I do not own nor claim to own any of GRRMs works, nor am I profiting off this story

First exam done, went very well luckily. Enjoy!


"The name of a vessel is vital to its success upon its voyages" lamented Tommo. "And the name Black Kraken is not a name that bodes well for a load of Greyjoy turncloaks" . They were supping on the rear deck, where there was a large table set up overlooking the sea behind them. Truly it was beautiful in the setting sun if a little cold.

"The name of a ship is nothing but paint and words" mumbled Lyanna over a mouthful of bread and stew that had been provided for them.

"Ah, I have to agree with him on this one lass" spoke Lemnos. "A ship's name will strike terror into our enemies and bring relief to our friends. It will light our safe way to port and inspire those around us!"

"And of course, is much easier than just calling it 'the ship'" added Wendel, causing Jagare to chuckle quietly.

"He's right" replied Aeron. "The name of a ship is extremely important, but it should not be chosen lightly. In the Isles, our ships had to earn their names. From deeds done."

"Yes, and you also pray to barnacles and drink seawater" muttered Lyanna, the whole table erupting in laughter. Jagare laughed a little bit, but his mind was elsewhere. It had been almost ten days since they had stolen the ship and turned full speed for the south. Through a fine brass far-eye, Jagare had seen sails pointing towards them, but they had the wind and the head start. Wendel had nearly fainted when he saw all the charts and maps in the ginormous chart room. With Aeron's help, he began plotting a course that took them straight out of the way of any Ironborn patrol vessels. Within another two days, they would be in sight of Fair Isle, and that meant they were in the Westerlands protection from Ironborn raiders.

Even though he knew that Terran would come after them, Jagare was not worried about the Isles anymore, and it was time to move on. The ship was lively in those days coming, the crew sang as they worked, and spirits were high. The warriors trained on the main deck everyday morning and afternoon, and when not training they were helping around the ship. On their first night, Jagare had asked Aeron how many men he had managed to bring for them.

"Double the crew needed, and around four hundred Ironborn warriors." Jagare blinked a couple of times.

"Four hundred! Where the fuck did you find that many men to fight?" Aeron shrugged.

"Any man who was thinking of surrendering changed his mind very quickly when he saw the brutality being committed to my people. The promise of revenge was simply too enticing. Now that it's been delivered, their loyalty to you will be unyielding as long as you keep a good supply of women and coin for them. That and a few fights to keep their steal sharp."

"Coin and women I can manage, battle is another thing." Aeron looked at him strangely.

"That's the last thing I would worry about. We Ironborn love a good fight. Doesn't really matter who." Four hundred men to fight any battle he wanted…that was the size of his father's short-term banners. Jagare had seen them before when a large group of wildlings came too far south. They had all gathered within two days and marched off to defend their lands. He remembered how powerful they all looked, with their arms and armour.

"Well then, it's good we have them on our side." Cragg, Meri, Brik, Xavi, and Angie became his personal guard, standing watch outside his room at night and swearing their swords truly to him, with no need for gold. For sellswords, Jagare was surprised that they would do so, but Cragg had announced it was a unanimous decision.

Still, something was grating on Jagare's nerves, just a slight chip on his shoulder. Something felt off, and he thought he knew what. After they had finished eating, he grabbed Tommo and headed down to the passenger cabins on the second deck. When they reached the furthest one Tommo put a hand on his shoulder.

"Why do you come down here every night, hoping for something new," he asked, his face showing concern.

"I don't know Tommo, but there is something…I can't place it. I just need to know where she comes from, what she's doing here." He sighed heavily. " If I'm being honest…I just want to give my brain something to focus on, because then I don't have to deal with…well…"

"The existential void that is captaining the largest ship in Westeros to wherever you want to go?" Tommo smirked softly at him. "It's a privilege, Jagare. Not a burden. Stop thinking too much." He nodded and smiled at Tommo.

"Aye, your right. We should go and enjoy our time spent not fighting the next bastards that come our way." Tommo laughed joyfully.

"That's the spirit. And speaking of spirits, let's go get-" at that moment the door opened, and the girl stood in the doorway. Her eyes flickered between the two of them before she squeaked and disappeared back inside, slamming the door behind her. Jagare stuck his boot into the crack and just managed to stop the door from closing.

"Wait!" he called as he tried to shove the door open again. "Tommo, Tommo- stop fucking standing there!" he hissed as Tommo was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Yeah yeah, I'll come and help you get the door open with a little girl blocking it." But just as he reached the door, it swung open, and a fist came flying out. Jagare dodged it but Tommo was caught right in the crotch and fell down with a sharp yelp, his voice raising a few octaves. Jagare quickly moved into the room and saw the girl run to the bed, throwing herself into the corner.

"Leave me alone!" she sobbed. "Don't hurt me!" Jagare slowly crouched down, holding up his hands.

"Look, I'm unarmed. I'm not going to hurt you." The girl sobbed again and shook her head.

"You want to hurt me; they all want to hurt me." She shook her head even faster. "Don't hurt me anymore." Jagare moved slightly closer.

"I swear, I'm not going to hurt you, on the old gods and the new. I just want to help you." The girl brushed a streak of blonde hair out of her face and shuddered.

"That's what she said. The other lady. She said that she'd help me, but she just gave me to the…" She let out a yell again and buried her head in her hands. Jagare took a moment to let her sit while he took in her appearance again. He couldn't quite work out how old she was, somewhere between three and ten and seven-and-ten. But with her small stature, streaking blonde hair and inability to stand still, he couldn't work it out.

"The lady you spoke of, was she the Greyjoy queen." He received a swift nod. "Well…she's gone now. My friend shot her, with an arrow. She's dead." There was an abrupt change in the girl's demeanour. She stopped sobbing and her body tightened, her fists clenching. "Are you able to…tell me your name?" She was silent for a few seconds before stuttering out.

"F-f-fa-Faythe. My name is Faythe." Jagare nodded and smiled at her.

"It's nice to meet you, Faythe. My name is Jagare. I'm the new captain, and you are under my protection now. Ok?" She lifted her head slightly, and through the curtains of her hair, he saw her smile, a small one, but a smile, nonetheless. "I'll leave you now, I just thought we should be introduced to each other. Okay?" He decided to stop there and take what little he had gotten. Helping a limp Tommo back onto his feet, he closed the door and walked back down the hallway, feeling slightly happier.

"Come on Tommo, it was just a little girl."

Life on the ship was much more extravagant than on Azuree. Although they hadn't thought of a name yet, everyone comfortably settled into the ginormous vessel and called it home. Jagare couldn't blame them either though. His and Lyanna's cabin was ten times the size of his room in Karhold. Both the fore and the rear decks held many a room as well. The chart room, kitchen and even stables were all kept in the foredecks, while the armoury and sparring room were in the rear decks, along with accompanying chambers. The armoury had been stocked with chain mail, steel helms and enough weapons to forge an iron throne. The top deck was wide and spacious, with plenty of room for troops to drill and the crew to go about their duties without being interrupted. The deck underneath was the soldier's quarters. Orderly and functional rooms with good storage for all belongings. There were also the crew quarters, smaller and less spacious, but still far over the average level of comfort. On the next deck, there were the passenger quarters. Larger rooms, richly furnished and comfortable to the level of a lord. Everything else was holding space, with a small section dedicated to a jail cell, fitted with heavy iron doors. The hold was packed to the top with barrels and crates of all sorts of variety. Salted meats, ale and wine, furs, pelts, cloth, lumber, spices and barrels of barely, wheat and rye. It truly was a magnificent vessel.

Jagare also found that his job as captain ran much smoother with a crew full of confident and experienced sailors. He had immediately made Aeron his quartermaster and he thrived in the position, keeping everyone in line and making the ship was in working order. The men respected him out of love instead of fear, and the ship was more efficient for it. A few days later they passed Fair Isle, a sure sign that the Ironborn ships would follow them no longer. They had taken down their own Ironborn sails and replaced them with large white ones they found in the hold, peaceful and nonthreatening.

"Fair Isle doesn't take kindly to the sight of Ironborn sails," Aeron told him one evening when they had gone for a bout in the sparring room. It had been designed in some YiTish style; a dojo was what he had been told. Either way, it was panelled with exotic wood and tapestries with lots of room for swinging.

"Mmmm" Jagare replied. "I wonder why." Aeron grinned and swiped at him with his sword. Jagare parried with the blunted axe and aimed a fairly light swing at his hip. The two were normally evenly matched. Jagare then thought of something.

"Speaking of, when we get to Lannisport…" Jagare jumped back as Aeron thrust at his chest.

"Yes, yes. I know. I'll tell them all to behave." Jagare responded with a spinning deflecting and Aeron ducked out of his way.

"Just tell them to remove all Ironborn signets and make them quieten down. I don't have any problem with them surveying the sights, but make sure they don't expose themselves." Aeron parried a blow then backed off, catching his breath.

"Don't worry, the normal vigour has gone out of these men. Losing Harlaw shook them hard, they realised that we aren't invincible. They'll behave." Jagare smiled softly and clasped Aeron's shoulder.

"We'll get them their mojo back, I promise." Aeron nodded with a smirk.

"Few days in the brothels should sort them out."

"Really, I mean it. And one day, we'll get Harlaw back too. And your crown." Aeron smiled at him then, not a smirk, but a full smile. He looked healthier when he smiled. Soon enough, on a cold crispy morning, a great peak appeared in the distance. They were still a day away from the city, but what they saw was the great mountain fortress of Casterly Rock. Casterly Rock was a mountain three times the size of the wall, a colossal tower of rock that the Casterlys of old had hollowed out and turned into a castle, with luxurious rooms and ginormous halls stored in its caverns. And of course the extensive gold mines that had funded the richness of the Lannisters for many years. Jagare of course had only read about it in his many books, and only Wendel seemed as excited as he was to see it.

"Thousands of years old, with tunnels of gold still not discovered" Wendel rambled quickly. "Defences reinforced with ringforts, gates walls and watchtowers; it's never been taken!" Jagare chuckled slightly as everyone rolled their eyes.

"Wendel if you spent as much time training in warfare as you did reading, you could take the damn castle single-handedly," remarked Tommo, who slapped Wendel on the back. Wendel grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"What can I say, I like to learn."

"And it's bloody useful sometimes as well" Jagare cut in. "What I'm sure none of you but Wendel and I know, is that there are secret tunnels in the base of the rock, accessible only by ship," Jagare smirked. "Would be useful if we needed to attack the castle, would probably guarantee an easy victory. And none of you would have known it." Tommo was silent for a few seconds before he coughed loudly and mumbled something akin to 'shut the fuck up Jagare' under his breath. Before Jagare could throw him over the railing a voice called from the crow's nest.

"Captain! Captain Jagare! We have a vessel approaching us." Immediately Jagare's insides grew taught. He knew that they could take on any ship that dared attack them, but a sea battle outside the home of the Lannisters would be suicide via lion. He raced towards the foremost part of the ship, where Lemnos was already waiting. He held the far eye out for Jagare to take with a grunt.

"A small war galley, flying a sail of some lord, can't make it out." Jagare looked through the glass and saw his vision magnified, it was a very strange feeling. In the distance, he saw a sail, blue with a yellow triangle and sun…a house of the Westerlands, but which one? He handed the far eye to Wendel who had come puffing up the stairs, and after a second, he nodded.

"House Lefford, of the Golden Tooth." Jagare nodded, and he felt the knowledge flood back.

"Highly principal bannerman to the Lannisters, third most powerful in the Westerlands. I wonder what they bloody want." Aeron had joined them on deck and was gripping the rail tightly.

"We can take them" he stated confidently, and Lyanna scoffed heavily.

"You fucking idiot; you want to take a Lannister ship in their own bay? We will be hunted down like dogs." Aeron shrugged.

"We can outrun them."

"Yes, until they send ravens to Crakehall to have ships block us from the south" muttered Wendall.

"We would be trapped. Which is why we loosen the sails and see what they want." He eyed Aeron for a second then he huffed.

"Ugh, fine…your no fun." Jagare turned back around to watch him go.

"We can have fun when we find some pirate or a slave ship, but I'm not out here trying to get the richest lords in Westeros on my ass!" Jagare had most of the men go below deck to many grumbles and mutterings. But it was needed, anything else would be seen as a threat. When the galley pulled alongside them, Jagare met them on the main deck with Lyanna, Tommo, Aeron, and his guard. Lemnos was at the wheel lazily leaning while Wendel was perched in the crow's nest. Onto his ship clambered a man dressed in clean shining armour with a yellow and blue plume on his helmet. He had a classic haughty southern look on his face and gazed around the ship with a bored expression, but Jagare saw the awe in his eyes. His gaze then returned to Jagare and looked him up and down with distaste.

"How did you come across such a fine ship, boy?" Fucking southerners, they were probably the same age. Jagare bit his tongue and choked down the words he wanted to say to the pompous brat.

"I had it constructed for me, through gold and silver paid. I am a sea captain, nothing more." More men at arms had clambered onto the deck at this point, and all seemed to be either admiring the ship or staring at the man with expectation. The lordling looked at him suspiciously then looked down at the deck beneath Jagare's feet.

"I doubt that, most likely you stole it from a better...perhaps I should impound it for safety." Jagare's eyes narrowed.

"I did no such thing, and If I were to wager as guess I would say we are the same age. I am no boy." The knight glared at him, but he had given no insult

"Well, I am a knight, so bend your knee and address me as such. Then I should have a look round your ship and ah" he looked lecherously at Lyanna. "Sample the wares of your vessel." Lyanna burst into laughing, but Jagare's face was as calm and cool as ice.

"I bend my knee to none by my lover. Seeing as you are not her, I owe you no respect apart from that you earn…and you have earnt none. Furthermore you have done nothing by dissuade me from thinking high of a knighted man ever again." He clearly wasn't very smart, and looked very confused at his words. "Let me put it more simply for you" he sighed. "Get the fuck of my ship you pompous little shit, before we chuck you into the sea and make you swim too shore." The man's face contorted in rage, and he reached for his blade.

"You insolent little!-" But before he could draw his sword Lyanna, Xavi and Angie had arrows pointing at him.

"You think you can draw steel at a captain on his own ship" growled Jagare, his voice now dark and menacing. This little shit. Fucking. Southerners. Instead of taking the hint, the knight instead started spitting out insults at them.

"You unwashed sea savages! Northern dogs! How dare you draw steel on me! I am a knight of the Wester-" Lyanna shot an arrow at his feet, the tip piercing the deck just between his boots.

"You'll be a knight of no lands if you don't shut up mate" chuckled Tommo. The knight's face turned even redder, and he drew his sword fully, clearly struggling with the weight. Jagare had his hand on his axe and was about to respond when another voice spoke up.

"ENOUGH!" Another man appeared from over the side. He was older, around thirty, with short trimmed, sandy-coloured hair and a slight beard to match. He wore a set of mail, with a blue and yellow tabard over his chest. He walked past the knight whose face had turned slightly whiter and smacked him on the head. The knight's knees buckled from the force, and he fell down, his helmet rolling off revealing similar-coloured hair. The older man scoffed. "Didn't even fucking put your helmet on right, you useless shit."

"They attacked me cousin!" he seethed while attempting to rise from the deck. "Kill them all, in the name of our house!" Growling the older one grabbed his breastplate and pulled him up.

"Our house will not be known for shitty, whiney knights whose first reaction is to think everyone is beneath them and draw their swords when things don't go their fucking way!" He threw him back to the floor and turned back to Jagare, who was quite surprised at the scene playing before him.

"I apologise for my younger cousin's antics, I thought to give him an opportunity to test his diplomacy." He gazed distastefully at the sweating red man on the floor. "Clearly, I was mistaken in my attempts. Get back on the ship you cunt."

"But cous-"

"GO" he shouted, and the knight clambered off swearing under his breath, half the men followed. The man turned back to face him and shook his head with a sigh. "Fucking makes my life miserable I tell you." Jagare exchanged a look with Aeron who shrugged nonchalantly and indicated for Jagare to continue.

"Yes, I can see that…may I ask…what the fuck just happened." The man seemed to regain his composure.

"My apologies, I have lost my manners. My name is Ser Tybolt Lefford, Lord of the Golden Tooth and castellan of Casterly Rock. The one who you just saw make a fool of himself is my younger cousin Joffrey Lefford. As much as I would like to send him to the wall, he is currently my only heir and so I have been trying to teach him lordship."

"Looks like an uphill battle you're fighting there" sniggered Tommo. Jagare turned and threw him a death glare but to his surprise, Tybolt laughed and nodded.

"Aye it is, but it gives me something to do and without me, he would probably get himself killed. I just hope I get another heir before I die, for cannot imagine him ruling my lands. No fucking way." He laughed again and a kindle of hope sparked in Jagare. Not the typical southern lord then. "Now, on a more serious note, I have to ask what your intent here is." He held his hands up in defence. "I understand that us searching a ship before its even entered harbour is irregular but with such a large and powerful warship and the current…political climate, you understand my worries."

"Why, what's happening?" Tommo asked, but Jagare silenced him in a look

"No that sounds fair to me" Jagare replied truthfully, making a mental note to find out more about the 'political climate'. "I can see how it could look threatening, but I assure you we dock in Lannisport to trade, resupply and let my crew have a rest. Nothing more." Tybolt nodded.

"Yes, that sounds fair." His blue eyes flickered around the ship, and Jagare knew he saw more than what was simply in front of him. "You don't seem to have that much of a crew for such a vessel. Either that or they are all hidden below decks." Jagare stilled, but as a good quartermaster should Aeron was there to pick up the pieces.

"Our men are below decks for that exact reason. Any perceived attempt of attack would be met with extreme and deathly consequences from the powerful Westerlands I am sure." Jagare was not sure the praising comments would work, and although the lord smiled slightly, his eyes still searched.

"Yes, we would have. But they are still there, and I must ask how many. For safety reasons, you see." Jagare hesitated for a fraction too long and Lord Lefford was on him immediately. "I will say that lying to me will certainly decrease the chances of you being allowed safe docking in our city." He gazed at Jagare fearlessly and so he nodded and spoke the truth.

"We have a standard crew for a ship this size, around one hundred. As well as that we have four hundred fighting men…for tough situations." Tybolt's eyes widened slightly.

"Four hundred you say" his voice sounding impressed, though Jagare was sure it was for diplomacy's sake. "I would say looking around you could fit even more if needed." His smile faded. Why so many?" Lyanna had obviously felt bored being left out and decided to speak up.

"For when the seas get rough and the pirates get brave, my lord." Tybolt's eyes turned to Lyanna. He spoke to Jagare while still keeping his eyes on Lyanna.

"It's said to be bad luck having a woman aboard" he spoke, his lips curling. Lyanna glared at him.

"Well, there are two women on board, and we are still floating. I think we're fine, thank you." Tybolt inclined his head to her.

"As you say, my lady." He turned back to Jagare.

"You sound…northern. Might I ask if you follow the Old Gods." Jagare faulted at the strange question, but answered nonetheless.

"They are my gods, and the true gods of the North. And I swear on them that I mean no harm to your city." Lord Lefford smiled once more and clapped his hands together.

"Well, I see no reason to deny you entry to the port. You may dock in the city." He offered Jagare his hand. He took it and then was pulled in close. "Meet me in the Golden Sun inn tonight at dusk, and I will answer your questions." He spoke quickly and quietly, then he smiled again and departed the ship, his men following behind him and departed their ship. Immediately Lyanna approached him.

"What did he say to you? Was it a threat?" She hefted her bow and took aim without an arrow. "I bet I could get him from here."

"Can you get that young golden cunt as well?" asked Tommo laughing. "I would pay good money for a chance to put him on the ground. No blades. Northern style." They all laughed, but Jagare shook his head after.

"We are in the world of Lords and Ladies now. Here we are safe, but out there" he pointed to land "we must mind our tongues, lest they get removed. Now go, get the crew up here and get them prepared to dock us." Everyone dispersed except Lyanna, who gave Jagare a reproachful eye.

"Yes, yes Lya I was going to bloody tell you." She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.

"I should fucking hope so ya twat, don't be leaving me out on nothing." He smiled at her, and she returned it, kissing him on the lips before leaning into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and muttered quietly into her ear.

"He wants me to meet him on land, at dusk. I think he'll give some answers to the odd questions."

"Are you going to go?"

"And deny a lord's offer? He can still impound this ship you know. I'll have Angie and Merri in there when I arrive, for safety. Besides, we're in a new world now. It might not be a bad idea to have a few friends with the Westerosi nobility." Lyanna looked up at him and smiled.

"Good plan. You're getting better at this you know. A long way from the little boy who could barely speak to a stranger. Jagare laughed again and kissed her head.

"Yes, and it's been quite a journey." They waited until the Lefford ship had docked in the harbour before sailing into port. Jagare was crouched in the crow's nest, which was big enough to hold three people. He saw the awed expression from the citizens of Lannisport through the far eye and smiled to himself. The power he possessed, the fear he struck with a mere ship. 'You didn't earn to though' a small voice spoke in his head. 'You stole it, stole it from those more deserving. Traitor. Murderer.'

"Fuck off" Jagare mumbled, his expression dour again. The city of Lannisport spread out before him as Aeron guided the ship into port. The third biggest city in Westeros, the streets gleamed red and brown in the light, and the thatched roofs golden in the sun. Due to the wealth of the Lannisters, the city had been built rich and neat, with furnished and styled wooden buildings stretching out in neat rows all throughout the city. It smelled of milk and smoke, earthy and fresh. The city was protected by a ring of high and strong walls and had a strong city watch…or at least it was meant to. Leaning a little further over the rail, Jagare looked closely at the city, but could not see the usual glint of helmets and spears normally associated with a city watch. The walls were strong but thinly manned, and although the streets were peaceful, guards were fair and few. Where were all the men? When he climbed down from the crow's nest, he shared his thoughts with Cragg, who chuckled darkly.

"Aye, you aren't going blind yet captain. The Lannisport city watch is not up to its full capacity."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, you see captain when you're in the sellsword business you're continuously aware of where swords are needed, for business's sake, you understand. And believe me, they are always needed somewhere. We were heading to Lannisport before you met us because Lannister gold is flowing freely to any man with a blade.

"But why," Jagare asked confused. "Where are they all?" Cragg thought for a moment before answering.

"The Lannister army is on the move. And I mean the entire Lannister army. But no one knows where they are going, not even some of the Westerlords." Jagare did not understand. How could an army not know where it was going?

"Your telling me their marching with no destination? And no ones choosing to challenge that...why?" Cragg and he shrugged.

"Boy lords captain, boy lords. Word is they might be heading for the Reach, but they could just as easily be going to the Riverlands. Either way isn't much to do with us." He shuddered. "Never liked swearing on to lords, too much politics. Much easier with merchants. Far less complicated."

"Good to know" Jagare replied dryly. They docked the ship in the deep-water ports and the ship's cargo was unloaded onto the docks, barrels of Ironborn fish, wool, and tin, somehow a rarity in the mine-ridden Westerlands. The men streamed out into the city, Jagare making sure they all had their pay to fuel the city's brothels for another few months. On the docks, he left Wendel and Aeron to take care of the trade, with Lemnos, Brik and Cragg to act as intimidation and enforcers if necessary. Meanwhile, he headed into the city with Lyanna and Tommo beside him, Angie and Merri trailing while Xavi went off to meet with an old friend of his in the city. Although he was trying to not attract to much attention, Tommo had no such inhibition.

"Would you smell that!" he sniffed in greatly and sighed. "No fishy smell, lovely wood, and smoke. I like this place Jagare, think we can stay here a while?" Jagare sighed though not out of pleasure.

"No Tommo, this is simply a stop along a rather large loop we have to make."

"A loop?" they both asked at the same time.

"A loop yes" replied Jagare. "A loop that ends up with us in White Harbour." As he expected, they both stopped behind him, and so he turned with a tired expression. "Don't think too much into it, I just think- "

"What happened to us never going back to the North?" asked Lyanna harshly. "I don't particularly want to go back to the place where I was almost sold to a madman. Wait, why do you?"

"I agree with Lyanna here" murmured Tommo, rubbing the back of his head. "White Harbour is very close to Oldcastle, and If the Starks know I'm with you two…I just don't want to endanger my family." Jagare pinched the bridge of his nose and felt his shoulders sag slightly. He shouldn't have told them yet…they wouldn't understand…but they needed to go back eventually. He had been thinking about it a lot, a plan slowly forming on the journey to Lannisport.

"Look, I'll explain in detail later, but for now can we please just relax and enjoy the peace and-" A loud bang echoed from behind him and he crouched instinctively protecting his head. Drawing his axe, he raised it and turned towards the sound, which came from a storefront with bright purple windows. A woman holding a cauldron stared at them open-mouthed with a blackened sooty face. The others walking past didn't bat an eye, as if it happened all the time.

"S-sorry about that" she stuttered as if in shock. "G-got a b-bit carried away." She eyed his axe nervously and so he sheathed it quickly and took a step back.

"I apologise, in my experience, loud bangs behind me are often followed by an attack." She smiled weakly. The woman had long waxen black hair that framed her face and bright lilac eyes.

"Y-yes I can see how that would be." She looked from Jagare to Tommo to Lyanna and her eyes stayed on Lyanna, her face changing to confusion. "You…I've seen you…" Her face then morphed to excited and her purple eyes sparkled. "Yes! Yes come, we must talk!" She chucked the cauldron onto a pile of…other burned cauldrons and beckoned them inside. "Come, you're going to want to see this." They all exchanged looks of confusion. This woman was very strange. She said'd she'd seen Lyanna...And she had a cauldron…Tommo had come to the same conclusion he had, but unlike Jagare he decided to blurt it out.

"Are you a witch? Like with spells and potions and all that." He said it with a genuinely interested face and Lyanna responded in kind by smacking him on the head.

"Rude shit, we apologise for him" muttered Jagare.

"Oh, it's quite all right. I suppose I am in a way yes." Jagare was stunned into silence and glanced at Lyanna who looked slightly white. "Oh, come on you all know magic exists, your Northern right?" She pointed at each of them in turn. "Tommo Locke, Jagare…" she frowned. "Snow. Odd. And of course, the lovely Lyanna Karstark." Immediately Lyanna surged forward and pushed the woman into her shop's wall.

"Who the fuck are you?!" she snarled threateningly. Jagare rushed forward but the lady giggled and waved him away.

"It's quite all right. My name is Alyeth Flowers, but you can call me Ale." She giggled again. "I have a bit of a drinking problem, so that's what my friends call me."

"So do I" Tommo replied dryly, but he still looked shaken. She laughed again, seemingly unconcerned with the situation.

"You'll have no fucking name unless you tell us how you know that" snarled Lyanna. Alyeth sighed and shrugged. "I don't know how I know, I just do. That's how my magic works, I guess. Like Tommo said. I'm a witch." She grinned wickedly.

"You don't just guess to be a witch" growled Jagare. "You either are or you aren't." She gazed at him and shook her head.

"You are not ready yet…but you" she looked at Lyanna who glared at her. "I have something you are going to want." She whispered something in Lyanna's ear, and her face went white.

"How the fuck" she drew a knife and put it to Alyeth's throat. "Do you know about that?" She shrugged.

"If you wanna find out, come with me."

"Fuck that" spat Jagare. "Leave us be or someone will be along to burn down your house, and I promise that's not an idle threat!"

"Jagare no, wait" Lyanna muttered. Her face had turned chalky and her hands shook, but she spoke with a quiet confidence. "I-I want to hear what she has to say. Just…just in case." Jagare looked towards the sea and saw the sun beginning to set. Time was running out.

"Okay fucking fine. But not here. You want to speak to her, it has to be on the ship where we have men." Alyeth nodded her head, looking into the distance.

"That's fair." Jagare grunted.

"Tommo, take them both back to the ship. Don't be afraid to…you know."

"Gladly" Tommo muttered, his face pale and eyes narrowed at Alyeth.

"No," Alyeth stated suddenly, her face changing from pleasant to angry. "I talk here. It has to be here." Jagare cursed and put his head in his hands. What the fuck was wrong with this woman?

"Alternatively, I could just kill you now" he shot at her. Instead, Lyanna groaned at him.

"For fucks sake Jagare, just go to the inn. I'll stay here and talk to her. Tommo will stay to make sure I'm not murdered. Bye-bye, don't get scammed."

"What? No, I'm not leaving you alone with a-"

"I won't be alone. Tommo will be here." He looked tiredly over at Tommo who seemed to be trying to balance his knife hilt on a finger.

"…fine. Ugh fine." He pointed at Ale. "If you hurt her, I'll have you eaten alive by the crabs."

"Okay" Lyanna spoke pushing him back down the road. "Goodbye now. Go, go meet the lord." Tommo waved at him, and he cursed loudly. He was captain of the largest ship in Westeros and was still getting bossed around by Lyanna. Some things never changed. Even though he did not trust Alyeth one bit, he did trust Tommo to protect Lyanna if it came to it, so he left, shooting looks over his shoulder till they were out of sight.

He found the inn easily enough, it seemed to be the classiest and most well-known in the city. A large-looking guard stood outside, and only let him in when he told him his name. Glancing across the street, he saw two hooded figures leaning against the wall staring at him. Angie and Merri. He nodded, and they nodded back. Feeling a little safer, he pushed open the door. He could tell when he entered that if it wasn't for his invitation, he would not be welcome. Inside sat knights of the Westerlands in their tunics and silks. Rich Essosi merchants and finely dressed summer islanders navigated the tables and…were those sofas? He looked around for Tybolt but did not see him. Instead, a voice spoke from his left shoulder.

"Jagare Snow?" He turned around and smirked. It was the knight from earlier, the whiney one. He had a look of forced calm, but his eyes shone with hate.

"That's captain Jagare Snow actually." He relished in the Lefford knight's discomfort, but Jagare was sure he was under strict orders not to retaliate. "I feel like titles are respected in here...go on, address me as such." He was enjoying this

"Captain…Jagare Snow" he ground out. "We were never properly introduced earlier. My name is Joffrey Lefford. My cousin is waiting in our private booth. If you would please…" he indicated for him to follow and walked off without another word. Jagare followed while taking some time to look around the tavern as he did. It was clear enough that it also operated as an unofficial brothel, as there were several beautiful scantily clad girls drifting between the men with bowls of fruit and cups of wine. One of them brushed past him with a seductive smile and he felt a hot flush creeping up his neck. Hurrying forward, he found himself in a richly furnished gold and red booth. There was a rich Myrish rug on the floor, with carved and polished wooden walls covered with tapestries depicting the great victories of the Lannister army. One showed them overcoming a Riverland force in the mountains, another Lannister archers repelled a huge Reach army in the forests and another showed them defending Casterly Rock from Ironborn. There was a fourth one that depicted a scene that caught his eye. There were Northmen fighting the Lannisters, clearly defined with their long beards, shaggy furs and huge axes. As with every other tapestry, the Lannisters were winning. Interesting…

"I thought that one might catch your interest," remarked a voice from behind him. Tybolt was leaning against the booth wall with a cup of wine. He was dressed in a tunic and breeches now, with a gilded knife at his belt.

"Why, yes. It does." He moved closer and ran his finger over the beautifully sown Stark sigil. "Forgive me, but I consider myself a learned man, especially when it comes to Northern history. Yet I have no knowledge of us losing to Westermen." Tybolt nodded slowly.

"Well, you would be half correct. You see that there is the only time that Westermen and Northmen have ever truly come to battle. Beforehand well there was the odd skirmish on the west coast with some sons of Westerling and Banefort who decided to have an exploration of Cape Kraken and found some rather displeased lords waiting. But that there, that was a proper battle." He indicated Jagare to sit and so he did. "Wine?"

"Ale, if it is no trouble. Wine is too sweet for my taste." Tybolt nodded and snapped his fingers. A boy came to the doorway immediately.

"An ale for the captain here, a good northern one." Jagare nodded his thanks but pointed back to the tapestry.

"Would you mind telling me the story? I wish to hear it from the Lannister side."

"Why of course." He spoke with a grin as if knowing what Jagare was thinking. He sat back on the plump cushions and sighed. "It was around one thousand years ago I believe. The Lannisters had finally finished confirming their kingship over the Westerlands and so of course sought to look to other lands to conquer. The King at the time was a rash one, and after slaying the last of the rebels with Brightroar, he was eager for more. They looked south at the Reach and saw a peaceful land, not at war. Now while that might have encouraged some, the Lannister king knew that not at war the Reach had many soldiers and knights to spare. He would be vastly outnumbered. He then looked North at the Isles and to your homeland and saw little but stone and earth, and so then he looked east, to the Riverlands."

"The battleground of Westeros," remarked Jagare and Tybolt nodded.

"Yes, they do like to serve as our war ground while we trample their lands. So of course, King Lannister gathered his armies and struck east past the Golden Tooth, my home. House Lefford was ordered to prepare the borders for a counterattack, so we were on the front lines. But the king was doubtful we would be needed. The Riverlands were war-torn anyway from the many disputes that plague their lands, and so the king struck with force. He ignored the castle of Riverrun, as the Tullys were too weak to do any damage to his large force. Instead, he started taking the lands around it and advanced up the Green Fork. But what he didn't predict, and in all fairness shouldn't have been expected too, was the actions of a few Northman. You see the North and the Riverlands had struck up trade deals a few moons earlier. Nothing huge, but in the process, Lord Ryswell and Lord Frey struck up a strong friendship, very strong indeed. He pleaded with the Stark king to send forces south to defend their trade partner, but the king refused to send his people into a war. He did however state that if a ragtag group of Northerners decided to go and defend their friends without flying banners of the North, he would put up little resistance." Jagare smiled to himself at that. He did not have the best relationship with his homeland, but loyal to their friends they were and determined to seek justice.

"Sounds like the North."

"Of course, in that tapestry, the Stark sigil was added to avoid confusion, but in reality, they flew nothing but banners of a white wierwood tree. So, Lord Ryswell travelled home from Winterfell and called out all men who wanted a chance to go and fight the southerners and claim some loot." He looked confused for a moment. "But it's this part of the story that I never understand. How he was able to gather so many men? Three thousand infantry and two thousand horse travelled with him.o"

"Well, I can answer that" Jagare responded, taking a sip of the ale he had been handed and leaning forward. "It's an old Northern tradition, that when the snow falls and the white winds blow, the men will don their cloaks and gather their weapons, and announce they are going hunting…they do try and hunt for their families, but the real reason they leave is to free up space and food. Many will try to light a small fire, go to sleep in the cold and never wake. They sacrifice themselves so their families may live." He saw Tybolt's eyes twinkling, and a small smile appear.

"An honourable tradition." Jagare smiled back.

"Aye, and when war is upon us, even more will follow the tradition, in hopes they can bring some coin home to their starving families. It's why the North more often than not wins the winter wars. Our men are not afraid to die if it means their family will live. And when the harvest has been brought in, the farmers take up swords from their liege lord and the North's numbers are doubled." Tybolt was silent for a few moments before speaking.

"Well then, I have even greater respect for the North than I did before. And it makes sense, for winter was dawning at that time." Jagare nodded, indicating for him to finish the story. "So, Lord Ryswell made his way down the neck with almost five thousand warriors at his back. King Lannister had just finished taking Seaguard, a lengthier process than he anticipated, and so when the Stark force joined with the Frey force, they numbered almost ten thousand men. The North and Riverlands fought together against the Lannisters and forced them back towards Riverrun. The Tullys joined with what little men they could offer, but the Lannisters escaped back into the mountains where the Riverlanders dared not follow, for that was lion territory. My ancestor then lead the reserve force out of the Golden Tooth and linked up with the King's army. Together they outnumbered the Riverland-Northmen army and when the battle commenced outside of Pinkmaiden, it was equal." He pointed at the tapestry on the wall. "The Lannisters pushed them back, and the battle was won. But he suffered losses too great to continue the war, and the Northmen were ready to fight to the death. It was my ancestor, Leopold Lefford who convinced the Lannister King to make peace with his foes. In the end, the Northmen settled in the Riverlands, for the reason I assume you just gave?" Jagare nodded gravely.

"So, the tapestry…" Jagare asked, and Tybolt chuckled.

"Well, the battle was won by us, and you can't expect a tapestry depicting our loss, surely?" Jagare chuckled as well and nodded. "So, does it differ much from the Northern accounts?"

"Only slightly. The tale I heard was that the battle ended inconclusively when the King made peace on the field with the Northern commander, Rodrik Ryswell."

"Ah, I see." Tybolt looked wistfully at the tapestry. "And yet here, a thousand years later, we cannot truly know which tale is true."

"Aye, but that be the nature of war. It is written by the victors." Tybolt nodded and drained his drink, as Jagare sat there thinking. The Northman in that tale were good, loyal men. Men who wanted to save their families and help the innocents of the Riverlands. True men of the North.

"You seem troubled, captain." Jagare shifted slightly.

"I feel obliged to tell you that the North has fallen far from those days" Jagare muttered. "The lords are corrupt and cruel, and those true to their honour are powerless to oppose them. I fear it is not the realm that helped the innocents of the Riverlands anymore." Tybolt barked a laugh and called for another drink.

"You think that every realm has been perfect in its existence? My ancestors condoned the unprovoked attack on the innocent Riverlanders yet a few hundred years later destroyed a vassal family that had done nothing more than hold a gold mine the reigning lord had taken a fancy to. And think of the atrocities committed in the past; the hundreds of other houses wiped from existence, justly or not." He looked at Jagare intensely. "A broken realm simply needs a strong leader to fix it."

"Aye, I suppose your right." There was a moment's silence before Tybolt clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

"Anyway, enough story time. Let us talk business." He leaned in closer to Jagare. "I have a problem, Captain Snow. My…" voice dropped "Dolt of a fucking King, has, in his infinite wisdom taken the entire Lannister army and half the Lannisport guard…to a place I am not at liberty to expose." Jagare nodded with a small smirk. "Because of this, the only defence left is the vastly undersized city watch, which I dare not take for the chance of riots in the city." Jagare sighed expectantly, he thought he could see where this was going.

"And why, pray tell, do you need such soldiers?" Tybolt smirked a little at him then leaned back.

"Bandits, robbers, reavers. The usual." Jagare scoffed.

"Bullshit." He smirked back at Tybolt who nodded.

"I am under royal orders to not disclose anything about the Westerlands campaign, but I can say that a small raiding party might have…slipped through our powerful king's very careful scout parties." He drummed his fingers on the table and looked at Jagare. "They are riding around the Westerlands looting and burning as they please, and the King says he can spare no men to help clean them up, and it is up to me."

"What about your own guard you left behind? Or any of the other houses?" Tybolt looked troubled and his voice was quiet when he spoke.

"I have been commanded to keep my own guard stationed on the border, just in case of a surprise Riverland invasion." He shifted uncomfortably. "I am in dire need of men, and normally trusting a wandering ship would not be my first thought but-"

"You're desperate" replied Jagare, his mind whizzing in his skull. Someone needed him, they needed his help. He could name his price and it would be his. He leaned forward and pretended like he was thinking heavily. "A raiding party would normally be no more than fifty men in total, on horseback most likely but lightly armed and armoured. Three hundred of my own warriors could potentially bring them down easily…but it would cost be great if they were to be killed."

"How much?" Tybolt asked, gruffly. Jagare looked at him innocently.

"I don't know why-"

"How fucking much," he asked louder, his expression now serious. No more games it seemed. Jagare folded his arms and met his stare.

"My men are not your common disposable sellswords. I have trained with them, worked with them, and will happily fight with them. Any of their deaths would be a blow." Tybolt looked at him with surprise.

"You are a rare type of man to be so caring about those sworn to die for him…you should know that too much care for your troops can be a weakness." Jagare shook his head.

"In a larger army, I would agree, but I need and want every one of those men on my travels with me and will not sacrifice any unless the cause is great or beneficial to them."

"Beneficial?" Tybolt asked. "The men we are hunting will most likely carry plenty gold from their raiding, not to mention arms, armour and good steeds that if taken will be yours to sell. And that's without my personal contribution to your reward. Believe me, it will be in their interests and your own." Jagare laughed softly.

"You're asking me and my men to die and you won't even tell me the enemy. There will be no deal until you do." Tybolt glared at him.

"I am under royal command…yet if you swear…" Jagare nodded and made his oath.

"Very well. They are well-trained scouts out of Old Oak and Golden Grove. You would be fighting the Reachmen. The war with them is a secret to discourage Ironborn and Riverland raids on our side, and Dornish raids on theirs. An absurd idea, but somehow it has done its job." Jagare stroked his newly forming beard for a few moments before speaking.

"Very well…tell me what role House Hightower plays in the war." Tybolt scowled at him.

"None at all, this is between the Gardeners and the Lannisters over a personal feud which out of humiliation I will not utter no matter how many oaths you swear. With winter coming the Gardener King wanted most of his banners at home tending the last harvest, and the legitimacy of the Hightowers allegiance is shaky at best. After their previous war with the Stormlands" He eyed Jagare. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason" Jagare replied quickly. "Very well, I know our enemy. Now the payment." Tybolt sighed and tapped his fingers.

"Your men can have first pickings of all the bodies we find of course. As well as that I give you one thousand gold coins. Two for each of your men and the rest for you and your closer crewmates, to disperse however you wish." Jagare contemplated it for a moment.

"Throw in fifty casks of your city's honey-spiced wine, and we'll call it a deal." He spat on his hand and held it out. Tybolt glanced at it and raised an eyebrow.

"Not going to happen. But I agree to your demands." Tybolt got up to leave but Jagare had a sudden thought.

"One more thing, my lord." Tybolt turned. "I assume you will be taking a small force with you, and they will most likely be mounted?"

"Yes…" Tybolt muttered. Jagare smiled thinly.

"You see, my men do not ride horses. It would unfair of us to lead the charge." Tybolt narrowed his eyes at him, and for a moment Jagare thought he had lost the deal, but instead, he laughed gruffly.

"You're a sly fucker, Snow. But you have potential." He turned to leave and spoke over his shoulder. "Have your men armed and armoured after midday tomorrow, by the eastern gate. We ride with the sun at our backs." He left the room with a swish and Jagare sat there for a few minutes longer thinking.

A smile began to grow on his lips though, as he remembered his dealings with Terran. This time he was not working for a lord, sworn into service. No, this time he was working with the lord, being depended on, and rewarded handsomely. He sat back in the booth and called for another drink, gazing up at the Northern tapestry, studying the roaring war cries of his ancestors. It seemed that once more, the battle had found him. Except for this time, it was under his terms. A figure slipped into the booth across from him, Angie. Somehow, he had snuck in.

"All okay here captain?" He grinned and called for a drink for the archer.

"Absolutely brilliant my friend. We are going to be very rich. Now, tell me what you know of the last Reach-Stormlander war." Angie chuckled darkly as he drink arrived.

"I don't know all that much, but I do know that the Hightowers have held a grudge against both the Durrandons and the Gardiners ever since." Jagare nodded, thinking quietly to himself. He was in the south now, and although he hated it, he would have to learn their game.


Hope you enjoyed, feel free to comment!