The Royal Pirate:

"Captain!" A voice rang out from below.

He took one last moment to stare out at the deep blue salt sea before acknowledging the call. He wrapped a hand around the rope and leaped from the crow's nest to the deck below. Using the rope, he slowed his descent, and thudded to the deck in his heavy boots.

The deck of his ship was bustling with men tying down ropes or moving crates. His ship was never quiet, and was as constantly in motion as the sea.

"Captain, we should be nearing the location you requested," the first mate spoke.

"Very good, very good indeed," he replied with a confident grin.

The Captain strode to the helm and took up the task from one of his crew. Gripping the handles of the massive wheel, he felt even more at home. His hands tensed as he turned the wheel, feeling the thick oak beneath his fingers.

He wore boiled leather breeches, and a loose fitting blouse with flowing, dangling sleeves. Over that, was a black vest with golden trim and a bandana tied around his head. He had a hat, but rarely wore it. The bandana allowed his shoulder length golden hair to flow freer in the wind, and the hat felt heavy on his head. He would only shave every month or so, so his golden fuzz was now a light coat of fur across his jaw.

"Captain!" Another crewman called out.

"Aye?" He called back.

"Ship, far out portside. What should we do?"

The Captain stared out, spying the speck on the horizon as night fell around them. He thought a moment. The cargo should be unloaded somewhere near here soon, this is the spot he gave me. That ship's too far out…but the sweetest fruit are always the one that shouldn't be touched.

The crewmen stirred, all coming to stand before him. "Men, we were sent here on a mission. A man paid us a great deal to be in this spot at the proper time. But being the great sailors that we are, we have arrived two hours too soon! So what shall it be lads? Wait dutifully here, as we were paid to do? Or live the pirate way, and shed a little blood for even more gold!"

The men roared in reply, showing their clear decision.

They came up alongside the other vessel like a wolf encircling a wounded dear. His men jumped and swung from his deck to the other. Within ten minutes of bloody slaughter, the crew of the other ship lay dead on the deck.

"Th-this is a vessel of your King Joffrey Baratheon. What you have done this day is treason, and you will be executed for such a crime!" The master of the defeated ship shouted as he sat on his knees, finding courage in his last moments of life. He was on his knees, staring up into death's cold eyes.

The Captain leaned in to stare into the dead man's eyes as he growled, "I'm the only King out here."

"W-who are you?" The man pleaded, his soul finally finding the fear required, realizing this was the end of his life.

The Captain brought his sword to the man's throat before raising his head to stare at his quarry from the end of his nose. "Captain Arthur Curry, Captain of Neptune's Bounty, and the one who will be sending you to your grave this day. May the sea show you the mercy that I will not."

Before the man could form anymore words, Arthur drove the point of his blade into his throat.

"Now lads, we have another bounty to haul up!"

The ship returned to the spot Arthur had been told their treasure would be found.

"Captain, is it down there?"

Arthur turned to the sea off the starboard side of his ship. He reached his fingers up to his temple with his sword hand, focusing on the murky depths below. His mind began to wander, probing and prodding into the darkness until he felt a presence push back. A shark.

Building a mental bridge with the beast of the deep, Arthur probed the creature's mind for answers. Is it down there, is HE down there?

After a few moments turning over the creature's mind, he was replied with the answer he sought. Yes.

Arthur smiled a grin of victory and ripped his shirt from his back. He tossed his sword, scabbard, boots, gloves, and bandana to his first mate. "Aye, my treasure is down there. I'll be but a moment."

Before his first mate could reply, Arthur leapt from the desk and dove into the sea. To any land dweller, the water of the salt sea would freeze them to their spine, and the darkness of its depths would make them piss their pants with fear. But Arthur was no stranger to these waters, or any waters. The sea was his kingdom, and its creatures his people.

Lifting two fingers to his temple, he summoned the shark to his side. He gripped the fin of the massive creature and bid it to dive. Down the shark swam, how any mortal man could survive such a time under water or under such pressure was beyond Arthur, but he had been told his bounty was no mortal man. The shark could smell the blood coming from the man's body, a cut or wound somewhere on the surface of his flesh. Arthur used the beast's skills for hunting to his advantage, as they at long last finally found his prey.

The man was armored, in black, bizarre metal with points and sharp edges. Two sharpened points rose from the top of his head, and a torn cape was twirling in the current of the sea behind him. His arms and legs are bound to a chair, and his body was chained as well. Whoever had tossed the man into the sea had taken strong measures to see he would never rise from it. Your lucky day mate, or perhaps not when you see where I'll be takin' you.

Gripping a hand around the back of the chair, Arthur commanded the shark to return to the surface. One they reached the surface, Arthur shouted to his men to throw down a rope. Tying the chair, Arthur sat upon the armored man's lap as he commanded the crew to hoist their bounty.

"So that's him?" One of his crewmates murmured when they finally got the soaking, armored, bound stranger onto the deck safely.

"Aye, that's him," Arthur replied, taking his armaments from his first mate.

"How long was he under?"

Arthur scoffed, "Half an hour or so. Heh, land dwellers. Impressive he could hold his breath for so long. Odds are he's stopped breathing for at least five minutes now. Here." He tossed a small pebble to his first mate.

"Make sure he swallows that, it'll clear the water from his lungs."

Arthur stepped towards the cabin, retying his bandana around his dripping golden hair.

"Captain, what are we doin' with im'?" One of his crewmates asked as he passed into the captain's quarters.

"We're to return him to King's Landing from which he just came, and deliver him for a very generous reward. There a problem with that?" Arthur tested.

"N-no Captain, merely wonderin'," the crewman quickly blundered.

"I don't keep you on my deck to wonder, I keep you here to secure the lines. Now get to it you useless sack o' shit. We're to meet our patron by sundown."

Arthur spent the remainder of their voyage in his quarters. His conscience rarely weighed down upon his mind, but this task proved troublesome to his spirit.

He's a hero of the land dwellers, what should I care if I'm delivering him back into the arms of a living hell?

Arthur tried to sleep, but it would not come. He thought of the sea, the many women he had known in his years as a captain, of his father. His mind's wanderings were put to an end when a shout came from outside.

"LAND!"

Arthur stood from his bed, and donned his best garments. Dark olive green trousers, a rusted golden-orange overcoat with golden trimmings and jeweled buttons. His bandana was tied snug against his scalp, and for the first time in years he donned his captain's hat. With a long blood red feather sprouting from the three cornered garment, it looked a foolish thing to him. His first mate however assured him it commanded the respect from land dwellers that an infamous pirate captain deserved.

As they crawled into the port, Arthur commanded the plank be lowered so he could step down to the dock. As his heavy boots thudded down along the walkway to the wooden pier below him, an unpleasant character awaited his arrival.

The man had silver hair on the sides of his head, but his finely trimmed beard around his lips and the top of his scalp remained a light black. He was a scrawny man, not very imposing in person, but his piercing eyes and mysterious, pleased smile was enough to make any man's spine shudder. The golden pin formed into a mockingbird upon his chest was laughable to most men, but Arthur knew the danger in this emblem that others remained blind to. The only reason Arthur tolerated the presence of Lord Peter Baelish was because he was being paid a fortune to bring him their bounty.

"Ah Captain, so good to see you again," Baelish chimed with a grand smile.

"Aye, you have the gold?"

Baelish feigned harm. "Oh but of course Captain, I'm a man that always rewards those that assist me. Now, show me him."

Arthur led a silently excited Lord Baelish back up to the deck of his ship. They went below deck, through the mens' barracks and the armory to the deepest corner at the front of the ship. There, the armored man sat chained unconsciously to his chair. He breathed now, proving the pebble had done its work well.

"Magnificent," Baelish exuded.

"Aye, aye, now what makes you think the Spider didn't follow you here? Or one of the Queen's men?"

The lord scoffed. "Oh I'm sure a spy of each of theirs did, but they will find nothing. Keep him here, allow no one onto the deck save for myself. I will return later in the night for him."

Arthur nodded, but as Baelish turned to leave he grasped the lord by the shoulder. "I don't normally ask this, but what are you doing to do with him?"

Baelish smiled, but Arthur saw the threat beneath the smile plainly. "Why don't you keep your mind busied with what women you will take to bed or drinks you will share with your men with my gold, and leave the fate of the Batman to me."

Jason: Chapter 1

"Hood!" Arry called out.

Jason was sleeping along the hard, sloping curve of a branch in a massive oak tree above the camp. The rest of the fools could sleep on the ground without cover, but if any intruders would think they could ride in in the middle of the night and catch all of them with their pants around their ankles they were fools as well. Even in Gotham Jason learned to never sleep at ground level. The first ones robbed or killed were those sitting idle in the streets. Height gives sight, and when looking out for yourself, sight was an advantage over the enemy.

"Must you sleep in a tree every time we stop for the night?" He asked sarcastically.

Jason stretched as he yawned. He leaped down and landed with ease right in front of Arry. "When you lot end up dead because the Mountain and his men ride through and kill all of you while you're sleeping don't come crying to me."

"He couldn't kill all of us while we're sleeping. We would wake up and defend ourselves," Arry defended.

"Ha! Once Yoren falls, the lot of you will go quick enough. There are hm, maybe five in this lot that know how to wield a sword? Another ten that can hold and swing it with full force. They would be cut down beneath The Mountain quicker than a hound could take a legless squirrel. And you? What are you? Seven? How could you defend yourself against a man that stands as tall as the Mountain?" Jason scoffed as he passed the other boy to go to the stream.

"I'm nine, idiot. And like you could kill him any better? You're only two years older than me.," the boy replied with a snort.

Jason leaned down to wash his face. The water from the creek was clear, clearer than any water he saw in Gotham to be sure. "Not here to kill The Mountain you idiot. The moment he comes riding into camp, I'm running through the trees and getting the hell out of here."

"Where's your honor?" Arry asked. Jason stood, parted the tie at the front of his breeches and began pissing into the creek.

"No such thing as honor for a dead man. I'd rather live without it then die with it," he sighed as he finished and shook himself. Tying back up the front he turned to find Arry staring back at him with a look of revulsion.

"What's the matter? Never saw a boy piss before? Might want to learn how to hold your stick fool, or you're in for a rough time at the Wall."

Arry growled as he took up a stick from the ground and swiped it at Jason. Jason instinctively leaned back, smirking.

"What are you doing?"

The boy whipped the stick around again, this time narrowly missing Jason's temple. "I'm showing you how good I am with a stick."

Jason chuckled as he picked up a stick of his own. It wasn't as long as Arry's, but was nearly twice as thick.

Arry lowered his stance, and turned side face, so Jason could only see the boy's profile. "What are you doing now?" He asked.

"This is how I fight," Arry replied.

He slashed his stick forward, missing Jason's head by a finger's length, before continuing a quick assault of blurred swings. Jason dodged all of them with ease, chuckling all the while. When Arry had him backed up against the stream, Jason went on the attack himself. With three swings he had Arry on his back on the ground.

"You truly aren't any good with a sword. Has anyone ever told you that?" Jason teased.

Arry stood and scoffed, "Once…"

"Who was he, some baker's boy? Or perhaps a fisherman's son. What a lovely pair you would have made," he taunted further as he brushed past Arry.

"It was a brave, noble boy. He saved my life, and is a better fighter than you will ever be!"

Jason turned his head back to face the furious boy. His brow piqued as he cooed, "Oooh, struck a nerve did I? If I didn't know any better I'd say it sounds like you fancy the little hero."

Arry froze as his cheeks reddened slightly. Jason began to laugh, letting his stick drop to the ground as he gripped his sides.

"Oh that's good! Ha! A boy who likes to play with wooden sticks and those in other boy's pants." His laughing was cut short as a strong hand smacked the back of his head, sending him to the ground.

"If you have time to laugh, then you have time to pack, now get your asses moving, the both of you!" Yoren growled as he continued on through the camp.

In the distance Hot Pie broke into laughter as Jason stood and wiped the mud from his face. "Yeah keep laughin' fat boy, I'll do to you ten times worse what I did to Arry."

As Jason turned he looked over at where the carts were huddled. In the middle of them stood the prisoner cart, with the three dangerous criminals locked away. Biter was still asleep, Rorge was picking his teeth with a splintered bone, and Jaqen H'ghar was staring right back at Jason. Jason's blood ran cold as his eyes met the dangerous stranger's, who had been staring at him for who knew how long, and quickly brought his gaze to the ground.

Something isn't right about that one.

Since there was such a positive reaction to my upload a few weeks ago and everyone seemed thirsty for more, I decided to upload the first actual chapters of COK! As you can see, Bruce may have been better off at the bottom of the ocean. Jason's chapter was more just character moments than actual plot progression as I love writing the different dynamic of Arya and Jason as opposed to how the Dick and Arya dynamic was. Any reviews are welcome