Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or Dragon Age

Well, Game of Thrones is over.

Opinions have been divisive, from bittersweet sadness to disappointment, to rage. My own opinion is sort of a mix between all three, as fans we'll always have ways we want to see a story end, and it is difficult to please everyone. Without spoilers (if you consider a statement about opinions on the ending a spoiler, you have a very broad term for spoilers) (also, kind of a fact, you're browsing ASOIAF fanfiction, so of course there are going to be spoilers) my own view of the ending is I can understand why certain things happened, I didn't agree with some things but I see the logic behind them, would it have been how I ended things? No

Anyway, enough Game of Thrones, onto Game of Dragons. This chapter introduces the third Protagonist of this part of the series, as well as another central character in the series who isn't an Amell.

The Phoenix and the Griffin

Chapter 3: Lionheart

The man in the red hood looked at his book as the waves crashed against the ship. He held it with one hand, his eyes tracing over the text.

"Those whom lost and were forgotten in one region, were remembered in another, remembered forever as gods," he said.

Snapping the book shut, he turned to the woman in red, her matching hair flowed with the wind. They were going to Storm's end, seat of the Westerosi king's brother, heir in the event of the passing of the king's family, or if that family was not of the king's blood. In the distance, another ship was leading a small fleet. On that ship, 'Black Betha' was one of Stannis Baratheon's most trusted knights, one could even go so far as to call him the Lord of Dragonstone's best friend. He wore simple clothes, matching his origins as a low born. A pouch hung around his neck, a reminder, just like the missing fingers on his left hand of his life as a smuggler. Behind him stood two of his charges, his son Matthos and Stannis's ward/hostage from the Iron Islands, Asha Greyjoy.

The girl had cut her hair extremely short, looking more like one of the boys on the ship. When her father Balon began a rebellion many years ago, she had born witness to the naval battles around the Iron islands. The Iron islanders prided themselves for their skills on the sea. Though they had destroyed the Lannister fleet and had certainly taken the lives of many warriors, they were bested due to the combined efforts of Stannis Baratheon's fleet, and the tactical genius of one Fausten Amell. He composed strategies to limit the power of the Iron born fleet, utilising ships built for outmanoeuvring and also ramming the Greyjoy fleet.

Asha remembered the tales spread amongst her people, of the prowess of Fausten Amell on the decks of Iron born ships, the many men who fell to his spear. Then there was the word spread amongst the common folk. When Baratheon and Stark armies hit the beaches, and attacked the villages, an Amell stood to protect them. Damion Amell was remembered in the iron islands as a hero. Asha had no interest in heroes, but she did acknowledge that the man had done more for the island's people than any of their lords had. He was killed that day, but remembered forever.

But what Asha remembered the most was the day her father bent the knee. The day she learnt he was no hero, no king, not even a father to her. The terms were clear, he could stay lord of the Iron islands if he bent the knee and gave both Asha and her brother Theon away. Part of her realised it was a plot of Fausten Amell's to turn her against her father and the ways of the Iron born. But there was an aspect of their ways she would never cast aside.

'What is dead may never die,' Asha remembered the ways of the drowned god, the ways of her people.

Davos and his family kept to the ways of the seven, though Davos himself wasn't what could be called a devotee. He kept to his gods and let others keep to theirs. But Asha could see the disdain in her captain's eyes as the ship from the East approached. At the front stood the lady Melisandre and her companion, an elf woman in a red robe.

"Why are we dealing with these people?" Asha asked.

"Lord Stannis has heard the spider speak of magic in the lands of Thedas, himself and Lord Arryn wish to know more of magic, if it is indeed real, apparently these red priests have been to those lands. Perhaps they could give credit to what the Amells claim, that magic well and truly exists," Davos explained.

The man in the red hood chuckled as the ships met.

"It begins, the joining of two regions, and the first turns of the real game!"

The cart driver let his horses trot, he had to do little to control them. They knew where they going, it was where they had been bred to go after all. Carrying their passenger was the only reason they existed, as it was his only reason for existing. He looked over his shoulder, through the gap in the white sheet. His passenger was sitting against the sheet, hands on his elbows. He was wearing a white coat with silver scales on the front and back, the inside of the coat was red and ended at two flaps at his back knees. Red and silver gauntlets covered his hands and gold buckles were on his knee length brown boots. When the cart came to a halt, the passenger raised his head.

"Carrier, is there something wrong?" he asked.

"It depends on your definition of wrong," the driver said.

"Are a group of people blocking our way?"

"Yes!"

"Hmm, so depending on their state, there may not be anything wrong, do they look hungry?"

"I don't know what a hungry human looks like, you all eat when you don't have to anyway."

"True that," the passenger put a hand to his chin.

He had a very refined way of speaking, his voice oozed arrogance and the belief he was superior to all. In contrast, Carrier, strained, his voice seemed hollow and as if they were coming from the mouth of a dehydrated man. In fact, one look at Carrier and you would assume he was dead, his bone like arms protruded from the sleeves of his baggy brown robe. A hood covered his face, but his exposed chin was deathly pale and thin.

"Are they armed?" the passenger finally asked.

"Yes," Carrier said.

"Excellent," the passenger clapped his hands together and jumped to his feet.

The passenger jumped out of the carriage, putting on his head a helmet. It was black and red, and included a mask that covered his face. The mask lacked any kind of decorated, save for the lines on it. It had a sinister and intimidating appearance to some, an amusing one to others. He held a scabbard with a short sword in it.

"Beautiful day isn't it?" the passenger asked.

"Yeah it's fucking wonderful, now what's in the cart?" the leader demanded.

The passenger looked at the group of men. They were lowborn, as he suspected from their clothes. One carried a mace, another a knife, two had clubs and the last of them had fashioned a piece of metal into a type of knuckle duster. Their builds were varied, but they all had the confidence and poise of men who were used to bullying, and if that didn't work, simply taking what they wanted. The fact that the leader's mace had blood on it was a sign he was used to killing.

"Yes, you'll do nicely," the passenger nodded his head.

"Are you having a laugh boy, your highborn father may have given you fancy clothes and a sword, but that bowing and parrying shit isn't going to do you..."

"Could we please just skip to the part where you try to kill me, please, I'm not asking for much!"

"You're fucking mad," one of the men said.

"Boooring, come on already, if you don't come at me, well, I'll just have to come at you," the young man sighed as he began to walk towards the thieves.

"I'm tired of this boy, now you put down that blade OR MY MATES AND I WI..."

The ring leader with the mace never finished, as the passenger rushed forward. He drew his sword, swinging it through the handle of the mace, slicing the thief's throat. Blood sprayed across the grass and the man clutched his throat, his legs thrashing about as he rolled across the floor. The young man looked at his sword and shook his head.

"I'm not as good as I thought, I was intending to just cut through your mouth," he said.

The men with the clubs yelled and ran at him. He threw his scabbard into the face of one man, and punched the other in the face. Then he slashed the man across the side, kicking his body on top of the other man. Picking up one of the clubs, he tapped the fallen man's head once, before smacking him so hard that his teeth were knocked onto the grass. A scream echoed in the field and both the knife wielder and the man with the knuckle dusters ran at the man. The knife wielder was quickly cut down, but the man with the knuckle dusters managed to punch the young man's helmet off. He quickly countered, hitting the man with his club.

"I like it when people draw blood from me, impressive," the young man said.

He looked to the man he had knocked down earlier. The thief had thrown off the body on top of him and had begun running off of the road, down a hill, stumbling in his terror.

"Pathetic," the young man muttered. "Well, they wanted to know what was in the cart, OMEGA!" he yelled.

There was a roar like a Cheetah, and a black blur rushed out of the carriage. The fleeing thief looked back, and then screamed. After a few minutes, the young man crouched as his companion approached. He was of a rare species of cat, the feline equivalent of a Mabari, being of similar size and intelligence. The cat had the face of a Cougar, the ears of a lynx and the ferocity of a tiger. His fur was pitch black, but his eyes were red. The most recognised name of the beast was a Dire cat.

"Good boy Omega, you had yourself a nice snack didn't you?" the young man asked, stroking his partner's head.

Omega purred and rolled on his back, letting his master rub his belly.

"Did you save anything?"

The Direcat spat a tongue into his master's hand. He held it up and grinned, before dropping it down his throat.

Borosi awoke with a start, looking at his captors in shock and fear. He wasn't tied up, but he knew that the boy could kill him if he wanted. A camp fire had been made, and the boy was sitting on a rock, rolling a spit with meat that Borosi didn't recognise. The massive cat was ripping into a piece of the cooked meat, whilst the freak that rode the cart was chewing on small mouthfuls.

"Ah, you're awake, good," the boy sliced off a piece of meat and walked over to Borosi. "Just in time, this is when the meat is at its best," he tossed the meat onto Borosi's lap.

"Please, please," Borosi raised his hands defensively.

"Please? Please? Please what? Oh come on you're twice my size, have some balls at least. Besides, I'm not going to kill you, you would never have woken up if I wanted you dead, I would have fed you to Omega here," the boy pointed his thumb at the beast, which was licking its lips as it looked at Borosi.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said.

"Oh stop, you're going to make me laugh, which isn't why I let you live," the young man sat in front of Borosi and smiled. "You're pretty strong right? You can do some amazing things with those fists right?" he asked.

"I...I don't understand," Borosi quivered.

"Well let me make it clearer, you have calluses on your knuckles, you're a big guy and you've got some scars on your face that match what a fighter would have so let me ask you this, you fight a lot don't you?" the boy asked.

"Yes, I do, but just boxing..."

"Or beating people for their gold right?"

"Y-yes," Borosi said.

"Little people, people who can't defend themselves, people who don't hit back, that's what your boss had you do isn't it?" the boy asked.

"Yes, yes, I just did what he said," Borosi said.

"Is that it? Come on, be honest!"

"All right, I enjoy it, enjoy winning, enjoy beating others. Humble people are hungry people, if you're strong, you should have the right to take what you want, that's how the lords did it," Borosi explained and he flinched as the boy grinned.

"Yes, that is a very good answer, what's your name?"

"Borosi!"

"Would you like to be my friend Borosi?"

"I don't understand!"

"A person needs friends, no matter how strong they are, or what their birth right may be, one needs to have friends. So what do you say Borosi? Be my friend and I'll give you a very special gift, and you'll never have to fear anything again, you'll never even go hungry again, what do you say?" the young man asked, gesturing to the meat on Borosi's lap.

Hesitantly, Borosi bit into the meat. He looked at the boy's hand and then at his face.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You may call me Chimeron!"

Terra ground the herbs into a bowl. It was the third week of her mother's sickness. Her breathing was erratic at times, but for now it was more laboured. There was still a strength within the woman. People always said Terra had very little of her mother in her. She was her father's daughter, though Terra had never met the man. She was no bastard, her mother and father had been married in the eyes of the Maker and the seven. Terra was raised on both, and believed in both. People found this contradictory, one could not worship two sets of gods. It was more the concept of religion that Terra worshipped, the starburst symbol she wore around her neck had been placed on the symbol of the seven, creating the illusion that they were both joined.

"Terra," her mother called to her.

She brushed a strand of her red hair away from her eyes. The sixteen year old walked to her mother's side, taking her hand and smiling.

"You should go south, see what work you can find in the capital," the brown haired woman said.

She stroked Terra's freckles and smiled at her girl's discomfort. Most of the boys in the village called Terra ugly, but to her mother she was beautiful. Her hair was often dirty, her chest was flat and her arms had muscle from all the work she did in the village. She worked the fields, lifted stock at the inn and hunted rabbits and vermin. Terra had good hands, not the kind that bashed metal at a forge, she did more delicate work. Whether it was making traps or poultices, Terra was the best in the village. She was no physician or scholar however, she couldn't read. When she was younger, she had the privilege of studying with the Amell's personal priestess, Sister Bella. Bella tried hard to teach Terra, but over time Terra herself gave up and no one pushed her. Whatever was wrong with her eyes had nothing to do with how far she could see, or what she could see. It was letters and numbers she struggled to fathom.

"You would get lonely," Terra said.

"And you've been great company my dear, though it would be better if you brought with you a boy," the woman said and again laughed as Terra squirmed in discomfort.

"I'm too busy," she said shyly.

"I suppose, but take time to rest my dear, and remember...people can be cruel!"

"Stop talking as if you're going to die, just drink this," Terra shoved the bowl into her mother's hands and tilted it towards her mouth.

"As much as I enjoy being the one looked after, it hurts to see you so overworked my girl, tomorrow I'll get out of bed and help in the fields, I promise!"

"I would rather you rest, recover your strength, I'll get supper for tonight," Terra said, adjusting her mother's blanket.

"Are you happy Terra?" the woman asked.

"As happy as this place allows me to be," Terra said before she walked out of the hut.

Rabbits often graced the fields of Terra's village. She would take her rock sling and go hunting, or set traps. Today, she wanted to focus entirely on catching a rabbit. The paradox in Terra's ability to read was that she had excellent eye sight. As soon as she saw a nice, fat rabbit, she swung her sling around and launched a rock at its head. The impact knocked it out, and her hands at its neck did the rest. As night began to pass, Terra cooked the meat and served it to her mother.

"Delicious," she said.

"You don't have taste," Terra said.

"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate your efforts, thank you, now you eat too, or you'll become skin and bones."

"Men don't like girls bigger than them," Terra retorted.

"Oh, so you are interested," her mother grinned.

"Oh mother, too many of the boys in the village are my friends," Terra said.

"Yes, I certainly don't approve of some of the boys in this village, but I got lucky with your father. He was a good man, he didn't talk too much, he wasn't perfect but he didn't try to hide those imperfections. And there was no masks with him, no jokes, you were either worth his time, or not," the woman explained.

"But he still died, fighting a war that wasn't really ours to fight," Terra said.

"Don't let a noble hear you say that, by their command, all wars are ours to fight."

"It isn't right, they live in their lavish halls and to keep living in them, they demand our blood," anger crossed Terra's face, and her fist shook.

But her mother took her hand and stroked it, her smile putting the girl at ease.

"You can't change the world, and sometimes you can't change people, but you can change yourself. In the morning, go to the Chantry and see what work you can find, it would be closer and you wouldn't have to..." Terra's mother suddenly began to cough, and Terra put her plate down and grabbed her mother's water cup.

"Your throat is dry, here," she offered her the cup and her mother took small sips.

Then came the knock at the door, Terra kept her focus on her mother, making sure her coughing had stopped before she stood to walk to the door. She opened it and saw a man in a black hood. When he was under the hay shelter, he removed his hood and revealed a face Terra had only seen at a distance. But it was a face many in the Meadow knew, the face of their new lord.

"Lord Amell," Terra whispered.

"May I come in," Revion asked.

"Yes, of course, come in," Terra said.

She knew about courtesy as well, though she couldn't eat the way nobles expected, she could at least give them a polite welcoming. Getting water, bread and meat, she laid them at the table and tidied out her hair. A bewildered look crossed her mother's face as Revion walked into her room. Terra rushed to her mother, nervously standing behind the lord of the Meadow as he looked over her mother. He knelt at her bedside and bowed his head.

"I apologise for the lateness and my intrusion, I understand you have not been well, a condition that has attacked your chest yes?" Revion asked.

"It damn well feels as if my throat has shrunk, then there's the pain, I can't overwork on the fields, and my head aches," Terra's mother explained.

"As I suspected," Revion reached into his pocket and produced a vial with a green liquid in it. "Drink a spoonful of this every night before you sleep, it should ease the symptoms, once you begin to feel its poor taste, then you'll be able to return to work, in the meantime," he pulled a bag of coins and placed them on the table. "A few sisters from the chantry will get you food and water, not a lot but enough for you over the past few days, that is if your daughter will accept the task I offer to her."

"The task!" the woman raised her eyes sceptically.

"Terra, I understand you are a smart and resourceful girl, would you be willing to undertake a task for my family?" Revion asked.

"I would have to know what this task is," Terra said as Revion sat.

He poured a cup of water for Terra, sliding it to her. Then he removed a scroll from his coat, and after unravelling it revealed a map of Westeros, Essos and across the sea towards the continent of Thedas. Terra recognised the formations of the islands, though couldn't focus on the names of the places.

"It'll be a long journey that may take several months, you'll go to King's landing and meet with captain Isabela of the Siren's call, you'll join her crew until you get to Ferelden," Revion explained.

"What would I be doing in Ferelden?" Terra asked.

"Delivering several things to a man in Ferelden, mainly a box, no bigger than this," Revion stretched his hands out slightly, not even taking up half of the small table. "I would also like for you to speak with the man, get the measure of him, is he kind? Angry? Sad? Whatever you can learn from him in a single conversation, I wish to know him you see, but I cannot go to Ferelden myself and I would not send one of my vassals for a task that has only a sentimental value to my family," Revion explained.

"Who is this man?"

"His name is Daylen Amell, he is my brother," a smile crossed Revion's face.

"Why is he so far away?"

"Tell me Terra, do you believe in magic?" Revion asked and Terra blinked in confusion.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand, do you mean like in the stories about the children of the forest?"Terra asked.

"No, not to that degree, but the control of the elements, the ability to heal and kill, to create things through sheer force of will and to manipulate the very ground itself. Magic, the kind stories do not speak of, the kind that creates monsters, and saves worlds," Revion explained, and the last part confused both Terra and her mother. "The kind of magic that Westeros sees as a story, because it has been forgotten, and, well this is my theory, they want to forget it."

"What do you mean?"

"They must forget it, above all, the people beneath them must forget it. The lords and ladies of Westeros, even the Targaryens, needed the people to believe that there was nothing more powerful than them. They needed people to believe that wealth, status, titles and glory was actual power, that their game of thrones was the most important thing in the world. When the truth is, it is less than nothing," Revion hung his head low and sighed.

"I apologise," he said. "My brother is a mage, a being that could take power, a weapon, a hated and cursed creature. It is my wish for him to receive this box and its contents."

"How much are you willing to pay for this?" Terra's mother asked.

"A hundred sovereigns now, and a further hundred sovereigns upon completion," Revion said and Terra gasped.

"I...my goodness," she whispered.

"Do not misunderstand, this isn't charity, that first few hundred sovereigns will mostly be to cover any expenses you may have getting to Thedas and back. Isabela will not be able to bring you back to Westeros, as she will have her own commitments, so you will have to find a way back to Westeros yourself," Revion explained.

"I see, well, obviously we must accept," Terra's mother said.

"Why must you accept?" Revion asked.

He looked at Terra's mother directly, genuinely expecting an answer.

"Why must you accept?"

"You don't say no to lords," Terra said.

"I don't understand, why can't people have a choice, all we have are titles, that doesn't automatically entitle us to everything. That's one of the things that need to change," Revion shook his head as he walked to the door. "I will return in a few days for an answer Terra, you can say no if you wish!"

Terra nodded her head in understanding and watched the lord lift his hood over his head. He limped slightly, giving himself the appearance of a drunk, even singing a song in a slurred voice. Upon closing the door, Terra immediately rushed to her mother's side. The woman was trying to get up out of bed.

"Mother please don't," Terra said.

"Shut it girl, you are not going to say no, understand?"

"Mother I need to stay here with you!"

"I will be fine, I'll take this medicine and if it doesn't work then I suppose I'll just die, but until that happens I am not going to stand in the way of you changing your life for the better," her mother explained.

"You're not a burden mother," Terra said.

"I am girl, you're rushed from place to place for work and medicine, for scraps of food. If you waste this opportunity then you are a fool."

"I can't leave you alone," Terra said.

"Seven fucking hells, this is your chance, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" her mother yelled. "This is an opportunity, no one gets, a chance to leave their home and see something different. Day after day, you listen to Sister Bella's stories, start making your own. And earn the coin we can use to make our lives better."

Left in shock by her mother's words, Terra slowly nodded her head. The woman stroked her hair and smiled, a few tears falling down her face.

"I want so much more for you my girl, this is the only chance you'll have, a chance I never had," she said.

"All right mother, I'll do it," Terra said and her mother pulled her into a hug.

"We have two days girl, let's spend them together!"

The Three Sisters

Within the patch of sea known as 'The Bite' there was the three sisters, three islands neighbouring one another. Long Sister, Little sister and sweet sister. Chimeron had to whistle at the names, a map was enough for him to know why they were called those names. Sweet sister however was where Sisterton was founded. A small town ruled over by Lord Godric Borrell, a fleshy, fat and ugly man with balding white hair, had the nicknames of Master of Breakwater Castle and Shield of Sisterton. But Chimeron had no interest in that man, nor his daughters or granddaughter. Sisterton was a smuggler's paradise, despite the actions of Stannis Baratheon. He came to Sisterton and had several men hung, most of them were Lord Borrell's friends, but it was the price they paid for taking part in smuggling. .

'If Stannis had encountered Damion Amell in his smuggling days, I'm sure that man would have met a very different end,' Chimeron grinned.

He walked with Borosi behind him, the man striding with more confidence, but an emptiness in his eyes.

"Where is it?" Chimeron asked him.

Borosi simply raised his finger and pointed it towards a group of warehouses at the docks. Passing over a few hanged men, Chimeron boxed a set of entrails hanging from one's stomach. He looked to the warehouse and saw men unloading cargo. As he suspected, their people were unarmed, so as to not draw suspicion. That didn't mean that sailors on the ships weren't. Everything the men unloaded was a cover, spices to hide their real cargo. Chimeron held onto his scabbard, tapping it against a box. Then he lifted his hand, giving Omega room to brush against his hips. He stroked the cats head and made a few clicking noises.

"Sick them," Chimeron put his hand forward and Omega immediately began running down the docks.

Chimeron and Borosi followed after them, at their flanks, two other 'men' ran, climbing cargo and other boats to get to their targets. The men were in black clothes and armour, it was impossible to see their faces. They wielded sickles, their edges jagged and as brutal as the masks the men wore. Screaming started echoing out of the ship, followed by Omega's roars. Chimeron drew his sword as he walked up the plank, Borosi stayed behind and beat the men loading cargo. The masked man grinned as he reached the deck of the ship, immediately slashing one man across the throat. His 'shadows' were fast fighters, brutally tearing the flesh and slicing the throats of their victims before moving to the next. Chimeron deflected a sailors sword and beheaded him, then he hit a man across the face with his scabbard, knocking him into Omega's jaws. The Direcat climbed up one of the masts, and Chimeron sidestepped, avoiding a sailor screaming to his death. His Shadows flanked him, quickly executing two men that tried to attack him. Chimeron stabbed another sailor through the heart and used his body as a shield against two crossbow bolts. On the top deck, two sailors held crossbows and quickly began to load them.

"Wait, wait..." Chimeron raised his hand, keeping one of his shadows from throwing a dagger.

The sailors above them looked at him in confusion, slowing down their efforts to reload. He impatiently tapped his foot against the floor. It was clear he was waiting for them. They reloaded and aimed at the man. But Omega suddenly pounced on top of one of the men, sinking his jaws into his throat. The other screamed in horror, before a dagger pierced through his head. Chimeron took a running start, both his shadows giving him a boost so he could jump onto the deck.

"Captain," he said, grinning in anticipation.

Immediately, the man's sword clattered to the ground and he held his hands up in defeat.

"I surrender, please, please spare me, I'll take the black!"

Chimeron's hand shook as he looked down at the man. He was furious, eyes narrowed, skin going almost red.

"Surrender, that's what you're doing?" he asked.

He shook his head, taking a step towards the man, who fell back and raised his hands up.

"I slaughtered your men, no attempt to avenge them maybe? No attempt to at least die with a little courage and fucking dignity? I mean come on, I came here looking for a fight and you fucking disappoint me. Damn it, damn it, damn it," he repeated over and over, kicking at the deck.

Chimeron turned his back, and the captain looked at his fallen sword. He noticed the young man's eyes looking over his shoulder.

"You're tempted though right?" he asked, hope burning in his eyes.

But the captain looked down, blubbering as Chimeron kicked his sword onto his lap.

"Pick it up," Chimeron said.

"No!"

"Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up, pick up!"

"No please," the man cried.

"Pick it up, PICK IT UP! PICK IT UP! PICK IT UP!"

The captain cowered and screamed, tears coming down his face, urine soaking through his trousers. Chimeron's shadows stepped to his side, one taking the captain's sword and throwing it into the water. They looked to Chimeron and he sighed, nodding his head. The captain looked up at the shadows, they removed masks and hood, dropping them to the floor. He screamed like a frightened child, backing away against the deck, trying to climb over it. But the shadows grabbed him, and as Chimeron walked towards the cargo area, the man's screams were replaced by the ripping of flesh.

When Lord Borrell came down from his castle, he was welcomed by the sight of a ravaged ship and imprisoned crew. They had been the cargo handlers, the people simply hired to carry the distractions. Yet still they would be punished. At the front of the real cargo, Chimeron stood, tending to the elf prisoners. Though elves weren't loved in Westeros, the small folk loved a good hero and a lord appreciated a just man of action. Chimeron bowed to Lord Borrell, gave him his name and went on his way. On his small boat he sat, rubbing Omega's tummy as Borosi ate. The bigger man was ripping into the 'meat' as if he was starving. Standing over Chimeron, handling the oar was another whom was aiding him, a friend.

"You seem different," the boat paddler said, his voice strained as if speaking was a rare thing.

"Oh I am Styx, I am, it felt, strange to do something that that man would have done, something good," Chimeron said.

He made a fist, letting Omega bump his head against it.

"What is the matter?" Styx asked, his white skin barely visible beneath his ragged hood.

"Saving those people, giving them hope and freeing them from whatever fate the smugglers intended, it felt unexpectedly good," the young man hung his head back and chuckled. "To think, I always laughed at that man's dream, to be a hero, to do good," he looked up at the stars and imagined the one he spoke of doing the same, far off in the land of Thedas.

"Curious, you say 'that' man, but, who is he? How can a human be so fascinating?" Styx asked.

"You forget Styx, no matter how much I despise myself for it, I too am human," Chimeron stroked Omega again and smirked. "It is his connection to me that fascinates only me you see. There will be other reasons that people are drawn to him of course, his intelligence, his integrity, his courage and kindness, his power. Once I had a different name, once I resided in a prison, where I learnt how to use magic, where I crossed the fade and found true power, a power he rejected, yet still he had enough power to 'kill' me," Chimeron laughed. "Oh I remember that day, I want to relive it more than anything. But I want the field to change, I want to face him again so much, when we are both at our best."

"Yes, you once bore the name Leo, but who was that man?"

"His name is Daylen Amell, and when we are both heroes, then we will meet again! We will face each other in total war, and one shall fall!"

Next Chapter 4: Red Riot

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, Chimeron/Leo, possibly full villain, but I'd like to think there's more to him, stay with him and you might find out. Terra is a favourite of mine, especially with the path I've laid out for her.

Next time we return to Fausten's company as they go to Qohor and accept a job involving the followers of R'hllor.