Disclaimer: ASOIAF, GoT, whatevs, is not mine. I am borrowing the characters and their world.

Summary:

AU. First Part of a Trilogy, telling the story of Cadenzsa Forel, Syrio Forel's only child.

Cadenzsa's mother has decided it is time for her child to marry. Since no man in Braavos would dare touch her for fear of her father's sword - and Cadenzsa's, of course - the clever Syrio has relocated to Westeros in hopes of finding a man deeming worthy of his precious only daughter.

He has gone to King's Landing to find a Lord, or a Prince, or a Knight that will give Cadenzsa the life of adventure that she deserves. Cadenzsa, the clever girl, has decided to sail first to the North, and travel down through Westeros, in order to see the land for herself, and to learn of its people. She finds herself, though, soon stuck in the Hold of Winterfell, prey to the charms of the three young men that live there.

Cadenzsa

Gods, what should I do?

Do I pray to the gods of my Dothraki ancestors? What of the Moonsinger Temple in which I was baptized? Where are those gods, now? Would the Seven answer my prayers?

In truth, she had no worldly idea on what to do. But Quentyn was kind enough to walk her to the Sept in Sunspear. He had suggested that they ride together, but Cadenzsa had refused, saying that walking was healthier. He had, however, insisted on guards to protect them, as well as a few serving-men to carry red linen tarps over their heads, four of them in number, all holding them up on wooden poles wrapped in leather. She had found herself draped in light linens of beautiful red, floating and flitting about in the warm winds of the sunny day.

"Quentyn," she said, while they walked through the streets together, soldiers at their front and back.

"Yes, Cadenzsa?" One thing that she did like about him. To Quentyn, she wasn't sweetling or love or anything, but just Cadenzsa. Just her.

"Do you pray?"

He seemed to think about this for a long time, but Cadenzsa didn't really look at him while they walked so she didn't notice. "Every man prays, I suppose."

"But do you? Have you ever asked for something and gotten it through prayer?"

"Why are you asking?" Cadenzsa sighed through her nose.

"I don't know," she said. Quentyn shifted uncomfortably. She made him nervous. Very nervous. She could smell it on him. She could also smell the roasted skewers of snake being grilled on an open fire a street or two over. The Sept's towers were reflecting the sun's in a glaring way, making her squint, even though she was mostly in the shade thanks to that tarp. "I want us to get along, Quentyn. I want us to find some kind of happiness and joy with each other."

Quentyn's heart seemed to beat, for his voice cracked. "I would very much like that, Cadenzsa."

Cadenzsa stopped and turned to him. She put her hands on both of his shoulders and he gave her a questioning look. She took his roundish face into her palms and pressed her body against his armor. Her nose brushed against his and her mouth opened around his top lip, her teeth grazing and tongue brushing lightly against his flesh. When she parted from their kiss, he stared at her, wide-eyed. Gods, he's short, she thought. She then sighed and continued walking. Nothing, she thought to herself. It wasn't even pleasurable. When it came time for their wedding night, she'd probably have to do all the work. Or perhaps turn over so he could take her from behind, and she could close her eyes and think about something else. He even kissed boring.

So they continued to walk to the Sept together, and she couldn't help but think of Theon, her Theon, who looked at her the way every woman dreams of being looked at. Oh, she knew he loved women plenty; Darry and Qahari had asked around enough for that. The sellswords hired to keep her safe might have been able to find a thing or two out, as well, but they had died the day Theon came into her life. She sometimes wondered if the way he looked at her was the way he looked at all women, and she had just been too starry-eyed to see it. But when they were alone, he changed. Theon's layers fell away from him, like water on a wing, like pretty petals on a flower that fall away to reveal the seeds inside come the chilly autumn winds.

She remembered the earthy smell of the back of his neck, his hair, his breath. She remembered his long fingers and long arms around her. The thing she remembered most was their first kiss. The fourth night in Winterfell, when he had escorted her back to her room, she hadn't been able to hear anything except for her own beating heart. She leaned against him, into him. He was lean, and just a little taller than her, but not by much. The leathers of his doublet smelled so good. She had tried so hard to be calm, but she was giddy and smiling on the inside, so she couldn't help but smile on the outside. He smiled quite a bit, too, didn't he? He smiled, and they were contagious. And when she leaned against the door, and he didn't tell her goodnight, she thought to herself 'now or never.'

Is anyone watching? She had asked. He shook his head. And her hand came to his whiskered cheek, his pale, Westerosi cheek, and brought his face down to hers. The thing that had surprised her perhaps the most was how he responded to her, how his lips and mouth and tongue listened to what she wanted in its own silent way. His chest caved in to let her lean, and his tentative, shy hand on her waist, unsure of whether to push her away or not. But his lips, his tongue, slowly massaging hers, and the feeling of his turgid cock swelling against her body, all were feverishly etched in her memory. And his hands, his deft fingers, so light on her skin, hot and cold all at once, curling into her hair.

He spent his days with her, keeping her company. It was too easy for them to be together, alone, without the Stark boys anywhere near them. It was so easy to fall in love with him. He spent his days Dancing with her, as she grew ever stronger, and she found a great joy in teaching. Theon was such a fast learner, and he was lean and tall, just like her, and he was such a quick study with the Water Dance. Swift and sudden, and his progress was so great, so natural, that she wondered how long it would take before he was a suitable partner for her to properly duel. But he struck hard, and quickly, and truly, he was amazing. Her glee burned within her, all from him. Even his words were something that burned in her. She asked him once what he thought the moon was, the same way she had asked Robb Stark, and he had said:

"Perhaps the Moon and the Wolf were once passionate lovers, and were separated by forces unknown, and wolves howl at it because they're crying for the love they'll never touch again."

"That's romantic," she had said. "The Dothraki think a similar thing, only it's the Moon and Sun that are husband and wife."

"And why are they apart?" he asked her, his fingers curling through her hair. He loved her hair.

She wasn't sure, but she knew what her mother had told her. "Because they both know that their responsibilities are important, too, with warming the world and guarding at night."

Her memory was good. She never forgot anything.

"Quentyn," she then said.

"Yes?"

"What did you think the moon was before somebody told you what it was?"

It was an odd question, she realized. Such an odd question. But it was her favorite question to ask, for you could get someone's real sense of being from a question like that. It asked you to go back to yourself, before you knew the version of you that someone told you that you were.

"I can't remember."

"Try."

"I can't. That kiss took my brains away. What did you think it was?"

She sighed. "It doesn't matter," she said. "None of it matters." She sauntered on, her face stone cold, her eyes dead, her voice flat and even.

"A tad bit morbid today, aren't you?"

A smirk came on her full lips. She kept her voice even, deadpan. "To tell you the truth, my Prince, that's a big part of what I am. Morbidity. Deadness. Is that a word? I think it is a word." She turned to him, a chilling smile grew on her full lips, on her pearly white teeth. "Can you handle that, Quentyn? Can you handle what I am?"

"Handle?" he asked, rather confused.

"Yes, handle. Like those horses I see you riding. I see you from my window, breaking them, holding on while they buck and whinny and scream so loud you'd think they were human. Do you plan on breaking me like one of those horses? Those fine Dornish stallions, all white and shining with flowing manes of curls?"

There was an awkward pause, and a quirk of Quentyn's thick dark brow. "My Lady, are you well?"

Cadenzsa snorted and walked away. "Oh, bugger this, let's just walk to the damn Sept."

She didn't notice how many people were in the Sept, really, but she went and prayed, and she knew that she spoke with a few of the Septas and blessed a few of the children within, and waved to the smallfolk once she got outside, but really she just drudged on in sort of an odd kind of huffy, snorting, rambling stomp. Her legs felt wobbly with the feeling of absolutely giving up. There was a wonderful word in Braavosi for exactly what she was feeling, but there was no word in the Commontongue for 'so-frustrated-and-upset-you-just-want-to-flail-on -the-ground-like-a-child.' There were certainly many words in the Commontongue, but no words for the really important ones.

She prayed in the Sept for her father, for him to come soon, for a lovely wedding, and for Theon, her Theon. She wanted to believe that he would be happier, better off without her, but it seemed that his destiny was to be ripped apart and cut to ribbons and burned to ashes. In truth, Cadenzsa barely knew why she was even able to be awake at that hour, for she hadn't slept in nearly three days, not that anybody noticed, of course, because she was so good at hiding her emotions when she wanted to be. To be a Dancing Master was a great thing, and to be such a great thing, you must be dedicated to your craft. In truth, it was the only thing she was truly dedicated to, despite what other things were going on. But, Gods, of all the things she prayed for, she prayed to find some sleep, so her mother would stop sitting vigil at her bedside at night. Honestly, she was a woman-grown. It was embarrassing.

"Quentyn?"

"Cadenzsa." He tried smiling at her to put her mind at ease, but it was too subtle to really be a true smile. Quentyn didn't smile easily, but nonetheless Cadenzsa smiled back as best she could. It wasn't his fault was that she was mad, was it?

"Have the Gods ever answered your prayers?"

"I did once pray for a beautiful woman to have a son by. One that I could watch flower into beauty, live a long life with. It seems my prayers have been answered, at last."

She stopped in her tracks. "I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't stutter, did I?"

Is he trying to be funny? "Are you having a go at me?"

His eyes went serious, surprised.

"You think I am just some answered prayer for you to stick a cock into so I'll shit out a son someday?"

"Well, I-"

"Well you what? You think I have no other use? That my bloodlines won't taint yours? That my money will be beneficial to you someday? That my beauty is something to be admired-"

"My Lady, your beauty is to be admired. It is beyond compare-"

"And what else? What of my mind? My heart? My sword arm? I am the daughter of the First Sword of Braavos, and I can slice you to ribbons, you little shit, and don't you ever forget it!"

"Woman, calm yourself-"

"Woman! Woman?! Is that all I am to you? Your woman?!"

"You are a woman!" shouted Quentyn back, finally showing some kind of emotion other than drably boring.

"I am not a woman, I am a person!" She screamed, not noticing the crowd that was gathering. "But no matter what is nestled between my legs, know that I can make your life a living Hell and don't you ever forget that I can!" There was a horse nearby with a man holding its rein. She stormed past her guards, past Quentyn, took the horse's reins(even though she was still a little terrified of riding horses without Theon there to hold the reins) and gave a handful of gold dragons to the dull-footed man that must have owned it(she assumed). The coins spilled over in his dark fingers and she mounted the horse's back, her gown flowing in a sea of red over its sable flanks, and with a snap of the reins she was gone, galloping off, realizing after riding for quite some time she had no idea exactly how to get back to Sunspear's castle. Thankfully, it was big enough to see from nearly anywhere.

But she didn't go quite back to Sunspear's castle. She went into the forest, into the orange groves and all through the dappled shadows and light. She must have paid the horse's value in tenfold, she realized as she calmed herself, but Cadenzsa told herself that generosity was the way of the Forels, or at least it was supposed to be. They weren't misers by any means, of course, but they weren't necessarily great philanthropists, either. One thing you could say about the Forels is that they were wealthier than the Gods themselves.

The Blood of the First Men, of the Andals, the Forels were the first settlers of Braavos, among the temple of the Moonsingers, to hide slave refugees from the Valyrian colonies of old. Since after the Doom, and since the rise of Braavos, and the money, and the free-market economy that came from their democratically elected officials, the Forels have always been behind it. It started with Castelio Forel, First of his Name, which(roughly translated) meant 'Star.' Or perhaps it was a group of stars? Well, Cadenzsa wasn't sure of the word in the Commontongue. It was honestly the most-difficult language she had ever learned. No matter, the Forels always had money. She wasn't sure where it all came from, but she did know that they were always smart about it.

Legend had it that Castelio Forel came to Braavos from a shipwreck, and he had been carried on the back of a giant sea turtle that brought him to the Isle of the Flowers, where he built the shack that would become one of the most-lavish Manses in all of the city. It was said that the sea turtle came back, and helped Castelio recover all of the treasures of Old Valyria from that shipwreck, and that's where all the money first came from. People also said that they had found some sort of gold-mine on that mountain, or had owned all the treasure in Drowned Town before it became Drowned Town, and were somehow the only ones able to get it all out. But, either way, the Golden Sea Turtle always hung on a flag at the manse, and some even joke that when the Andals went across the Narrow Sea to Westeros, it was the custom of the Forels that took hold. How laughable that would be, thought Cadenzsa, that those Westerosi, all sewing eagles and fish and lions on silks, so prejudiced against her, had Castelio her family to thank for the very idea of taking a banner.

She pulled her new horse to a stream that ran through the orchard and she dismounted. Cadenzsa pat its fine mane, through its curls. It was a fine sable mount with a handsome enough lines, she supposed. In truth, she didn't know much about horses. Horses were a fancy status symbol in Braavos, for only the wealthiest could have them, but Cadenzsa never wanted one. It seemed cruel to have horses in a place with little land. Her mother then appeared from behind the tree, smiling a knowing smile, without that veil on.

"I knew you would be here," said her mother. Cadenzsa tensed. "Don't. I'm not angry. But I knew that you would snap today if you went to the Sept with Quentyn. I looked into the Star Mirror, lamb. I know what you want. You needn't hide it from me anymore."

But what about Papa? She wanted to ask. Her tongue swelled in her mouth, dry and thick like clay, unable to speak. Her father had said that Dorne was the best-possible match for her. It was, truly, for she would live the best, easiest, most-wonderful life here. Dorne was a paradise, all laid out in front of her. But Cadenzsa was selfish, and stupid, and a fool. Only fools fall in love; life had taught her that.

"I know what you're thinking, too," said her mother, coming a few steps closer. "You're a woman grown, now. And though your father tried his best with you to show you how to hide your emotions, you'll never be able to. Not when your heart is truly concerned." She smiled. "My lamb. You needn't be so brave anymore. If you need me, I will be brave for the both of us. For you. For Theon Greyjoy."

Weeks, months, years of feelings swelled on her lips, and all Cadenzsa could manage was to run into her arms, sobbing.

"It's alright," soothed her mother. "Let it out. Let that curse wash away."

"Theon..." she cried into the crook of her mother's neck, tears spilling out of her eyes, bitter and black and thick like sludge.

"I know," she said. "The one thing that can break any spell in the world: True Love."

And Cadenzsa collapsed, crumbled onto her knees, by the muddy riverbank, her sobs echoing everywhere through the trees. Her mother wiped away her tears, and washed her hands in the trickling waters, and brought the drops up to Cadenzsa's face.

"What a curse you've cast on yourself," mused Vanessi Forel with as much humor as she could manage. "But it's broken. How do you feel?"

Cadenzsa dunked her face in the river and wiped it on her gown's skirt. A low sigh came from her lips. "Empty. But heavy." She frowned. "I feel confused, and yet I've never been more clear on anything else in my life." She gulped. "I can feel my own heart beating."

The Dothraki laughed. "I think that's a good thing." The two of them laughed, in spite of everything.

"What am I going to do?" she asked. "I don't know what I'm going to do... All of this hard work that Papa has put into brokering this alliance with House Martell. What should I do?"

"You let me worry about them," said Maisi.

"How can I? How can I do that to Quentyn? He's so sweet... I don't want to hurt him."

"I'll just tell them that it's a bad match. Dorne is quite a progressive place, my lamb, I'm sure they will understand."

Cadenzsa shook her head in disbelief as her mother sat down elegantly next to her, putting a golden arm around her daughter's shoulder. "I..." She sighed. "I can't, Maisi. I just can't do this. Not to Quentyn. Too many times has the sweet-hearted man been replaced for the shit-headed one, and undeservingly so, I might add."

Her mother laughed through her nose. "Just because a man is nice to you doesn't mean he wants something."

"Papa says that's the only reason a man is nice to you."

"Was Jon Snow nice to you because he wanted something?" asked her mother.

Cadenzsa shrugged. "Jon Snow was nice to me because I was nice to him."

"And Robb Stark?"

"I think he was nice to me because he felt obligated to do so. Maybe because he liked my company..."

"And Theon Greyjoy."

She silently shrugged, for she truly did not know.

"Is Quentyn nice to you because he's obligated to do so? Because he wants something? Obviously, he does want a few somethings, for he wants to have a pretty wife, and to have a son by you, when you and I both know that it won't happen like that at all."

"Are you saying that I should leave him and follow my dreams to marry Theon? Tear him away from Winterfell? Maybe we'll elope across the Narrow Sea and live like royalty with my money, or we can stay there and I'll become the Lady of the Iron Islands? Is that what you're truly suggesting?"

And her mother smiled. "Yes," she said. "Quentyn has his own destiny to follow. He'll be fulfilling that just fine without you. It is known."

Cadenzsa shook her head. "Quent'll be a good husband to me. How can I guarantee that Theon would be? How do I know that he won't marry me and just go off fucking whores when my back is turned? Or any other highborn woman for that matter?"

Vanessi took her daughter's face in her hands. "Who could notice anybody else when you are in the room?"

"I'm not like you."

"No. You are like you, which is something much better."

The Bravosi shook her head in horror. "But what if-?"

"'What if?' What if what? What if you have some kind of happy ending?" Cadenzsa hung her head. Her mother lifted it to look into her eyes. "Let me tell you something about happy endings: they don't exist." A beat. "Because nothing ever ends." Another beat. "Tell me what you want. All you have to do is ask, and you'll get it. What do you want? To marry Theon?"

Cadenzsa gulped. She truly didn't know. She wanted so many things, and it was so hard for her to want things, for she often felt so greedy for wanting at all. Her father had taught her to not want, but to do. To want was to have greed, selfishness. To desire was to suffer. That was not the way of the Water Dance, which was all she knew. But in her heart she could only think of Theon, her Theon, who would someday soon forget her and live out his horrible fate that the Gods had planned out for him. He didn't know like she did. He couldn't do anything about it. Neither could she...could she?

"I don't know if I want to marry him, necessarily... Could I save Theon, instead?"

"Save him?"

"From that knife...from that cross...from any of it, or all of it. I don't care. I just won't stand by while he suffers. He saved my life before he could even think to ask me of anything. If anything...a life for a life. My debt should be repaid. I cannot sleep at night knowing of the horrors waiting for him on the other side of that mirror."

"That's duty. Not want. What do you want?"

Want... She thought bitterly. How can you ask a Dancing Master to want?

"You are more than a Dancing Master, you know," Vanessi said. "Your father wanted you to become one, but if you had the choice... Your father wanted you to be a Dancing Master like him. And now you are, and one without compare. And now your father is no longer telling you what to do. You are free of that."

"Free?" A hard rock grew in her gut, her chest, like a fist tightening within.

"Cadenzsa, listen to me. The Khalasar I came from? The Blood-rider which raped my mother, your grandmother... All of it was a nightmare. Then the Khalasar came to Pentos, and with the tribute that the Pentoshi gave our Khalasar, my mother packed as many things as she could and put me on a boat to Braavos. She sold herself and gave her life up so I could have a new one, a better one. Those mirrors and the magic Golden Belt is all I had, all wrapped up in silk. But that boat brought me to Braavos, and, well, you know that becoming a Courtesan was the only thing I could do. You know that, don't you?" Cadenzsa nodded. "My life has been hard, my lamb. To want was no strange thing for me. And how fitting it is that I am a creature built of wanting, and I have a daughter that wants nothing, that does exactly what she's told without question." There was a long moment between them. "I set you free from your father's wishes, Cadenzsa. I gave you life, so you could live it."

"But...Theon..."

"Theon seems to be a fool, and I would never choose him for you in a million years," said her mother, to which Cadenzsa laughed heartily at. "But if True Love is real, then it's worth holding onto. I have had a vision, my lamb, of your destiny, of the path the Gods have laid out for you. The only thing you must do is choose. And if you so choose, a Princess of Dorne, you shall never be, for a crown of your own you are destined to have."

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"Then understand this: 'Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear.'"

Cadenzsa gasped. "What is that? A prophecy?"

"Not for you," said Vanessi. "But for the Golden Lioness, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, destined to fall from her tower, and for a new Queen to rise. No longer an age of red and gold, but the Sea will rise up, and take back King's Landing. Kingdoms will rise and will fall, and Dragons will once again rule the skies. But a Queen will rise, along with a King, to rule."

"...And the younger, the more beautiful Queen? "

"That," she said, "is you."

*sigh*

Well, kids...it's been fun. The next chapter I write will be the FINAL INSTALLMENT of "The Second Sword of Braavos." This is the time where I need you guys to comment/PM me about loose ends needing to be tied up for you, things you want to see, POVs you need to hear...blahblahdyblah.

Check out "The Grey Lady", and put this on your Story Alerts for the final chapter. It's been real, you guys, and I've had SUCH AN AWESOME TIME WITH CADENZSA.

Also, sorry about Quentyn if he's a bit OOC. But he's just kinda dull and drab and there, and honestly I've never liked him that much-*(DODGES BULLETS)*-to be totally honest. But I like tortured souls. Quentyn is...*sigh* Well, he's the Sun that rises in the West to come to the East. He's got his own destiny to fulfill. No spoilers, tho. Can't do that. :3

Read, review, follow. But mostly review. I'm very insecure. Plus, I want to feel satisfied knowing you guys are left with a whole and complete story before I draw this to a close.

Thanks, guys! Salut!