feast in the Tower of the Sun went on well past the falling of the sun. His Master had been correct in the statements that he'd made to Jon after the baths. He had indeed been seated near the high table, just below the dais where the Martell family and Lord Nox were seated. He had also been right in that the feast was far, far different than anything he had ever experienced in the North. It wasn't just the fact that they were in Dorne and the Dornish people were vastly different than the Northern people. Nor was it the fact that he was freely given wine, watered downed wine to be sure, and he'd never even been offered that in the North. No, the one thing that truly set this feast apart from the others was the fact that Jon, again just like Lord Nox had predicted, was being constantly approached by Lords and Ladies from across Dorne! And they were talking to him! Not just to curry favor with his Lord Father or with Lord Nox or with his siblings. But simply because they were interested in him! Jon Snow!
So far, he'd felt that he'd done a decent job in talking with the different Lords and Ladies, but it certainly wasn't easy. The Lords he could handle, as they mostly seemed interested in his skills with sword or his mind for the battlefield or his venture into Valyria. Those questions he could handle. But what he couldn't handle and almost made him want to run from the hall and find a corner to hide in were the Ladies. Many of them were, well, quite forward. Hells, one Lady who could've easily been older than Lady Stark had pointblank asked him if his cock was working properly yet and if he would be willing to give her a son from his loins! And she asked him this while holding onto the arm of her husband!
Then there were the more subtle offers he'd constantly received throughout the night from various Ladies and their daughters to either spend the night with them before he had to leave or to offer him a permanent place in their household as their paramour for the older Ladies or future husbands for the younger. Mercifully, after fending off the tenth or eleventh subtle hint at bedding, Asha and Dacey had taken it upon themselves to seat themselves at the two vacant seats on either side of him that'd been left empty when Small Jon and Eddard Karstark had both disappeared after being offered a dance.
Though sitting with the two had presented a whole new set of problems to Jon. Problems stemming from the fact that both women were wearing dark, form-fitting dresses. Though Asha seemed to have slit hers open down the front to expose the breeches she wore underneath. For as long as he'd known Asha, she'd always worn what Lady Stark would call 'men's clothes'. For over the past few months he'd known Dacey, he'd only ever seen her in leather or light cloth. To see both in dresses… Well, it was something that he never thought he'd see. But what was even more startling was that both seemed, well, pretty. No, beautiful. Not that they weren't before! But it seemed that by wearing dresses, their beauty was just…accentuated. So, he was having trouble keeping his eyes in…appropriate places when he looked at the two.
But the problems he was facing with the various Ladies of Dorne, Asha and Dacey paled in comparison with the real problem he was having during the feast. A problem that was sitting up at the high table with her father, Prince Doran, as well as Lord Nox. Princess Arianne Martell.
As was proper, the ruling family as well as their esteemed guest Lord Nox were the last to enter the banquet hall after all the others were seated. And when the Princess entered on the arm of Lord Nox, Jon was sure that his heart skipped a beat. When he'd first met the Princess earlier that day, he'd already thought she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But seeing her in a loose-fitting orange and red dress of her House colors that hugged her body in all the right places with golden ringlets in her hair… Jon was not one for jealously, at least he tried not to be. But when he saw her enter the hall on his master's arm, well, it wasn't the first time he'd wished death upon his Master. Only it was the first time he'd ever done so outside of one of his exhausting and brutal training sessions.
"If you don't close your mouth soon, Jon, you'll drool right into your food."
Shaking his head, Jon sent a half-glare in the direction of Asha, who wasn't even looking at him as she kept her eyes on the Lords and Ladies dancing in the middle of the hall while sipping on her wine. "I'm not drooling."
"You'd do a better job of convincing us if your tongue wasn't hanging out of your mouth like a dog ready to hump her leg," Dacey chuckled, making Jon growl as he found himself on the defense from the women on either side of himself.
Focusing on the food in front of him, a colorful assortment that he never would've thought possible, Jon tried his best to get himself under control once more. "We're just pulling your leg, Jon," Asha chuckled, tapping his shoulder with her knuckles. "You've done a good job so far tonight, thinking with your head instead of your cock. Just make sure you keep on doing that. Especially with that Princess staring at you like you're a rare piece of meat."
Gulping, Jon risked a glance towards the high table, just in time to watch Arianne slowly put a piece of food into her mouth. A mundane move, but from her… Gods… That just wasn't even fair! "She—She doesn't look at me like that."
Shaking her head, Asha drained her wine and refilled it. "Jon, every woman in this room, married or not, is looking at you like that right now because of that little display you did in the training yard. You just need to be careful, because I doubt many – if any – care about you as a person. They only care about securing your power and your connections for themselves."
"She – The Princess isn't like that!" Jon hissed, though where his anger was coming from confused even him at the time.
Setting her glass down, Asha fixed him with a look that chilled him to his bones. "Jon, I say this to you now because you're as much my little brother as Theon. But don't think for a moment that just because she has a pretty face and was nice to you that she doesn't want to use you. She's a Princess. An unmarried Princess that hasn't been officially declared as her father's heir. Which means she needs allies and power. And she will do whatever she needs to do to get that power. And you Jon, you are a prime target for one like her. Of course, I've known her for about as long as you have, so I could be wrong. But still. You need to be careful. If something sounds too good to be true, it quite often is."
Mulling her words over in his head, Jon risked another look towards Princess Arianne. 'She…She isn't like that…is she? She was so nice earlier and… But then again, I am a bastard. What…What use am I to her? A Princess? I'm young, not yet a man. Not like the other men here. All I have is the Force… Is that…? Is that the only reason she is interested in me?' With those thoughts running through his mind, Jon suddenly lost interest in the feast going on around him and the food before him as he sat emotionlessly thinking over everything that had happened over the past day and wondering if anything that'd happened during his brief exchange with the Princess was genuine or not.
Sipping on her wine, a fine vintage of Dornish Red, Arianne watched the dancing taking place before her in the great hall of the Tower of the Sun. Normally, she would be in the midst of the dancing, enjoying herself and working on making the connections that would grant her a smooth transition into her father's seat in the future. But that was not her purpose for this feast. No, this was her opportunity to make a different sort of connection. One that could firmly secure her future. The only problem was, the one that she had her sight set on was seated a fair distance from her and had been almost pointedly ignoring her and the festivities going on around him ever since the Greyjoy woman talked to him. And if that wasn't bad enough, the Mormont woman was sitting right next to him and seemed to be the only one he was willing to talk to.
'It appears that I am going to have to be the one to make the first move,' she thought with a frown as she noticed Jon look towards her, blush, and quickly turn away again. 'The Mormont girl is hovering over him like a protective mother hen. But, perhaps, this will be the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with a single stone.'
Getting to her feet, she took up her glass of wine and made her way over towards the squire's table where her new objective sat. 'Good, he's staring,' she thought with just the slightest bit of glee as she spotted Jon following her intently out of the corner of her eye, 'I did wear this outfit to catch his attention. Glad to see my efforts were not in vain.'
Arriving at the squire's table, all the squires immediately stood up and bowed their heads to her. Giving them all a polite nod in return, she promptly shooed them all away save for the one she needed to speak with. Her uncle's squire Daemon. "I must say, Daemon," she began, setting down her glass and taking a seat. "I'm surprised to see you with your ass still firmly planted on your seat with such a prize just across the room."
Daemon gave her a strained look. He knew exactly what she was speaking off, or rather who she was speaking of. "I don't know what you're talking about Arianne."
She couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. It was quite the sight to see the man she knew intimately squirm so. "Oh, come now, Daemon. I know you better than anyone else. Unless, of course, you've been running off to the red lantern district while I wasn't looking. I know what gets your blood moving. Dark hair. Fair complexion. Strong features. A warrior woman. And eyes that says she would brain the first man who looked at her wrong? I'm surprised your 'sword' has not cut its way out from your breeches just from looking at her."
Daemon scowled at her but didn't correct her. "And what about you, Arianne? I've noticed your future conquest is sitting right over there and he was practically drooling the moment you stepped foot in the hall. Why aren't you staking your claim and ruining all other women for him?"
"Details," Arianne replied dismissively with a wave of her hand. No way she was about to tell him that Jon was pointedly ignoring her as of halfway through the feast. "But now, I see a way that two friends can help each other out. We drag those two out onto the dance floor. And later perhaps you will be able to have some real fun with the one who has stolen what I couldn't with just her appearance."
She hadn't meant to say the last part, but it had slipped out on her before she could stop herself. "Much to my regret, Arianne."
Sighing, she polished off her glass of wine. "We had our fun, Daemon, and it was fun never doubt that. And you will always hold a place in my heart because of it. But you and I both know that there was no spark between us. And if I can help you find what truly strikes your interest, then I will do exactly that. Even if I have to drag you over to her kicking and screaming."
Nodding, Daemon finished off his own glass and rose to his feet while holding out his hand to her. "Well, let us not let our future fun slip from us. We have only the one night for now. And who knows how long it will be before either of us have a chance to meet them once more."
"Indeed." Arianne agreed, taking his hand. "Let us go show those two what true Dornish hospitality is like."
Looping her arm through Daemon's, she let her uncle's squire take the lead as he led the two of them around the dining hall and towards their targets for the night. As they approached, Jon was unsurprisingly the first to notice them. He quickly shot to his feet the moment he realized they were indeed heading for him. "Um, Princess Arianne, it – um…"
"As eloquent as this morning, good to see that you are consistent, Jon," Arianne smiled, finding his stammering amusing and flattering at the same time. "And you would be Lady Dacey Mormont. It is an honor and privilege to meet you. Even in Dorne, we have heard of the strength of the bears of Bear Island and respect you for it."
Lady Mormont seemed caught off guard. Apparently, she hadn't been expecting Arianne to greet her personally, or perhaps to even acknowledge her presence. "Um, thank you, Princess. And, um, may I say that your Uncle, Prince Oberyn greatly undersold your beauty."
'Apparently proper etiquette is not high on priorities in the North. Eh, I suppose it's understandable, all things considered. The North has never cared for the Great Game. They're too preoccupied with keeping their people alive through the winter and waging a never-ending war against the Wildlings. Something I can greatly respect.' Arianne smiled in return. "Thank you, my Lady. And may I introduce my Uncle Oberyn's squire, Daemon Sand."
"Jon here already knows all about me. He used me as a training dummy well enough this morning." Daemon joked, which drew a chuckle from the Mormont woman and a slight blush from Jon. "But you, my lady? May I say it is indeed an honor to make your acquaintance. And if you would do me the honor, I would love to have the chance to speak and dance with you this evening."
Lady Mormont arched a brow at Daemon, but Arianne could detect the slightest of red appearing in the warrior-woman's cheeks. "Do you think it is that easy to woo me, Ser Daemon? Remember, I have had to put up with Prince Oberyn's advances for nearly two months now."
"Just Daemon, my Lady. I am not Lord and I am not yet a knight. And if it truly were that easy to woo you, my lady, then you would already be on the floor in the arms of one of the men of Dorne. Yet here you are. Alone. And a woman as beautiful and powerful as yourself should not be alone. Yet I hope that you would grant this loyal man the honor of your presence tonight. And perhaps tomorrow the two of us can dance a different dance in the yard to see if the She-Bears of Bear Island are truly as strong as any man in the realm?"
The reddening in Dacey's face had progressed to fully encompass both of her cheeks by the time Daemon had finished speaking. 'Smooth, Daemon. Appealing to both her womanly and warrior sides. Very smooth.' "Do you honestly think you can keep up with me, Daemon?" Dacey asked, a slight hitch in her voice.
Gracing her with a smile, Daemon let go of her and held out his hand for Dacey. "I would very much like the opportunity to try, my Lady."
"Keep speaking like that, Daemon, and I will have to find a better use for that tongue of yours," Dacey replied, mildly shocking all three present as she took Daemon's offered hand. "What? You try spending months isolated on a ship with your uncle and his paramour constantly going at it like bears in heat while constantly fending off their advances and see what kind of colorful manner of speech you pick up. Jon…? Good luck."
Daemon then swept Dacey off her feet, almost literally, as he led her off onto the dance floor. And Arianne found herself in the very unusual position of simply being left standing before Jon, who was doing little more than shifting his feet awkwardly before her.
"Well?" Arianne asked, trying to keep her impatience from showing in her tone. 'He's still young yet,' she reminded himself. "It is usually not custom for a woman to ask a man to dance. Nor is it considered polite to simply leave any Lady, let alone a Princess in her own home, wanting."
"Um – oh. I, um, sorry, Prin – Arianne. Um, would you please…? Um, do me the honor of… Will you give me the hon – Um, will you dance with me?" he asked more than slightly awkwardly.
'Points for manning up finally. But he definitely needs some honing of skills outside the yard.' "Why, yes, Apprentice Snow," she wasn't entirely sure of the title. But he wasn't a knight yet, so Apprentice worked as well as any. "I would be delighted to see how well you fare on a different field."
"Apprentice?" Jon mouthed, seeming to test the title on his lips. "I lik – Oh, shite. I mean, don't I – I…I'm mucking this up, aren't I?"
"Just a little," Arianne chuckled. Honestly, his fumbling was cute in a way. "But you can more than make it up to me by showing me a good time tonight. And stop ignoring me."
Jon flinched and, for a moment, she felt a ping of regret. She hadn't meant to let that slip. By the waters of Rhyone, what was wrong with her tonight? It wasn't like her to lose control of her tongue so easily like this. "I apologize, Princes Arianne," Jon replied, his back straightening and offering her his hand. "Would you grant me the honor of your presence on the dance floor this evening, Princess?"
"Better," she smiled, taking his hand. "And yes, you may. I do hope you know how to dance. For I am a…demanding partner, Apprentice Snow."
Letting him lead her out onto the floor, Arianne stopped when she felt they were far enough in and placed her right hand onto his shoulder while holding onto his left with her own. Her amusement increased substantially as she felt Jon's right hand lightly touch her side, before moving up, then down, then off her before settling back down. 'Trying to find a spot to hold me that is socially acceptable. Oh, I do so love the innocent. From what I've heard from my Uncle and Aunt Ellaria, it is often the most innocent ones that have the dirtiest and most adventurous minds. Let's hope they weren't simply blowing smoke.'
The dance started out awkwardly with Jon almost stepping on her feet twice. But after the second time it was almost like something flipped in the young man. His awkwardness disappeared. He met her eyes. He tightened his hold on her and he started leading her through the waltz that the bards were performing. "I must say, Jon, you are quite the dancer. I take it Lady Stark insisted on you having lessons with your siblings?"
She knew the question was a mistake the moment it left her lips as Jon's eyes darkened slightly before quickly returning to normal. "No, if it was up to Lady Stark, I would've been left out in the woods when I was still but a babe."
Arianne suppressed the wince. Obviously, Lady Stark was a sore subject for Jon. Not that she was necessarily surprised. The, well, prudes of the Riverlands and the Reach were notorious for their ill treatment of illegitimate children. Even going as far as doing exactly as Jon described. Leaving them out in the woods when they are still in their nappies. "Lord Nox then?"
This time she got a slight grin out of Jon. "Wrong again, Princess. It was my sister, Arya. She… Well, let's just say that she would probably be right at home with your Uncle's daughters. She'd much rather be out in the yard shooting arrows or fighting than sitting in a tower doing needle work. In fact, she hates just about any activity that is associated with being what Lady Stark considers proper womanly activities. It was actually quite entertaining to watch her face when Master Nox took her daughter on as one of his Acolytes."
"Lord Nox is teaching your sister as well?" She wasn't quite sure just why that little fact surprised her, but it did. She knew from the rumors circulating around the realm that Nox was teaching Stark's children. She just hadn't put it together that he was teaching both his sons and his daughters.
"Aye," Jon nodded, "Master Nox doesn't care for one's birth or their sex, Princess. You are either worth his time or you are not. Hells, the College he started in Winterfell had a woman in the first class as well as a young man who he literally picked up from the streets of Winter Town as he was walking through it one day. It's – It's one of the many things I admire and respect about him."
Arianne racked her brain as Jon twirled her around in a tight circle before reaffirming his hold on her. She needed to leave an impression on Jon. A good impression. And not just because he could help her in the future with her aspirations. She…She wanted Jon to have a good impression of her. Not the Apprentice of Lord Nox or the son of the Warden of the North. No. She wanted to leave a good impression on Jon Snow, the young man before her. "You care for your siblings. I can hear it in your voice, Jon."
"Aye, that I do, Princess," Jon smiled, a far-off look entering his eye. "They – There isn't anything I wouldn't do to make sure they are all safe. I suppose that is one of the reasons I want to succeed so bad under Master Nox. I want to prove myself worthy to protect them. From anything. Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon…even Sansa. I will not see any harm fall upon them."
'He's very protective of his family. A good trait to have and one that will serve him well in the future once he has children.' Unbidden, an image came to her of little children running around her with dark-grey eyes, black hair, and tan skin. An image she promptly dismissed. 'That future is not set in stone yet. And I cannot let myself be consumed by such fantasies just yet.' "And tell me, Jon, where do you see yourself once your Apprenticeship with Lord Nox has concluded?"
The question seemed to catch Jon off-guard. But he recovered quickly, and a strange glint entered his eyes as he seemed to almost close off. "I – I don't know, honestly. I'll probably stay with my brother and serve where he needs me most, Princess."
'Asking about his future has undone all the work I put into loosening him up,' Arianne could've cursed. 'Damn it. What did that Greyjoy woman put into his head that has him so on guard? I could probably guess, and in truth she wouldn't be half wrong. But still, this is starting to get more than a little annoying.'
Stopping their dance, Arianne made sure she had his full and undivided attention. "It is getting quite stuffy in here. Don't you think, Jon?"
"Um, yes. A little, Princess. But to a Northerner like myself, if it isn't snowing, then it's always stuffy and warm."
"Then you agree with the need for some fresh air," she nodded, holding out her arm. "Will you do me the honor of escorting me outside, Jon. And please, for the love of the gods call me Arianne, not Princess. I do quite enjoy hearing my name leave your lips."
The abrupt change did as she intended and put Jon off balance once more. "Um, I – I guess Prin – Arianne."
"Good," she said, looping her arm through his and pointedly leading him out of the hall and out into the cool night air of Dorne.
Spying Tyene near the entrance to the hall, she gave her cousin a quick look and a subtle motion with the fingers of her offhand. Years ago, Arianne and her cousins had developed a mild code system using their hands. Usually it was to ask for help when they wanted to escape from certain social obligations. But over time it'd changed to encompass much more. This time, the signal she gave her cousin was to make sure that she and Jon would have privacy. Getting the message, Tyene gave her a quick nod before moving through the crowd to collect her sisters to ensure she and Jon would not be disturbed when she decided to sit him down.
Leading him out into the courtyard, Arianne kept a firm hold on Jon's arm until the two of them reached the far end, well away from the great hall and close to the Tower of the Sun. Spotting a stone bench, Arianne purposefully led Jon over and sat the two of them down. 'Well, I got him out here. Now…what the hell do I say?' she thought, wracking her brain for how best to play this situation out. 'He is not like any other man I've met or played this game with. Perhaps he doesn't know how to play? Or maybe he just doesn't play the game. Hm… Well, where subtly fails, let us just try brute force then.'
"Tell me, Jon, what is it that Lady Greyjoy said to you that has put you so on edge around me?"
"I – I don't know what you mean, Pri – Arianne."
Smiling, Arianne patted his knee. "Your attempt is cute, Jon, but don't try and lie to me. You don't have the experience yet to tell a successful lie without a tell. But to be fair, I don't think I need you to tell me what Greyjoy said to you. I can pretty much guess. She warned you to be wary of me, that I was only interested in you because of your power. Am I wrong?"
Jon didn't seem surprised at what she said. "Are you? Is that the only reason you're paying attention to me? I'm only a bastard. There is nothing else special about me that would warrant the attention from a Princess."
A not-so-small part of Arianne wanted to bang her head against the wall. 'Please tell me that he is not this dense. Please, gods, tell me that it is just his age acting up combined with a distinct lack of instruction regarding nobles and the Higher Houses of Westeros.' "Tell me, Jon. Do you truly understand your current situation regarding the realm and your potential future?"
"My situation?" Jon asked curiously as if the idea was completely foreign to him. "I'm just a bastard."
"Just a bastard," Arianne repeated before sighing. 'Apparently, both Lord Nox and Lord Stark have been lax in certain aspects of his education.' "A bastard you may be. But you are the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North and a near-brother to Robert Baratheon. You have been raised alongside your trueborn siblings and have been well educated your entire life. And, as if that wasn't enough, you are the first and only Apprentice to the Northern Sorcerer, Lord Nox. A man that is both respected and feared throughout the land by both the high and lowborn. Your status, Jon, bastard aside, is unique to any in Westeros. Hells, if it hasn't started already, I can guarantee that Lords and Ladies across the realm will be lining up to throw their daughters at you in the hopes of claiming you."
Jon looked extremely uncomfortable with the idea. "And I suppose that you are not like them Pri – Arianne?"
This is where she knew she had to be careful. It wouldn't do to outright lie to him, as that could drive an irreversible wedge between them. But she couldn't be too blunt as that could also drive a wedge that his naive and youthful mind wouldn't allow to be removed. "I will not lie to you, Jon: at first, yes. The fact that you were learning directly from the Sorcerer did intrigue me and drew my attention towards you. But do not think that I am some simple-minded fool that claws or whores myself out for even the slightest chance at getting a taste of power. That is not what I am looking for in the long run. I need someone strong. Someone I can count on to stand by my side. Not someone who will simply use me and toss me aside. So, I started looking into you. Granted, given the distance between Dorne and the North, it was exceedingly difficult to find out much. And had I learned that you were a simple barbarian that abused your gifts, I would've written you off and gone about my life. But, instead, the few scraps of information I managed to find out about you only served to paint you in the best of light. While we have only known each other for a few hours now, I can tell that you are indeed a good man and that you will grow into a great man one day. I do consider myself an excellent judge of character, Jon. You were teaching Daemon in the yard and seemingly enjoying it, a fact that in and of itself is quite amazing. When you fought against him, despite having the clear advantage, you did not humiliate him. When that idiot Ser Dayne stepped in and insulted me and my house, you quickly rose to my defense, even though you knew next to nothing about me. And you are quite dashing, even if you still are not yet old enough to grow little more than a bit of fuzz on your cheeks."
Jon's cheeks were quite red by the time she'd finished. "I – I thank you, P – Arianne. Um, I really don't know what to say to that."
Smiling, she patted his cheek lightly. "Usually, when a woman delivers a compliment like that, Jon, it is considered proper to reply with one in turn."
"Oh, um, well – I think you are a nice person, I mean, a beautiful woman Arianne. And I don't think you're a whor – I didn't mean to say that! No, wait, I did. No, ummm," Jon stammered. "I mean, I already said that you are, umm – and I should probably stop making a fool of myself."
Arianne couldn't help it, watching him stammer was just too, well, cute. "It's alright, Jon. It just means that you must practice, that's all. And it wasn't all that bad of a compliment."
The two fell into an easy silence as they continued to sit beneath the stars of Dorne while off in the distance the bards continued to play and sign to all who would hear their tune. "Um, may I ask you a question, Arianne?"
She couldn't resist. "You just did, Jon. But I suppose I wouldn't be opposed to a second, should you have it."
Jon blinked at her, then chuckled and shook his head. "Gods, you remind me of my sister. Both actually, to a point, I guess. But what I wanted to ask you is, well… You asked me where I saw myself in the future. Well, may I ask you the same, Arianne?"
Tilting her head back, Arianne gazed skywards. "Dorne is much different from the other Kingdoms that make up Westeros, Jon. Not just in our, well, more liberal approach to certain topics. But because of our line of succession. In Dorne, the mantle passes to the eldest born child, regardless of whether they are a boy or a girl. By all rights, I am in line to succeed my father once, gods forbid, he passes to the next life or steps down. That is the law. I may not have always been the best of students, but recently I have done everything I can to ensure to my father and our bannerman that Dorne will continue to be in good hands once I take over rulership. But my father… Years ago, I discovered a secret letter he was sending to my brother. My younger brother. In it, he stated categorically that he had every intention for my brother to become the next ruling Prince of Dorne. Not me. And to add insult to injury, the only betrothal requests my father entertains for my hand are with those who are either still in a cradle or those who are so old that I doubt they would be able to 'rise' without parading a troupe of naked whores through their room."
"Oh," Jon muttered, his eyes wide. "I didn't know. I – I'm sorry."
"You couldn't know," Arianne sighed. "And I am working to ensure that whatever my father plans for me, they do not come to fruition."
"But…why?" Jon asked, drawing a sharp look from Arianne, prompting the boy to stammer to make a decent follow up. "I – I mean, I can understand you being the eldest and all. I mean, I can't imagine what Robb would say should Lord Stark declare that Bran was to become the next Warden of the North. I – I don't mean to sound, well, stupid or mean, I guess. But why do you want to rule Dorne?"
Huffing, Arianne shifted herself on the cool stone bench. "Dorne is mine, by right and blood. It is my home, Jon. But more than that, I…I want to make things better. My father has been a good ruler for Dorne, but there are a lot of grumblings. Especially after he failed to receive any form of reparations after the murder of my Aunt and baby cousins at the end of the Rebellion. But since then Dorne has…stagnated. Then I see the way the North has blossomed the last few years. Your father and Lord Nox have taken the North from a land that many wrote off as an untamed snowy wilderness ruled by barbarians to being perhaps one of the wealthiest and most influential Kingdoms of Westeros. Even if many won't admit that fact. I…I want the same to happen here in Dorne. And I believe that I can do that." 'With my own Sorcerer by my side.'
Jon seemed to almost be staring at her in wonder by the time she'd finished. "I – Whoa. You're passionate about this."
Again, she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. "I'm Dornish. Passion pretty much defines everything about us."
"No," Jon said, shaking his head. "I – I can feel your passion, Arianne. You…You truly mean it. You're not just saying stuff to make yourself sound like a good person to me. You really are passionate about wanting to change your land for the better. It's…It's amazing. I haven't felt such passion like that in… Gods, I don't know if I ever have felt such passion before."
She wasn't entirely just what Jon meant with his little speech, but something about her being 'passionate' about her goals seemed to resonate with him. But she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if she couldn't understand just what had happened. "As I said, passion is what makes the Dornish, well, Dornish." Arianne replied lamely, almost smacking herself for the comment.
Jon smiled, a smile that lit up his face and made her heart quicken. "Then, perhaps, I would enjoy more Dornish hospitality."
'Oh, my dear sweet naive boy. You have no idea just what kind of realm you are walking into with that statement,' she thought with a grin as an idea started formulating in her mind of just how…properly show the boy – young man her favor. "Well, I believe the feast is done for the night," she stated since she could no longer hear the music from the bards. "Would you do me the honor of escorting a Princess back to her rooms, young Apprentice?"
"Of course, Princess," Jon nearly shouted, jumping to his feet and hastily holding his hand out for her take. "It would be a sin for a woman of your beauty to wander the halls of her own home alone this night."
"Better," Arianne smiled, taking his hand and rising to her feet. 'So, he can learn. And he's a quick study. Even better.'
Looping her arm through his, she steered him towards the hall that would take her towards her room. As they walked, she caught a quick glance of her cousin Nymeria hiding in the shadows of one of the columns. Motioning with the hand that was not holding onto Jon, she quietly dismissed her cousins for the night. 'Their aid will no longer be needed tonight.'
"So, are your cousins going to follow us back to your room? Or – No, you've dismissed them for the night it seems."
Arianne nearly tripped. "W – What?"
"Now who is the one stammering, Arianne?" Jon asked, shooting her a cocky grin. "I suppose it's reassuring to know that your cousins are looking out for you. And I'm honored to know that you feel safe enough in my presence to dismiss your hidden guards."
'Oh ho, he wants to play, huh? Well, Jon, once again you have no idea of the world you have just entered. Though, I am curious as to how he knew about my cousins. Tyene and Nymeria are especially good at making sure that no one will notice them unless they want them too.' "And tell me, Jon, how did you notice my cousins were shadowing us? Tyene most especially will be most upset to know that she has been found out."
"Your cousins are good, Arianne. Very good. But… Well, let's just say that Lord Nox and I can cheat a bit, as he likes to say."
'Oh, getting a little too big for your breeches, Jon. I'm going to have to take you down a peg or two before you leave me for the night. My honor as a player of the game all but demands it now.' As they walked, she carefully pieced together how she would get the 'last word in', as it were. Granted, she'd been planning on this move since she invited the Northerners to feast with them after watching Jon's fantastic display in the yard, but she hadn't thought that she'd have to go through with it till now.
Arriving at the door to her room, she turned so her back was facing the door and she was facing Jon. "Well, Jon, it is a shame that you and the Northerners will be leaving come morning. Perhaps the two of us can break our fast together in the morning? I have come to quite enjoy your company this evening."
"I would be honored, Arianne," Jon replied. "But I don't know if we will be leaving right away tomorrow. Before we came here, Ser Manderly informed Lord Nox that the Sea Wolf sustained a small bit of damage to the hull during our encounter with the pirates around the Stepstones. So, we might be here another day or two while the damage is repaired."
She wanted to do a little dance at hearing that the Jon would potentially be staying for another day or so. It would give her just that much more time to figure out just what she needed to do to leave a lasting impression on him. "I see. Well then, I hope to see more of you if you do stay beyond morning, Apprentice Jon."
"I would never dare to disappoint a Princess, Princess Arianne," he replied, raising her hand and placing a chaste kiss across her knuckles. "May you sleep well tonight, Arianne."
"You as well, Jon," she smiled, opening the door to her room and backing into it, but stopping just short of fully closing the door.
Peering out through the crack left in her door, she watched as Jon took a calming breath or two in the hall. And then waited until he turned and started walking away before making her move. "Apprentice Jon," she called out, opening the door and stopping him in his tracks. "It occurs to me that I have been quite remiss. I wagered my favor to the victor between you and Daemon. And I will not be known as one to go back on her word."
Jon made to say something, no doubt some honorable dribble about her not needing to worry about it. But what he was about to say died on his lips as she made her move. With two quick movements, the clasps that'd been holding her dress onto her shoulders were removed and her dress fell to the ground. It was almost comical, and endearing, to see the young man's eyes bulge and his face go scarlet as he saw firsthand that she had forgone any small clothes this evening. And it was also quite thrilling to see that her presence had a very…noticeable effect on another not-so-small part of him either. 'Very, very impressive…especially for one still so young as he.' "Just a taste of what you can expect of my hospitality should you find yourself in Dorne on a more…permanent basis in the future, Jon Snow."
And with that, she quickly closed the door to her room, sealing it and setting the latch in place. 'Oh, that was fun.'
Standing on what had become his customary spot on the covered bridge connecting Winterfell's great keep to the smithery, Ned Stark watched his eldest son and daughter. They were working together to coordinate the dozens, if not hundred or more, servants and builders around as they worked on setting up Winterfell for something that had never before happened in the North, or anywhere else in all of Westeros as far as Ned knew. Based on the suggestion of his heir, and after signing off on the idea, Winterfell would soon play host to the first ever 'Spring Inventors Fair'.
The idea had been presented to him by his son several months ago. Apparently, the idea had been floating around in his head for some time. It was based off something Nox had told him about his homeland, about how they valued and uplifted those who sought to better their society by not necessarily through strength of arms but rather through the strength of their minds. After working on the finer details of the fair for weeks, Robb finally approached him along with Maester Luwin and Samwell Tarly. Much to his shame, Ned's first inclination had been to reject the idea out of hand. The North did not have time for tournaments or extravagant displays. But the look of excitement on his son's face when he made his first pitch stilled his tongue and he decided to hear him out. And an hour later, Ned was glad that he did.
The knowledge and advances that Nox had brought to the North had propelled them to a position that Ned never thought the North would ever be in. The coffers of Winterfell were fuller than he had ever seen them as a boy or since he'd taken over Lordship. And he knew after speaking with Lord Manderly that White Harbor was in a similar position. The glass trade with not only the rest of Westeros but also Braavos and Pentos had brought in enough coin to start expanding their other exports as well. Ironwood from the Forresters was highly sought after, especially when crafted into armaments or furniture. For the first time, the North was exporting the excess food stuffs that they were growing from the glass gardens, which primarily consisted of the exotic fruits, grains, and vegetables that Nox had brought with him in the form of seeds. The blast furnaces were producing high quantities of high value steel that they were running out of uses for. And while his son's idea would probably not have the same immediate effect as Nox had on the North, it could still lay the groundwork for others outside of Nox advancing their stations and providing services to the North.
Robb's idea would encourage those throughout the North to follow in Nox's example. After all, as Robb had pointed out to him, it was impossible for them to know everything. A fact proven when his son asked him of the nuances of plowing and planting crops, which he had some knowledge of but not a lot. Robb had even come up with ways of encouraging the people to attend. The fair would last a week and during that time those who had new ways of doing things, or had discovered a new type of crop, or created something new and useful would have a chance to show it to himself and the other Lords of the North and explain its benefits and uses. Should whatever was presented prove worthwhile, then the individual who presented it would be gifted with coins or boons pending on what they offered. His son had even worked out a budget for the rewards!
And seeing as how the fair would last a sennight at least, Robb had also planned out other amusing activities almost like it was a tourney. The only difference was there wouldn't be men pretending to be at war. No, the events would be practical in nature. An archery tournament. A contest of strength. A hunting contest. And, once again, Robb had surprised him by planning out every gold dragon that would be awarded and where they would be able to recoup the cost.
With his blessing, Robb had taken over full planning of this 'fair' of his, and had sent out ravens to the major holdfasts, informing the various Lords of what was planned. And, in a move that surprised and mildly worried Ned, Robb showed a fair bit of political shrewdness as he planned the fair around his name day celebration. Which, as he was turning three-and-ten, the Lords of the North would be honor bound to attend. The responses they received from the various Lords of the North was surprisingly supportive.
At first, the fair had only been planning on having Northern houses attend. That had changed, however, when they received word back from Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort who informed them that not only would he be attending, but that his son Domeric would taking a short leave from his squiring duties under Lord Horton Redfort of the Vale to return home for the celebration. And Domeric would not be coming alone. While Lord Redfort would not be able to attend due to his duties, his son Mychel Redfort would be traveling with Domeric along with the knight he was squiring for Ser Lyn Corbray and a few other men at arms who were taking the opportunity to empty out their dungeons and escorting those who had volunteered to take the Black. Apparently after hearing about Ser Corbray's journey to the North, Lord 'Bronze Yohn' Royce had decided to journey with them along with his three sons. The youngest of whom was would be on his way to take the Black after they left Winterfell.
But despite the seemingly positive responses to the fair, perhaps one of the most supportive of responses came from Bear Island and the new head Lady of Bear Island, Lady Maege Mormont. Feeling the wood beneath his hands groan, Ned forced himself to relax. Thinking of what had transpired just two months prior still filled him with rage. The Mormonts had never been the wealthiest of families in the North, but they had always been amongst the most honorable and the most loyal of the Stark bannermen. That was of course until Jorah Mormont had decided to sell poachers to a Tyroshi slaver less than a month after Nox had left with his niece on the expedition to Valyria. How he even managed to get in touch with the slaver, let alone get him into the North, was a problem that still plagued Ned's mind. But the fact remained that he had violated one of the oldest taboos in the Seven Kingdoms by selling those men into slavery. His guilt was unquestionable and his sentence unavoidable. Yet, by the time Ned had arrived at Bear Island, Jorah and his wife Lynesse were both gone. Leaving only Longclaw, a confession, and a broken family behind.
Forcing such thoughts from his mind, he turned back to his children still in the yard directing the servants and craftsmen of Winterfell as if they were the Lord and Lady of Winterfell instead of just children. 'Cat's, as well as Lady Nyra's, lessons have been paying off for Sansa it seems,' Ned thought with a smile as he watched his barely one-and-ten name day daughter direct with the experience of a seasoned Lady of a great keep. Ideally, both Cat and Nyra would be helping with this task, but Rickon had caught a spring sickness and Cat had refused to leave his sickbed. And Nyra, well, given recent events, it was best if she rested as much as possible. The last thing Ned needed was for Nox to come after him if anything ill were to happen.
"My lord, a raven has arrived."
Resisting the urge to groan, Ned nodded and held his hand out towards where he knew the Maester of Winterfell was standing just behind him. An unexpected raven was never a good thing. 'Dark wings and dark words', as the saying often went. "Who is it from?"
"Dorne, my Lord," Maester Luwin replied. "The raven came with two messages, my Lord. One bearing the mark of House Martell. And the other bearing Lord Nox's sigil."
Turning around quickly, Ned took the small scrolls from Luwin. One did indeed carry the mark of the Sunspear and the other carried the sigil Nox had taken to using. The Sorcerer's sigil was a simple circle with two three-pointed spikes on either side. Leaving the missive from the Martells for now, Ned broke the seal on Nox's note and quickly unrolled the scroll. It'd been over six months since they'd had word of the expedition. For all he knew, Nox and the others had perished in Valyria. Yet as he quickly read over the relatively short message, Ned felt himself sigh in relief. 'Jon is still alive and now Nox's official Apprentice. No other casualties amongst the nobility that went with him. However, they did loose over thirty men in Valyria. He doesn't mention what they managed to obtain, but he assures that it is a 'substantial sum that will see the North thrive for generations.' And Nox isn't one known for exaggerations.'
"My lord?"
"Nox has returned to Westerosi waters," Ned informed the Maester, folding the letter up and tucking it into his belt. "They had to resupply and do some minor repairs to the Sea Wolf in Sunspear. By now, they should be approaching Storm's End."
Luwin's eyes widened. "From Storm's End, it should only take them a scant few weeks to arrive back in White Harbor."
"Aye," Ned nodded. "Have horses and carriages prepared. We're heading to White Harbor to welcome them home and to see what they've obtained from the Dragon Lords."
"Yes, my Lord," Luwin bowed. "What of your son Rickon, my lord? His sickness may have passed, but he is still weak in the lungs."
"He will remain as the Stark in Winterfell, along with my Lady wife," Ned decided almost immediately. "I'll inform my family myself, Maester Luwin. See to it that everything is ready for our trip to White Harbor. And make sure precautions are taken for Lady Nyra. Last thing I need is to alienate one of my closest allies should something ill befall her."
Whistling a merry tune as he marched his short legs through the corridors of the Rock, Tyrion Lannister; the Imp, the Halfman, overall lecher, and unofficial heir to the Rock despite what his father would claim, kept his gaze upwards as he made his way into his father's wing of the great keep. He'd just received word from his ears in Winterfell, and there were several things of import that he needed to discuss with his father and the Lord of the Westerlands. It'd taken more time than he cared to admit getting his eyes and ears in place in the North and even longer to get a timely communication set up with the two of them. But now that it was in place, he could get regular updates with each trade convoy that went North. Which, in no thanks to his brilliance, was now set to once every other month.
For nearly two years after setting his eyes and ears in place, there was very little information of import that the two would send him. What little information his spies were able to send him primarily consisted of the sorcerer's advancements in the fields of craftsmanship, the building of glass gardens, the growing of new exotic fruits, and his forming of a 'college' in Winterfell to train both men and women the sorcerer picked as if they were going to be Maesters. He urged his spy to try and get closer, but that had failed quite spectacularly. But despite the failure, it had led to and interesting discovery as it'd given credence to Nox's relationship with the former serving girl, Nyra, a woman with no family nor social standing. Still, though, he did find a small amount of amusement in hearing how his spy had tried to sneak into the Sorcerer's private quarters to seduce him, only to find the former serving girl already there and taking a bath while waiting for her lover to return.
His father though had not found any amusement in the story. Ever since he met the sorcerer, he'd been trying to plan a way to lure the sorcerer from the North and into House Lannister's service. Marriage, lands, and titles were of course the easiest course of action to take. But over the years, each of those had been slowly taken away from them. The Sorcerer, from everything he'd heard, was quite enamored with the former serving girl. And while his father normally would have no problems with simply 'removing' such an obstacle, he was hesitant in this instance as there was always a chance that such an action could lead back to them. Which spoke volumes as to how much his father respected and feared the sorcerer, though he would never publicly admit to the latter. So, while marriage was not apparently an option, lands and titles still were. But then that option was taken from them as well once Robert declared him a 'Lord', though without granting him any lands of his own.
There'd been a brief hope that the action would've driven a wedge between the sorcerer and Lord Stark, but that did not seem to be the cause. In fact, the sorcerer didn't even seem to care that he was even given the title in the first place! The man was nothing if not utterly confusing.
Thankfully, for both Tyrion, his spies, and the girls' families, the whore he'd sent to Winter Town just happened to catch the eye of the young Greyjoy lad two years ago once he came of age to start visiting the brothel. While she was able to get some decent information by carefully plying her trade to the guardsmen, the Greyjoy lad was a wealth of information. It was from the Greyjoy's mouth that Tyrion was able to learn of Nox's training of the Stark children well before it became general knowledge. And it was also through him that she was able to learn of the sorcerer's expedition to Valyria months before they set sail. Apparently, the boy had been quite vocal about the expedition. Mostly over the fact that his sister, Asha, had been allowed to take part and he'd been forced to stay behind. And now, his spies had relayed two other bits of information. One of which was only mildly interesting. While the other one was very, very interesting.
Arriving at his father's solar, Tyrion gaze the two guardsmen a passing nod before waltzing directly into the room without knocking. The only occupant in the room was his father, sitting behind his desk with a Northern glass pitcher of Arbor gold on his desk. "Need I educate you on the purpose of knocking?" his father said levelly as Tyrion shut the door behind him.
"Oh, I knock on closed doors, but only in a brothel, father. Nothing worse than walking into a room only to see a man you know getting his cocked sucked dry by a pair of wonderfully painted whore's lips."
Reaching out for the pitcher he cursed his luck as his father without even bothering to look up from what he was working on, blindly reached out and snatched the pitcher away from him before Tyrion could get ahold of it. "I care not to hear of your constant shaming of our House, Tyrion," his father growled, refreshing his own glass before setting the pitcher back down, well out of Tyrion's reach unless he walked around the desk. "The trade vessel from the North has returned. What news do you have of the Stark children's progress and what news of the sorcerer?"
'Of course he would want to start with Stark's children. Ever since he's learned of them having the same power as the sorcerer, he has almost completely shifted his focus from the sorcerer to the children. Afterall, it is far easier to claim a child through marriage rather than a full-grown man.'
"Without the presence of the Sorcerer or the bastard, their training in the mystic arts have ground to a halt," Tyrion informed his father while pushing himself up into a cushioned chair. Honestly, if his father wasn't about to give him wine, he might as well make himself comfortable. "Though from what our ears have heard, Stark's heir as well as his second daughter are both quite powerful, even if we don't have a reference for what that might mean. If the eldest daughter has the same powers as her siblings and the sorcerer, she is denying them and not participating in any training. The second eldest son just began training before the sorcerer left, so his skills are minimal at best. And the youngest is still shitting himself and struggling to walk straight. So, I doubt if we will be hearing any tales of him toppling towers any time soon."
"And what abilities are Stark's heir and his second daughter showing?"
"Outside of Robb moving stones larger than a man with his mind and showing the strength and skill of a man ten years his senior in the training yard, nothing much," he replied, scratching the back of his head. "Not sure if they're hiding their true abilities, or if that's the extent of them. Our eyes have noted, however, that the young Stark girl seems to almost disappear at will. Not sure what to make of that, however."
"Has there been word of the sorcerer and whether or not he and the bastard were successful on their expedition to Valyria?"
Tyrion knew that his father was extremely interested in this, as was most of the realm for that matter. But his father especially was, though not necessarily for the reason many may think. It was well known that his Uncle Gerion had taken a good number of Lannister men and one of their better galleons and had made off to explore the cursed land years ago and had not been heard of since. While Tyrion, and a few others in his family, were curious as to whether the sorcerer would return with knowledge of his uncle's fate, his father was concerned for another reason. If there were any who could potentially succeed in venturing into the depths of Valyria and return, it was the sorcerer. And once he did, gods only knew what he could come back with. As none had managed to make the trip successfully since the Doom, no one truly knew what he'd find. Valyrian steel, perhaps even the method to make the steel, gold, lost knowledge? If he came back with even one of those things, he could propel the North into a true power in Westeros capable of toppling any of the other Great Houses. After all, there was a reason the Valyrian Empire's rule was unquestioned until the Doom.
"There has been no word yet. But it has only been six months since he departed."
Dusting the piece of paper he'd finished writing on, his father set the parchment aside and pulled out another sheet. "And what new information do your whores have for us?"
"Apparently, the Stark heir has been working to prove himself since the sorcerer and his bastard brother left Westeros," Tyrion started, eyeing the wine pitcher and glasses longingly. "He's organized what is being called an 'inventors fair'. He's inviting Lords and Ladies and smallfolk from all over the North to visit Winterfell for the week surrounding his name day. During this time, any who have inventions, new processes, or new products can present them before the Warden of the North. Should he find them worthwhile, he will reward the one who brought it forth with coins, titles, or support to expand. And word is that the 'students' at the Winterfell College will also be displaying some of what they've been working on to garner more support from the local Lords. There are also going to be a few competitions as well. Though, no jousting nor a melee."
In truth, the moment Tyrion heard of the fair he'd wanted to take the first ship North and put his name into whatever lists were available. Given his nature as the halfman, he would never be able to enter a tourney, and if he did it would only be as a joke. But this fair in the North was a tourney that emphasized the strength of the mind over the strength or skill of one's body. And that was a competition that he could not only get behind, but that he was pretty sure he could easily win!
"I see," his father stated simply, seemingly not caring about the event in the slightest. "And what else have you heard?"
His father might not have been interested in the first piece of news, but Tyrion knew that he would be interested in the next bit. "Well, there has been a rather interesting development in Winterfell lately. They've kept it quiet for the most part, but the Greyjoy lad seems to like to run his mouth when he's in the throes of pleasure. And this development just happens to revolve around the former serving girl turned Lady, Nyra."
His father's quill stopped mid move. "Tell me everything."
"Please, brother, s-"
"I am not your brother! I am your king! I am the dragon! And you, dear sweet idiot sister, have woken the dragon! And now, now you must suffer the consequences for your insolence!"
Violet eyes on a young girl's face turned towards him, pleading for him to do something – anything – to help as the man that had a tight hold on the girl's arm raised his hand high in the air before bringing it down harshly onto her cheek.
Letting out a pained yell, Jon sat bolt upright, smacking his head against the low hanging ceiling that was above his bunk. Rubbing his forehead and doing his best to block out the pain, Jon swung his feet over the side of his bunk in his small cabin onboard the Sea Wolf and rested his head in his hands with his elbows against his knees. The dream he'd just experienced was, well, strange to say the least. If it was the first time he'd had such a dream, he would have just ignored it. But this wasn't the first time he'd had such a dream. In fact, it wasn't the first time he'd had a dream about her, even if he didn't know just who she was. He'd seen her more than once in his dreams since they'd left Valyria. Well, three times now. But this is was the first time that she looked at him during the dream.
'Once is mere chance. Twice is coincidence. Thrice is a pattern.' Jon remembered Lord Nox telling him during their training. 'Let's just hope that Master Nox can provide some answers to these strange dreams.'
Getting up from his bunk and throwing on a shirt and pants, Jon left his cabin and made the short journey up the nearby flight of stairs and to the main deck of the Sea Wolf. On the main deck, life was pretty much proceeding like normal for the crew. The sailors worked the riggings while the various nobles went around the ship offering a helping hand wherever they could. The only real noticeable difference was the slight decrease in the number of sailors on board. But that was explained by the captured galleon that was sailing a fair distance behind them while being captained, at least temporarily, by Asha Greyjoy.
Giving a few polite nods to those he'd gotten to know extremely well over the past near seven months, Jon made his way towards the rear of the ship and Lord Nox's cabin. Giving a few light knocks on the wood, Jon waited until he heard Nox call for him to enter before walking in. It was never smart, nor healthy for that matter, to walk in on Lord Nox uninvited.
The interior of Nox's cabin was, as to be expected, almost immaculately clean. All save for the table of course, which throughout the entire voyage had been constantly filled with books, scrolls, and, as of late, crystals from Valyria. Much like the one that Lord Nox had standing on end before him as he leant over the table. And, it might have been a trick of the sun, but Jon could've sworn he saw the crystal glowing and some sort of mist hovering above the crystal when he first walked in.
"Trouble sleeping, Jon?"
"Aye," Jon nodded, deciding not to press on the crystal and instead focus on the reason he'd come to his Master in the first place. "I've been having strange dreams for some time now. Dreams of a young woman."
Nox's face lifted from the crystal and a grin spread across his face. "Dreaming of Princess Arianne already Jon? Tsk, Tsk. It isn't proper to have such dreams about a Lady, let alone a Princess of the Dorne. Though, if she takes after her uncle in any regard, I'm sure she'd not only encourage such dreams, she'd also gave you ample material to dream over."
For not the first time, Jon was glad for his Master's lack of sight as he felt his face heat upon the mention of the Dornish Princess. The embarrassing fact was his Master wasn't wrong. Jon had had more than a few dreams of the Dornish beauty since they'd left Sunspear. Just thinking about how she bared herself to him after the feast was enough to give rise to a problem that he'd had to 'take in hand' more than a few times. But it wasn't just her beauty, or the fact that she was the first woman that he saw bare. She'd also taken a firm hold of his thoughts because of just who she was. The two had spent almost the entire day together in her chambers, with her cousins present of course, just talking. Honestly, Jon couldn't think of another time he ever said so much than those few hours he'd spent in her company. They talked about everything from family to politics to Jon's training and potential futures. And while nothing had been set between the two of them, her offer of making him her Consort in ruling Dorne had given him a potential future he'd never dared imagining before. Though a large part of him doubted such a future would ever come to pass, she was a Princess after all and of age to marry. The thought was still a pleasant one.
"No. I mean I have, well I've dreamed of Arianne and – no, no. This isn't about her." Jon said desperately trying to keep the thoughts of the Princess bare before him – her perk breasts, and pointed ni – No! He needed to put thoughts of her aside for now. "This is about another girl. A – A girl with violet eyes. I – I think it's the same girl I ran into in Volantis. The one you asked me about before we met with Prince Oberyn."
The change was subtle, but after years of studying under Lord Nox, Jon had a feeling that he at least could spot when his Master was interested in something. The fact he stopped working on anything else and leaned forward a touch screamed to Jon that he had indeed peaked his Master's interest. "And what do these dreams of yours entail?"
"Well, not much," he replied awkwardly. "All I can see is darkness and her. And whatever she's touching or whatever or whoever is touching her. The dream I had just now. She was with that same man as she was back in Volantis and…he was yelling at her and saying something about 'waking the dragon' or some such nonsense. Then…Then he raised his hand to strike her and – and she looked right at me. It was like she could see me and was pleading for my help. And then the dream ended, and I awoke. I've dreamed of her before but…but this was the first time she ever looked at me and saw me."
"Interesting," Lord Nox replied, leaning back and rubbing at his chin. "And you say this is not the first time you've had such a dream since running into the young girl in Volantis, hmm? Very interesting."
Tapping his foot impatiently, Jon wished that his Master would just tell him what it was he was experiencing with these strange dreams. "Um, Master? Do you know what is happening?"
"Perhaps." His Master answered cryptically, making Jon's shoulders sag in defeat. "I can think of a few phenomena that could cause such an occurrence. Each one more unlikely than the last due to sheer rarity of the phenomenon occurring. But, in my experience in such matters, it is best not to rule out anything until you are completely sure it is not the case. Next time you have one of these dreams, and I can guarantee that you will, try and talk to this young girl if you can. Or, if by the off chance you happen to see her when you are awake, try and get her attention. If you can, it will help me narrow down the list of possibilities of what might be happening."
"I will try, Master," Jon bowed. Though with that now resolved, he wasn't quite sure just what to do next. "Um, Master. If you don't mind me asking, what is it with those crystals you were so intent on bringing back with us from Valyria? I mean, they don't seem valuable, not like the other gems. But, just now, I thought I saw a glow from that gem and some sort of mist forming above it."
Picking up the crystal, his Master turned it around as if to inspect if before his sightless eyes before motioning towards the empty folding chair next to him. "Take a seat, Jon. I suppose that now that you are my official Apprentice, I best begin delving deeper into the mysteries of the Force with you than I have in the past."
Quickly taking the seat, Jon tried not to let too much of his excitement show on his face at the prospect of learning more about the Force. "So, what are these crystals?" he asked, picking one up in his hand and peering into its depths. He could almost sense…something from within. But he had no clue as to just what that might be.
"If my hunch is correct, and after weeks of studying them I am fairly certain it is, then these are primitive versions of what my people called 'holocrons'." Nox explained, picking up another crystal, this one a pinkish color and the size of his fist. "Think of them as repositories of knowledge accessible only to those who are Force sensitive."
Blinking, Jon turned the crystal over in his hand. "So, these are basically books that only those like us can read? Why would they do that? Wouldn't it be easier to just write it down on paper instead of using these things?"
"Easier, yes. More secure, no."
"Secure?" Jon asked.
"Yes," Nox nodded. "The Valyrians were smart, Jon, very smart. They managed to conqueror Essos because of their dragons, which also served as a deterrent for any planning rebellion against them. But once they had control of Essos, they kept control through economics. Do you remember my lessons on what drives the price in the market?"
"Supply and demand?"
"Aye. The cost of something can be partially determined by these two factors. If you have something that everyone wants but is in low supply, then you can charge extra for it. But at the same time if you have something everyone desires but there is a surplus, then the cost will drop because people will know they can go elsewhere to acquire it. It is why the North is trying to keep a firm hold on the creation of glass. If everyone can make it, then the price of it will drop significantly. The same principle was used by the Valyrians, albeit with a different product. Can you take a guess as to what it was that the Valyrians had that everyone else wanted and were willing to pay a high price to obtain?"
"Their dragons," Jon answered immediately before thinking a bit harder. "But it takes a dragon lord to tame one, so not that. Valyrian steel?"
"Very good." Nox praised him. "The Valyrians controlled the economics of Essos through two factors: the slave trades and the trading of Valyrian steel. The slave trade controlled the people. And the trade of Valyrian steel controlled the coins. Now, using our theory of supply and demand, how would Valyrians keep a firm hold on the trade of Valyrian steel?"
Frowning, Jon stared down into the crystal. "By making sure that they were the only ones who knew how to make the steel," Jon stated, before his eyes widened in realization. "So, to keep the process secure, they developed a means of writing down the process of its creation in a manner that could only be read by those who had magic. The dragon lords."
"Very good, Jon," Nox praised him once again, making Jon sit up straighter.
"So, how do we read these crystals?" Jon asked, excitement racing through him at the prospect of learning an ancient Valyrian secret.
His hopes were quickly dashed though as Lord Nox set the crystal he was holding back down onto the table. "Well, that's the problem. These crystals, while similar to the holocrons of my home, are still different than what I'm used to. And while I've been able to ascertain that each crystal holds a wealth of knowledge within, I haven't been able to figure out just how to access it. The past few weeks have been quite frustrating."
The admission surprised Jon. He'd never known anything that his Master hadn't been able to do, know, or figure out in a relatively short period of time. To hear him admit that he didn't know how to accomplish something, it was something he never thought he'd ever hear from Lord Nox. Turning the crystal repeatedly in his hands, Jon tried to find something – anything – that might give him a clue as to how to open it. 'If only this was like a book and I could just simply open it. But I suppose that's the point. If it was easy to do, then the Valyrians wouldn't have felt the need to go this far.' "How do you usually open them, Master?"
"Picture your body as a bucket, and the Force within you as the water within," Nox explained, picking up one of the crystals again and causing a light glow to appear within. "The crystal in your hand is a second bucket. You want to pour the Force out of you and into the crystal. At least, that's how it's supposed to work in the simplest of terms. But, apparently, these have something else that triggers them. It's just a matter of discovering what that trigger is."
Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Jon tried to copy his Master's instructions exactly. "Gods!" he exclaimed, nearly dropping the crystal as it lit up like a torch in his hand while a ghostly image of a lightly armored man appeared above his hand.
"Well, isn't that something," his Master mumbled as the two watched the ghostly figure speak in what Jon could only assume to be High Valyrian while seeming to demonstrate movements with a sword. "Turn it off by cutting off the Force you're allowing to flow into the crystal. Then repeat the process once more."
Closing off his connection with the crystal, Jon let out the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding as the light in the crystal died and the figure faded from view. Breathing again, Jon repeated exactly what he'd done before. And just like the time before, the crystal immediately came to life in his hand as the ghostly figure appeared above the surface of the crystal once more and began instructing once more. "So, that is how you did it. Figures it would've been something so simple." His Master muttered as he picked up the pink crystal once more.
The pink crystal immediately started glowing. Only instead of an armored man appearing, a scantily clad and very well blessed woman hovered over the surface of the crystal. And just like the man that appeared from his crystal, the woman started talking in High Valyrian the moment she appeared. "What are they saying, Master?"
Tilting his head to the side, his Master listened to the two voices for some time before answering him. "My High Valyrian isn't all that good right now. We'll need Talisa's help in translating them further or get her to up her lessons in the language. But from what I can tell, the man in your crystal is describing basic sword techniques that are best suited for use when riding a dragon. As for the woman… Well, she seems to be describing a sex ritual to ensure proper procreation. And I must say, she is quite vivid in her details. I think she could make even Oberyn blush like a virgin maid."
Losing his connection to the crystal, the ghostly figure died out in his hand. "Um, that…"
"We're going to need to do something about the innocent nature of yours, Jon," his Master sighed, setting the crystal aside. "It wouldn't do for you to freeze up from the first sight of a pair of tits or from someone using crude language. And before you say that it won't happen, don't. I knew a woman who flashed a man during their fight. It distracted him enough to allow her to kill him. And I've invested far too much time and energy into you to let you die that easily. Honestly, I thought seeing Princess Arianne in her name-day suit would be enough to not make you blush at just the thought of sex but, apparently, I was wrong. Perhaps I need to lock you in a brothel all day so you can watch the whores apply their trade. That should knock some of those preconceived notions of modesty out of your head."
'Gods damn it! How does he always…?! Wait…What is that?'
Placing his hand against his head and squeezing his eyes shut, Jon fought against a sudden pain in his head that came upon him with no notice. But as strange as the sudden pain was, what was even stranger was how fast it left. Leaving not even a dull ache behind as a reminder of its brief presence. "Gods," he breathed, placing a hand to his head and surprised to find sweat forming on his brow. "Wh – What was that?"
"That, Jon, was a disturbance in the Force generated by a single individual that is not only fairly powerful in the Force, but also currently in excruciating pain."
Turning to his Master, Jon went to ask him what he meant, but Nox was already out of his seat and across the room. A chart of Westeros out in front of him and his fingers running along the coast. "With the speed we have been traveling, we should be passing by Blackwater Bay soon. Given the strength of the disturbance, the source must be nearby… Jon, inform Ser Manderly that we are to change course immediately. We're making a detour to Dragonstone."
"Yes, Master," Jon nodded, the crystals momentarily forgotten as he quickly got to his feet and all but ran out of the room to deliver Lord Nox's new orders to the crew.
The castle of Dragonstone was certainly an imposing sight, one that Nox knew more than one Sith Lord or even Dark Council Member would gladly take for his or her own Keep. Hells, he was even tempted himself the moment he laid eyes upon it. And it wasn't just because of its near impenetrableness due to the natural defenses of the island provided nor it's walls. Nor was it the fact that the keep was made entirely of black stone that almost seemed to shine slightly in the light of the sun. No, what truly drew Nox's attention was the fact that the keep almost seemed to be radiating the Force, much in the same manner as the Sith and Jedi Temples on Korriban and Tython respectively. Had they not just been to Valyria, he would've questioned as to just how such a primitive world was able to create such a strong Force construct like this. But now he didn't question it. He knew. This place, even while still a fair distance from the harbor and the keep itself, felt almost identical to the Lost City of Valyria. Only more, well, alive.
'One of these days, once I have time, I'm going to need to travel this world more,' he thought as they passed through the breakwater leading into the harbor while Ser Manderly barked orders at the crew to prepare to drop anchor and lower the rowboats into the water so they could go ashore. 'Winterfell was built by this Bran the Builder, who I have no doubt had the Force and used it aid in his creations. Force Forging…It has to be. A lost art that went out of style once lightsabers became more common place instead of Force Forged weaponry. Nowadays, the only Force Forging, if it could even be called that, that takes place is the creation of the armor worn by the Sith and Jedi. And even those are pale imitations of what they once were. If those with the ability to utilize the Force in a forging process are still prevalent on this world, then finding them has now become one of my top priorities.'
Getting into the boat with Jon and Talisa at his side, Nox let his senses take in as much of the island as he could. Which, unfortunately, was not much. It was almost as if the keep itself was fighting against his sight. A truly odd sensation, yet not unexpected. 'This world just keeps getting more and more interesting with each new discovery I make,' he thought, barely managing to contain his glee at having the chance to study yet another complex that'd been designed and created with the aid of the Force. 'If this world had been discovered by the Empire, or hell even the Republic and the Jedi for the take matter, there would've been full blown civil war to decide just who got the right to rule it in each respective body of governance. Though the Jedi would've probably gone for the option of banning travel to the world until they could enlighten the 'primitives' about the power they could potentially wield. It would've been such a waste. But that is neither here nor there. And this world is mine now. And mine alone.'
Sensing that they were getting close to the docks, Nox pulled his senses back into himself. But paused as he felt a familiar presence waiting for them on the dock. 'Well, from what I gathered of the two of them the last time we met, one is not far from the other. Which means if he is here, then so is Stannis.'
"Ser Seaworth," Nox called out to the elder man once their boat began to be tied off onto the dock by the rowers and dockworkers, "I didn't think our arrival would warrant such a greeting from a man of your standing with Lord Stannis."
The former smuggler turned knighted land holder merely stared completely gob smacked as Nox, Jon and Talisa carefully stepped off the boat and onto the dock. "Lord Sorcerer," Seaworth greeted them with a polite bow, his accent thick and quick. "I must say m'lord, it's a wonder you're here on this day. Almost enough to make a man believe the gods really do exist in this shite world."
Now Nox's interest was fully peaked. Turning his heads upwards, he tried once more to try and find the source of the disturbance but found himself firmly rebuked by the keep. 'Whoever or whatever sent the disturbance must've done it in a single concentrated burst and then retreated into themselves. That seems to be the only way they got the sensation out past the walls of the keep.' "Is that so, Ser Davos? And why would my appearance make one believe in divine intervention?"
Fear. Anguish. Hope. Despair all swelled within the older man in swirl of emotion, each one battling to best the other despite him keeping a calm face. "Lady Shireen, Lord Stannis's daughter, she…she's caught greyscale."
'Now it all makes sense,' Nox thought as the last piece of the puzzle was put in place. 'That burst was definitely from one suffering some form for torment. But it was also young. Untrained. And it also explained why there hasn't been more than the initial burst that Jon and I both sensed. She doesn't know what she's doing.'
"Then it is indeed fortunate that we are here, considering Lady Talisa here and I have been fine tuning our cure for greyscale ever since we had successfully cured four members of our crew," Nox stated, shock echoing off the old knight at his proclamation. "Jon, head back to the Sea Wolf and get what supplies we need to treat the young Lady. Ser Davos, if you would please leave an escort behind to bring my Apprentice here up to the keep once he's acquired what we need, it would be appreciated. And while he's at it, I feel it best that Talisa and I begin to work on the young Lady as soon as possible."
Jon was back in the boat before Nox had even finished speaking, leaving the elderly knight stumbling to catch up as he ordered a few men to stay behind before motioning for Nox and Talisa to follow him up towards the keep. "Lady Talisa?" Ser Davos said as they walked up the winding pathway leading up the cliffs edge towards a tower stationed at the very top of the cliffs edge. "A very Essosi name, my lady…From the region of Volantis, if my ear doesn't mistake me."
Talisa's steps faltered ever so slightly. "That is correct. I – I am Talisa Maegyr of House Maegyr of Volantis of the Tiger Clan."
This time it was Ser Davos's turn to lose his footing. "Lady Maegyr? I wasn't expecting to ever see the daughter of one of Volantis's Triarchs to grace the shores of Westeros. Not anything we need to be concerned about is there, Lord Sorcerer?"
"No," Nox replied, shrugging off the concern as the neared the top of the path. "Lady Talisa here was merely looking for a chance to leave her past behind and bartered her services as a healer to our crew in return for safe passage. And I must say, it has been quite the advantageous trade. I doubt I would've been able to create this cure for greyscale without her expertise."
Talisa preened at the compliment as Davos's watchful eye flickered back and forth between the two of them. "Well, then I owe ya two my thanks now, if this works the way you say it does. Lord Stannis has sent ravens to every corner of the Realm calling on anyone and everyone who might know a way to help his only child. He's even offered a boon to the ones who are successful in healin' her. Just don't be blowin smoke, Lord Sorcerer. Lord Stannis ain't in the mood for false hope."
The three stayed quiet as they came to the top of the cliffs edge and entered a drum-like tower that was covered with effigies to dragons and many other unsightly creatures. 'Okay, I'm starting to seriously think there was a Sith Lord who crashed in Valyria at some point in time and handed down their fashion sense to the Targaryens before they came to Westeros,' he thought as Davos led them through a doo within a dragon's maw of all things. 'This place would suit just about every Sith I have ever come across in my life.'
Walking briskly through a throne room, which Nox briefly noticed was made almost entirely out of obsidian of all things, Davos led them towards the back of the chamber and up several flights of stairs before coming to a stop before a set of double doors that was guarded on either side by two guards. Both wearing the black and yellow stag of House Baratheon.
"This is the Northern Sorcerer, boys," Davos explained, waving towards the two of them. "And a Lady Healer from Volantis. They're here to see Lord Stannis about Lady Shireen's condition."
It was telling the amount of pull Davos had, even if he didn't know it, that the two guards immediately moved to open the doors. The interior of the room was just like the rest of the keep. Dark with obsidian carved figures of dragons and other almost demonic figures scattered along the wall. But the one thing that truly set this room apart was the gigantic table that dominated most of the room. A table that was carved into an exact replica of Westeros. It even had the major holdfasts and keeps marked along its surface. And at the far end of the table, standing with his back turned towards them so he was facing out the large window's overlooking the bay, was Stannis Baratheon.
"M'lord," Ser Davos said, walking forward to stand beside Stannis as the man turned around. "The ship was ca-"
"The Northern Sorcerer." Stannis said abruptly, cutting his man off. "And a woman from Volantis. Given what I have seen of your abilities and what many have theorized you can do, I take it that you are here because of my daughter's ailment?"
'Nope. Still hasn't gotten that stick out of his ass. I would've figured since he's obviously married and has a child that he would've gotten laid since the last time we spoke. But either his wife or he is just a poor fuck cause he hasn't loosened up an ounce.' "You would be correct." Nox replied. "We were passing by on our return from Valyria and sen-"
"Can you heal her?"
Biting back the retort that wanted to be free, Nox nodded. "Aye. Talisa and I have developed a technique to heal greyscale an-"
"Has it been successful?"
Now Nox was getting ready to blast the man with a bolt of Force Lightning, just to remind him just who he was speaking too. 'I hate being interrupted.' "If you would let me finish, Lord Stannis," Nox growled, noticing that the two guards behind him both shifted their weight and readied their grips on their swords. "Then you would know that we have cured four individuals of greyscale since we left Valyria. And you two, don't even try it. You take even one threatening step towards either myself or the young lady beside me and I'll shove your heads up each other's asses."
It was only because of Lord Stannis's intervention that the two men did not immediately charge at Nox and thus seal their fate. "Leave us. Both of you." The Lord of Dragonstone commanded, his tone brokering no argument and making both men immediately bow and leave the room. "How long will this cure of yours take to administer?"
"The initial treatment could last an hour or several. It all depends on the severity of the infection." Nox explained. "After that, your daughter will need to take a specific dosage of antibiotic twice a day for at least a week or more to help fight off the remaining infection. After the antibiotics have run their course, your daughter will need to remain isolated for at least a week or more to ensure the infection does not flare up once more."
"And if it does?"
Nox merely shrugged. "Then we go through the process once more. However, of the four we have treated, all four have had all of sign of greyscale disappear within two to three weeks after going through this treatment. Though to hedge our bets, I will leave a detailed process with your Maester on how to continue her treatment should the need arise."
Stannis's face never changed once throughout the entire conversation. But he could tell that it was just an act. The man was a duck on a pond. On the surface, calm. But underneath the surface, his feet were going near the speed of sound. "What do you need?" the Lord of Dragonstone asked, breaking the long silence between the four people left in the room.
"My Apprentice is collecting what we need from our ship in order to heal your daughter," Nox informed him. "But we can begin our preliminary examination of your daughter's condition before he arrives."
Nodding, Stannis's eyes tracked towards the open doors and the two guards standing just outside. "Guard. Go and wait for the Sorcerer's Apprentice in the main hall. Bring him immediately to my daughter's chambers the moment he enters. You two, with me. You as well, Ser Davos."
Falling in step with Stannis, Talisa and Ser Davos lined up behind them as they were led further up the tower. "When did your daughter's condition become recognizable?" Talisa asked as the four climbed the stairs.
Stannis didn't give any indication of having heard her as he continued to head up the stairs. "Maester Cressen recognized the greyscale forming on her flesh a moon's turn ago. The Maester has been doing what he can to slow it's progression, but he has been unable to treat her fully."
That wasn't good. The few that they had treated were both recognized and treated within two weeks of coming into contact with the affliction. Force only knew just how far the disease was able to spread given it'd been four weeks since it was first recognized. As they reached the topmost level of the tower, Nox was immediately hit with another slight disturbance from the Force. A wail of agony and defiance. And now he had a decent idea about just who was causing the disturbance and why.
Leading them towards a door with two guards stationed on either side, Stannis didn't even spare either helmed man a glance before he strode past them, flinging the doors open and leading the four inside. "My lady! Please, you must take this! It will-"
"No!" A young voice screamed in agony. "No more! It – It – No! Please!"
Stepping around Stannis, Nox took stock of what was going on. The room was sparsely furnished, save for a desk and a large bed. And upon the bed was a little girl perhaps no older than six or seven years old. Her entire presence screamed agony stemming from the greyscale that stretched from near her eye level down past her neck and under the nightshirt she was wearing. And beside the bed was a very old man, even by Nox's standards, trying to get the young girl to drink some milky white concoction. 'Milk of the poppy if I remember correctly.'
The moment the four entered the room, the Maester turned his attention from the little girl on the bed to them. He could feel the eyes of the man bounce off all of them, only to come back and linger on him. "Lord Stannis, please, forgive the sight. Your daughter is in a great deal of pain an—"
Not waiting for the old fool to finish, Nox stepped past Stannis and all but physically pushed the aged Maester out of the way so that he could take his place beside the young girl. Holding his hand over the girl's head, he sent gentle waves of Force into her in order to temporarily deadened the nerves in her body. Almost immediately, the young girl stopped screaming and squirming in her bed. 'She's strong in the Force. Not quite as strong as Jon. But she's definitely at Arya's level in terms of sheer power.'
Feeling the girl open her eyes under his hand, Nox pulled back slightly on his power. "You – You're the sorcerer from the North." The young girl's voice was coarse from screaming for Force only knew how long. And deep within his darkened heart, he felt something shift within him. 'Damn it…Why do I always have such a soft spot for children?'
"That I am, young Shireen."
Hope swelled within the young girl as a smile graced her scaled face. "Are – Are you here to help me?"
"I am," he nodded before holding his hand out over her face once more. "We can talk more later, young one. But for now, I need you to sleep." At his command, Shireen went limp as her eyes rolled back into her head.
"Gods, what have you done, sorcerer?!"
Turning his head towards the old Maester, Nox waved off the man's concern. He could almost taste the fear and distrust that was coming from the Maester. "Not what you think, old man. I merely put her into a deep sleep for the time being so that we can work on curing her. Talisa, I need you to expose the areas we need to work on. Lord Stannis, we need freshly boiled water, a wooden table she can lay on, fresh linens, and whatever vinegar you have here. Also, her current clothes, plus whatever she's been wearing since the greyscale was discovered, and her bedding, all need to be taken out and burned."
Perhaps it was the command in his voice, or perhaps it was because he'd managed to give his daughter a small semblance of peace, but Stannis didn't even hesitate before barking out orders for the guards and chambermaids to fulfill his commands to the letter. Less than half an hour later, the room had been cleared out of her bedding and clothes, and a table was brought in along with fresh linens to cover both the hard-wooden surface and to preserve the young girl's dignity.
"The greyscale has spread far, but not nearly as far as it should have," Talisa noted as herself, Nox, and the Maester examined the young Shireen while Stannis and Davos stayed as far back as they could while still being in the room. "If the first time you noticed the scaling was nearly a moon's turn ago, the spread should be far greater than what it is. She's remarkably strong willed for one so young."
Nox knew that there was more to it than that, but now was neither the time nor the place to go over the fact that the Lord of Dragonstone's daughter was not only Force-sensitive, but one of the more powerful Force sensitive individuals he'd come across on this world. Sensing the approach of his Apprentice, Nox didn't bother turning around as Jon half-ran half-skidded into the room as he attempted to slow himself.
"Master," Jon breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath while holding out the leather case containing the antibiotics and surgery tools. "I've brought everything."
"Good." Not even bothering to look back, Nox held out his hand and used the Force to pull the leather case out of Jon's hand and onto the nearby table where the case unfolded to reveal the different cutting instruments and vials of antibiotics. "Lord Stannis. At this time, there is nothing you can do to help, and this will not be pleasant. I'd advise you take yourself and my Apprentice, Jon here, down to the courtyard so that you can work off some of that famous Baratheon fury that I can sense boiling just under the surface within you. And don't feel the need to hold back on account of his age. I assure you, Jon can and has taken quite the beating in the yard many times."
Jon, knowing what was coming, didn't need telling twice and almost left a trail of dust behind him in his haste to get out of the room. Stannis hesitated only a second behind Jon. But after giving a slight nod to the Maester and a wordless command to stay in the room, he too left and was followed soon after by Davos. Dipping his hands into one of the buckets of freshly boiled water to wash them, Nox stepped to the side and allowed Talisa, followed by the Maester, to repeat the process before the three gathered around the unconscious Shireen while they each put on leather gloves that'd been provided for them. Picking up one of his makeshift scalpels, he turned it, so the blade was pointed towards him and held it out for Talisa to take. "Talisa, you're on point this time around. We'll follow your lead."
To her credit, Talisa didn't hesitate nor flinch as she took the scalpel from him before bending over Shireen near her face. "We'll begin near her eye and work down," Talisa stated, her hand steady and her voice firm as she picked up a pair of tweezers in her offhand. "Sorcerer, stand ready with water and vinegar to keep the wounds clean."
"What in the name of the gods do you think you're doing?!" the Maester shouted as he finally recognized just what was about to happen as Talisa laid the flat of the blade against Shireen's skin near the edge of the greyscale by her eye. "You cannot just flay the girl! Lord Stannis will have both of your heads when h—!"
Snapping his fingers, the Force responded to his command by clamping the Maesters mouth shut with an audible click. "Shut – up – and let us work."
Casting the Maester a not-so-pleasant look out of the corner of her eye at being interrupted, Talisa bent back over Shireen and resumed her position. Taking a single breath to steady herself, Talisa slid the blade under the greyscale, causing pus and blood to pour out from the wound. Dipping a nearby clean cup into another pail of boiled water, Nox slowly poured the water around the wound, keeping the pus and blood from blocking Talisa's view as she slowly worked her knife around the edges of the greyscale in order to dislodge the infection from her skin.
Without a way to tell time, it was difficult for Nox to tell just how long they worked. But he knew by the time Talisa had finally removed the last of the greyscale from Shireen, hours had passed and the sun was nearing the horizon, forcing her to call for torches, candles, and lamps to be brought into the room to provide her enough light to see what she was doing. During that time, the Maester had finally stopped trying to interfere and had instead taken over the duties of removing the infected flesh that Talisa cut away while Nox kept the wounds clean.
"That should be the last of it," Talisa sighed with evident relief, dark circles forming around her eyes. "Now, we need to clean the wounds with water and vinegar to disinfect it as best we can. Then, it will be your turn, sorcerer, to heal her up."
"'Heal her up'?" the Maester questioned, looking down uneasily at the exposed flesh that'd been removed while he and Talisa used a mixture of water and vinegar to clean the infection as best they could. "How do you intend to heal her from…this?"
"Simple," Nox replied with a slight smirk as. "I intend to cheat as it were."
With the wounds cleaned, Nox held his hand over Shireen and slowly pulled on the Force, shaping it to his will before laying it over the young girl like a warm blanket. The Maester stumbled back and gasped loudly as the open flesh across Shireen's face and chest reformed and closed, leaving only a slight discoloration of skin as any evidence that she had even been afflicted with greyscale in the first place.
"By the gods, old and new," Cressen breathed as he reached out to touch the freshly healed skin.
"Don't!" Talisa warned the man, stopping him from touching Shireen as she began pulling out bandages to cover the freshly healed flesh. "We don't know if the previous areas are still contagious or not. So, for the next week, the parts of her body that were marred with greyscale need to be kept covered and clean."
Sensing a familiar presence making its way quickly up the stairs, Nox stalled Talisa from bandaging the young girl. "Hold off on bandaging the girl up for a moment, Talisa. In this case, seeing is believing right now."
He could sense her confusion as to why he stopped her, but his reasoning became apparent as several sets of heavy boots marked the return of Stannis, Jon, Davos, and several guards wearing the sigil of House Baratheon.
"I have waited long enough, sorcerer," Stannis all but growled as he marched into the room. "When will you be finished?"
Purposefully standing between Stannis and his daughter, Nox took his time in removing his gloves and tossing them into a pile of other linens that were destined to be put to the torch. "Patience is a virtue, Lord Stannis. Delicate operations like this take time. Otherwise, the healers can make a mistake and make whatever they're trying to heal worse. But, in this case, your timing is impeccable as we have just finished with the first stage of healing your daughter."
Stannis didn't even wait for Nox to finish as the man crossed the distance between them so that he could lay eyes upon his daughter. Relief and joy sang out from the man as he looked upon his healed daughter sleeping peacefully on the table. All signs of greyscale gone from her person. But as quick as his joy came, it was quickly and ruthlessly stomped back down, leaving the man as blank as a droid or a Jedi. "You said this is the first stage. Yet, I see no sign on greyscale on her. What needs to be done next?"
'So, the man has emotions. But like a Jedi he seems content to deny that they even exist.' Moving around the room, he picked up one of the vials of antibiotics that Jon had brought with him. "Nothing invasive as what she just went through. She simply needs to take a spoonful of this twice a day. Once when she wakes and once before she goes to sleep for the night for two weeks. During this time, she needs to be kept isolated and under observation just in case the greyscale flares back up again."
"And what is that? Some sort of liquid magic, sorcerer?" Maester Cressen asked, though his tone lacked the bite it had when they'd begun the process of removing the greyscale from Shireen.
"Nothing quite as fanciful as that, Maester." Nox countered, setting the vial down. "This was created with good old-fashioned science. Nothing mystical about it. It's a concoction that's distilled from mold. It'll help her fight off the infection, attacking the greyscale still in her system. Or to put it simply, think of it as sending reinforcements onto a battlefield."
"And that will cure her?" Stannis asked, his eyes still not leaving his daughter.
"In our limited experience so far, yes." Nox nodded. "Though, I will note that we have not treated one with such an advanced condition as your daughter's. But your daughter is strong, very strong. She will pull through this."
Giving one last glance at his daughter, Stannis straightened and turned so he was facing Nox and Talisa. "I promised a boon to whoever managed to heal my daughter. You two have done what many, including my own Maester, have told me was impossible. Name your boon. And should it be reasonable, I will see it done."
"I require nothing, Lord Stannis," Talisa answered almost immediately. "I would never seek payment for healing a child."
"Well, I'm not entirely as selfless as the good Lady Talisa here," Nox added with a chuckle. "But there are two things—"
"You only get one, sorcerer," Stannis countered.
"I'm only asking for one thing, Lord Stannis," Nox countered back. The interrupting was seriously starting to grate on his nerves. "This keep is made of black stone that has drawn my interest. I request a sample of it. A single barrel full would be sufficient."
If the Lord of Dragonstone found his request odd, he didn't say it. "Done. And the second?"
"A discussion between the two of us that would be best held in private."
He could feel the irritation come from Stannis, but the man merely gave him a curt nod in response before turning and marching quickly out of the room. Keeping up with the man's brisk pace, Stannis led the two of them a short distance down the hall before opening a seemingly random door and letting Nox enter before shutting the doors behind them. Just like the few other rooms he'd encountered in the keep, room was very spartan with only a single desk and chair in the center of the room.
"What is it you wished to speak to me about, sorcerer?" Stannis all but demanded as soon as the two of them were alone.
"Your daughter's future, Lord Stannis," he said, facing Stannis.
Stannis rocked back, clearly not expecting that as suspicion and confusion wared within him. "What of her future, sorcerer?"
"Your daughter is Force sensitive, Lord Stannis. Much like myself and the Stark children under my charge. Not only that, but she is strong in the Force, very strong. It's why she was able to hold the infection at bay as much as she did and why I'm confident that with a little bit of help, she will be able to make a full recovery. Given the proper training, she could become quite the powerful individual in the future."
Whatever Stannis had been expecting, that was clearly not it as his suspicion and confusion were dashed almost immediately. "My daughter is…the same as you?"
"Well, not exactly the same," Nox shrugged. "She's not nearly as powerful as myself or even my Apprentice out there in terms of raw power. But given time and training, she could one day reach my level."
Moving away from him, Stannis stood with his back towards him while facing out of the lone window in the small room. "And I take it that you are the only one capable of training my daughter to use this power?"
"Yes," he immediately replied. "Take it how you will, but it is the truth. I'm sure you could find teachers in Essos or maybe even the Citadel if you're lucky. But, at best, they will be able to teach your daughter mere parlor tricks. I will teach your daughter how to use her power to the fullest."
"And what will it cost me to have you train my daughter to use these strange powers of yours?" the Lord of Dragonstone asked as he folded his hands behind his back.
"Nothing," Nox answered honestly, drawing a surprised turn of the head from Stannis. "Those of us like myself, true Sith, seek out those who are truly powerful and pass on our knowledge to them. It is by doing this that we ensure that the next generation of Force users are more powerful than the previous. So, you could almost say it is my obligation to find and train those I find of sufficient power so that they might one day surpass myself." It was an oversimplification of the Sith doctrine, but Stannis didn't need to know that.
"I see," Stannis replied, turning to once again look out over the island while thinking over the offer. "The fact that you are training Lord Stark's children gives credence to your claims. And if what I saw in Stark's bastard boy in the yard is any indication, then you truly are a man of your word. However, my daughter is not yet seven name-days. She is still too young to foster."
This time, Nox didn't bother to hide his scoff. "A bull shit excuse and not the real one as for why you don't want your daughter to come with me right now."
True to his family name, fury coursed through Stannis as he spun around and faced Nox. "You presume to know what I am—?!"
"I don't presume, I know," Nox countered, not backing down. He'd faced far angrier and far more powerful than the Lord of a small island to even feel the slightest twitch of fear. "You suppress your emotions well enough to keep your face passive in order to fool those around you. But to one like me, you might as well be screaming what you're feeling at the top of your lungs. You don't want your daughter to come with me right now because of some horse shit about her not being old enough. No. Simply put, you don't want your daughter to come with me because you love her, and you're scared. For fuck's sake, you just nearly watched her suffer a terrible death at the hands of greyscale. Is it really such a crime to admit to yourself that you love that little girl and you're afraid to let her go right now after she's just been healed?"
Walking forward until they were but an arm's length apart, Nox kept his eyes, figuratively of course, trained on Stannis. "I've seen what happens to those who deny their emotions and rely only on a sense of 'duty' to guide them. They become little more than mindless drones masquerading as people. You love your daughter. There is no shame in admitting that. Instead of denying it, use it. Use your emotions to fuel your purpose and make you stronger. Make yourself better than others think you are."
An uneasy silence settled in between the two as Nox stood his ground before Stannis, neither willing to be the first to break away. In the end though, Stannis was the one to crack first as he sighed and turned around, unable or unwilling to keep facing Nox. "Is there a time when my daughter will no longer be able to learn how to use these powers of yours?"
"The younger one can begin training the better as it allows their mind to be properly melded to the use of their abilities," Nox commented. "But if you wish to hold onto your little girl a little while longer, then I would say she has to begin formal training within the next few years before she reaches the age of ten. Until then, I can give her some exercises to help her begin learning how to control her powers."
"And if she doesn't begin your formal training until after her tenth name-day?"
Nox shrugged. "Then her powers will go down one of two paths. Either they will begin to atrophy until they are next to nonexistent or she begins experimenting without proper guidance and potentially harm either herself or those around her."
The answer seemed to appease Stannis. "So, what you are saying is that I have to decide whether or not I want my daughter to receive training from you within the next three years. What does this training entail? The bastard proved himself a fine blade, perhaps one of the finest I have ever seen despite his age. Yet my daughter is no man. And she has responsibilities to uphold as a future lady of House Baratheon."
Nox wanted to bang his head against the wall. This shit was so much easier in the Empire, and even the Republic. Once a Force sensitive was taken in for training, their past lives were supposed to be of no consequence. Not that that was always true. But it was the way it was supposed to be. "Think of her training as in terms of an education given to even the highest-ranking families in this land and the education given to the Maesters of the Citadel. And then elevate said education several times over and you will have but a glimpse of what I intend to teach your daughter. She will be trained in martial prowess. It is a part of what makes us who we are. But it need not be the field she specializes in, like my Apprentice Jon. And frankly, Lord Baratheon, it is not just your choice to make here. This is your daughter's life you are talking about. If you don't feel the need to give her the choice about her future, then perhaps you don't actually love your daughter as much as I thought you did."
The fury within Stannis raged once more as the man fought to keep a lid on his family's temper. 'Oh, I can't wait to get Shireen up North and begin her training. Her Family's words are 'Ours is the Fury'. What better slogan for a future acolyte of the Sith can there be but that?'
"Very well, sorcerer," Stannis said harshly, all friendly tone gone from his voice. "I shall…consult my daughter about training under you in the future."
"Splendid." Now he just needed to plant the idea in the girl's head to want to be trained. Which shouldn't be that difficult of a task. After all, children were always very easily swayed by the arcane. "Then, with your permission, our ship will stay docked in the harbor for the night so that Talisa and I can monitor your daughter's progress throughout the night. And in the morning, I shall test your daughter's aptitude for the Force, and should she prove herself to a certain point, I will give her a few exercises to do before she comes North. Then we will leave as soon as I am satisfied. We have been away from the North for far too long. And many amongst my crew are anxious to return to their homes."
"Very well," Stannis replied, going over to his desk and writing down a quick note before handing it to him. "Give this to the first servant you come across and they will grant you and your foreign healer any room near my daughter's so you may stand vigil throughout the night. However, come morning, I will be present when my daughter awakes and when you put her through this test of yours. Now leave me. I have much to think about."
Taking the note, Nox gave the stern man the barest of nods before turning and leaving him alone. 'Well, that was interesting. Responding to a disturbance in the Force and finding another potential acolyte on Arya's level…Hmm…I must be doing something right for the Force to favor me so.'
