His feet were firm upon the deck of the dark mahogany ship, as firm as they would be on land. They had always been so, ever since his father had insisted he learn to sail ships and command fleets in battle. As the heir to Dragonstone, Lyonel Baratheon would one day command the Royal Fleet for his king. But today was not command of a fleet, but rather a single ship, and Lyonel directed it into the port of the Free City of Pentos at his father's order. Lyonel had been worried by his father, he had returned four of every five of the ships of the Royal Fleet to Dragonstone, immediately had every ship in or passing Dragonstone seized by his fleet and then had sent for him. Lyonel was to take a single ship, a double decked galley, with one hundred trained men, and make for Pentos with all haste. He had not questioned his father, his father knew what was best and it was not Lyonel's place to disobey him.

"Half sail," he called out, and Maric Seaworth, his second in command, repeated the command at the top of his lungs. The Silent Stag was not Lyonel's warship, but speed and subtlety meant more than strength in this matter. Either way, it mattered not what ship you were in, attempting to manoeuver a warship in a harbour at full sails would never work, you needed the greater freedom of movement of half sails at least, until you closed all the sails and moved on to the oars. There were half a hundred ships also moving into the harbour, presumably for the same reason they were, to attend the wedding of the last daughter of House Targaryen to a Dothraki horselord, the head of a horde of forty thousand warriors, the largest in the world. However he suspected that their visit was sincere. Under orders of his father, Lyonel Baratheon was here to seize the bride. "Take us in Maric," Lyonel said. Maric Seaworth, a competent seaman, nodded and took charge as Lyonel moved below decks to meet with the knights who were accompanying him, who were to put themselves in harm's way to accomplish his father's goal.

"My lord," Ser Rolland Storm greeted, bowing his head. Ser Rolland was accompanying him since his father had returned home and his duties as Castellan of Dragonstone were no longer needed, and Ser Rolland was a skilled fighter, who worshiped the Warrior more than Lyonel did himself. "Are we soon to dock?"

Lyonel nodded, "shortly," he said. He looked over his men, they were all armed and armoured, but their armaments gave no hint as to who they were, which was important. Although the Royal Fleet could easily overpower the Fleet of Pentos, due to the restrictions of the size of the Fleet the Pentoshi could float imposed on them by the Braavosi, his father had told him to avoid war if at all possible, and Lyonel never aimed to disappoint his father. "Are you all ready?" Lyonel asked, and the men nodded, following orders to remain undetected as long as possible. "Good, now," he said sitting down, "here is what we know, the wedding will take place three days from now, and in attendance will be forty thousand Dothraki warriors, armed and bloodthirsty," he pointed to a map of Pentos that he had placed on the wall. "We know that the Targaryen striplings are being hosted by Illyrio Mopatis," Lyonel pointed to the map, at a large mansion, "this is his residence. We must aim to take the princess between here and the location of the wedding, outside the city."

"What do we know about the defences of the city?" Ser Clayton Suggs asked.

Lyonel bit his lip. "Very little," he admitted, "they have doubled the size of the watch in preparation for the wedding, but beyond that, we know nothing."

"We can use the next two days to find out, surely," said another knight.

Lyonel nodded, "that is what we shall be doing. When we disembark this ship, we must split up, groups of five, and find out whatever we can about this wedding as quickly as we can." The knights nodded. Lyonel nodded in return, he had picked each and every one of them himself, as both his mother and father had told him, it was important that he trust each and every one of them with his life in this matter. He had left his mother and father to pick the crew for his ship, they knew the loyalty of the fleet, it's ships and crews better than he did.

He felt the ship dock and waited "Lord Lyonel," Lyonel looked over to the stairs to the deck, and saw Maric there, "the customs officers are demanding to speak to the captain, you'll need to speak with them if you wish for us to retain this berth for the ship."

Lyonel sighed and turned to his men, "remain silent, I shall call if I need you," he told them and they nodded as he made his way to the upper deck, fastening a light blue cloak to his shoulders and hooking his mace to his right hip. He decided to leave his bow behind, he did not need to overwhelm the officer, only show him that he was armed.

He disembarked alone to meet with the officer, who had four guards in scale armour with large shields and long spears accompanying him. The pale and sweating officer looked unnerved by Lyonel's mace. Good, he thought, maybe he will be more open to allowing me to retain a berth for my ship.

"Good captain," the officer said in a soft silky voice, "we apologise for the delay, but this is a formality we need to do." Lyonel nodded curtly, hoping that a feigned air of impatience would help get through this quickly. "What is your business in Pentos?"

"Trade," Lyonel replied coldly.

"What commodities does your ship carry?"

"At the moment none," Lyonel said, "only some men who help defend my ship, and coin to pay for new goods."

"And where do you come from?"

"White Harbour," Lyonel said, knowing that mentioning King's Landing or Dragonstone would raise more suspicion if an investigation was launched, given who ruled there. I can't have this reflect back onto father. I'm surely here to prevent a war, not start one with Pentos "Before then I sailed from the Arbor with a hundred barrels of Arbor wine to sell, now I come here for new goods before moving on to the city of Volantis."

The man struggled to keep up with what Lyonel said as he was jotting it down on a book he was trying to balance on his knee. Not very well either. "And," he said finally, having caught up with himself. "What would my men find when they inspected your hold?"

"One hundred armed and angry men," Lyonel replied honestly, lying at customs was not good, Davos had once told him, not if they inspected your ship and found you to be lying. "You must know of the pirate roaming the Narrow Sea?" The man nodded, even though Lyonel knew that to be a lie. That pirate was Salladhor Saan, and his ships were in Lys and had been for a while, Davos was on his way there to meet with them, Lyonel was still unsure as to why. The customs official had paled even more when Lyonel mentioned his knights, and so closed his book and stepped aside. "You may use this berth for the duration of your visit to the Free City of Pentos." Lyonel nodded as he scurried away and turned to dispatch his men to the different districts of the city, to taverns and inns, in an attempt to learn whatever could be learnt about the upcoming wedding of Daenerys Targaryen and the Dothraki Khal as they could, and where it would be best to steal the former princess.

Lyonel, Ser Rolland, Ser Andrew Estermont, Ser Gerald Gower and Ser Aerion Bar Emmon entered a tavern in the district nearest to the manse of Illyrio Mopatis. They saw heads turn in their direction, understandable, five armoured individuals draw attention in a tavern like this, where most wore perfumed cloth and rich silks and fabrics. Lyonel marched straight to a table in a far corner, the best place to observe his surroundings, and sat down, his knights following suit. Aerion, the fairest and most comely of them, playied the part of a lecherous captain who had just come in to dock and was exploring the city, groped the arse of a passing serving girl, "some ales love." The pale haired bright eyed knight acted so much like uncle Robert often did. It repulsed Lyonel, but it was what had to be done. He looked around and noticed the vast array of people here. Given his father's recent seizure of so many ships from so many different places, Lyonel could tell different people by their looks, he could use that to his advantage. "Gerald," he said, and Gerald, a dark haired, golden eyed individual, who had only earned his knighthood upon the Trident, nodded, he wasn't as naturally comely as Aerion, could sweet talk almost anyone, or so he claimed, though he had yet to succeed with Lyonel's father. When the pretty serving girl, with soft brown eyes and dirty blonde hair returned to their corner with a tray of drinks, Aerion pulled her onto his lap. He buried his face into her neck, under the pretence of sniffing her like the drunk sailor he was pretending to be. Lyonel glimpsed the collar, this one was a slave in all but name. "So then beauty," he said, holding her close, "what's with the crowd here?"

She was timid, but it seemed she had not been forbidden from speaking. "There's t' be a wedding, ser," she replied, "a princess to a horselord, everyone who is anyone will be there."

"Are you anyone?" Aerion asked. Lyonel suspected not.

"No ser," she replied, trying to get up but Aerion held her fast. "I will watch as the princess comes past us."

"Past us where?" Aerion asked, "I've never seen no princess, where could I watch?"

"All along the path ser," she replied, finally managing to get up, "could you ask another I really need to-"

As she got up Lyonel seized her arm and pulled her low, clapping a hand over her mouth to silence her gasp. He looked across the table at Ser Andrew Estermont, who glanced around and nodded, no-one had seen. "Tell me," he said, not even trying to put on a voice his uncle would approve of, "do you have a family?" He stared into her eyes intently, hoping to tell her with his own that he meant no harm. His father was no good at that, but his mother was, and he hoped he had inherited this from her.

She nodded slowly and he released his hand, ready to slam it over her mouth again at a moment's notice, "a son and a daughter, their father is dead," she whispered.

"I can take you and your children away from this city," he whispered back, "but you will have to do something for me first."

"I am not a whore ser," she replied in a vehement whisper. She had spirit, good, completely timid people could be forced but could equally run off to their master.

"I am not asking for that service," Lyonel told her, "I simply need you to walk me down the street that the Princess will go down, tonight, when the sun has set. Can you do that?"

She glanced over her shoulder also looking out for her overseers. Then she glanced at Aerion, who'd dropped his lecherous look. "What's going on?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," he replied. "I'm sorry for my friend, but we had to make sure you knew what you needed us to know, you understand?"

She nodded, fear palpable in her face.

"Good," he said. "We mean you no harm, but we need your help."

"How can I trust you?" She whispered to him.

Lyonel pulled a marcher necklace out, "this belonged to my mother," he said, pressing it into her hand. "Keep it as a guarantee that I will return and not just leave, all I need you to do," he repeated, "is wait outside this tavern after dark, I will be there, and you can then lead me down the path."

She nodded, her eyes widening at the sight of the necklace, slipped the necklace over her neck and disappeared into the crowd. The necklace was not actually his mothers, but a cheap copy, it was not even real silver. All he needed it to do was get this girl's trust, then he could wait to find the best place in which to ambush the princess" convoy and rush back to the ship. "Will this work my lord?" Asked Ser Andrew, once the girl had vanished.

Lyonel took a draught from his tankard. "It will or it won't," he replied, "if it doesn't, we find another way." Now he had a long wait until sundown.

He had spent the whole day in the tavern, his knights not being able to learn about the sort of entourage that would be accompanying the Targaryen through the streets. The only thing they found out, which was a good thing, was that the Dothraki would all be outside the city. Hopefully, with the horses that they had brought with them, Lyonel and his knights could seize the princess and be in the harbour before the massive horde outside learned that the bride of the wedding was gone. Perhaps more importantly, before their ship could be seized by the Pentoshi authorities. When he got up and left the tavern, he was glad to see the serving wench waiting nervously outside.

"It is this way," she said quietly, leading them on in silence down several streets, good, I don't need her to speak, only to lead, he and his knights would be able to determine the best location to ambush the convoy.

"Stop," Lyonel said, they had reached a small square with seven entrances. Maybe the gods were blessing them, seven was ideal, enough entrances to attack from multiple directions at once and then break for freedom down the streets to the harbour. "Here," he said and all his knights nodded.

"We can have ten men down each street and then break for freedom," Ser Andrew said.

Aerion turned to the woman. "What is the fastest way to the harbour from here?"

She pointed down one of the streets. "That way, the street is almost direct to the harbour from here."

Lyonel nodded. "What is your name?" He asked the woman kindly.

"Saerra," she replied, quietly.

"Saerra," he told her, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. "And your children?"

"My son is called Kailen," she whispered, "and my daughter is called Aeriel."

Lyonel nodded, pretending to be impressed by them, in truth, names meant little to him. "Well, Saerra, when you are done tomorrow night, bring your children to the tavern, I will bring you to my ship and you will all come with us."

"Where will we go?" She asked.

"You will come with us to Westeros," he told her, "I will arrange it so that your son becomes a squire, and your daughter a handmaiden to either my mother or sister."

"A squire?" She asked.

"One day, he will become like us."

"I will take him on myself," Aerion said, "by means of an apology for my... behaviour earlier," Lyonel nodded.

"Very few get this chance, your son will enjoy a good life."

Saerra nodded. "Thank you ser, I will bring them both tomorrow."

Lyonel nodded as she swiftly scurried away, presumably back to her master. "Will you actually do so?" Gerald asked him.

He looked at the knight, "my father taught me to honour pledges made where possible, this is most possible."

Gerald nodded, "I will bring her to the ship myself," he said, "that will give you enough time to inform the others about our chosen location."

Aerion added, "I will too, it will be good for the boy to see the man he will be squiring for."

Lyonel nodded, "be ready men, in three days we steal ourselves a princess."

"Why are we stealing her?" Andrew asked, "why not just kill her and her brother?"

"Because my father says we take her," Lyonel replied instantly, "he cares not for the brother, but we need the girl, and we will have her."