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

Exams in full swing, writing has taken a pause for the moment but luckily I have a shit ton of chapters saved up for this reason. Enjoy!


One thing that Jagare did not account for when planning to leave the North and travel south was how bloody hot it was going to be. Even when standing on the deck with a cool breeze off the stern, he was still sweating like mad. The wind had shifted after Lannisport, an easterly that had slowed down their journey by pushing them further away from the shore, resulting in many tacks back towards land to keep it in sight. The ship's language had slowly seeped into him over the moons, luff, windward, reach and haul flowed off his tongue like he'd been born to it. Half a moon ago they had passed a large ocean fort, flying the brown boar of Crakehall. Soon after they sailed into Reach waters and the coastline flattened from high red cliffs into dazzling green and yellow fields. It took a lot of Jagare's willpower to not simply turn the ship towards land and enjoy the countryside of the Reach. Of course, that was not possible for several reasons.

The largest of which was the now impending threat of an angry Ironborn lunatic chasing them across the Sunset Sea. Jagare knew that his ship was faster but did not want to risk allowing him to catch up. He knew that he could take on any single vessel, but multiple longships smashing into the hull could potentially bring them down. And of course the fact that the Reach was at war, a secret war, but war nonetheless. Even so, life had not changed much since they had left Lannisport. The men drilled in the morning and helped around the ship in the afternoon. In the dojo, Jagare trained with his friends when they could, and Xavi had set up some targets along the main deck that he had acquired in the Westerlands for them to practice archery. Faythe had been starting to show her face more and more, timidly talking to Wendall, Lyanna and himself, as they seemed to be the ones, she was most comfortable with. However, whenever she encountered Aeron, she would disappear down below deck for the rest of the day and would not speak to anyone else.

The other change was that Lyanna no longer trained freely with the rest of them. Only she and Jagare would train, axe against sword, and very carefully. They had not told anyone about her pregnancy, wanting to keep it a secret until she was ready. Neither of them had truly even thought about the prospect of a child when they had started their relationship. Both agreed that they would keep it, but if Jagare had been more in control…later. Later in life when he could have secured his child's future. Not now with so much uncertainty in the air. But what was done was done, and they would both love the child as much as they loved each other; as both knew that children growing up without love would suffer. They had lain in bed together one night, Jagare with his hand softly caressing her stomach and his other making ringlets with her hair when she asked questions about names.

"Do we have to name it?" Jagare asked, and Lyanna giggled in response and softly slapped his arm.

"Yes, of course, we do. A name means a great many things in this world. You should know that best of all 'Ser conflict and war'." Jagare whistled as she laughed.

"Calling me ser as well! Low blow Lya. And we both know it also means unity." He kissed her forehead, and she made a pleased humming sound.

"Seriously though, what do you think." Jagare thought hard for a moment. Even though having a child had rarely come into his mind, he had read lots of Northern history books, and many names swam through his head.

"Eddard? He was a great Dustin, I think. Famous for drowning an entire Stark army in Torrhens lake."

"Mmmm, I like the Stark fact, but he sounds like an old man already. What else?"

"What about Rickon?"

"Rickon…isn't that a Stark name?" Jagare rolled his eyes.

"The Starks ruled the North for eight thousand years, I think all names are Stark names at a certain point." She scoffed.

"Yes, I suppose so…but you're just thinking about boys. For a girl, I like the name, Meera." Jagare nodded slowly.

"A Crannog name, I think. Pretty, I like it."

"Of course, you do, I said it." She laughed as he rolled his eyes.

"Alysanne?"

"Too southern."

"Wyman?"

"Eh, sounds fat."

"Tommo? Jagare?" She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Never." He chuckled.

"I think that we will see the babe…and just know. It will come to us then and there. I'm sure of it." She looked up at him and smiled.

"Aye. Your right. And we will love them no matter what." Their nights had been peaceful lately, and why shouldn't they be. Even with a blood thirsty kraken on their tail, he still felt they were the safest they'd been in a long time. The ship continued sailing past the Shield Islands and all the way to Blackcrown, a coastal castle in the Reach, before their routine was broken. He had been talking to Martial Rowen as the ship had entered the Whispering Sound when he received word that they were being requested to submit the ship for inspection.

"Any reason you know of?" He eyed the knight suspiciously, but the man simply shrugged.

"Hightowers may not have joined the war, but they're not stupid either. This isn't the North; everyone is looking to get an advantage wherever they can." Jagare looked at him tiredly.

"You'd be surprised. The North isn't what it used to be." Martial looked at him quizzically as he stood. The knight had healed well since their battle, his arm while still in a sling of linin, had healed nicely, and his shoulder wound was no more than a red splotch and a thin cut.

"Well, I better not accompany you anyhow. Best keep my presence a secret for now." Jagare nodded in approval. He wanted to deal with the problem quickly before Aeron ended up talking to the Reach delegate; a situation that would escalate faster than shoving a spear up a sleeping dragons arse. As he walked onto the deck, he remembered the last Lord he had met on the deck, Tybolt. Even though it was only a moon ago, Lannisport seemed a distant memory to him now. He had met with Tybolt one last time before he left port, in which Tybolt had given him several large chests filled with gold, as well as an apology. When Jagare tried to apologise in return, he was waved away, with Tybolt leaving him with a parting sentence that Jagare wouldn't forget.

"I have been taught to judge a man not by his birth but by his actions in life. You sacrificed your men's life for me, and I will not forget that. If you ever need me, I will be there to offer what support I can." It was pleasing to part with the man on good terms, and the promise of a favour should he ever need one was of great comfort to Jagare. Still, he was hesitant to believe there were many other lords as forgiving and kind as Tybolt. As he stood on deck, his eyes following the steadily approaching carrack. He heard Martial speak from behind him.

"Be wary, captain. Reachlords, especially those closest to Oldtown, look heavily down on bastards." Jagare smirked to himself and nodded.

"Don't worry ser, I have dealt with it all my life. I am sure it will not be anything new." But Martial still eyed him warily before excusing himself down below. Yet again, their warship dwarfed the Reach carrack, leaving them to drop a ladder down to their deck. As the Reachman clambered aboard, Jagare heard Aeron snort behind him, and although he shot him a glare, he understood the amusement. The man that stood before him held the most pompous and haughty look that Jagare had ever seen. It might have been intimidating if it wasn't for the fact that the man was around three times wider than a standard person. He wore armour that was stretched tight around his large belly, and when he pulled off his helmet, around five extra chins dropped down with a wobble. At that point, both Tommo and Aeron were barely standing, trying so hard to contain their laughter they almost fell over. The Reach lord glared at them, before singling out Jagare and inclining his head.

"Are you the captain of this vessel" he spoke, in a rich, cultured voice.

"Aye, I am."

"Hmmm, your name?" The man asked, his eyes waxed and grey.

"The name is Jagare Snow, my lord. How may I be of service?." The man sneered slightly at his name and Jagare felt the age-old sensation that he had experienced since a child. Even now, it still slightly angered him.

"A bastard from the North…I should let you know, captain, that in these parts you are considered the greatest insult to the true gods of the faith. If it were up to me, bastards should be castrated at birth and sent to the Starry Sept to repent their ways for life." There was silence across the deck at that. Jagare turned his head to see both Aeron and Tommo cease their laughter, their faces contorting into anger. Lemnos started growling to his left and he thought Lyanna would charge the man right then and there. In fact, she took a step forward, but he held out his hand to stop her. He knew those types of comments, trying to get him to react. Giving them an excuse. His stepmother used to try and bait it out of him all the time. He could either ignore it, or…

"I don't think that's quite correct actually, good ser" responded Jagare with a smile. The man raised his eyebrow expectantly. "Now if I was a buggering bastard from the North, who fucked his sister, married both his mother and aunt, then killed his father, well, that sounds even more insulting." The man's eyes narrowed at him, as all those behind him let out laughs and chuckles of their own. He met the man's eyes and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?'

"I have come to inspect this vessel to see if you are a warship in control of the Lannisters, but it is clear to me that a mere godless bastard could never be a threat to my country. We would crush you with holy power before you had an impure thought." Jagare could have laughed inside. What an idiot.

"Then, you will let us pass?" The man scoffed, his laugh sounding like a frogs ribbit.

"You don't deserve to dock in our holy city. You may not be Lannister, but I see no reason to let you pass my inspection." Jagare narrowed his eyes and tightened his hand around the hilt of his dagger.

"You have no right to hold us here, my lord."

"I have the will of the gods on my side bastard!" The man's face had turned extremely red, and the knights surrounding him glanced at each other nervously, their hands drifting to their swords. But more and more men started to appear on deck, until they outnumbered the Reachmen at least 4:1.

"The seven have no place on this ship" Aeron remarked quietly, his gaze deathly calm. Ever since he had acquired a black leather patch, he had the ability to glare so forcefully it made you unknowingly take a step back, as did the Reachlord, his gulp viable through all five of his chins.

"How dare you! The seven are eternal, how can they not be here?!"

"We follow the Old Gods" Tommo replied. "You know, worship trees, pray to the rivers, sing hymns to the rocks. You guys don't do that?"

"Blasphemy! I should have you all tried for heresy against the gods!"

"We also follow the Drowned God" Aeron growled. "And when on a ship, he is the only god who matters." To Jagare's surprise, he was sure that the wind howled a little louder, and a particularly large swell tilted the ship slightly. Under the creak of the mast, the lord realised just how outnumbered he was, and that it would be little trouble for his crew to simply throw them overboard and sail on.

"I will say again" Jagare grunted. "You have no right to hold us here, my Lord. We do not even know your name." The man's face regained some of its colour and his pompous expression turned fierce.

"Bulwer! And these are my waters bastard, so I have full right to!-"

"Actually, I believe these waters belong to my father, my lord" a voice spoke from behind Lord Bulwer. The man turned to look past his shoulder and his eyes widened in shock.

"My lady… is that you? W-what are you doing here?" A knight armoured in full plate of fine steel and silver climbed onto the deck and then reached down with his hands to help a figure up onto the deck. She was young, around six and ten he thought, but very beautiful in a southern way. She had long yellow hair that was plaited heavily and wore a dress of green, white, and grey. Her eyes shone green, and her entire aura radiated grace and delicacy. When she spoke, her voice was soft and high, and her smile as bright as the sun. A true southern beauty. Yet he preferred a more wild...ruggard and fierce. He glanced at Lyanna and flashed her a smile and a knowing look. She grinned and nodded back, understanding the message.

"I was on my pleasure barge and saw you inspecting this magnificent ship. And oh, I so wanted to see it, and well you were already here so I thought that if you hadn't already sounded the alarm then it would be safe to come and have a look!" She spoke in a childish, girly manner that was exactly what Jagare pictured when he thought of a lady from the south. The fat lord turned to Jagare and sneered.

"I wouldn't be too hopeful my lady, the captain is a bastard from the North, and you know what your septa taught you about them." Before he could continue, Jagare put on his best lord's voice and interrupted.

"That because of our low birth, we are able to appreciate all the beauty in the world that much more?" He bowed low in front of the lady taking her hand to kiss lightly. "Captain Jagare Snow, my lady. I would be honoured to have you shown around the ship." He heard Tommo snort in laughter but ignored him. "Might I ask for your name?" She giggled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Lady Aimee Hightower, captain. And this here is my valiant cousin sworn to defend me, Ser Leyton Hightower." The knight took off his helmet and held it with his left hand, thrusting his right out to Jagare, and he took it firmly.

"Well met Ser, would you be opposed to the beautiful lady being given a tour around my ship." The knight's was simple yet handsome, with short-cropped hair and a long scar across his cheek.

"As long as I may accompany her, I see no reason why not."

"Perfect" she squealed in a girly voice.

"Now wait a second my lady" squawked the lord, who had gone very red. "This man is a northern barbarian; he cannot be trusted!" She giggled and shook her head.

"Nonsense my lord, our captain of the Hightower guard Ser Duncan is from the North, and he is one of the kindest men I know."

"And a good, honourable man" added the knight, looking carefully at the lord. "And that besides, you would not dare to question the ladies word would you, my lord. These are such careful times we live in, and Lord Stannis requires utmost loyalty." The fat lord had gone quite white at the name, Stannis and hurriedly bid his apologies. The lady then curtsied before the fat lord who looked dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. Jagare glanced at Aeron questioningly who nodded gravely. He knew of the man. Lady Aimee took a step towards Lord Bulwar and took his hand.

"My lord, I believe you are no longer needed and are free to return to Blackcrown." He looked startled but then regained his thoughts, and after shooting one last dirty glare at Jagare he nodded.

"Yes, of course, my lady." After he left, the young lady turned to him sadly.

"I am terribly sorry for the things he was saying about you captain, you don't seem all that bad to me." Jagare chuckled softly and shook his head.

"It is quite alright my lady, I am used to it. May I introduce you to…" he gestured to Lyanna who smiled.

"Lyanna Karstark, my lady. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Bloody hell" muttered Tommo to him. "Didn't know you two could speak to proper." Jagare rolled his eyes and then motioned to the assembled crew with his hands.

"Alright all of you, back to your jobs, that's enough standing around." He then turned back to Lady Hightower.

"If you so wish my lady, we are already heading into port and could escort you back there while you look around." She nodded enthusiastically.

"That sounds wonderful, I have always wanted to look around such a fine ship-" her voice froze as her eyes went wide. "Martial is that you!? What are you doing here!" Jagare turned his head sharply to see the Rowan knight approaching. Shit, Jagare had forgotten about him.

"Yes" came the slightly annoyed voice of her protector who gazed at Jagare curiously. "What is he doing here." Martial stopped in front of them and bowed to Lady Aimee who jumped up and down and giggled.

"I recognised your voice, my lady." His grin was wide. Ser Leyton, it is quite all right. Captain Jagare is simply returning me home from the war…he saved me from the cruel lion's torture. I owe him my life."

"A story I will be able to tell you" Lyanna spoke to Aimee, linking their arms together. "Come, let us see the ship together." While Martial followed them, clearly a friend of Aimee's, the Hightower knight stayed behind for a moment and leaned in to mutter in Jagare's ear.

"You should know that the Reachlords of the Northern Marches are not well-loved in Oldtown at the moment. Lady Aimee forgets her lessons on our politics as they are friends. Still, he should stay on the ship for his own safety I believe." Jagare frowned, confused.

"Very well, but why is that ser." The knight didn't respond, simply shaking his head with a dark expression. By the time they reached the city of Oldtown, the tour was complete, and they docked completely for free by orders of Aimee Hightower. Result. As they stood on deck, Aimee curtsied low.

"Captain, If you ever wish for the hospitalities of the Hightowers, you need only come to our gates and speak my name. We would be very happy to receive you." Jagare bowed low once more and smiled at her.

"Your kindness is unparalleled my lady. I thank you." As the lady left, she gazed back at the ship with longing, something Jagare did not fail to note.

"Fucking hell Jaggy" Tommo chuckled as he clapped a hand on his shoulder, much to Jagare's annoyance. "I did not know you could speak like that. Where'd you learn it?"

"It was certainly something" spoke Aeron, whose new eyepatch gave him an even more crazed look when he smiled. "For a moment I thought you were just like them, a proper seven-worshipping greenland twat!" They both laughed and Jagare rolled his eyes.

"I grew up in a castle and read lots of books okay. Also, the Manderlys were frequent visitors."

"Aye" added Lyanna. "It's like riding a horse, you never forget how to speak courteously; and as Jagare showed, it has its uses."

"Really?" replied Tommo. "I thought he was flirting…badly." They all laughed at that for a while, then slipped into silence, taking in the city of Oldtown from the railing. It was truly beautiful, even from the docks. The fresh, perfumed smell drifted from the polished cobbled streets. Flowers hung from shuttered windows of houses and the sun glinted off the Starry Sept in the distance. As well as that, the Citadel of Maesters in the distance rose high and proud, with a large domed roof, and even taller was the Hightower itself. Not quite as tall as Casterly Rock, but quite maybe the tallest stone castle ever built. The silence was broken by Wendall, who coughed and then frowned.

"Did we enter Lannisport and Oldtown in the exact same way?" Everyone turned towards him looking confused. He looked nervous suddenly. "Y-you know. W-with the whole getting inspected, and then Jagare argues with someone…and then someone highborn rescues us- you know what never mind."

"I'll admit, its pretty" started Aeron. "But that fat cunt had one point, your not very well liked here Jagare. And even less so for me. I look like your typical Ironborn and the rest of you have the most Northern accents I've ever heard."

"You've never met any other Northerners" snorted Tommo.

"Fair enough, still."

"Aye, he's got a point" muttered Lemnos. "Oldtown is not the best place for us, let alone if they are on guard from the war. The only one of us who fits in is Xavi." They all turned to look at Xavi, who although surprised, eventually nodded his head.

"Yes, I've been here before. I know the backstreets and the networks better than most." He looked at Jagare. "Give me till the end of the day and I'll have all the information you need." Jagare smiled at him in thanks. Xavi was certainly the most knowledgeable out of the five, and in Lannisport had told Jagare everything possible about the state of the Westerlands.

"Good man, you have my leave." The sun was beginning to set below the cliffs in the distance when they started to leave the ship. As each man left the ship, Aeron handed them a single gold coin from a large sack, while Lemnos kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't pocket any. Not that he thought Aeron would out of greed, but the chances of him giving an extra to his men were quite high if left unobserved. A gold dragon in Oldtown was invaluable in terms of arms and armour, and although Jagare was sure that many would spend it away on more ale and whores than they could take, hopefully, others would realise the greater meaning. Tybolt's chests had all graced the eyes of the crew as he had moved them to his own quarters, and Jagare knew there would be dissent if he did not share the loot among the men who fought. He also knew however that giving men gold all at once would lead to stupid purchases and raised eyebrows in ports. Therefore, he told all of them on deck one morning that he would give them a single gold lion, the currency that was minted by the Lannisters.

"So" Jagare muttered to Aeron, who was joyously tossing each coin in the air for the men to catch. "Ser Stannis." Aeron's smile dimmed a bit and he shrugged.

"Don't know much, only that he was one of the lords he reached out to. We decided envoys were better than ravens, and we offered him a no raiding deal as well as fifty longships."

"And?" Aeron sighed, patting a man on the shoulder as he passed.

"Sent us back the envoy's feet, hands, tongue and ears. Said the rest of him would feed the lions in their menagerie." Jagare blinked and then coughed.

"Say what?"

"Yeah" Aeron chuckled darkly. "Not a nice guy. Did some research on him after, was his brothers right hand since they were small. Deadly, ruthless, skilled at command and a powerful negotiator. Not afraid to play dirty either."

"Joy" Jagare croaked slightly. After the men had all left to raise hell in the city, he, Wendel and Cragg took inventory of the rest of the gold as Jagare had very specific ideas for it.

"I wish to use the gold to equip our crew and soldiers as well as possible" he declared as Wendel was totalling up the gold they had left after subtracting everything he had promised the soldiers. "Weapons they can buy themselves as no man can choose another's steel, but armour I shall take as my own responsibility." Cragg nodded solemnly.

"I agree Captain. Having a well-armoured fighting force is invaluable as decent training and a good commander. Peasant boys wearing full steel plates will last longer than well-trained warriors with nothing but a loincloth." He cleared his throat. "However, I would advise against buying such armour here, captain." Jagare gave him a quizzical look, but Wendel stood up and nodded.

"He's right Jagare. Jorah fought in a tourney down here once, and after the first day, his breastplate was dented beyond repair. He came back saying that a breastplate in Oldtown costs as much as a full set of plate mail in White Harbour."

"Well, why is that" asked Jagare confused. "What is so different about southern armour. Is it better?" Cragg grunted a laugh

"Slightly perhaps, but chief among them is that Reach armour is so often decorated and displayed with all pretties this and that it's like buying twice the amount of metal. As well as that the men down here aren't as honest as those up North. There so many rich knights down here that the smiths charge their price and not matter how high, get paid by someone." He shrugged. "I won't deny its better quality than most Northern plate, but not by much. And far more expensive. Trust me, not worth it." Nodding, Jagare walked over to a table where a map of Westeros was spread out and held in place by a knife. He traced his fingers around the coast and rested on Sunspear.

"Dorne?" Both Wendel and Cragg walked over to look at the map.

"No fucking way!" came a voice from outside the door. They all turned at the noise and Jagare frowned.

"Problem with them Angie?" The blonde archer pushed his head through the door, his face in a frown.

"Only them raiding my homeland for as long as they've been around. Would you want to start wearing Wildling hides and leathers?"

"Uhhh..." Jagare couldn't argue with that one.

"Didn't think so! I'll toss myself into the sea before wearing Dornish steel." Jagare rolled his eyes.

"Yes yes, but is it any good?"

"I would say not" Cragg replied. "The Dornish are swindlers by nature, and their plate is lighter and there's less of it. Besides, its meant for the heat and sands, not the sea. And Angie would probably mutiny if we tried."

"Damn fucking right" he grumbled as he closed the door again." Jagare smiled. He liked that his crew felt free to speak their minds. It bridged the distance normally there between the captain and his men.

"What about the Stormlands?" asked Wendall. Cragg shrugged at that one.

"Stormland plate is good. Very strong, and made by those who know what they're doing."

"Yes, but where do we buy it." Jagare pointed at the map. "I have little knowledge of their current climate but if I had to guess, I would say they are at war." Cragg let out a grunt of laughter at that. "If they are or aren't, there is no city in the Stormlands. And I don't believe any castles- even Storms End would be willing to sell us three hundred sets of armour."

"Where then?" asked Wendall. Jagare's eyes traced the coastline further until he found their answer. He pointed at it with a small smile.

"Gulltown, the fourth biggest city in Westeros. The Vale is at peace currently, so the armour will be cheap. The Knights of the Vale are some of the best-trained and well-equipped warriors this side of the Bone Mountains in the far east; the smiths of the Vale make good steel." Cragg barked a laugh and Wendel grinned.

"Looks like a plan captain. Always did like the girls in Gulltown as well. Very witty." They all turned as someone knocked on the door. Angie entered, blonde hair swept back over his head and his silvery eyes gleaming.

"Captain, Merri says he got a man here to see you. The knight from earlier. He comes under a cloak and hood so methinks he's here with a purpose." Jagare nodded.

"I will meet him in here" he responded, taking a seat behind his desk, and rolling up the map of Westeros. "Cragg, Wendall, take the gold into my sleeping chambers and put it back where we got it…oh one more thing, did we ever find the Queen's trident." Cragg shook his head.

"The lads searched the whole ship but came across nothing. My guess is it's not on the ship captain. Would be bloody hard to hide a weapon that size." Jagare was about to respond but the door opened again, and Merri entered, followed closely by the hooded knight. Behind him came Brik, and they were both gazing at the man cautiously.

"All of you, leave us." One by one they were all excited, Wendel giving him a nod as he closed the door. Jagare then stood. "Ser Leyton, please be welcome upon my ship. May I offer you a drink?" The knight pulled down his hood, revealing his straw-coloured hair and a serious chiseled face.

"No, thank you, captain. I do not wish to trouble you for long as time is of the essence here, as I was trying to explain to your guards." Jagare shrugged as he poured himself a tankard of ale from the small barrel on his desk.

"They were merely doing what they should be. Can't be just letting anyone in to see their captain, can they? Means they are good guards." He took a sip and then motioned to a chair. "But, if you are in a hurry, to business. What can I do for you?" The knight shifted uncomfortably.

"It's about Aimee…a request that she has." Jagare tilted his head and smiled slightly.

"Let me guess, she wants to run away from Oldtown and join my crew. Seeking a life of adventure outside the clutches of her family." He chuckled to himself. "Highborn girls have very little freedom and long for adventure, I recognised the look in her eyes." Leyton's mouth was hanging open in surprise.

"I…well y-yes, I suppose that-" Jagare waved his hand to cut him off.

"I will save you the trouble ser." He smiled sadly. "I'm sure that the lady loves the idea of travelling away on the ship of a Northern bastard, sailing and training with handsome sailors and exploring all the corners of the known world" He stopped smiling. "The sort of story that I'm sure her septa told her would end in rape and death." He scratched his chin as he watched the knight's eyes darken. "Well, I'm afraid that for once I agree with the faith. While she might be safe in Westerosi waters, where her high birth and beauty will make people fall on their knees for her…Essos is much different. Her beauty and station would not be met with respect, but with a slave trader weighing a price." He shrugged. "I would fear for her survival."

"You're saying you couldn't protect her?" The knight looked around the cabin and snorted softly with laughter. "I struggle to believe that." Jagare's gaze hardened.

"All it takes is ten thugs on the streets of Tyrosh and your dead with a knife in your back and she's being sold to a Lyseni pleasure house. I am not a god, I cannot keep watch on her all the time."

"You don't worry that will happen to your wife?" Jagare felt heat flush through him when he called her his wife, but he shuddered it out and chuckled.

"Lyanna can handle herself, I do not fear for her." The look on the knight's face was moody and solemn, but to Jagare's surprise, he persisted.

"Please, Captain Snow. She is not just escaping for the fun of it. She is being tied into a forced marriage with a man she does not love. If she stays, she will be shipped off to the Stormlands like a piece of meat." Jagare's brain ticked over the information slowly. Its true that the information changed his thoughts, but immediately he had to consider the outcome. Even if he let her on the ship, she wouldn't fare well. There was little room for change in a highborn girl from the Reach. She would never become like Lyanna, free and wild; breaking the confinements of her sex.

"Girls do not often love the men they are marrying, ser. That is the unfortunate way of the world. Who is she to marry?" The knight bowed his head.

"Jamie Durrandon, Lord of Storms End and King of the Stormlands." Jagare leaned back In his chair and stuck his boots on the table.

"So, what the fuck is she complaining about. The most powerful woman in the Stormlands. What's the problem?" The knight looked back up at him, his eyes fierce, and teeth gritted.

"The problem is that the marriage is forced for peace, not made for an alliance. Jaime Durrandon killed Aimee's older brother, my cousin, in single combat not a year ago!" Jagare could say nothing as Leyton stood and started pacing. "The Stormlands were at war with us for a few moons, but due to the lack of turmoil in the Riverlands, and the Dornish not raiding as much as they used to due to their own political turmoil, they were able to direct their full force at us, around 20 thousand men. Around that time was when the Lannisters were rumoured to about to attack the Northern Marches. King Gardener put my family in charge of our war with the Stormlands while he dealt with preparing for the lions. That is why Oldtown has no love for the other Reachlords, they all abandoned us to deal with the Stormlands ourselves. Not even we Hightowers are that powerful! My uncle was too old, so he sent his son, Addam…he was foolish. He challenged the Storm King to a duel and lost. I remember. I was there." Jagare bowed his head in respect.

"I am sorry for your loss, ser." Leyton sat back down again and put his face in his hands. "I was second in command after him, and I sounded the charge…but our morale was gone. With their heir dead the knights of Oldtown had lost their strength, and I called the retreat before it was too late." He looked up at Jagare, hard. "Wars down here, In the south, will go on for years; there will be breaks and rests, but they never really stop. Now is one of the truces, and my uncle in his infinite wisdom has promised his daughter's hand in return for peace. But Jaime Durrandon is not a good man. He is cruel and vicious. He will abuse her, I know it. She will hate it there and I will not be able to protect her. The moment he rapes a few sons out of her…" The knight choked on his words and looked at Jagare knowingly. He was speechless. How could he possibly say no to it now?

"But what happens" he spoke quietly. "What happens when I have the fleets of both the Hightower and Storms End chasing my ship? Do you really think we will be able to protect her?" The knight shook his head hard.

"There will be a decoy. She will travel east towards the Red Mountains of Dorne. Aimee has a friend in a young Dayne girl there, it will be believed. Try as they like not even the combined forces of Hightower and Durrandon could cross the Red Mountains untouched, and the Dornish are always looking for excuses to fight with us. It would be war. They WILL give up the chase." Jagare clasped his hands together and let out a sigh. He studied Leyton for a second, and found something was off.

"You said the Dornish were not raiding" he growled. "Political turmoil." Leyton's temples turned slightly red and Jagare could have sworn a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. "Your not telling me something Leyton...what is it?"

"I…..." But before he could continue the door sprung open. In the doorway was Lyanna, her face on the verge of tears. She stormed towards him and slammed her hands on the desk and got right into his face; her breath heavy.

"I'll give you one chance Jagare. One chance to give the right answer or I swear to god I will leave and get that girl away on my own!" Well, there was his answer. He nodded slightly at Lyanna, and she nodded back, giving him a small smile.

"You would be accompanying her, I presume?" he asked the knight softly. Leyton nodded, his expression calmer.

"Yes. There will be another knight following the decoy to make it believable. But I must stay with her." For the first time, his mouth curled into a small smile. "Thank you for doing this Captain, my lady." Lyanna smiled at him and Jagare nodded.

"I know how the girl feels ser." He glanced up at Lyanna. "We both do. And I assure you, there isn't a single way we leave this city without her on our ship." The knight smiled slightly more and gave a small nod.

"I will tell her tonight; she will be most pleased." Jagare frowned slightly.

"It won't be easy getting a highborn girl out of the most populous city in Westeros, especially if she is to be married. How would we go about this?" The knight stood and pulled up his hood.

"I will finalize the plans with her tonight. I will come early on the morrow to inform you." He turned and went to leave but stilled when he put his hand on the door. "Thank you for this…she means a great deal to me, and I only wish to see her happy." He then left, and Jagare was alone with Lyanna and his thoughts. He tapped the desk for a few moments then rose and left for the bedchamber. He stripped off his deck clothes and dressed in a tunic and breeches. He leaned against the wall for a moment, gazing out a porthole at various members of the crew walking towards the city, filled with laughter and happiness. Oh, to just be a soldier, sworn to another with no worries of responsibility. Lyanna entered as he was sitting on the side of the bed, deep in thought.

"Jagare." Her eyes bore into him, like daggers piercing his skin. He looked down at the floor, not wanting to meet her gaze. "The girl is forced into an unwanted marriage with a madman by her father and wants to escape" her voice became hard and bitter. "Sound familiar to you." He sighed deeply and turned his head to meet her eyes.

"Aye, and she is being helped by someone who loves her. Believe me, Lyanna, I know." She took a step forward and her words came out as a growl.

"Then why. Why even consider saying no?! You didn't say no to Wendall, hells you even convinced me to let him come! So, tell me Jagare, WHY!?" He stood and walked over to Lyanna, carefully placing a hand on her steadily rising belly.

"That" he whispered. "That's why." He turned and went to look out of the wide porthole, the lights from Oldtown reflecting off the water. The sea looked so peaceful, undisturbed. But he knew how quickly the sea could grow into a storm so powerful it would bring castles to ruin. "Look at it, Lya. All those lights. The tallest castle in Westeros that was forged thousands of years ago. Can you feel it? The raw power?" He looked back at her, taking her hands while searching her eyes, pleading with her. We have to be more careful now…I have to be more careful." A wave of anger came over him and he banged his fist against the wood, hard. "I won't them hurt you. You or the child- I can't." His eyes flashed up and his reasoning hardened. "We've been reckless Lyanna. Our decisions have been all very well for two Northerners who can handle themselves but now we have others to look after. And not just the child, but everyone on the ship is our responsibility." He waited for Lyanna to speak.

"So what do two more people matter?" He sighed and sat down on the bed, head in hands.

"There is something Leyton is not telling me...and when we take her with us, eventually the truth will out. It always does. We will have the full power of Oldtown and Storms End on our stern and I really don't think we can escape them without help Lya. Not this time. Our luck will not last forever. I must protect our child." He turned around to see Lyanna with silent tears down her cheeks, as she caressed her growing stomach.

"Your right, we do have to be more careful" Lyanna whispered. Then she wiped away her eyes and glared at him. "But I won't allow our child's father to sacrifice his honour." Jagare nodded slowly.

"And that's why he shall do it, that I swear on the Old Gods. But we are not invincible Lyanna, and if the day comes where we need to choose between family and honour…" she sat down on the bed and wiped her eyes again.

"Well let's be glad we aren't Tullys, and that decision isn't made for us, hmm?" She smiled at him slightly and he smiled back. It was funny after all. Lyanna fell asleep quickly that night, curled up against Jagare's chest; he stayed awake thinking of how many lords they would be able to piss off before they reached Essos. It only felt like he had just drifted off before Jagare was woken up by a rap on the door to their bedchamber. A glance to his side told him that dawn had only just broke. Barely.

"Captain. Captain!" came the gruff voice of Brik through the wood. "Someone here to see you, the bloody knight again…can I throw him in the harbour?"

"NO!" he yelled back.

"…Your no fun captain." Jagare groaned and lay there for a moment, letting the sound of seagulls and faraway cries of the city soak into his ears. After a few more bangs on the door. Lyanna growled and hit Jagare on the shoulder, her eyes still closed.

"Fucking deal with it you cunt" she mumbled into the pillow. Jagare glared at her while getting out of bed, nursing his bruised arm.

"Real morning person you are" he muttered under his breath as he pulled on some of his old Northern leathers. Yawning, he trudged slowly out of the door, followed closely by Brik and Xavi, who somehow seemed immune to the early start. He glanced at Xavi who gave him a quick nod. He had completed his task then. He resolved to talk to him later when he had more time and a clearer head. The sun was barely visible through the clouds in the distance, and a fine mist covered the streets of the city, which he was told was normal in Oldtown. A thin wind blew across the deck, and he shivered slightly as he walked towards the tall figure waiting for him at the gangplank.

"Good to see you've made a plan" Jagare yawned loudly. "But does it have to be so bloody early?" The man shook his head and lowered his hood.

"It had to be early, otherwise my presence would be noticed missing from the castle. And it would be strange for the lady to travel to the docks twice in two days." Jagare nodded, another yawn escaping slightly.

"Well, come on then let's hear it." The knight lowered his voice and whispered.

"The princess has formally invited you, your lady and anyone else worthy of being feasted by a lord to the Hightower tonight for supper. The pretence for your visit shall be a show of friendship with those from the North." At that Jagare laughed out loud, his chuckles rippling over the bay, echoing back to them.

"Far be it from me to question you and the lady's planning, but extending a hand of friendship to a bastard captain from the North? Doesn't seem very convincing." He smirked at the knight, but then the knight smirked back.

"You may be a bastard, but you are still highborn. And you are not the only one." Jagare's smile faded, and his face fell back into its signature northern brood. The knight grinned broader. "I've spent my entire life around lords boy. All sorts come and go from Oldtown. You, your lady, the witty one, eyepatch and the smart one. All of you are highborn of some standard, so it's you lot who will be invited." Though he wouldn't exactly call Tommo highborn, he was impressed by the skill. Still, he didn't like how much this knight knew. He wanted him off his ship.

"Get on with it then" he muttered. "What's the plan."

"You will come and sup with my family tonight, and at some point, the lady will request to excuse herself for the night, shortly after you will thank my uncle for his hospitality, and then leave. When saddling your horses, myself and the lady will slip into your party quietly as you leave, bring guards so to mask your true numbers." The knight took a heavy sigh. "I would advise we leave this night, as the lady's and myself decoys will leave east at this time on the morrow." Jagare nodded slowly.

"Aye, agreed. As much as I would love to see more of this beautiful city, I understand the urgency. I shall conduct my business today and the ship will be ready to leave this eve." The knight nodded and pulled up his hood.

"Very well then, Captain Snow. I shall see you at supper tonight." He walked down the gangplank and towards the docks when he turned back.

"You know this ship really needs a name. 'The big ship in the harbour' is such a mouthful."

"So, I've been told" grumbled Jagare to himself as he walked away, turning to Brik and Xavi. "Xavi, I'd like your report if you would. Brik, wake up Aeron and tell him to pick his twenty strongest men to unload the cargo. Bring a bucket if needed. Then go wake up Wendel and tell him it's time to start counting crates and bartering deals. Then go get Lemnos and-"

"Already here captain!" boomed Lemnos, his large form striding across the deck towards them. "I've been since before dawn inspecting this southern city. I am pleased to report that the people here are just as cuntish as we expected and that both of our axes should feel great relief to disembowel any one of them!" Jagare rolled his eyes with a small smile and nodded at Brik who left to complete his tasks.

"Well, I can't promise disembowelment, only intimidation." The large man grunted, his heavy eyebrows furrowing.

"More intimidation ey? Well, you do know how to keep me around captain I'll give you that. I'll show these southern twats that trying to swindle a northerner is a lot harder than they think." Jagare snorted as he leaned against one of the masts, stretching his back along with the hard ironwood.

"If It wasn't for Wendall, you would have been swindled more times than I think you can count up to."

"Ahhh, you know nothing, Jagare Snow. I myself was the smartest young chap in my village. Best at knowing how much wheat meant how many potatoes!"

"Let me guess, you killed all the others your age after you realised you were better than you" Jagare grinned at him. Most men would have gotten insulted by it, but Lemnos just laughed louder.

"Aye, that be the near truth of it, captain. So, while the Big Bear and myself are counting coppers, what will you and the lady be doing." Jagare shrugged and surveyed the city skyline, the mist slowly starting to dissipate.

"Look around I suppose. Pick up some new books for the journey, heard Oldtown is great for them. Wendel wanted to get himself some new clothes and mace, and Tommo wanted a new knife." He smiled to himself. "We'll see what happens I guess." Lemnos grinned.

"I know that look. That's the look a sailor gets when he is about to see his family." He lowered his voice slightly, more warmth in it. "You excited to throw off the captain mask for a while and just live a little, aren't you?" Jagare nodded to himself.

"I think you're right my friend, I think you're right." After Lemnos left, he turned to Xavi, who was waiting patiently. "Apologies for the wait. Your report?" Xavi stood a little straighter and breathed out.

"Its tense around here captain. The Lords are scared, the septons preach viciously and men are being conscripted faster than they can count. The city is preparing for an attack, or war." Jagare nodded slowly.

"Makes sense from what I've heard."

"Ah, but there's more. They speak of forces within the cities, rebels, and disloyalties. The lord is incapacitated and his brother rules, stern and ruthless.

"Lord Stannis."

"That be the one, not a forgiving man. Oldtown is ready to rise up, and if that happens…well, there are Durrandon spies all around the city. The Stormlands are certainly playing a part in all of this. The two may be heading for an alliance, but for now there is more distrust than between the Blackwoods and Brackens."

"Cities on the brink" he muttered. "Good thing we're getting out of here soon." He clasped Xavi on the shoulder and smiled. "Good work my friend, I'll see you rewarded."

"Many thanks, captain" he grinned. "I fancy a Dornish woman when we get to Sunspear, Angie be damned." Jagare rolled his eyes as Xavi left.

"Jagare!" came a sleepy shout from behind him, as Aeron came trundling up onto the deck, his normally stylishly slicked hair messy and ruffled. "You bastard, literally! What are you doing waking us up this hour." Jagare moved over to him, clasping him on the shoulder firmly.

"Under due circumstances, we are leaving tonight. Some business to attend to meaning we can't stay long. Need to get the trade done this morning when the prices are good." Aeron looked at him sleepily through one eye.

"Lemme guesses, it's got something to do with a pretty little lovely lady up there in the tower, ain't it Captain." He pointed up to the Hightower and Jagare sighed heavily, nodding slightly.

"I'll tell you all later." Aeron rolled his eye.

"You really know how to get yourself into trouble with these southern lords don't you" he grinned. "But that is why I like you so much." He yawned again and motioned to Wendel who had appeared almost silently behind him, already falling asleep on the mast. "Come on Wendy, let's go buy some shit. Oh, and captain, the men aren't so happy about being woken up early." Jagare's eyes shifted to see twenty of the largest and strongest in his crew entering from below deck, looking gaunt and tired from the night before.

"Tell them they'll get paid extra and fuck off. I'm going back to sleep." As he left, Wendel gave him a strange look and then nodded with a smile. Odd. But then so was everyone on this bloody ship. He entered his cabin with a loud yawn and crawled back into bed, pulling Lyanna close to him, and drifting back for an hour or two of sleep. Later that day Lyanna, Tommo, Wendel and himself set out into Oldtown. The city truly was massive, and rightly so in relation to the wealth of the Hightowers. It was said the castle itself was one of the oldest in Westeros, rivalling Winterfell, and Storms End in legend. Their wealth had come from an optimum trade position, as all those who wished to cross to the other side of Westeros would be forced to dock at Oldtown, due to the roughness around the southern coast of Dorne. As well as that, Oldtown was a popular destination for Summer Islanders, Xavi's people. According to the bowman, the islands combined were around the size of Dorne, but the climate was jungles and beaches, with many exotic birds, fish, and apes. While Xavi's skin was a dark brown colour, his mother being Westerosi, the others from the Summer Islands were as black as coal. They wore large cloaks made of feathers, and their clothes were as colourful as could be. Although normally a peaceful people, they had a tumultuous civil war recently, with a highly respected prince being informally exiled from the islands. Xavi had fought for the losing side, hence why he had turned his eyes back to Westeros. The layout of the city was incredibly different to anything Jagare had seen. Small bridges crossed over streams and creeks that ran all the way throughout the city, all coming off the mouth of the Honeywine river that flowed through the city, cutting off the Hightower from the rest of the buildings. There were also large patches of grass and flowers, spread all around. While most city's normally smelled of shit and salt, this one smelled of trees and perfume, powered like a highborn lady. As they walked, Lyanna and Tommo had started guessing which of the men that walked past them preferred the company of their own sex. He found it amusing until they guessed too loudly and almost got into a fight with a six-and-a-half-foot blacksmith.

"Oh, come on, he definitely swung the other way" chuckled Tommo as Lyanna giggled along.

"Nevertheless, we are not going to pick a fight and get stuck here while some fancy knight decides our fate. We have too much resting on today." Lyanna snorted at him.

"When did you become such a stiff Jagare? If you truly believed that, we wouldn't even be out here. Come on have some fun, I know you want to…" she battered her eyelashes at him, he couldn't help but grin and roll his eyes. "Oh, come onnnnnn. You're starting to sound like father." He felt his face pale, and shivered.

"How dare you." Jagare then dropped back to Wendall, who was walking behind them, pensively. He had bought a new set of clothes earlier and now wore a plain yet strong tunic, and over the top, a hammered breastplate and surcoat, made of strong dark leather. He had a pair of leather ship gloves tucked into his belt and wore plain yet stylish shoulder guards. What interested Jagare was that he had bought a pair of Northern-style breeches and furs, as well as steel-tipped winter boots. It seemed through all his mistreatment on Bear Island, he still missed his home.

"What's on your mind Wendall," he asked softly. "You look contemplative." Wendel had grown out his beard and hair over the months at sea, his now shaggy hair fell over his eyes slightly, but Jagare saw they held more steel than when he had first met the nervous boy.

"Nothing much" he shrugged. "Just wondering when you were going to tell us about Lyanna." Jagare's chest burned for a second, and his head felt faint.

"What do you mean?" he responded quickly. Far too quickly, not that it mattered it was clear Wendel knew. He confirmed it by chuckling slightly and shaking his head.

"Do you know how many books I've read Jagare? I'd wager many more than you."

"You'd be surprised" muttered Jagare, but he understood.

"Besides, I watched my mother grow with both my sisters. I know the signs." His gaze then hardened again slightly. "Why didn't you tell us? Me and Tommo. I thought we were your friends!" Jagare winced slightly. It was true, he and Tommo were their closest friends on the ship, and he had wanted to tell them. But something had stopped him.

"I'm sorry Wendall, truly I am. And I was going to tell you but…"

"But what" he cried. "She's pregnant, that's massive news!" Jagare was about to respond but was cut off when he walked straight into Lyanna, who stumbled forward. With a yelp and a frantic grab, Jagare managed to grab her leathers and pull her back towards him. Tommo who had also stopped suddenly was not so lucky, with the full weight of Wendel crashing into him he had toppled to the paved ground and was staring up in shock.

"Lyanna's pregnant!" he gasped, lungs probably crushed under Wendel. Lyanna spun round to Jagare, and he had to force himself not to take a step back from the heat of her glare.

"Wendel figured it out I didn't tell him" he blurted out quickly and her gaze turned to Wendel who yelped and covered his mouth.

"Whoa whoa whoa, you didn't tell me or Wendall?!" Tommo truly looked heartbroken. Lyanna's fierce glare then crumbled to an expression of guilt.

"I'm sorry Tommo truly we wanted to tell you."

"We really did" Jagare added. "And we were going to! Just, you know, when it was too hard to hide." Lyanna hit him and Tommo glared.

"Well know this Jagare Snow, I-" his expression changed then to a look of confusion and then fear. It was only then he noticed the silence that had fallen over the street, and the lack of people around them. Instinctively Jagare spun around and was met with a man dressed in robes of black and dark green. His face was hidden mostly, but a small, pointed beard could be seen. His hands were folded inside the pockets and his mouth was crooked in a smile.

"So, the bitch is pregnant, finally. " His mouth changed to a cruel sneer. "The prophecy must never be completed. Your gods will fade." Quicker than any of them could react, the man pulled a knife from his robes, long and jagged. Tommo launched himself from the floor at the man, but he was too quick. Spinning past he lunged at Lyanna. His mind froze as she moved back and pulled her arms up to defend herself, a thin trail of blood leaving her left arm. The assassin was about to stab her when as if from the gods themselves a long black staff was thrown out of nowhere and hit him in the temple, knocking the man backwards. The assassin barely had time to look up and mutter 'you' before a dark steel blade sliced through the air, taking his head clean off. Blood splattered the paving and there was a scream from somewhere to his right. Immediately Jagare had sprung to Lyanna and clutched her tight to him.

"It's okay, you're okay, you're okay, we're all okay" he muttered, as much to himself as it was to her. He noticed Tommo and Wendel with weapons drawn scanning the surrounding area until the sound of steel on leather scraping caught all their attention.

"There is no need to look, he was the only one" came a rich, foreign accent. The figure had bent down to pick up his staff and when he stood Jagare's brain took a second to register what he was seeing.

The man was massive, almost seven feet tall. He wore robes of black, orange, and red with a large hood of the same colour. His black beard stretched down to his chest and was braided heavily. His face was Essosi orange and heavily tattooed with lines and symbols. On each of his fingers, he wore rings of all different types of metals. His staff was made of ironwood and inlaid with gems; topped with black wings and what looked like Valyrian Steel. What caught Jagare's attention the most however was the furred shoulder pad and the jewelled gauntlets. He had read about it in one of the books on Essos. They would have labelled him as a priest of an Essosi religion…or cult. He looked over each of them before bowing his head slightly.

"Come, we must leave this place before too much attention is attracted." He eyed both Lyanna and Jagare for an extra second. "We must make sure you are safe, Alyeth would kill me if you died."


New recruits, pompous lords and a couple of cults. Life outside the North is weird...

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