Exams are over! Back to writing finally, gonna have so much time on my hands. Enjoy!


"Starboard! No starboard you fucking idiot!" screamed Aeron, his voice almost lost in the howling brittle wind that whistled across the deck. Jagare had realised early on that the hot sun below the coast of Dorne was incredibly deceptive. Whirlpools the size of castles were known to appear to suck ships down to the depths, and southerly winds as strong as the giants of old could smash them onto the sandy red rocks. Aeron had traversed the southern coast of Westeros several times before, and so Jagare had handed over full command of the ship to him for that brief period. It also had a very positive effect on Aeron's health. Under command of the ship, Aeron had been bought back to his old self, and was fearlessly steering them out of danger time and time again. Jagare spent most of his time on deck, encouraging the crew and discussing plans with Aeron.

Lyanna, Tommo and Wendel had all retreated back inside the ship to empty their stomachs into the many empty barrels below deck, through Lyanna for a different reason. Lemnos was in charge of the oars, roaring like an Umber to push the ship away from the coast whenever they got too close. Both Aimee and Leyton had stayed below deck since they had set sail, purely for safety reasons. All they needed was a stray ship to spy her golden hair, or his bright green armour through a far-eye and they would be hunted once more. Jagare was certain that the decoys had been captured by now. He was also fairly sure that Stannis had figured out where his niece and nephew truly went. Ships from the Arbour, Oldtown and Three Towers would be out in droves searching for them, so it was best they stayed hidden for now. The only one of them who truly seemed at ease in the storm was Faythe. She stood on the foredeck gazing over the bow for hours on end, unmoving. She was the strangest girl he had ever met, Jagare didn't know what he was going to do with her. But under Lyanna's care, she was slowly starting to appear more and more. And he felt certain she was more than what met the eye.

"YOU SAIL LIKE A BUNCH OF FUCKING GREENLANDERS, WHEN I SAW HAUL THE SHEET, HAUL IT!" He smiled and remembered back to when he had called everyone together for a meeting after the death of Martial. To try and piece it all together. He had started it by giving Aeron the blade to examine, the scythe was after all his family's sigil.

"Its name is Slicer" mumbled a gaunt-looking Aeron, his fingers white clutching the blade. "It was my family's ancestral weapon, except…well it used to be a scythe." He turned the blade over in his hands, weighing it. "Obviously the Greyjoys had no reason to keep it as such, and had it attached to a sword hilt." He sighed and pressed the metal to his forehead.

"I believe it's called a cutlass" spoke Wendall, who was nervously tapping his fingers together. Everyone was nervous now. There was silence for a few seconds before Jagare spoke.

"Keep it." Aeron looked at him surprised. "It's your family's ancestral sword. You deserve it. One day you will use it to take back the Isles." Aeron stuttered for a moment.

"I-I had assumed you would take it. You or Lyanna- I don't think I could accept-"

"Hey" Jagare interrupted. "Take it. That's an order from your captain. Reattach it to a staff at the next port and make it a true Scythe again." Aeron grinned at him and stood with the blade in his hand.

"Nah, the Greyjoys were right about one thing. A scythe was a stupid idea, a cutlass works much better." He took a few practice swings and there was a low level of cheering from the room.

"Now" Jagare mumbled darkly, sitting at the desk in his solar, all of his close friends dotted around the room. "Give me an update on the ship."

"Checked twice over" rumbled Lemnos. "Unless they are hiding on the hull, no one is out of place and unaccounted for."

"The crew?"

"Everyone accounted for and everyone knows someone" Aeron replied. "No stragglers or strangers. The assassin got on then got off quickly."

"Unless it was someone on the ship" muttered Tommo darkly. He had been forming a good friendship with Martial for the past moon and was devastated by his death.

"Are you accusing my crew?" Aeron growled, his eye narrowing.

"No" Tommo replied, shaking his head. "But there are those on the ship who are still a mystery to us, and were very near to the body…" Lyanna stepped forward purposefully.

"Faythe wouldn't do this. She couldn't! The girl can barely hold a conversation without hiding for the rest of the day."

"This was a trained assassin" Aeron replied. "Their good actors."

"She's not even six and ten Aeron" Jagare muttered. "No. I do not believe she did this." He stood and took a deep breath. "We've just left a very dangerous city, and I have recently learned that our story is far more widespread than we've known." Lyanna nodded.

"Aye. One attacked us in Oldtown, it's very probable another was waiting on the ship before he ran into Martial."

"Martial was smart" Wendel murmured. "He would have realised straight away." Tommo didn't look convinced, and Aeron seemed more concerned that his crew was not to be involved. Jagare was sure that the assassin was of the same guild that has almost killed Lyanna, proof be damned.

"Then its settled then. Everyone is to be on their guard, try to travel in pairs just in case."

Presently, Aeron stood with the blade sheathed at his hip, bellowing orders to the crew, and whirling the wheel like he was born lashed to it. On the calmer days, Jagare had started working on training his warriors for true battle. He had split the company into four different sections, around one hundred men each. The first section specified shield and spear manoeuvres, the second as axe-wielding berserkers, the third as armoured sword and short bow wielders, and the fourth as pure archers. He had spent time with Cragg and Aeron, discussing their capability and willingness to learn and train. All of the men knew how to fight, but it was order, and discipline that they lacked. When they next docked, Jagare planned to train them on land, properly. As for now, they trained exclusively in their weapons and sparred in large groups frequently. After all, battles were never one on one combat.

Lyanna had been growing steadily larger until it got to the point where they simply could not hide it any longer. They made the announcement first to the ranking officers as Jagare had taken to call them; Tommo, Wendall, Lemnos, Aeron, Cragg and the rest of his guard. There had been many congratulations and cheers at the news, and when they told the crew, there were massive cheers and even a ship's feast held that night, with double rations for all and casks of spiced rum from the summer isles were bought onto the deck. It was a glorious night, and yet Jagare and Lyanna watched it all from the stern deck. Wendall, Lemnos and Cragg talked to Leyton about life in the Reach; Aeron, Xavi and Angie discussed archery techniques and Faythe stood at the bow of the boat showing Aimee the star patterns in the night's sky. The two Hightowers had settled in well after the…disturbing events of around a moon ago. They had given Martial as best a funeral as they could, wrapping him up in pieces of sail and pushing him out to sea on a loose plank of wood. They had covered him in tar beforehand and had Xavi shoot a flaming arrow to burn his body before he sunk. No one wanted him to rot for the sharks.

His death had troubled them all it was true, but Jagare was sure it had been a cultish assassination. The brutality, the viciousness, all of it. He had respect for Martial and hoped the man had died with honour after a good fight. Aimee had been horrified, and Lyanna had forbidden her from seeing his body. However, Jagare overruled her, stating that if Aimee was to join them on their journey, she would need to get used to it. He watched as the young girl fainted in Leyton's arms, and he had sent Faythe to talk to her after she woke up, as a girl of a similar age. It had started a friendship that he was happy they both had. He and Lyanna had Tommo, Aeron, Wendel and Lemnos, and his life was immensely better for it. Everyone needed friends.

For around half a moon they sailed the coast of Dorne, dodging reefs and whirlpools. They passed the Brimstone river that led up to Hellholt, home of House Uller. They sailed past the castles of Saltshore and Lemonwood and kept going. The crow's nest spied the smoke of Planky Town, but they held their current course, and would not stop at the Dornish port town. The ship was stocked full of provisions, but they were running low and Jagare knew he needed to dock soon. He had been pressured by Angie and Leyton, who shared a very common view over Dorne and spoke to discourage them from docking in Martell land at all. When nearing Planky Town, they had come to his solar to push the issue.

"Listen, captain, we cannot- and I repeated, cannot…trust the Dornish." Jagare groaned and threw his hands in the air at Angie's look.

"I already told you, we aren't trusting them. But if you wanna be drinking your own piss and eating your boot leather, then by all means we continue sailing." Angie scoffed but didn't reply. He knew that Jagare was right, but his hatred for Dorne ran deep.

"With all due respect captain, I understand we need provisions, but I do not agree with us docking at Sunspear. We would be stepping directly into the viper's nest, straight to the heart of Dornish schemes and plots." Lyanna, who was perched on a side table slicing chunks of apple off with a knife rolled her eyes at the knight.

"What could the Dornish possibly care for us" she gestured heavily with the knife, making Jagare move slightly away from her potential range in case it slipped. "We are a merchant ship…technically." She shrugged and took a bite. "Even if they do know us, we pissed off the Reach twice, they'll probably throw us a feast." Leyton scowled at her, gripping his sword tightly. Jagare knew he meant no threat with the action though, Leyton had been a warrior since his youthful years, even when dressed in his tunic and breeches he still wore his blade.

"We have no reason to entwine ourselves in Dornish politics" spoke Jagare. "We simply dock, resupply and leave." He glanced at Lyanna. "No more hanging around in cities too close to home. I think Essos should be more our speed anyway. Less people will have heard of us there, stain of bastardy is less hated and the Ironborn are less recognizable." Leyton scowled at that, he wasn't completely comfortable about all of the Harlaw men crewing the ship, even after Jagare reassured him they were loyal to a fault. Angie took a step forward and looked Jagare in the eye.

"We stop for a day, then we leave?" Jagare nodded slowly.

"Yes. I don't have to remind you that we have a crazed lunatic and possibly the entire Oldtown fleet chasing us." Angie nodded, at least half pleased.

"Good. I suppose it won't be bad stepping on land for a little while.

"You will not be leaving the ship" grumbled Cragg, who was standing in the corner brooding about something. "Last time you met a Dornishmen, you broke his jaw. Lucky he was on his own cause you do that here you'll be murdered before you could say draw an arrow." Angie held his hands up and nodded his head.

"All right old man, no skin off my back." Tommo was lounging in a comfortable feather-stuffed chair in the other corner, sharpening his blade, humming the Dornishmen's wife under his breath.

"You." Jagare pointed his finger at him, causing Tommo to jump slightly and look up. "Yes you. Best. Fucking. Behaviour."

"Fine." Tommo looked down irritated, but Jagare was not done.

"OI, attention to be paid here. And none of that, you hear me?" He then stood up suddenly. And looked at all the men in the room. "Yeah, all of you, listen close." He walked over to Tommo first and tapped him on the head. "Ey…no Dornish women. No. Fucking." He pointed at each of the men, in turn, Aeron, Wendall, Cragg, and Xavi. "No fucking, no fucking. No, fucking, Dornish, women!" They all gave him grunts of agreement, reluctantly, but they agreed. "Good. They will chew you up, spit you out, and leave you naked, penniless and cockles on the streets of the shadow city."

"Something you deal with frequently then captain!" piped up Tommo cheerfully. Lyanna chucked the apple at him to the laughter of the rest of them.

"Cheeky fucking git" she growled at him, only for him to catch it smoothly and take a bite with a ginormous bite. Joking aside, Jagare couldn't say he wasn't worried about his crew. Dorne was not Westeros, the same as the North. Both had different cultures, and the Rhoynish, though closer to Andal life than the First Men, were not to be treated the same. The magic of the Rhoynor was similar to the First Men, gods existed in the streams and the rivers, and they were far more peaceful if left undisturbed. Andals liked to invade. It took them another half day to reach the city of Sunspear. The sun was setting behind them as they eventually pulled towards the port. The winding, dark-walled Shadow City was silhouetted by the setting sun, and the castle itself glittered with its bronzed turrets and roofs. Jagare had read about the Sandship, the old, ugly Dornish keep that had been transformed by the Rhoynish designs. Now the Tower of the Spear and the Tower of the Sun gleamed over the city. There were no traditional docks, only a sandy bay with anchor room for the larger vessels. There was no point in them going ashore now. With the sun setting, the Dornish capital turned into a dark, dangerous place to go, especially for foreigners. They had a skiff come over to them to collect payment for docking, and although the ship was tensed for a confrontation, the Martell guard that greeted them was warm, kind, and humorous, marvelling at the size of their vessel and even recommending certain taverns and brothels in the city. A darker-skinned man, the slippery accents of Dorne had him most intrigued and he suddenly felt very compelled to explore the exotic city.

"I tell you, my friend, if you want a strong, sharp wine, you go to the Scorpions Bite. But if you want a strong sharp women, well, the Vipers Tail is what you desire." Jagare laughed politely as he paid the man.

"I thank you my friend, but I already have the strongest women I could have" he inclined his head at Lyanna who nodded in agreement.

"Your damn right Jagare, don't forget it." The man chuckled heartily.

"Never stopped us, come along anyway, bring her!" He glanced at Lyanna, and she blushed slightly looking away.

"I do not think so but thank you for the offer." He reached his arm out to grab a creeping Tommo's cloak, which was trying to sneak onto the skiff with its wearer inside. "We are all happy on the ship for the night and shall disembark on the morrow."

"Speak for yourself" grumbled Tommo, rubbing his neck. "The greatest nightlife in Westeros and I'm stuck with these boring fuckers."

"These boring fuckers would prefer for you to not be whining all day every day after a Dornish whore cuts off your cock" responded Lyanna with a smirk. "Though I doubt they would be cutting off much." The man left the ship to the sound of Tommo's swearing. Later that night, Jagare sparred with Aeron for a long, intense bout. It had been a while since they had a real fight, and after them being surprised by the assassin, Jagare knew he could never afford to freeze like that again.

"Tired captain?" Aeron's curved blade fell to be blocked by the head of his axe, he spun the axe with breakneck speed and aimed a swipe towards Aeron's elbow that he parried aside, moving to Jagare's left.

"You wish." He spun away from the thrusting blade and used the momentum to feint inside Aeron's free arm, making him stumble. Knowing that his cutlass was swifter than his axe, he grabbed at Aeron's arm to disable his movement. But it was predicted, and he found Aeron grabbing his own arm and twisting the axe out of his grip, Jagare then repeated the move and backed into Aeron, both of them disarmed. He raised his fists to continue but instead, Aeron raised his arms breathlessly.

"Not a chance captain, not a chance. I ain't going hand to hand with you." Jagare smirked at him.

"And I hear I thought that the Ironborn were known to be scrappy fighters." Aeron crouched down to pick up his blade.

"Yeah, but not as scrappy as a castle-raised bastard, and a Northern one at that. And I reckon you must have at least at least one and a half of me." Jagare picked up his axe and nodded.

"Can't argue with that." They both sat down on one of the benches, and Jagare passed a full waterskin over to the panting Ironborn. "Drink up, you look slightly out of breath" Aeron made a rude gesture at him and snatched the water skin, emptying half of it before handing it back. They were silent for a few moments before he spoke.

"Hey, Jagare…there's something I need to tell you." Jagare took a swig and glanced at him.

"Oh? Do tell." Aeron looked down at the floor and then spoke.

"When we were in Oldtown, I got in contact with an old friend who was staying there." He took another swig of water and continued. "She has people on the Isles who keep her updated. Her parents were fierce Harlaw supporters, but she was forced into exile after the Greyjoys burned her parent's keep." Aeron looked at Jagare, his green eye cool and serious. "She says that Terran has abandoned all thoughts of the crown to go after you, but it backfired on him. Many there wanted to forget about Madilyn and move on, they wanted a peaceful ruler, to build up the Isles again. So, when he started spouting things about them launching their full fleet to find us straight after the war…well they didn't go along with him. They gave him a choice, the crown, or you. Apparently, he is coming after us with only his loyal men, maybe two or three ships…he won't stop until he finds us, and now he quite literally has nothing left to lose." Jagare grunted and snatched the water skin back, taking a long gulp.

"Well, then he better not catch us. We have the faster ship, we simply outrun him until he doesn't know which way to sail." Aeron nodded slowly but clearly was thinking of something else.

"My contact…she also spoke of a secret weapon they had. Something that could kill you, me, Lyanna…she said that it had never failed for the Greyjoys." Jagare stood up, feeling slightly annoyed.

"What? We have their trident." Aeron shook his head.

"It didn't sound like It was that sort of weapon. Maybe a potion or a spell more like." Jagare snorted, but inside he knew that it was entirely plausible. He was not a naïve pious cunt. Magic existed, and it was extremely dangerous.

"Well, they can't use it unless they find us, so we better not let them." Aeron looked down, his face cold and expressionless. "Good spar, I'd think that with your new blade, you would probably win." Aeron flashed him a small smile but said nothing, his mind clearly elsewhere. Later that night, Lyanna had already gone to sleep and Jagare was up reading. There had been a small number of books on the ship already, but Wendel had bought back a great many more when in Oldtown. This book was written about Dorne and talked about the Rhoynish wars that forced Nymeria to the land of snakes and sand. House Martell was now descended from both the Rhoynish and the first men, an old and proud bloodline that took over Dorne and had held it ever since. 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken', he liked their words. Lyanna liked them even more. True freedom. She truly showing now, and the child wouldn't be far away. As he sat there watching her sleep, he felt a great swell of emotion and pride echo from his chest. He knew that he would love that child unconditionally, for the entirety of their life. Both of them would…they wouldn't repeat the mistakes of their father.

"You will be my sun and my stars" he whispered. "My light and my life. And I will give you the world." He had just turned the page when he heard a noise from the adjacent chamber, a small shuffling. In an instant he was on his feet and had grabbed Lyanna's blade from the table it was resting on. However, he lowered it when he heard the hushed girly voices of both Aimee and Faythe. He shook his head slightly and laid the sword down on the table carefully. He waited for a moment by the door, trying to listen to what they were saying. It was muffled, but excited. He pulled open the door to his solar and saw them both looking at the map on his desk, which currently showed the sea around the Arm of Dorne, along with the many Islands in the Stepstones.

"See anything interesting" he murmured softly, causing them both to jump suddenly and look at him with wide eyes.

"C-captain!" squeaked Aimee, her voice going to a pitch Jagare did not think even existed. "I-I was j-just- well w-we were j-just-"

"We wanted to see where we would be going after Sunspear" spoke Faythe, shooting her friend a look of mild annoyance. Since making friends with a girl her own age, the young stowaway had been more confident and vocal by a magnitude. While Aimee had helped her become more social and smile more, Faythe had taught Aimee how to survive on a ship. "There are many places we could go is all, and we were just wondering…" Jagare chuckled slightly and walked over to the desk, his eyes falling over Sunspear.

"Well, I had originally planned to go east towards Lys and Volantis…" his mind filled with a vision of the priest in Oldtown, and his eyes turned to the old book resting on the desk, containing a diagram of legendary power. He shook his head. "But…maybe not. North from here, I think. We'll go to Tyrosh, then up the Stormlands to the ports at Driftmark and Maidenpool, then to Gulltown." Aimee squealed in excitement.

"I've always wanted to see Maidenpool! That's where Florian first spied is Jonquil, in the bathing pool." Faythe rolled her eyes.

"That's just a legend Aimes, they doubt that he even existed at all." Aimee frowned at her friend and turned to Jagare.

"You believe it happened, right?" Jagare shrugged.

"Well, they say that he was a knight of the first men, but knighthood didn't come to Westeros until the invasion of the Andals…" he caught sight of Aimee's look. "But of course, all legend comes from a version of truth. Who knows, maybe it did truly happen." She looked pleased enough with that. Jagare smiled crookedly. "You've heard of Symeon Star-Eyes, haven't you my lady." Aimee's eyes shone.

"Of course! He was a true hero, the most chivalrous to ever live."

"Did you know he was a Flint of Widow's Watch?" Aimee froze for a second, her brows furrowing.

"He was a Northman? B-but, he was a knight of-"

"The Age of Heroes" Jagare muttered. "Those legends...there are often two versions. The newer one, that septons and maesters of Oldtown have diluted to give them more Andal themes. But the true stories...they come from the First Men." Aimee collapsed down on one of the chairs, and even Faythe looked interested.

"Tell me!" Jagare sighed, sitting down in his chair and thinking hard.

"The legend goes that Symeon could have been anyone, for he was not a knight, nor a lord. He was not a traveller or a bard, a solider or a maester. Symeon was the first Man of the Night's Watch.

"But-" Aimee started, but Faythe cut her off with a shush.

"I will explain. Symeon was the younger brother of the heir to Widow's Watch, and when his father died, his brother exiled him. You see they both loved the same women, yet she had chosen Symeon. So he exiled his brother to the Far North to live with the wild ones, on threat of killing their beloved, and yet married her when Symeon had gone." Aimee gasped, Faythe rolled her eyes. "The wild ones were the first wildlings, bands of First Men who thought that castles and fields were not the way to live. They preferred mud huts and caves, hunting for their food and enjoying festivities with other families in hunting. They lived a simple, yet tough life. Symeon joined them, and awed them with his skill in the wielding of a staff.

"Symeon used a staff!" Aimee grinned. "With two blades at either end."

"Aye, he did. But before that he was a simple staff-man. He travelled with the wild ones further north, as the weather had been improving as of late. Until one day they stumbled upon a great Weirwood, beyond where the wall now is. Whitetree the brothers call it now, because it's said that where the first other was created." The temperature in the room seemed to drop on that word, and a slight shiver went through Jagare as a faint wind whispered. He took a breath. "An evil name to speak, but the legend goes that Symeon interrupted the ritual of its creation. The wild ones drew their blades to fight their long-time enemies, but the other was awake, and it slaughtered them all. All but Symeon, who lost both his eyes to the other's blade. Symeon fled south, blind as a bat until he stumbled upon a village. They treated his wounds and wrapped his eyes, but it was not enough." He leaned forward to Aimee, who was in awe of the story. "Do you know how Symeon could fight so well while blinded. He was a warg. Skinchanger. Beastling. He melded his mind with two eagles, who became his eyes. He was the first skinchanger with no eyes, and appeared to have done miraculous things to those who did not know."

"Then he got the sapphires!"

"He did. Symeon wandered what is now the North, until he found a small keep with a man who was deeply interested in Symeon's story. A master architect, builder and craftsman, he fashioned eyes out of sapphires that grew in the nearby caves. In exchange, Symeon shared his story with the man and his brother." Jagare sighed shakily, looking out the porthole at the expanse of sea. "That man was Brandon Stark, and his brother was the first true greenseer."

"Brandon as in...the builder?" Aimee asked, her eyes wide. "But he-"

"Legends are legends for a reason Aimee" Jagare spoke softly. "We all have different versions. In the North, when it comes to the start of the long night...Symeon Star-Eyes was the once who found the first other. Later it was said he travelled north once more, with nothing more than an obsidian staff and his eagles. He slew the other that took his eyes, and fashioned his famous staff out of the creatures weapon. He then travelled Westeros, spreading the word of what the children had created. His friend, Brandon Stark reached out to all the heroes of the age, gathering them all to the North to discuss the threat. But it was Symeon who travelled the continent, showing men his weapon and eyes to convince them to pick up their swords and torches, and go north to fight." He let silence reign for a few moments, before Faythe spoke.

"Why are you telling us this." Jagare closed his eyes.

"Because sometimes we stumble across terrible fates that can change the course of our lives. But that doesn't mean our life is over." Aimee giggled slightly.

"I've always enjoyed stories...but magic in the world? Creatures of the dead in the North? Most maesters question whether the long night ever even happened." Jagare found himself sharing a dark look with Faythe. Interesting. The girl was smarter than he thought.

"After Maidenpool?" asked Faythe, eyeing the map again. Jagare breathed out in relief and frowned.

"The Free Cities I expect. Braavos, Lorath, Pentos…White Harbour maybe." He spoke the last bit quietly, relieved that neither of them knew why.

"Were really going everywhere aren't we" Aimee squealed. "A real adventure of our own, like Symeon!"

"Aye, that's right." He grinned back at her, enjoying the moment of childlike innocence.

"There was one other thing" Faythe spoke quietly. "Aimee has something she would like to ask you." He turned to Aimee who looked slightly pink.

"W-well, I was just wondering…if perhaps, w-when you go ashore tomorrow- if you don't mind of course!"

"Ugh get to the point Aimes" groaned Faythe.

"I wondered if I could buy some paints, canvasses, and an easel." He looked at her querulously.

"Paints. What would you need paints for?" he asked.

"For painting stupid" replied Faythe, who smirked at his glare.

"Well, it's just that…I used to paint in Oldtown, it was one of the only things I was allowed to do myself really. And I really miss them- You could sell them if you like! Make some gold out of them maybe…" he waved his hand to cut her off.

"I understand. Very well, I'll ask Tommo if he can go pick them up while the cargo is being traded." Aimee turned slightly pink again.

"It's just that…well I sort of have certain ones that I prefer, and I was wondering if I could accompany you onshore?" Jagare sighed and tapped the desk with his fingers rhythmically.

"Sunspear is a dangerous place Aimee, for a Reachlady especially given your realm's history. I do not want to put you in danger."

"I can take Leyton with me of course" she responded quickly. "And any other guards you deem necessary." She looked down at the floor. "It's just that…I really want to step on land again and see in person what I've been imagining." There was silence for a few moments before Faythe broke it.

"It's why she came, Jagare. To be free, not kept on the ship." That was a killer.

"Very well" he agreed at last. "You may accompany us, but I assure you we will not be there for long, and you must do everything that myself and your cousin tell you. Understand?" She nodded her head manically and grinned at him.

"Absolutely, thank you so much, captain."

"Come on Aimes" Faythe grabbed her by the hand and tugged her out of the room. "The sky will be clear tonight; I want to see the Dornish stars." He took a moment to stare down at the map, his vision blurring with tiredness. Ignorance was bliss. God he missed it. The next morning, Jagare slept in later than normal and greatly enjoyed it. The Dornish notoriously partied long into the night and then slept often until just before midday, so there would be no merchants willing to trade in the early morning. When he finally did wake, he found Lyanna sitting at a looking glass brushing her long brown hair and humming softly.

"Are you going to be coming ashore with us today?" Jagare asked as he stretched his way out of bed and walked over to her, kissing her softly on the shoulder. She scoffed at his remark.

"Not a bloody chance, if I fall in the water I might sink, and this little one takes too much energy for me to walk around the city all day." Her expression changed slightly. "Also…Sunspear isn't the safest place to simply go walking." Jagare rolled his eyes.

"It's Dorne, not the fiery pits of hell. The Martells wouldn't let corruption and injustice flood their city. They'll be a guard, law and order." She rolled her eyes and took his head in her hands.

"Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?" He kissed her again, this time on the lips.

"I promise Lya. You're in charge until I get back." She scoffed again.

"Obviously. I'm in charge even when your here" As he left the room chuckling, he saw her take out an almost empty bottle of liquid and drain it, he was about to turn around and question her but heard his name called from the deck.

"Jagare! OI JAGARE. GET UP HERE." Groaning slightly, he closed the door and strode up to the main deck, where the cargo was slowly being lowered through ropes and pullies into the row boats attached to the side. Aimee and Leyton were stood by the rail, both in less noble like clothes but still looking like highborns. In front of them was Aeron, looking irritated.

"Oh, my most trusted first mate, what is it that you require of me" he spoke, his voice dripping with irony. Aeron jerked his finger towards the Hightowers.

"Them. They're a liability on land, you know that. So why are we taking them." He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I promised the girl freedom Aeron, not captivity. If she wishes to come ashore for a bit, then she can." Jagare cut him off before he could respond and whispered, making sure the other two couldn't hear. "No, listen. She comes, explores, buys something to fuel the pitiful Dornish economy and then fucks off back to the docks to wait with Wendel and Lemnos. Meanwhile, we find a cheap tavern and get some shitty Dornish wine that makes our piss burn, down it and then fuck off before the sunset." He looked at Aeron expectantly, and Aeron stared back at him, a single green eye flittering between him and the Hightowers.

"You drive a hard bargain Snow, but god damn if I don't want some of that Dornish piss." He smirked at Aeron. "They come. But let's get it done quickly. The more I breathe this sandy fucking air the more I agree with Angie. Where is Angie anyway?"

"Locked him in the brig" grumbled Jagare. "He'd started firing arrows at pleasure barges. Only so many times I can blame it on a shitty archer." Their party disembarked into the rowing boats and started towards the shore. Dorne had rare trade goods such as lemons, oranges and chilli peppers that could not be found anywhere else in Westeros, but they were poor in meat, grain, and timber. He left Wendel and Lemnos in full confidence that whatever they came away with would be greater in value than what they started with.

Meanwhile, the rest of them walked through the winding bazaars and markets of the shadow city. Men from Dorne, the free cities and the Summer Isles traded in the dusty squares, for bronze pots and pans, silk dresses and scarves, rugs and tapestries, even serpents; a plethora of goods that although bizarre, fascinated Jagare and his companions. A particularly fine-skinned cloak caught the attention of Tommo, who disappeared into the stall to haggle with the salesmen, a challenging task when the salesman was Dornish. He sent Xavi off with Leyton and Aimee to find her painting equipment, while Brik, and Merri sort after a few barrels of Dornish red to keep in the hold. Jagare bought an orange from one of the vendors and sliced it in half with his dagger. The fruit's flesh was cool and sweet, its juices running down his hands and he let out a long sigh. This. This chaotic freedom. This was what he had escaped for. You couldn't find oranges in the North. Couldn't find anything like this in the North.

"You're far from home" came a voice. He turned to see a hooded woman standing next to him, brown ringlets shielding her facial features.

"So are you" he replied uncertainly, as her accent was heavy with tones of the Reach. Wait, the Reach!? He moved backwards, his hands moving to his belt.

"Calm, I mean you no harm. I swear it" she held her hands up in peace, and then lowered her hood. He was stunned for a moment by her breathtaking beauty. Her face was smooth and girlish, with dimples in her cheeks and an aquiline nose. Her hair fell in droves, neatly combed and shimmering. Her eyes were lush forest green and gazed at him curiously. Although hidden under a large cloak, he could see how her body curved lusciously underneath. "You seem especially distressed by me. I must admit its not the first reaction I usually receive." After conjuring an image of Lyanna in his mind he bought himself back to reality.

"I'm sure. Forgive me I've had…unfavourable dealings with Reachmen recently."

"Oh, well then I shall alert my guards at once." He reached for his knife but found she was laughing and released it with a scowl. "Seriously."

"Your face was a delightful image" she giggled. "But I care not about your squabbles with my countryfolk. They are not the easiest to overcome. You are highborn though?"

"As are you" he grunted. "Though I expect you're slightly more powerful."

"Unless you are a northern prince in disguise, I should think so." She smirked at him. "What's a Northern Lord doing so far south?"

"Not a lord."

"Oh? A lord's son then." She moved closer to him, and he took a step back. He could feel the manipulative power radiating off of her. Not entirely seductive, but powerful enough to make most men obey her. "Hmmm, not quite. More secretive...ah, your a lord's bastard." His thoughts darkened.

"A captain. Now if you'll excuse me."

"I have not excused you bastard" she muttered sweetly, reaching forward to take his arm. Instead, he grabbed her wrist, causing a gasp.

"Until you call your guards, you have no power over me. And I assure you however many you have, I have more."

"Northern dog" she spoke plainly, her expression not changing. "If I altered the Martells-"

"I'd be gone before you ever made it into the castle." His eyes flickered behind the women to a group of men watching them. He stepped away from her and found their eyes didn't follow him but were trained on her. "I'd give those guards of yours a call if I were you" he muttered.

"You want to be…?" she followed his gaze and found the group of men, who had started walking towards them.

"Go" he growled. "I'll distract them, give you a head start." Her impeccable mask broke for a second, her surprise breaking through. She turned and started walking away calmly, and he was immediately joined by Tommo and Aeron, who had been watching him carefully.

"Who?"

"Them." They all turned towards the approaching group. Three hard, ugly-looking men clearly hired thugs. Jagare cracked his knuckles and smirked. A few minutes later the three were walking away from a dusty street, all three thugs motionless in the dirt. Jagare was nursing a bloody first while Tommo sported a split lip and a bruised rib. Aeron had somehow emerged unscathed, a fact which he would not shut up about.

"So" Tommo grumbled, ignoring Aeron's continuing laughter. "Who was she, and why do I have a broken rib because of her?" Jagare looked down and said nothing. "You don't even know do you…you are too bloody honourable for your own good you know that?" Jagare shrugged.

"She told me that unless I was a prince, it was unlikely I was more powerful than her. And she was definitely from the Reach."

"A Gardiner princess then" Aeron muttered. "Doesn't exactly narrow it down though, that family's massive."

"Doesn't matter who she was" Jagare mumbled. "Would you have let her be beaten up and kidnapped?"

"No, I suppose not" Tommo sighed. "Still, rich princess; don't suppose a reward is involved?"

"I think it's better we don't get involved with that one," Jagare remarked darkly.

"You two hear that?" Aeron spoke. His attention had been caught by yelling from another nearby market square, where people were starting to crowd around. They started walking towards the root of the noise and shouldered through the crowd until they reached what looked to be a makeshift paddock. Inside was a fat Dornishmen, his belly hanging out of his silks and sweating like a mad dog as he yelled to the crowd. Off to the side, there were a number of men holding a variety of Dornish sand steeds. A horse auction, and not just any horse auction.

"A Dornish horse auction" Tommo shouted above the noise of the crowd as he shouldered into Jagare. "For sand steeds as well! They can run for a day and night without stopping they can."

"Aye, truly magnificent beasts" Aeron smiled. "Think you might go for one Captain?" He chuckled slightly and shook his head until his eye caught onto one of the horses. Or rather it was a foal, under a year old and strong looking. He felt a smile spread across his face. He pointed at it and spoke.

"That one." They both looked and then snorted at the same time.

"That one!" Tommo laughed and shook his head. "It may not be big enough for you Jaggy."

"It's not for me, it's for my unborn child" he scowled. "And what have I told you about calling me Jaggy."

"Never heard you say anything about it. Aeron…Aeron, what you looking at?" Jagare turned to look at the Ironborn, who was gazing at one of the roads leading into the square. There seemed to be some sort of commotion, as a large area of the crowd was clearing. There was a score of horses trotting down the road, and each carried an armed guard, wearing the colours of yellow and black. At the head of their party was one of the most beautiful women Jagare had ever seen. She was a Dornish beauty of old. Smooth, light olive-skinned, with graceful arms, long flowing coal-black hair. Her dress was of a Dornish design and flaunted all of her curves without shame. Bloody hell what was it today with beautiful girls.

"OI" Tommo jerked his shoulder into him with a grin. "Look at battle-hardened iron-shit over there." He looked and found Aeron staring mouth open at the Dornish beauty and chuckled as he stuttered out his words.

"W-who is she." Jagare shrugged.

"Some Dornish lady I suppose, who cares." He shot Aeron a warning look. "Do not get too attached." Aeron did not seem to listen however and craned his head to see the lady, who was dismounting from her horse.

"She's gorgeous…" he muttered. He then frowned to himself and looked at Jagare. "And why shouldn't I, she's a lady, and if you had forgotten, I happen to be a prince." Tommo snorted.

"Yes, an exiled prince of the Isles, now travelling with a Snow, a Mormont and a Locke." Aeron directed his glare towards Tommo.

"So, what, I'm fully in my right as a highborn. Now, what is her name!" Jagare and Tommo both laughed in unison.

"How are we supposed to know" Jagare chuckled. He then felt a presence materialise between him and Aeron and turned quickly to see a man gazing at the scene in front of them with a warm smile. He was of medium height, around the same as Tommo. Warm brown eyes and lightly bronzed hair. His hair was done in an odd style, long on the top, cut short at the sides but with a long tail of sorts stretching down his neck. His face was smooth and tanned from the Dornish sun; he gave off a warm relaxing feeling as well.

"That right there my friend, is the Lady Eyme Yronwood of the Boneway. Most powerful of the Martell bannermen." He chuckled slightly. "I would have thought anyone in Dorne knew her by sight, look at how the crowd love her." It was true enough, the crowd was indeed screaming and cheering in her direction, and he could hear over the roar the faint cry of 'Lady Eyme, Lady Eyme' being cheered tremendously. The man then smiled at Jagare and stuck out his hand. "Camerlron the Fierce, at your service. Most just call me Cam." Jagare shook the man's hand awkwardly.

"Thank you" he spoke softly, then turned back to the auction, waiting for the foal to come on to display.

"None of you seem very Dornish" Cam spoke aloud to all three of them he was guessing. "On travels then I suppose."

"Aye, that's right" piped up Tommo. Cam grinned at them.

"I'm thinking…northern, right?" Jagare nodded in response at Tommo grinned in return. "And…him?" He pointed at Aeron who was still staring straight at Lady Yronwood, who was currently watching the auction with great interest.

"He's-"

"We don't know" interrupted Jagare, who shot a glare toward Tommo. Did he never learn? Strangers who came up and acted friendly were not to be trusted on sight. "He doesn't like to talk about it" he added, avoiding the strange look Cam gave him.

"Well, by any means, it is strange to see Northmen in Dorne. What brings you here?"

"Apparently to buy a horse" muttered Tommo. "It's bloody hot here as well, Jagare can we go?"

"No child we're staying" Jagare responded mockingly. "Hey, Aeron!" He snapped his fingers in Aeron's face and nudged him. "Would you stop looking? It's creepy and you'll get us arrested."

"She looked at me Jagare, I saw it. She met my eyes…" Jagare scoffed and looked back towards the paddock.

"Ah, nothing more beautiful than a man in love" Cam spoke dreamily.

"Nothing more pitiful more like" muttered Tommo, who was looking incredibly uncomfortable, sweating painfully in the sun. Jagare looked at Cam strangely one more time and was about to speak before he caught sight of the auction master. A man was leading the foal into the centre of the square, and he nudged Tommo again.

"That's the one, she's mine." Tommo rubbed his eyes and squinted out over the square.

"Don't you mean two?" He turned his head around surprised, and sure enough, a second foal was being led across the square. Before he could think more on it, the auction master was speaking in his eloquent Dornish voice.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, may I present two finely bred Dornish Sandsteeds, merely a year old. Born from a strong bloodline of horses, they will surely grow up to be some of the strongest mounts in the sands. A gift for your children I would say. I implore your friends, do not let this opportunity go to waste! However, I must hasten to tell you that these two foals cannot be separated, for they are siblings and shall be sold together. To buy one is to buy both. I shall start the bidding, at five golden dragons." Tommo shook his head and glanced at Jagare.

"All of that and you can't even buy them, what a shame. Well, let's go!" He went to move off, but Jagare grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back to a loud groan.

"One of those steeds will be for my unborn child, if I must buy another and sell it off then so be it." He turned to the paddock to catch the latest bid of eight dragons. "TEN DRAGONS!" The man pointed at him with a smile.

"TEN DRAGONS FROM THE NORTHMAN, DO I HAVE HIGHER." Jagare turned to Aeron who was still gazing intently at the lady and rolled his eyes.

"You have a child on the way then. A pretty lady comes with that of course" Cam exclaimed, his grin easy and smooth. It unnerved Jagare even more, and he felt his arm slip closer to his belt, where a knife was easier to reach.

"Aye, she is. And I love her and would kill all those who attempted to do her harm" he added, watching Cam's smile fade slightly. He turned back to the paddock and made another bid.

"EIGHTEEN DRAGONS!"

"EIGHTEEN DRAGONS OVER THERE DO WE HAVE ANOTHER." He turned around to find Aeron poking his arm.

"Jagare! Jagare, I think she's looking at me!" He turned around to look at the lady again. He wasn't wrong though; she was gazing very intently in their direction.

"Actually, I think she's looking at Jagare" muttered Tommo, his head lolling over the fence. She was indeed, however, looking straight at Jagare's eyes. Aeron scowlled.

"Bloody bastard, you already have one." Jagare frowned at him.

"I'd much rather her not notice me at all." But she had, and when he met her eyes, she smirked and whispered something to the man next to her.

"TWENTY-FIVE DRAGONS" her guard bellowed out and the crowd fell into whispers as they turned to look at her. Jagare's eyes narrowed as she caught his gaze again, still smirking.

"Well, you bid well. Come on let's go." He ignored Tommo and held his gaze on the lady.

"THIRTY DRAGONS!" he roared; his features fierce. The crowd then turned towards him, their faces aghast, even the auction master hesitated before he called it back out. He then heard Cam's voice rushed and worried.

"My friend, when nobility bids, you do not bid against them. It is considered treason."

"I'm aware" he snarled at him. "But all of us are nobility, therefore it is simply a highborn auction." He immediately kicked himself after he realised what he said, noticing Cam's eyes widen, but he had to counter the next bid with his own.

"Well done, you've just announced to everyone here that we are either idiots or highborn; congratulations captain!"

"Tommo, if you're not careful I will make you carry all the fucking gold here by yourself" he growled at him. "I am getting that fucking horse! FIFTY DRAGONS!" The crowd was loving the standoff, their faces rich with excitement. Meanwhile the Lady's face was narrowing, her beautiful features becoming sharp. He heard Aeron speak joyfully from beside him.

"You must be mad Jagare, to bid against her…so gorgeous." He ignored him and was focused on the opposite side of the square, where the Dornish lady had climbed over the fence and started walking towards the horses. His mind whirred and he felt the three men look at him and then say the same thing together.

"No!" He cracked his shoulders and placed a hand on the fence.

"Jagare no!" hissed Tommo in his ear.

"Are you trying to get us all killed?" muttered Aeron, finally out of his trance.

"I strongly advise against this friend, it is madness" spoke Cam. But Jagare could hear the suppressed excitement in his voice.

"I have no fear in standing up to nobility. Their just as human as everyone else." Without another word, jumped the fence. The crowd collectively gasped as he walked over towards the lady, who was stroking the female's coat as the auction master stood nervously.

"Lady Yronwood" he spoke dryly, the Dornish sand sticking in his throat. "I believe the bid is yours." She smirked at him once more, stuck out her chest and in a sultry Dornish accent spoke softly.

"One hundred dragons." He glanced at the auction master, who quickly turned the crowd and nervously repeated it for them.

"One hundred and fifty" he muttered and was immediately countered.

"Two hundred, and may I ask which family you belong to. I should mention your answer shall decide whether I have my guards drag you away screaming."

"Three hundred…maybe I have no name. But I wouldn't count on your guards doing much."

"Four hundred…you wouldn't be that stupid I think."

"Five hundred…you don't know me, maybe I am. Maybe I'm a prince in disguise." He was starting to worry now. The bid was very, very high. These horses were not worth more than fifty at the very most…and here he was at five hundred about to use up his entire chest of gold. Luckily, that was about to be solved for him.

"I think not. Not stupid enough to pay this much for two horses I think." She turned to the auction master. "One thousand dragons." His heart dropped as she gave him a soft smile. The crowd cheered as he turned his back on the horses and walked back towards his friends. From behind him, the Dornish lady spoke one final time.

"I think I will find out just how stupid you are." She raised her voice to the crowd. "THE LITTLE NORTHMAN THINKS HE CAN COME TO DORNE AND BEAT ME. RUN BACK TO YOUR SNOWY WASTELAND ORVORTA!" Clearly, a Dornish curse. His fists clenched as the mocking laughter of the crowd followed him. He jumped the fence once more and glanced at the faces of Aeron and Tommo, both looking sad and worried.

"Let's go to a fucking tavern" he groaned, rubbing his head. Tommo chuckled and threw an arm over his shoulder.

"You said it, buddy, let's get the fuck out of here." He noticed that Cam had left, apparently, after five hundred, he had hurried off somewhere else.

"Don't think he wanted to be seen with us" grumbled Aeron. "Can't blame him, I bet she hates us all now." They both groaned and smacked him on the head simultaneously.

"OW. FOR WHAT?!"

"Get over it you fucker" grunted Jagare. "Come on, drinks on me." They entered the first tavern they found. The door was strange, not really a door at all but two gates that swung on hinges both ways. Odd. It was busy and loud, a good sign and even better for not being noticed. They found a table by one of the walls and were feeling comfortable until they found out that only Dornish red was served. Not a drop of ale.

"I'm starting to agree with Angie" grumbled Tommo as he glowered at the goblet of wine. "Dornish horse piss."

"Keep your voice down" muttered Aeron. "You want our next drink to be poisoned."

"Don't want a next bloody drink at all." Jagare drowned out their bickering and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe that he lost that auction. Out of all of the horses, why did she have to bid for that one? Bitch. There was a tugging of fate to those horses, he could feel it burning in his stomach. The fucking Dornish. He sipped the wine for a while until the sound of singing caught his ears. He opened his eyes and groaned heavily.

"You have got to be fucking with me." The voice was deep and smooth, fun and yet calm. "The fuck is he doing here."

"Of course, he fucking sings" muttered Aeron. "I didn't like the look of him Jagare. He looked like he was racing off to tell someone about us."

"The Dornishmen's wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses warmer than springgg!" Cam's voice was surprisingly good. Tommo knocked back the rest of his wine and agreed.

"He's not bad actually."

"But the Dornishmen's blade it was made of dark steel, and its kisses were a terrible thinggg." Jagare leaned into the table and glanced at him once more.

"I don't trust him." Aeron snorted into his drink.

"You don't trust anyone, Captain." Jagare shook his head slowly.

"No, this one is different. He looks like he knows too much."

"Knows too much?" questioned Tommo. "Gods you really are paranoid Jaggy." Jagare ignored him and listened to the end of the song silently.

"Brothers o brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishmen's taken my lifeeeee! But what does it matter for all men must die, and I've tasted the Dornishmen's wife- I have, I've tasted the Dornishmen's wifeeeee!" There was scattered applause and Jagare thought that it was done until the man caught his eye and grinned at him.

"My friends!" he announced to the room. "The man foolish enough to bid against the Lady Eyme Yronwood. Give him a cheer." His fists clenched once again as the laughter started, and he felt himself rising from the chair until both Aeron and Tommo grabbed his shoulders.

"You don't want to start a fight in a Dornish saloon" hissed Aeron. "Bad fucking idea, especially for an outsider. Let it go."

"I could easier let go of my own hand" he muttered but sat down, nonetheless. To his deep disgust, Cam then walked over and pulled up a chair to their table. Jagare was about to tell him to fuck off but stopped when he saw the expression on his face. It was serious and determined.

"I apologise, but I needed an excuse to come and talk to you, it would seem odd otherwise. Draw unwanted attention." They all looked at him blankly, so he looked around quickly and then bought his chair closer. "You think that you are safe here Jagare, that the hatred for Reachmen will protect you. Believe me, it won't. There are some here who will kill you to stop the Reach from doing it themselves, thinking that will piss them off more. Probably would if I'm honest, the Dornish have an odd sense of humour-" Jagare banged his hand on the table and laughed loudly, being joined heartily by Aeron and Tommo. He relished in the amount of time the three of them spent together, it left little room for disagreement in these situations. And the moment Cam had mentioned the Reach they all had the same thoughts.

"That's a funny one bard, you must come with us to the next bar, we could use you on our travels." He threw his arm around Cam's shoulder just as Tommo did the same and Aeron pressed a small dagger softly against his back. He heard a soft whimper, but Tommo was quick to his ear.

"You will follow us, scream and you will fall down drunk. They won't even know because your spine will have been severed and you will not be able to move" he whispered. "HA, you tell good jokes my friend, but more wine is definitely needed, and we wish to sample all of Sunspear's taverns."

"Got it" growled Aeron. At the smallest nod, they walked him out of the tavern and into the alleyway next to it. Jagare then lifted him by his tunic and slammed him against the wall, his eyes murderous.

"Give us one good reason we shouldn't. You clearly know too much for a regular bard." The man choked slightly and pointed to Jagare's hand, indicating he couldn't speak. He dropped him, and the man crumpled to the floor in a heap. Gasping for breath, he looked around, his eyes still fierce even in the face of danger.

"Because…I can tell you who can be trusted and who cannot. I can talk to those who wish you harm and convince you otherwise. I can be of great service to you…Jagare Snow." Tommo laughed cruelly, a sound that sliced through Jagare's anger-filled mind and stilled him.

"And why should we trust you, ey! Why shouldn't we just cut your throat now and remove the risks."

"It would certainly be the safest option" muttered Aeron, who was rolling the blade between his fingers.

"No" spoke Jagare softly, pushing Aeron's arm down, but looking at Tommo carefully. "No killing." He tore his gaze away from Tommo's hate-filled eyes and looked back at Cam, his gaze defiant. "Not until he gives us a reason anyway."

"How about I give you some not to. I know about your journey, I've been watching it since you escaped the mess of the Isles on the largest ship known to man. Before that, I heard rumours of the bravest bastard known to the North making fools of the Starks. I've seen your strength in the Westerlands, and your diplomacy in the Reach. Now let me help you improve your intrigue." That silenced the three of them.

"Or doesn't…" remarked Aeron, nodding slowly. "Go on then, give us an example. Who can't we trust?" Cam worked his way to his feet slowly, massaging his neck.

"Here? Too many to count, but none a threat on their own…there is someone whom you can trust, however."

"Oh yeah" chuckled Aeron. "And who's that, some pox-ridden sellsword whore who preaches false honour?"

"No, I wouldn't trust anyone like that" came a voice, rich with Dornish glaze. "But you can trust me." They all turned round to see a small figure, dressed in a rich Dornish shawl, made of fine silks and satins. She lowered the hood and shook free her long, lustrous black hair. He heard Aeron squeak beside him and Tommo scoff. Cam lowered himself to one knee and clasped a hand to his heart.

"My Lady Yronwood, I present Captain Jagare Snow of Karhold." The lady looked him up and down smiling softly as Jagare's insides once again froze from the unsettling nature of his full name being spoken aloud.

"Finally, a pleasure to meet you properly, captain. I think that we could be of great benefit to each other."


Ah what southern schemes Jagare is finding himself in. Feel free to comment!