—The Narrow Sea—

Aboard the Meraxes…

The following night, sailors and crewmates were tending to the engineering systems of the Meraxes. So far, all systems have been good and operational. Gawain learned quickly how cold it is when on the open waters. Seven hells, it was cold! His team was freezing, but the sailors did not seem to mind. There seemed to be some teasing about how 'landlubbers' would not have lasted in the Royal Fleet years beforehand.

A common rivalry amongst army and navy personnel alike about who was superior in their field.

"Here," Daenar approached with a flask. "Dornish red. It'll do you good the first time at sea."

Gawain accepted the flask with a grateful nod, taking a deep swallow. "Ahhh!" he felt relieved. "I had a corporal. He said that his grandfather drank a cup of mulled wine three times a day and lived to be 102, and at this point, I honestly believed him." He passed the flask back to Daenar and stuffed his hands into his uniform coat. "How do you stand this? I thought the further south we traveled the hotter it was supposed to get, it is colder than wood witch's tits out here." Gawain though was glad that it was just the cold that was getting to him, a few of his men had discovered that traveling by the ship made them seasick. The first day out a few had been vomiting their guts out over the railing. When he last saw Kay, he was in his bunk as green as a lizard and clutching a bucket.

"Cold and dense air flows from water to land," Daenar explained. "The reason you feel warm on solid ground is the flow is much weaker; especially when exposed to sunlight. Here, on the open waters, it is much stronger. And because it's nighttime, the weather is cooler - hence why you landlubbers are freezing your tits off." He sat down. "But for my family? It is an ancient tradition dating back to Old Valyria before the Doom. The sons of House Velaryon are given a taste of a seafarer's life when young. I have been doing this since I was four years old."

"Keep that pressure steady, lads!" another sailor chimed in.

"Colmar," a crewmate hollered, "move those crates over there! No, not there! Over there... a little bit more. Just a- Gods damn it, not again!"

"Sorry!" Colmar apologized.

Daenar watched as several started to form a safely built bonfire; once the fire was lit, it brought about a sigh of relief for the army and militia volunteers as they huddled closer to the heat, warming up their hands. "That didn't take long," he said. "I've been told we're getting some sort of entertainment later."

"Oh? Would it involve some of your sailors drinking a barrel of rum and singing some kind of sea-shanty involving a kiss from a mermaid or fighting some kind of ocean monster?" Gawain said as a jest of course he was not one to talk, a few years ago he had drunk himself silly at a tavern, got on a table, and sang 'A Bear and Maiden Fair.'

"No, actually Lady Arryn is going to be singing tonight. Do you hear stories about her having the voice of a goddess?"

"Is there anything the Lady of the Vale cannot do? Next, you will tell me she can turn into a real falcon." He said with a chuckle and then leaned in close with a mischievous grin. "So, tell me… how long has your cousin been in love with her?"

"Ooh, I've got some stories about that!" Daenar grinned. "Since they were 11," he whispered. "They tried to keep it a secret, but we all knew. It was not until two years later they became official. If it were not for the Great Spring Sickness, there would have been talks of bounding House Baratheon and House Arryn by blood. We will never know for certain... unless..."

The conversation was interrupted by Sharra's arrival. Escorted by her Brotherhood of Winged Knights guards, she wore a bright white silk dress with cerulean embroidery, a gold falcon pendant around her neck, and bore the ancient Falcon Crown of Mountain and Vale on her head; a crown from a time when the Arryns were royalty themselves. In her hands was a specialized harp; each string designed for high, medium, or low-pitched tunes.

All the crew onboard gathered around the bonfire, as did Gawain's men. Chatter was being hushed into silence so they could witness the Flower of the Mountain's melody. Raising her fingers high, each of her slender fingers tugged at the harp's strings. Back and forth, side to side, each string began to invoke a symphonic harmony as she began to sing.

The rain now falls,
Each drop are tears of a broken heart.
Without you next to me, the path before me has gone uncertain…
Oh, wandering love…
Where have you gone? Oh, I miss you so…
Please don't be gone from my life…
Forevermore.

More and more, Sharra continued to play her harp. Fingers high near the crown and pedal discs for a high-pitched tube, the middle for balance, and near the base for low-key. Twirling and plucking, each song emanating from the harp started to bring tears to many eyes.

Come back to me, my heart and sky,
Please believe you have loved me.
One heart, one soul, one life…

Moving her body slowly coordinated with the music, Sharra had begun to dance with delicate and smooth, yet hypnotic grace.

The sound has sung, soldiers have heard the call.
Dear mothers and our babes, we wait to see you once more.
To ruins laid,
Our home, our sanctuary.
Ashes fall, yet life endures…
Long have I awaited to hear from you.
Hold on to me and what was…
Please let me see you one more time.
One heart, one soul, one life…

The harp strings continued to be played, louder and more rapidly as Sharra's vocalizing dipped with an emotional tug. More of the people watching Sharra sing and dance continued to weep. Before long, the music from the harp had slowly died down to a soft, harmonic tune.

Come back to me, my heart and sky,
Please believe you once loved me.
Come back home…
Come back…
…To me. ~

Once the song and dance had concluded, many rose to give Sharra a standing ovation. She bowed her head in acknowledgment.

"Holy shit..." Daenar gasped in awe. "She does have the voice of a goddess when she sings..."

The entire ship seemed to agree, all hands on the deck were clapping, feet were stomping, and every pair of lips were whistling in admiration of Lady Arryn, though the stern faces of the Winged Knights kept them from getting too rowdy. Gawain had the good fortune to attend a performance at the Royal Concert Hall in King's Landing, during his final year at the Academy. A woman from Lys singing in her native language and accompanied by strange exotic instruments. It had been a beautiful and moving performance, but what he had just heard come from Sharra Arryn, it was truly something else entirely, something almost otherworldly.

Sharra then yawned. Rubbing her eyes, it was apparent she was exhausted. Multitasking compiling documents, sewing, writing letters, singing, and dancing... the Flower of the Vale was tired.

"This way, my lady," Jasline beckoned. "You need to get some sleep."

"Mm-hmmm..."

Sharra did not need another reminder and went below deck to her chambers.

Daenar then stood up. "Well," he grunted, "I'd best return to my duties as well. Get some rest, major. It'll be some time before we reach Dorne." His words brought a collective groan from many of the Army officers, who could not stomach the idea of spending much longer on the ship. Which in turn brought a fresh peel of laughter from the sailors.

—The Vale of Arryn—

The Eyrie…

Loreon had been timing certain guard rotations, all whilst fiddling with the last remaining shackle on his wrist. But the timing was indeed critical if he were to escape from his confinement. If one of the guards on a rotating basis were to recognize him, the alarms would be raised; if there were any sudden noise, the sound would alert those nearby his cell and would increase security detail.

Just a little bit longer…

Loreon shifted slightly to slip the makeshift lockpick into the chain clamped onto his left hand. The time he spent in rebel captivity had left him dirty and exhausted; even if he were to be at peak physical condition, he would simply be recaptured if not killed if it came down to a fight. Sweat dripped down his brow and he wiped it away with his freed right hand. He kept his breathing steady to be as quiet as possible.

"Hey, did you hear that Lady Arryn has left the Vale?" one guardsman asked.

"Yeah," the other said, "General Samson says it is an important mission. Unfortunately, the old man says details of it were 'classified.' Let some of the other lords feel like they were rubbed the wrong way."

"Can you blame them? Not being told anything other than our liege lady no longer in the Vale anymore and continuously swapping with Bryan and Leopold and—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. But orders are orders. Besides, if anything, we have shown Lord Gerion that we have beaten his son and we can do it again if he ever gets loose."

"Heh, heh! Yeah, true. Wish I had been there to see the look on his face when we locked him in a pincer maneuver."

"He wasn't able to squeeze his way out once we and the ironborn hit him on both sides."

Yes, keep laughing it up, rebel scum, Loreon frowned. A Lannister always pays his debts. And soon enough, you will all get your comeuppance.

One of the guards looked inside. "Look at him," he pointed. "Sitting there like a sore loser."

"About time pretty boy was taught a lesson in humility."

"Yeah," the other said. "Look, I got to go to the privy. Need to take a massive shit before I soil my drawers."

"Eww! No need to announce it so brazenly! Just hurry back so Harry can cover my shift."

Loreon listened closely to how the guards were conversing with each other; if he could separate them and lure the lone remaining guard closer to his cell, he could take him out and make his escape. However, there would be a problem – if his partner were to ever return and find him slumped on the floor, then that would certainly raise suspicion. Still fiddling with the chains, Loreon cursed when he felt the lockpick break. He needed to find an alternative. His ears perked up when he heard the jingling of keys.

Perfect!

Loreon hatched a new plan. If the guard outside his cell had the keys, he could snatch them off him and unlock the chains on his left wrist. But to do that, he would have to lure the guard inside his cell. Another breeze blew by, causing Loreon to shiver. He had nearly forgotten that he was in a sky cell; if he were to accidentally roll sideways, he would fall off the edge and meet a gruesome death when his body would hit the ground. Very messy, indeed.

You only get one try, Colonel. So, let's make it count! "Uhhhh!" Loreon made an audible groan and leaned over; clutching his stomach, he let out another sound. "Oooh, Seven hells! When is the food coming? I have not eaten anything in days!"

The guard outside turned his head. "You will eat when we say you eat, Lannister! You shit when we say you shit, and you piss when we say you piss! Now I am not going to even count to three so shut the fuck up before I come in there and sing you a lullaby!" he shouted.

"Is this how you treat your POWs? Throwing them in a cell to freeze and starve? Can't a grown man get any decent grub around here?"

"You get what we give you! Do you not like it? Then you will get nothing at all!"

"Sheesh! Haven't expected such uncivilized men to have the decency to act under the code of conduct established in the army. Oh, I bet you were kicked out of the Royal Military Academy in King's Landing, weren't you?"

"Shut it, Lannister!"

That's it, fat boy. Just a little more. "Well, a captive knight has a right to ensure that all high-ranking prisoners of war are treated with decency… and a little respect now and then, if that is not too much to ask! Now I want some damn grub!"

The guard turned and inserted the key into the lock, flinging it open aggressively. "One more word, and I'll—"

"Or what? You will just beat me? Oooh, I bet old man Samson would not like it when he hears of you misbehaving like that, naughty boy!"

"All right, that does it!"

The guard raised his fists high, but Loreon anticipated such a movement and surprised his captor by swinging his left leg forward to trip him before making his next move. The Lannister colonel then headbutts the guard and beats him with his chained hands, scuffling around with the Vale officer until managing to gain enough of a foothold to get behind him and wrap the chains around his neck, choking the guard until his neck snaps.

Loreon panted. That took longer than anticipated and he had been held prisoner for far too long; he noticed his skills were starting to get rusty. All right, now to get out of this place. Reaching his hands around the dead guard, Loreon takes the keys and unlocks the final cuff from his left hand, finally freeing himself. "Thanks for my freedom. But first…" he knew leaving the body here would be a problem. Any moment now, the other guard would come back. Acting quickly, Loreon removed his old clothes and swapped them with the dead guard's armor. He would make his captors think the dead one was him and the other waiting to be relieved of his duties.

After making it outside, Loreon locked the cell doors behind him and readied himself to act in character when the other Vale guardsman returned.

"Gah! Sorry about that," the guard apologized. "Shouldn't have eaten so much last night!"

"Ahem! Yes, that, uh… tends to happen," Loreon shifted his throat to imitate his other captor's voice. "Ser Vorbas always did say not to try that Braavosi cuisine. Says it, uh, run through you."

"I hear that. Anyway," he waved over another guard, "this one's here to take your place. Report to General Samson and await further instructions."

"Yes, ser!"

"For the Winged Stags!"

'For the Winged Stags'… Seven hells, when did you lot produce such a name? Now, time to run for it! Loreon moved steadily to avoid getting detected. The battle of Riverrun was supposed to be a triumphant moment for me. But that damned traitor made a fool out of me! That will not happen again next time. Once I make it back to the capital, I will gather another force and reclaim my honor!

Upon arriving at the main hall, Loreon took one last glance behind him and proceeded to the drawbridge. It took a while, but he made it halfway across before he heard the alarm bells going off behind him.

"Prisoner escape!" a faint voice was heard.

"All hands! Find him! Don't let Loreon Lannister get away!"

"Well," Loreon cleared his throat, "that's my cue!"

He then proceeded to dash across the drawbridge as fast as he could before he heard the bridge being raised behind him. Making a leap of faith, Loreon successfully landed on the other side. Smirking in a triumphant grin, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he avoided nearby scouts near the Bloody Gate before proceeding down the high road. The long walk back to King's Landing would take time, but Loreon was confident he could report back to his father. He looks up into the grey day, as snow flurries come down.

"Such mad weather in these bloody mountains."

Loreon ignored the snow and continued his way down the hill… the road to freedom.

Chapter End

Author's Note: As the Winged Stags delegation continued to sail to Dorne, what they did not anticipate was that Loreon Lannister would finally stage a daring escape attempt. How will the higher-ups from both factions react when they hear Loreon breaking out? And what dangers lie in wait as Daemon is being brought to the North to undergo a special training session? What will it entail? Find out next time.