Jon

-A couple of days prior…

"What do you mean I'm in Qarth?" Jon demanded the captain of the ship. Both of them were standing on the docks arguing profusely. Their voices were drowned out by the waves smashing against the wooden pilings. "I wanted to go to Braavos!" That was where the Golden Company was last heard stationed. How was he going to get there when he was all the way in Qarth with no more coin? All he has is the sword Jory Cassel gifted him for his last name day and the bag on his shoulder.

The captain was fortunately from Westeros so he understood him completely fine. Unfortunately, it didn't help Jon one bit. "You were heavy with the wine and came aboard my ship that was destined for Qarth, boy! No, I will not return your coin." The sailor talked so fast and furious spit flew and landed on Jon's face. "I will not repeat myself again!" The captain grew tired of the conversation and walked away with the last bit of money Jon had. And judging by the warning looks on their face and their nonchalant walk, he was going just to be just as successful swimming to Braavos as asking strangers for coin.

He tried anyway. "I shouldn't have done that," Jon thought, walking briskly down the docks with shame on his cheeks. He increased the grip on his bag. He remembered how happy he was that he managed to ride all the way down to White Harbor without getting caught by his father's bannermen. He sold his horse he stole from the stables at Winterfell…and spent most of the coin indulging in all the alcoholic beverages he can buy at an Inn. His recollection of that night was iffy, and he wondered how much he drank, but the stench on his lip told him all he needed to know. Apparently the same night, he boarded the wrong ship, spending the rest of the coin he had. It was a catastrophe of a mistake.

"How could I be so reckless?" Jon tried to keep his eyes low to avoid the women with their suggestive looks, and their cleavage that speaks loud as any man. No more mistakes. Another piece of the reason was confusion. No one at Winterfell gave him these types of stares. But he was getting ogled at since he arrived. It wasn't an issue now, however.

He can see Lord Stark's disappointing stern face in his mind. His face grew hotter and it was not because of the sun above. This situation just proved that he was still a boy. Perhaps he was way over his head.

"Should I return?" Jon questioned himself, stopping on the dot. Passersby swerved around him cursing at him in many languages he did not understand.

He missed Winterfell, where it was the cold instead of the sweltering heat that made him gasp in his furs. Hie missed his siblings, even Sansa with her pretty dolls and dresses, and even Robb, who said he was worthless in front of the whole north. He missed them all. It was Arya he missed the most though. It was her playful and stubborn nature he held most dear. He suddenly has doubts if he can leave that behind.

And then Catelyn's face produced in his mind, her eyes speaking a thousand words. You are worthless, they said, you are better gone. Her blue eyes have no love for him.

"What would I look like going back? They will think of me even less, more worthless." Jon's eyes narrowed and his heart steeled.

Hours passed in the midst of Jon mingling and talking with the captains on the docks. "There will be no other option," he told them. They either laughed in his face or brushed by him. Nobody has time for the bastard. Jon took it in stride and continued on. He was accustomed to not getting what he sought.

"Free voyages for a helping hand! Free voyages for a helping hand!" A soft voice called out through the ripple of the waves and the clatter of the market life. It was faint, but Jon heard it.

Jon turned to pinpoint the voice at once. He found it at the end of the docks, where a dark-haired woman wore clothing that was too warm for this weather. Jon couldn't say much as he currently wore furs himself. She stood overlooking the line that was beginning to lengthen in front of her. Behind her, docked, was a swarm of ships that sit idly in the gentle waving waters.

"With that many ships, she does need a hand," Jon observed. They were a variety of vessels, longships, war galleys, ferries, and cogs. "Is this my opportunity?"

The next breath of seconds passed. Jon saw up close that the woman's stomach had a tiny bulge that she tried to hide from sight. She spoke to the interested mass, but she spoke too softly. Even though she had people lined up, ready to board, she made no move to get them on board. She had a tremor in her voice. Jon can see the little shake of her hands when she tried to clasp them together.

"She is afraid."

She caught sight of him, relief shining in her eyes. She instantly gave him all her attention. "You! Do you want to board?"

"You're not the captain," Jon said simply.

The woman was taken back. "I-m. I-I. D-d." She couldn't get the words out.

"Where is the captain?" Jon demanded, suddenly getting wary. He saw that she had no crew. How were there ships with no crew?

The others grew angry.

"Are you trying to scam us?" A woman cried. She was holding the hands of two of her sons. Both of them were just little boys.

"She is trying to rob us," a burly man growled. His hand inched toward his scabbard. "Maybe we should reverse the pleasure."

"How dare you! I have a wife and children to get back to!"

"You dare deceive me? Bitch I will kill you!"

The woman trembled worse than before. Tears streamed down her face. "Don't hurt me," she was saying. She got to her knees and hid her head in the safety of her arms. "I-I did a-as you asked. P-Please f-f-forgive me. No, I don't w-w-want to face j-judgment, my lord." She broke down completely. "I don't think she is talking to us. This woman has totally it."

Heavy boots were heard, and there then was a man. He was of ordinary build with long dark hair and supported an eye patch over his right eye. A shadow of a beard lined his jaw. He adorns a boiled jerkin and chainmail overtop of it. He was obviously from Westeros. His one blue eye was smiling as he took in the crying woman.

"What did I say about screaming in front of our guests?" The man plucked the woman off the wooden ground. "It is not polite. You know this."

The woman's shaking did not cease, it quickened. She did her best to resemble something of a nod through her quivering. "Y-y-yes. I-I-I-I'm s-s-sorry my l-lord."

"We will discuss this matter at a later date." And the man whispered something in her ear Jon couldn't make out. The woman pulled away and slowly walked to the nearest vessel, sobs wracking her body. The line of people gazed expectantly at the newcomer. Some of them shifted anxiously.

The man whipped around and spread his arms welcomingly. "I am the captain. I am sorry for that… dilemma. My wife hasn't been the same since her whole family was butchered. She's doing the best for her recovery."

A murmur of understanding went through the crowd.

"He is lying." Jon knew. The man's face and voice might seem genially sad, but Jon's time as a bastard made him more observant than most. "He probably abuses her. There are many cases of husbands that do that. It will be a shame to that child." Jon saw that bulge in her stomach. Added with the abuse she most likely goes through, no wonder she collapsed the way she did. It was a shame, but it was not a matter that he belongs. His priority is to go to Braavos. Nothing else is as important.

"My crew is still in the city enjoying themselves. Being the good captain that I am, I wanted to give them some leisure time, especially when their wives are nowhere to be seen overseas," the captain joked lightly. He earned a few laughs and set them at ease.

As he and the mass walked across the plank, Jon made his first impression on the captain. The man made no contact with anyone else; however, he bestowed Jon with a hand on the shoulder.

"Enjoy the trip," The captain said, his blue eyes drinking him in. Jon found it unnerving. "He must have a thing for boys." He will not judge the man as long as he does not act out of turn.

Jon then noticed up close that his lips were blue, just like his eyes. He tried not to show the cold shiver that traveled up his spine. He nodded slightly and followed everyone else. As they walked to the stairs that led below to the cabins, Jon noticed a longship a few spots away from theirs. It was distinguishable as a result of the manner it was presented. It had an unusual dark red hull.

Jon shook away the bad feeling and went down the stairs. It was suspiciously wet. He almost slipped. The others in front of him weren't as lucky as they slipped on their ass. It was dark. There were no lanterns lining the walls of the corridor. They shuffled in the dimness of the ship. Like a sword, shrill screams plunged through the air. There were thuds and crashes ahead of them. Jon dropped his bag and drew his sword. His throat tightened. "What's going on?" His nerves maxed out and he dropped his sword; he couldn't find it. Bodies dropped and blood flowed. Panic and chaos were on all sides He took a step back to his back colliding with something solid and unyielding. The pain was all he knew before the world turned black.

-Present

"You did this." Jon tried to sound angry. The rivers of blood dripping down the captain's face and the maniac look in the man's eyes made that task difficult. It was even more daunting by the fact the man was carrying a head at his side like he was holding a whisky. The man stood by the doorway, his body tensed like he wanted to pounce on him. He seemed like an animal. Jon did not want to be afraid but he was. "Will he do that to me?" Jon asked with tremendous anxiousness, staring at the chopped-off head in the man's hands. It didn't look like a clean beheading either. The line across its neck was ugly and uneven like it was ripped straight off its shoulders. Jon didn't know who the man was, but he truly died a terrible death.

"You are a smart one," the captain remarked, stepping fully into the room. He was swinging the dead head with the carelessness that comes with being a psychopath. "You've been in the dark long enough I think. I want you to see something." In his other hand, he lifted a lantern.

Additional light weaseled into the room, and Jon can see what lingers with them.

"Noooooo," Jon screamed in fear and scrambled on the floor until his back hit the wall. He shoved his hands over his face. His breaths came haggard and hard. His heartbeat sped up until it hurt. He can feel his fingers shake against his forehead. All this happens at once because he cannot believe what he saw. "God's no. This cannot be real," Jon choked out. This has to be one of his nightmares.

"The gods please help me."

Jon can hear the man step closer. "The only god in here is me. Open your eyes, Jon."

Jon kept his eyes squeezed shut. He was not going to look. He so shook that he blatantly overlooked the man knowing who he was.

The man's voice lowered into a dangerous whisper. "I said, look."

Jon couldn't manage to talk. He shook his head no.

There was a thud of the lantern hitting the ground. Quick, the captain grabbed Jon by a handful of his hair, and the bastard felt the crushing force of the severed head connecting with his face. It broke Jon's nose and immediately leaked blood. Jon's body froze with pain. The assault wasn't nearly done. The man brought down the head on Jon's face over and over. Jon was forced to look upward at the head descending on his face. Up, down, up, down, it went and Jon had never gone through pain like this before.

"Arghharhrarhr," Jon screamed out, but the head hit his mouth and a tooth was knocked loose. His head was ringing. And still, the pummeling never ended. It was a sickening wet noise with blood being shed. And that's when the captain ceased his attack.

"AHHHHH," the captain cried out with his head craned up, chest heaving from exertion. Jon looked up at him through his bloodied gaze. He did not dare move. "I cannot tell you how much I hate that." Euron knelt down next to his head and smoothed out his hair gently. "I can't tell you how much I hate being talked back to, Prince Snow."

He paused. "But this is where all men go through. They have to go through trials of error before they better themselves. You know all about trials, don't you bastard? You know how it feels to lose. You know how it feels to fail because you were a failure. But that's why you got me, Prince Snow. I am Euron Greyjoy, and I will make you perfect."

"Now, let's try this again. Look."

Not wanting to endure another round of the brutal beating he got, he slowly lifted his head. It was a great effort, for he no doubt has a concussion. Through his half-lifted eyes, through the blood spilling down his face, he saw the dead rotting bodies chained along the walls just like he was. They were stabbed, dismembered, and bloodied. The eyes were still wide with pain. A few stared at him blankly. Their bodies leaked blood from all the sword wounds they sat through. Some of them still had their mouths wide open; they died screaming. There was so much blood, flies were feasting like crows.

Jon was smart enough to know they were the people who came on board with him. He can see the woman and her two little sons in one corner, decomposing just like the rest. Age was not an issue with any of the savageness. Other families, toddlers, women, and old lined the walls unresponsive. Jon's stomach churned. Vomit spewed out his mouth. He moaned weakly when he was done. His stomach hurt.

"You like what you see?" Euron asked eagerly. "They served their purpose. They came to this ship with flaws. They left this world with none of those."

Jon laid his pounding head on the ground and closed his eyes, trying to lessen the pain in his head. He heard the Grejoy sit-down and cross his legs.

"I will bring light into this room. You will look upon them for the rest of your days for your disobedience. Their blood will be used to repaint the hulls of my silence. Their bodies will be nothing but bones because I willed it to happen. Let that keep a reminder in your bastard mind…that I am a god."

Euron Greyjoy rubbed his hands softly over Jon's bloodied face. "Men die because they don't have a life to live for. For what's a life without meaning? But you, bastard, will have something much greater to live for."