Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, names, and any copyrighted material used in this work. This is a fanfic, period. Everything belongs to their respective owners. Comments and constructive criticism are all very much appreciated.

The Return of the Dragon King

Chapter 4

"Stop thief!"

Jon Snow swore violently as he raced down the crowded streets of Braavos, Ghost racing ahead of him after the thief. He'd barely stepped outside of the Ragman's Harbour when he felt his pocket getting picked, and while he couldn't stop the thief from making off with his money bag he was still fast enough to catch a bead on him as he ran off with Jon's money. "Stop gods damn you…!" the bastard shouted.

The thief ignored him, slipping through the milling crowds on the streets and past the stalls and storefronts of the city. Jon Snow and Ghost had a somewhat more difficult time, though the latter's keen sense of smell made sure that they wouldn't lose the thief even if the former lost sight of him from time-to-time.

The crowds naturally paid no attention to the chase going on. Pickpockets and thievery were a perennial problem, and if they got caught then they lost their fingers. But if they weren't and they got away, well that was just another fact of life. Passing irritation as they were bumped aside – by Jon that is, the thief was apparently experienced enough to avoid bumping others as tried to get away – or brief fascination at the big white dog with the one chasing after the thief.

And then they got back to their own businesses.

"Apathetic fools…" Jon thought angrily as Ghost scattered a group of fat and gaudily-dressed merchants while running through them with Jon hot on his heels. "…they know he's a thief, or at least hear he could be one, so why the hell don't they care? If something like this happened at Winterfell, there'd be a mob looking into it in moments."

The thief ran across a square and then around a corner. Jon and Ghost stayed hot on his heels, the thief jumping and running along the canal parapet. He ran past a group of men gathered around a cyvasse board to their surprise, which grew as Ghost darted through them and under the table the board was on.

Surprise turned to outrage as Jon ploughed through the table, knocking it and the board aside in his haste. "Sorry…!" he shouted over a shoulder, wincing at the curses behind him. Fortunately none of them seemed inclined to pursue however, for which he was grateful for. Jon didn't want trouble – too late it seemed – but he'd defend himself if he needed to.

Still, if it was possible he'd rather not draw his sword in anger for as long as possible.

The thief turned another corner, ran along a bridge, and then jumped up onto a trellis to Jon's surprise. He scrambled to a halt, just in time to avoid getting crushed like a bug beneath a fast-moving wagon. The thief scrambled agilely up the wall from the trellis onto the roof.

He turned to smile smugly…only to blanch and start running as Ghost just as agilely leaped up on the wagon, then on the trellis, and up on the roof after him. Swearing some more, Jon followed suit, though much slower and less agilely as Ghost and the thief got further and further away.

"This is not what I had in mind when I came here!" he thought angrily as he resumed the pursuit, jumping from roof to roof along one of the city's larger canals. Most people below ignored him and his quarry, though more than a few noticed.

Thieves getting chased by their victims wasn't new, it actually happened with regularity. What was new – or uncommon enough to be unusual – was the victim to be this persistent or to have a hound on his side.

Whispers and shouts followed their wake, which turned to laughter as a damaged roof gave way beneath Jon and he nearly fell into a room below. A woman taking a bath in said room screamed as Jon nearly fell into the tub with her, barely hanging onto the ruined ceiling. Profuse apologies turned to inelegant haste as a lumbering giant of a man burst into the room at the woman's scream.

"For gods' sake…" Jon thought in exasperation as he scrambled to his feet and resumed the chase. "…first I get stolen from, then I get involved in a chase across the city, and now I've nearly ended up getting pummelled by a man for dishonouring his wife. What's next, I fall into a canal?"

Shuddering at the thought of tempting fate, Jon focused on the pursuit. Meanwhile the thief reached a space too great to jump across. Instead, he used a cloth to slide with along a line connecting two buildings over a smaller canal which intersected with the canal the buildings along which they had been running on. He then cut the line, and gestured cheekily at Jon and Ghost before running off again.

Jon hastily scrambled to a halt, barely avoiding falling into the canal below. And again, Ghost upstaged his master, jumping down and leaping off of the cloth roofs of gondolas below across the canal, and from awning to awning before getting to the roof and resuming the chase.

This however left Jon standing alone on his side of the canal. Jeers and shouts of encouragement came from the street below, and even from few gondolas in the canals. Jon palmed his face before spreading his arms and looking around in exasperation.

"Now I'm a spectacle…" he thought. "…maybe I should have gone to the Wall instead. At this rate I'll either end up a clown or get stabbed in the back."

Spotting a point where the intersecting canal was narrower, Jon rushed over to the point before jumping and sliding down on awnings to the street. Tensing himself, he jumped over the canal, splashing knee-deep into the water while catching himself on his elbows.

Pulling himself back on the ground and ignoring his wet boots and trousers, he ran through the crowd and into an alley. A few jumps and he managed to get up into an awning, and from there it was a slippery scramble up to the roof. Ghost was a white blur in the distance, and ignoring the burning in his chest Jon scrambled off in pursuit to the cheers of spectators below.

"This is humiliating!" he thought angrily. "I'll gut that bastard for putting me through this!"

As Jon ran on a diagonal path across the skyline to intercept the thief, said thief was finally cornered by Ghost. The street on the other side was dominated by a dome-topped building with barred and awning-less windows, surrounded a wall topped with iron spikes.

To his right was the canal, and below the busy streets. Unfortunately for him, he'd begun to tire in the last few minutes of the chase, and along with looking around for options this had allowed Ghost to catch up with him.

The white direwolf growled in warning as the thief tried to move sideways to where he could jump to one of the flat-topped buildings beside the domed one. The man froze, smiling weakly as he did so. No point in antagonizing a big dog that was clearly unhappy at being led around in the middle of the day under a hot Sun.

Worse yet, if he jumped down to the street, the dog would be literally right behind him. He could knife it, but knifing dogs left a bad taste behind. And besides, the crowd seemed to like the unintended show provided them. Knifing one of the 'participants' would be a sure way to turn the crowd into a mob, and he'd no desire to get lynched for either – or both – theft and killing another man's pet.

Speaking of which…the man himself had finally arrived.

"I've…" Jon gasped as he slowed to a halt. "…finally…got…you…"

The thief raised his hands in peace. "Look boy…" he began. "…it's just a living there was nothing personal in it."

"Fuck you…" Jon snapped. "…living…? Why don't you…get a job…instead?"

"Yeah, as if things are that easy." The thief responded with a roll of his eyes.

The man's smile vanished as Jon placed a hand on his sword's hilt. "I want my money back." Jon said.

"You know I can't give it back." The thief said, taking a few steps back. From the look of things, he might have to take his chances instead. "All's fair in love and war…and are you sure you know how to use that boy?"

Jon narrowed his eyes…and then he lunged forward. The thief moved to dodge, but Ghost lunged in from the side, and the man dodged back…and right into Jon's path. Both found themselves falling back…and tripping over the edge and through the air to the stony street below.

Both shouted in fear as they fell…and landed in a passing hay cart. Rolling out of the cart onto the ground, the thief was first on his feet, getting into a crouch…and taking a punch from Jon that broke his nose and sent him tumbling with the audible sound of breaking bone.

Jon scrambled to his feet, the thief doing likewise and trying to scramble away despite a broken nose. Jon launched himself at the thief, catching him by the waist and forcing the man to the ground. An elbow to the cheek forced Jon to let go, and the thief finally managed to scramble away, but not before Jon was able to get his money bag, snatching it from the thief's pocket.

A smattering of applause came from the crowd at the successful conclusion of the chase, Jon getting to his feet as Ghost sat down beside him. Suddenly he hefted the money bag a few times.

No…no, it can't be!

Opening the bag with desperate haste, he poured out the contents…and angrily threw away the gravel followed by the bag itself, stamping down on it in anger. "Gods damn him…!" Jon thought angrily, running a hand through his hair.

Ghost whined in sympathy, and Jon reached down to pat his friend on the head. Around them the crowds were going back to their business, the brief excitement he'd provided over. The boy and his wolf stepped out of the way of another wagon, the former's anger turning into consternation as he looked around him at the busy streets of Braavos.

No money…and unless he found a way to get some soon, he and Ghost would probably have to spend the night in the streets. And that came with no food too…and a risk of getting knifed or worse by thieves and other cutthroats in the night.

"Yeah…" Jon thought exasperatedly. "…I should have gone to the Wall."

A flash of light reflecting off of metal caught his attention, and Ghost got to his feet and growled as three men in armour approached Jon. "Ghost…" Jon said. "…heel."

The direwolf did as commanded, though it remained tense as the armoured men came to a halt before Jon. "Can I help you fellows?" he asked.

"Someone would like to have a word with you." One of three told him in accented Westerosi. "We'd like you to come with us."

Jon sighed. The crowds might have liked the chase, but from the look of things the authorities didn't. And while he disliked the fact, it seemed he had to face the music otherwise he'd be no better than the dirty thief who'd stolen his money.

"Very well…" he said, reaching down to unclip his weapon. To his surprise the man raised a hand to forestall him.

"There's no need for that." He said. "As I have said, someone wants to talk to you."

Jon blinked and then slowly lowered his hands. He nodded and the guards escorted him away with Ghost following in their wake.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jon thought.

He'd expected to be led someplace…well, official. He never expected to be led to a boat, and from there rowed to a barge sailing sedately in Braavos' great canal. Said barge was clearly of the highest make, the wood finished and varnished to a polished shine, its prow and stern, railings and parapets ornately carved and in some cases gilded or even jewelled, while brightly-coloured streamers and pennants hung down from the mast or trailed from the barge's rails.

On closer glance, the men who'd escorted him and those who guarded the ship were all finely-dressed beneath their armour from what he could see of their clothes. Their armour was also finely-made, more ornate but clearly on par with what his father's household guards had, and the same went for their weapons.

The barge's crew too reflected this. At first glance they were typical sailors, burly, uncouth men going about their duties half-dressed in the heat. A closer glance would reveal fine, handsome faces and sculpted forms, clearly chosen to be attractive or presentable even when working half-dressed (or both), all the while still being capable of doing what was expected of them.

"What the fuck is going on?" Jon thought again, and then he was being led away by a young woman in colourful (but clearly fine) servant's attire further into the barge.

The bastard found himself led to a large interior chamber partly-lit by sculpted lamps that threw shaped shadows against the walls, decorated with hangings of the finest cloth and make, along with priceless vases carrying the freshest flowers or polished crystal containers filled with water in which swam multi-coloured fish from the depths of the sea. Sunlight shone through artfully-constructed windows that let viewers see without being seen themselves, while his feet sank into rich and expensive carpets.

Ornate decanters with distilled spirits or ice water rested on polished plinths within easy reach, along with priceless goblets. Censers burned with incense, rendering the air pleasantly half-smoky. Jon looked around for vents to explain how they (and he) couldn't choke with all the incense in the air but he found nothing.

What he did find were that the occupants of the room were all comely young women, most around his age while others were a few years older or younger than he was. They all reclined on soft silk cushions and pillows, swathed in flowing silks that exposed enough skin to titillate and inspire the imagination while preserving modesty all at the same time.

Jon felt the blood begin to drain from his face as he realized where he was. Beside him Ghost whined, his tail between his legs. The girls giggled at the sight, whispering and muttering among themselves as they watched him fidget.

Behind her silken screen – enough to obscure her features and details but thin enough to allow an outline to be seen – the courtesan raised herself up on her elbows. "So…" she said in a voice like silk. "…you're the boy who caused such a commotion from earlier."

"I apologize for the ruckus caused my lady…" Jon began only to trail off as the courtesan began to laugh. It was like listening to water splashing merrily in the Sun.

"Why do you apologize?" she asked. Despite the screen, Jon knew she was smiling. "Foreigners arriving…people getting robbed…tricked…thieves getting chased…it happens enough that it's nothing new. But you don't see them getting chased over the rooftops every day…or with big white wolves."

Jon started at that, and the courtesan laughed again. With a gesture she dismissed her guards, leaving an alarmed Jon alone with her and her ladies. "Don't worry…" the courtesan said teasingly. "…we don't bite…and I won't ask you how much your friend is worth. Friends are priceless are they not?"

"As you say my lady…"

The courtesan's smile grew, and with a gesture her screen parted to expose her to Jon's eyes. The poor boy could literally feel the blood going to his cheeks as he took in her delicately-tanned skin, generous but proportioned curves, her rich smile, dark-brown hair, and violet eyes. Sheer silk provided her with the barest modesty, but otherwise her form was free to be admired by the eyes of any beholder.

"My name is Siesta, boy." She said, a finger swirling in a pot of something powdery beside the cushions she reclined on. "What's yours?"

"J-Jon…" Jon stammered out. "…Jon Snow…"

"Ah…" Siesta said. "…so you're from the Sunset Kingdoms. The North if I'm not mistaken."

"As you say my lady…"

"There's no need to worry. You will find that here in Essos, things like 'bastard' are mere formalities. Necessary encumbrances at times yes, but meaningless most of the time. You are what you have dared to achieve."

"I…see…"

Siesta laughed. "So nervous…" she said. "…so…tightly…wound-up…come now Jon, there's no need to hold back. Feel free to admire what lies in front of you. Admiration is the purest form of flattery after all."

Jon blushed like never before, trying to keep himself in control by thinking of his sister Arya. It seemed to work…to an extent. The girls' soft laughter around him was a major distraction. "So…" Siesta began again, taking a handful of powder in one hand and tracing patterns with it with a finger of her other hand. "…what brings you to Essos? Business…? Family…? Love…? Or perhaps…is it opportunity?"

Jon swallowed dryly before licking his lips. "O-o-opportunity, my lady." He answered, and she smiled at him.

"You are a very interesting person, Jon Snow." She said. "I am…very curious about you. I've heard it said in your Sunset Kingdoms magic is seen as having died with the Valyrians' dragons."

"I…I wouldn't know my lady."

"A shame…" Siesta said. "…but you know what: I might have had you brought here to thank you for adding a touch of…spice to an otherwise ordinary day, but now that I've seen you, I think…you have…a touch of…destiny about you."

With a delicate breath she sent the powder swirling in hypnotic patterns through the air. "Jon Snow…" she said. "…would you like to work for me? The starting pay is equivalent to one gold dragon of your Sunset Kingdoms per day, and includes both food and board. Weapons, armour, and clothes too. So how about it…?"

Again Jon licked his lips. "What…" he said. "…what would be expected of me?"

"Obviously you'd be expected to stand guard for me and my friends." She said. "When we have need of things to be done too important for mere servants, then you may be called upon to perform them. Some time, and you may even serve as our…agent in calling upon our friends in high and low places both. So how about it…? Opportunity is what you seek, and here a door opens in front of you. Will you turn away?"

Jon opened his mouth and closed it, looking around him. The girls were silent, looking at him expectantly. "The choice is yours, Jon Snow." Siesta said. "If you decline, I won't hold it against you. I'll even have you brought back to shore with a…gift to convey our…gratitude at having entertained us this morning."

Jon thought furiously, fighting the sweet distraction of the incense in the air, and thinking about the offer. On one hand, working for a courtesan wasn't exactly the most…honourable – or manly – calling in the world. His father would probably disapprove, and his sisters (Arya especially) certainly would.

Robb and Theon would probably laugh at him, with the latter calling him lucky for striking gold.

Lady Stark wouldn't give a damn, and if she did it would be in the southward direction (as usual).

On the other hand, courtesans were no whores. From his lessons with the maester, courtesans did provide sexual favours, but at their will and not of their clientele. They provided more than base pleasure, in the form of music, dance, conversation, and more civilized entertainment. To be associated with by a courtesan was seen as a mark of favour and honour.

To be known as a servant of one would undoubtedly open doors in Braavos, and perhaps connections further down the line if he worked hard and well. And while Jon wanted to earn a name with good and honest work, Siesta was right: an opportunity was in front of him. It would be folly to turn it down.

Still…

"Just a question…" he said softly, and Siesta's lips curled indulgently.

"Go on…"

"Should I desire to leave your service will I be able to do so?"

Whispers broke out at that, and a disappointed expression appeared over Siesta's face. "Now why would you want to do that?" she asked. "Oh very well…I can't imagine what would make you want to abandon us – I'd like to think of all my servants as my friends – but should you choose to do so, you may. There are no slaves in Braavos. With that said, should you choose to do so, at least give us the dignity of a goodbye, won't you?"

Jon nodded and bowed. "Then my lady…" she said. "…my sword is yours."

Siesta laughed. "Such formality…" she said. "…well from the look of things you've only recently-arrived. There'll be time for you to get used to Essos soon enough. Peppo…?"

The doors opened, revealing a girl of around Jon's age with long, curly brown hair in servant's wear. "Madam Siesta?" she asked.

"This is Jon, Jon Snow." Siesta said. "He's our newest friend. He's your responsibility for now, so show him around and how things are done."

"As you wish madam…"

"Oh and one more thing: Jon, do you know how to speak Low Valyrian?"

"Uh…no, I don't…"

"Hmm…well that will be troublesome…" Siesta mused aloud. "Peppo, teach him."

"Me…? I…yes madam"

Siesta smiled, leaning back on her cushions. "You may go Jon." She said as her screen fell back into place. "And don't forget: destiny is a fickle thing. You must grasp it, but you must also think about what you grasped lest instead of a sweet rose you find yourself grabbing a viper. You have chosen wisely earlier, but that is merely one of many choices you will encounter."

Jon bowed and allowed Peppo to lead him away. The servant took him to a launch tied against the ship, and which took them to shore. "Well…" she said along the way. "…I guess first things first we'll need to find you lodgings. After that we can go about getting new clothes for you, as well as the routine you'll need to follow. And of course, learning how to speak Valyrian…"

Jon sighed. Things had seemed so simple when he'd left Westeros. He'd go to Braavos, become a sellsword, hire himself out to someone respectable, and get started on a good reputation to work with for the rest of his life. Now though…? He'd been hired by a Braavosi courtesan, and while it offered a good reputation from the start along with many open doors down the road…

…why did he feel dissatisfied?

Have I been tricked or something? Was it the smoke?

"Ser Jon…?" Peppo asked, and Jon jumped in surprise before looking at her.

"Nothing…" he said with a sigh. "…you just surprised me. And please don't call me 'ser'. I'm not a knight."

Maybe I should have gone for a knighthood instead.

Jon sighed again and smiled at Peppo. "Anyway…" he said. "…let's get along shall we, Miss Peppo?"

Peppo stared at him, and then suddenly smiled. "Miss…" she echoed. "…just so to avoid confusion later…I…I'm actually a boy."

Jon stared…and stared…and stared. Ghost suddenly whined, and Jon buried his face in his hands.

Father is not going to believe this.

A/N

Poor Jon…he gets pickpocketed, made into a clown, tricked, and then shanghaied into working for a courtesan. And then Peppo turns out to be a boy. Or is she?

Seriously, this chapter is a bit whimsical but considering how dark things will eventually get – people will burn and die – it's nothing wrong to have a bit of comedy at the start. And Jon's off on a good start…I think…

Next chapter will be Ned and King's Landing.