"I don't think I want to do it." Jon said nervously.

"Oh, it will be fine. No one will know."

"It doesn't matter as long as it happens. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Jon, honey, did I ever fail you?"

"No! Well, when I think about it…"

"Oh, just shut up and put on your seatbelt!"

It was the third day on the road and I was starting to get bored. Yeah, camping was nice, roadtriping was awesome and my playlist was endless, but driving for such a long amount of time… it drove me mad.

"Alright, alright!" Jon said, a bit upset.

"Don't worry, there's no one here and Ghost's in the woods. It's an empty parking lot." I looked at Jon, who for the first time sat to my left, in the driver's seat.

Yes.

Me, Andie Silver, a blue-haired twenty-one-year-old with a denied love for danger, decided to teach the King in the North to drive.

"Ok, so like I told you-that's where you push to make the car go, see? The right pedal thingy. Then, slightly to the left there's the brake. You push that with the same leg when you want to stop or slow down. But don't push too hard on either of those! Do it gently."

"You mean I am supposed to use the same leg both for speeding and for stopping?"

"Yep."

"I really don't like this."

"Wait until we get to the reverse part."

"Do I want to get to the reverse part?"

"You have no saying in this. Com'on, gimmie your best shot."

Jon looked down at his feet. He tried to used one for the brakes and one for the gas, but learned pretty fast it was too crowded for that. He'll have to learn how to change his foot faster.

Jon held the steering wheel like his life depended on it. His knuckles were white. Nothing different than a first-time driver.

"Hold your hands there-" I placed his hands in the right position on the steering wheel, because they were too high. "Here. And now press gently on the brake pedal," I looked at his foot to make sure he wasn't over-doing it. "Good. Take your right hand and change it the 'D'."

Jon nodded and did as I told him.

"And don't forget to check your mirrors! Check the rearview and your sides to make sure there's no one you might hit."

"I thought you said it's an empty parking lot!" Jon protested and held the steering wheel angrily.

"It is, but you have to get used to doing that."

"Andie, I'll soon be back in Westeros. There are no cars in Westeros."

I ignored his comment. I didn't want to think about it right now, or at all. "It's a skill that might help you with other things." I said. "Now, look in your mirrors."

He looked in the mirrors and sighed. "Clear." He announced.

"Good!" I cheered, "Now let go of the brake. The car will start to move slowly, you don't even have to press the gas pedal."

Jon gulped and did as I said. The car started to move very, very slowly. Jon didn't look less stressed, even though it went for like, a mile per hour.

"Now turn the wheel-also gently, to wherever you want the car to go."

Jon turned sharply to the right. Good thing we weren't fast. The car lazily started to do a sharp turn.

"I said gently!" I said. "Only a slight nudge will be fine."

Slowly, Jon got the hang of the wheel. We were still driving at no-speed, mostly in circles.

"How do you feel about driving?" I asked. I wish I could just let him drive for some of the way…

"I… I think I start to enjoy it." Jon was hesitant, he didn't want me to have an 'I told you so' comment, which was very tempting to make. "It's very slow."

"Alright, try to press the gas then." I said. He looked confident enough with controlling the car's direction.

Jon took a deep breath and lifted his foot to hit the gas.

And we bolted straight.

"Hit the brake! Hit the brake! HIT THE FUCKING BRAKE!" I yelled, my eyes wide as we almost hit a tree, Jon succeeding in turning the car, but not slowing down. The turn was too sharp He did let go off the gas and the steering wheel, but the car was spinning in the parking lot like crazy.

"Take a sharp right and HIT THE FUCKING BRAKE!" I yelled. Jon looked like he's experiencing a PTSD moment.

Really not the best time to have one of those.

I took off my seatbelt and jump-climbed into his lap. I took the steering wheel, took a sharp right while hitting the brake pedal fast and hard. The car stopped with a screech.

I let out a breath of relief while a maniac smile spread across my face.

I can't help it, I love adrenalin. I used to do more shit like that, I was missing it. Even though that back then it wasn't out of a good motive…

Jon was breathing hard behind me. I guess he wasn't a fan of nearly-death experiences, even though he already died once and probably put himself in danger a lot.

"I don't think I should do it again." He said.

I gulped, thinking it over. Yeah, it wasn't the best idea, but how should I know the guy will be that bad? He was handling the one-mile-per-hour thing quite well. I thought that when I said gently, quite a few times, he'll gently press on the pedal. Oh well.

"Yeah, you're right." I said and opened the driver's door. It was getting kinda crowded, the both of us sharing the same seat in a small car, and I think Jon was really uncomfortable. I needed some air, too.

I jumped out of the car, my heart still beating hard.

"But I will teach you to use guns." I said as if it's not the most stupid idea I had ever. I mean, he knows how to use weapons. I'm sure he used a bow and a crossbow, he'll be more careful with that, right? We'll do paintball guns. Definitely paintball guns.

Jon was still breathing hard when he got out of the car, leaning on the car's door. "Maybe," He said, thinking. "Next stop, let me teach you something instead."

We sat up the camp between Illinois and Kansas. Ghost caught a deer and decided to kindly devout it near the fire, where I could see it's dead eyes staring at me.

"It's too heavy." I said, trying to stand like Jon told me while also trying to ignore the dead deer's stare and singing in my head that 'It's the CIRCLE OF LIIIIIIFEE'.

It didn't help.

I bent over to lift his damn sword off the ground, but holding it up? That's too much to ask for. My hands kept failing me, dropping the heavy blade to the ground again and again.

"You need to work on your strength, then." Jon said, but I could hear he was just teasing.

"There's no way in the world that your sister Arya is fighting with a sword like this. You said she's a bit shorter than me. It's, like, at least half of her height."

"It is," Jon agreed. "She doesn't use longswords. I've never seen a woman using that heavy kind of swords. Only the great Brienne of Tarth, who is an exceptional lady."

I looked at my trembling hand while I miserably tried to pick up Longclaw and hold it like he showed me, again. I felt so stupid. "You're messing with me, aren't you?" Then he let his smile show and I gritted my teeth. "You gotta be kidding me! C'mon, I almost broke my back doing that!" I could drag the sword around, but hold it and swing it in a way I'll hit the target and not anything else? That's a no.

"You were doing fine… considering." Jon said and took the sword away like it was made out of plastic.

I felt my muscles, making sure they're not too sore. "Guns are heavy, rifles too, but that thing? It's not fair." I looked at Jon as he showed-off with his fighting skills. He was cutting through the air and spinning the swords in his hand, one hand, what the fuck? And went back into the first fighting position.

"Ok, I get it, you're awesome at sword fighting and you can lift that giant chunk of metal as if it was a feather, thanks for letting me feel so good about myself."

"I needed some practice." Jon explained. "I'm going back soon, and I didn't practice at all. I have to say, I never fought with clothes this light before."

I was thinking a bit, remembering the big pile of clothes and armor he came in that now was folded at the trunk of the car. Fuck, the guy was wearing all that and swung the sword at his enemies.

No wonder he looked so good under my dragon bathrobe.

Shaking my head, I turned to boil some water for our ramen. Then I felt a poke between my shoulder blades that made me jump.

"Here, let me teach you." Jon said. I turned around and saw he was holding a long stick to me, and another one in his hand. "You don't have wooden swords, but we can train with sticks."

"You're kidding me."

"After you taught me how to ride a car-" "Drive a car." "Drive a car so kindly, I want to teach you how to sword fight."

I looked at the stick and sighed. The ramen can wait.

I took the stick from him and went into the first stance he showed me. The balance was way better than the sword's balance, for sure, because I could barely lift it off the ground properly. But it wasn't too light, it had some weight to it.

Jon stood in front of me with his stick in two hands.

I started to laugh. "We're like kids! I didn't play make-belief too much when I was a kid, but this is just… it's so funny!" I fought the urge to try and make myself a noodle mustache.

Jon tried to look serious, but a smile crept up his face. "Do you want to try and strike me first?" He asked. I could see he's not as comfortable with the stick as he is with his sword-the stick was waaaay lighter, didn't have a handle and most importantly-was less stylish. It's hard to play swords with something that had a different fighting technique.

I bit my lower lip and tried to look for weak spots. His legs? Nope, the guy was still as a rock. Stomach? Well, that's where his sword-stick was. And I am definitely not going for his face.

Well, I totally am.

I tried to strike at the side of his head, not using too much strength because I didn't want to really hurt him. We didn't have any helmets or protective gear on. Both of us had summer cloths-short, light and not very practical in that kind of fighting.

He blocked me easily. And stroked to my legs. Ii tried to block it, but was to slow. It didn't hurt too much, but it wasn't fun either. I gasped, but my mind was clear enough to duck when another blow missed my head. "Hey!" I shouted, not really mad at him.

Jon circled me as I stood up. I started to walk too, not wanting to be a fucking pray, even when my chances to win this game are lower than zero. He quirked an eyebrow at me, inviting me to make the next move.

I snorted and lifted up my fake sword. Maybe his arm? I tried to hit his wrist with a swish sound that cut the air but he moved away. "That was pretty smart," Jon said while still moving, "Now, hold your sword a bit higher, you want to protect your face and neck, not just your stomach."

"You know, since it's a stick and not a sword, I think we can use it differently." I said.

Jon gave a quick strike to my side, which I miraculously blocked.

I remembered those old Kung-Foo movies I used to watch. I always wanted to learn that style… how the monks used their glorified bamboo sticks. I held the stick differently-one hand on each side and lifted it up as Jon tried to strike again. He looked a bit confused.

"You can't touch your blade." He said.

"Well, it's not a blade anymore. It's a bamboo stick."

"Andie, I'm trying to teach you how to sword fight. " He tried to be stern.

I rolled my eyes, "When you'll have wooden swords, sure, teach me. But I like it freestyle." I said and tried to spin the stick in one of my hands, which was a great mistake since I was never trained in that fighting skill and didn't know, in fact, doing cool things with weapons that aren't guns, rifles and short blades.

I wish I could do nunchaku, though.

Jon looked at me and then smile, "Free style it is, then." He said and charged. I blocked and dove to get my weapon. He stroked his sword and I blocked every blow, every time taking a small step back. "Your feet are light, that's good." He commented between breaths. We got a bit far from the fire, where there were more tree and less light. I tried to look for a different rout, to stop going bac and take back some power.

"You really didn't have a fight in a long time, did you?" I asked and took another step back.

"It's not my favorite thing to do, but I have to stay in shape."

"Oh, you're totally in shape." I said and breathed out when my back hit a tree. I lifted my arms and the stick just in time to block another blow. "I'm hungry." I said.

Jon still pressed his stick-sword to mine. "Well," He said in a challenging voice, "How are you going to get back?"

I pouted my lips. "You gotta be tired from all of that by now. Aren't you hungry?"

"I am." Jon said like it doesn't bother him. He didn't look like he's going to move soon.

I looked in his eyes for a long moment, again. They shone in the moonlight. I didn't want him to go. I got used to seeing him, to showing him my fucked up world, to his love of chocolate and his smell.

Wait. His smell? What is wrong with me?

Alright, then. You're blocking my way to my food? Big mistake.

I kicked his lower stomach and ducked quickly down. He grunted, more in surprise than pain, and I ran passed him. I heard him running after me. I got close to the camp, just about to reach the pot that was already full of water, waiting to be boiled.

And then I tripped over the leg of the deer Ghost was munching on.

I fucking tripped on a dead deer's body of all things.

My chin got scratched a little bit and I heard Jon getting closer. I rolled on my back, just in time to lift the stick above my head and block Jon's final blow.

"I surrender!" I said, holding my stick up while Jon leaned above me. "I am hungry, torn, and shitty at stick-fighting. Can I have my fucking dinner?"

Jon gave me a weird look, then dropped his stick. I let out a sigh of relief and looked back up to him. I dropped my own stick and stood up.

I don't want to get too close to him, but here I am, bonding over fighting-skills and a ton load of meaningful stares, trying to convince myself he's only an eye-candy. Well, the best guys are taken. I'll be fine without them. Also, I wanted to ask him about Daenerys, but it was his turn to ask the question, so I'll have to be patient.

I boiled the water and treated my lightly scratches chin, trying to forget about it all.

"So can I ask you the second question?" Jon asked over his steaming bowl of ramen.

I slurped some noodles. "Yep." I said, shifting a bit on my piece of log.

"How come you are so skillful with guns? How did you learn that?"

I knew it's going to be the question. I laid down my bowl and thought how to start. "Well, I was trained from a young age, just like you were with your sword."

"Andie," Jon said with his raspy voice, "You know that's not a full answer."

I gulped and looked at the sky. "I know, I'll get right to it." I closed my eyes and sighed. "Ok, it's going to be long."

"As long as my life story?" Jon asked.

"Maybe. I don't have ice zombies in my life story, and nobody killed me yet, but I do have to tell you everything, don't I?" I bit my lip again and started.

"Well, I told you that I was adopted-soled-when I was about three. I also told you I worked for a drug cartel since I was twelve."

"What is exactly a drug cartel?" Jon asked.

I looked at him for a moment, remembering he doesn't have the same kind pf criminals in his world. "It's a person, a criminal, who rose to power by selling a lot of drugs-substances that are illegal and altering the mind, like ale and wine. Cartels have many people who are working for them, and they are very organized. They're violent and greedy and very, very rich." Jon looked like my answer satisfied him, so I continued.

"So apparently that specific cartel tried to have a different approach to who he'll hire. He wanted people with no record here, people that will not be tracked down. So he bought orphans from different country and smuggled us here," Sean was from Ukraine, as far as he knows. "I know it sounds crazy, or too much. Like it's something you read in a book but fiction usually is based on reality." I took my ramen bowl back, mostly to keep my hands warm.

"So we were groups of kids with different purposes. We were brought-up in different states and his workers taught us skills-and whatever we were best at determined what they'll train us for."

"You were good with guns, then." Jon guessed.

"Very, very good with guns." I said. "And close bare-handed combat. I was pretty bad at lying or learning the law, so I wasn't going to be their lawyer. I was shit at math, and organized drug cartels need a good accountant. I wasn't the quickest and sneakiest, so they didn't need me to be a smuggler. But they thought I'll be useful at fights."

"So they trained you to fight?" Jon asked.

"At first, yes. But then came the cartel and met me personally. He introduced himself. A big guy named Nicholas. That was the first time I met him-the man I've been taught about as the person who gave us all of this money and clothes and food. A man that adopted us and made sure we had a home. We thought he was a legend. We thought he was the best thing that happened to us." I sighed. I didn't feel a thing by now, which I was glad for. I didn't want to cry.

"He saw me and said I was the best one. He said I'll be one of his commandos. Special little soldiers. I was so proud… I was ten. They moved me to a different house where I had more intense trainings. I was so, so good."

"You still are." Jon commented.

"I was better." I insisted. "Before I understood it was wrong, I was so much better." I pressed my lips and continued. "And so the day came and I moved to New York state, to the headquarters. Sean was there, working as a smuggler. My first day at the field wasn't the nicest one. We had to get rid of someone who was a mole for the police. He didn't know about the kids that worked for Nicholas, but he was soon to find out." Nicholas knew about the mole for a long time, but kept him around to deliver false messages to the police, but when the guy saw Sean hanging around the office, he started to get suspicious. That's when I came in and put a bullet in his head. "Nick told us this man was a danger to our family, to us. They'll take us away, he said, and no one will take care of us as kindly as he does-with those fancy clothes and any food we want and gadgets and big rooms. He was all we thought we had and we did as he told us."

Jon looked a bit angry. "I don't like that man."

"Me neither." I said and took a small bite from my ramen. "That's when I learned I was an assassin. I did my job perfectly, killing every drug dealer, smuggler, cop, mole, traitor and threat I was told to get rid of. But then Nicholas went too far. You see, some of the money he got wasn't just from drugs, he sold other things too. One of them was ivory, and he loved it." I closed my eyes and took a big breath. "He sent me to kill this old millionaire women who I didn't know what she did to deserve it. He just told me to do it quick and in her house and go back as fast as I could. But I didn't understand why he wanted me to kill that old lady who didn't look like she had anything to do with drugs wars. But I went to her house anyways at night. I found her in her kitchen and was ready to pull the trigger. She was alone, in a big mansion. It was a great opportunity. But she turned around and looked me in the eye. There was fear in her, but also something I didn't know too well from people who I held a gun too their faces-or from anyone. It was compassion."

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears start to well.

"You can stop now," Jon said quietly. "You've already answered my question." I felt him next to me.

"No, it's fine. I need to do it." I said and stabled my voice. I opened my eyes.

"She started to talk, and I listened. She was a wild-animals' activist. I didn't know what ivory was until she told me. She told me people kill elephants just for their giant teeth. She was fighting to stop it and had a lot of power in some places. She told me about her fights for the lions, for the tigers, for the dolphins and for the whales. I don't know what happens in Westeros, Jon, but here those animals are disappearing because of us." I showed him the whale tattoo I had on my neck. "These animals are the biggest that ever were in that world and we're killing them." People don't think these issues matter, they don't care.

"That woman's name was Danielle, and I didn't come back to Nicholas that night. I was pissed off. I was pissed off at him sending me to kill an elderly woman, an innocent woman. I was pissed-off by his greed and his lies. I was pissed-off for the elephants, and I was pissed off for myself, and about myself." I remember that sleepless night. Out of the doubt in killing Danielle, I started to have a doubt about everything else. It crept and choked me after years of believing in that bubble world Nick built for me, for the other kids.

I was fifteen and I had my first mental break-down.

I guess others have it worse.

"And after a few days, I decided to be her bodyguard. We got close… she unofficially adopted me. And then we tore down that empire together. I testified. The cartel felled.

Sean hated me for four years until he came to terms with the fact we were used. Anyways, I was living with Danielle. I helped her with her activism and philanthropy. I learned how the real world works… well, how a different part of it does. The almost normal side of it. But it didn't last for too long." I felt myself leaning on Jon's shoulder. But I really didn't give a fuck by now. "Nicholas still had some people out there. Pissed-off people that lost money and status, and all they could think about was revenge. One of them found us." I swallowed. "And before I could save her, her shot down Danielle. I killed him a few minutes after, he was looking for me too, and all I had to do is to let him find me and shoot him in the face. But when I found my… when I found Danielle…. She was already dead. And there was nothing I could do about it. I hated myself. The guilt… it still comes back sometimes, you know."

I got the money, the house. I moved to New York City a bit after, and in her will she made sure I'll use it for good. The largest amount was kept for a wild animals' shelter across the globe. Then some of it for people-cripples, orphans, teenagers. Then the rest was for me, to do good with it and help, and not spend it 'like an idiot'.

"And that's it, I guess." I was too tired to shrug, but I really wanted to, just to deny how heavy the whole thing was.

Jon was a good support to lean on. He didn't move away, and we both stared at the fire.

"I'm glad you told me that," He said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Me too."

A/N:

Yep, I know it was Hollywood is going to be completely different :)

~A Girl Has Many Names~