A/N: Hoon Ti is a character from the story "Jade Dragon." The author, who is my friend, let me use the character. His daughter is an OC, fancast as Ana Sawai from Shogun.

Chapter 49: Lost

"I'm not leaving him!" screamed Daenerys. "Lost in the woods, wounded… he saved me, Arthur!"

"I know that, Princess…"

"He sac…" No. She shut her eyes, shaking her head. She would not go there, not with Sansa close to falling apart - the increasingly bold and cunning lady of the North withdrawn into herself, staring into the distance behind Dany while shaking not from cold. Not with herself close to falling apart. "He risked his life and was wounded to save my life from the river. Who am I to not do the same for him?!"

They had been at it for hours. Scouring the riverbank once the last of the brigands melted away into the forest. Moonlight, Lady, and a panicked and increasingly somber Ghost combing the underbrush for hidden foes while Dany, Sansa, and Arthur scanned everything on horseback until the river grew impassable. Soon, the determination had been made that Jon had been carried miles down the river, far from where they could realistically ride or hike to. Hence the panic and butting heads.

Pulled out of the river and still quite wet even as the bright sun warmed her, Daenerys was unwilling to give up. It was Baelon… her Baelon, the boy she loved and would rule alongside till their dying day. Never in her lifetime would she give up.

There was a tremble in Arthur's arm, the unflappable Sword of the Morning beginning to crack himself. "We've done… all we can do. The three of us, in a forest teeming with brigands? I cannot lose the two of you as well."

Hands beginning to heat up, a tendril of smoke hissing out of her palm as her anger boiled, Daenerys opened her mouth to scream when a hand on her shoulder stilled her. "Dany, he's right." She turned to regard Sansa, the redhead pale with terror. "We need more men, dragons, enough to comb through every inch of the forest until we find him."

Daenerys shut her eyes, trying with all her might to poke a hole in Sansa's reasonable argument - which was also Arthur's in a way. "Every moment we wait…" she ground out, the anger a shroud over the dread and sorrow filling her to burst. "Is more a likelihood that he dies, Sans."

Sansa reached Dany and grabbed her hands, squeezing tightly. "Every moment we spend here alone is more a likelihood that the brigands will ambush and kill us, so then what use will we be to Jon?"

"Your Grace," Arthur added. "We are but three - even with the three wolves, they are not yet fully grown and our reach beyond the environs of Summerhall itself are minimal. Reaching a nearby castle can allow us to send a raven to your brother the King. He can authorize the whole Seven Kingdoms to come here and search the woods for him, but we have to get to the nearest keep."

"Nearest keep…" Murmuring under her breath, Dany's eyes snapped open. "The Baratheons!"

"What?"

She snapped her head to Arthur. "Who else would be seeking to kill Jon than fucking Robert? These are his lands and he knows that we're journeying there."

"Princess, that seems extreme…"

"No, it makes sense," Sansa came to her defense. "Vengeance for my aunt."

"I still don't see…" A piercing roar overwhelmed the landscape.

Dany, head snapping up, felt an elation as the yellow-white dragon circled through the sky towards them. "What's Syrax doing here?" Sansa asked.

"She must've detected my emotions," Daenerys cried. "Good girl, Syrax. Good girl!" Landing with a thud, Syrax shook her neck about as she tipped her head back and screeched. An angered cry mirroring her rider. Daenerys hurried to her, forgoing their usual banter and dance. "Syrax, can you fly again?"

'Muna, where's Kepa?'

The worry in her daughter's tone echoing through her mind was a needle to her heart, but her anger served as a balm. "He is lost to us for now, but the culprit shall have no mercy from fire and blood." Sparing Syrax only a single pet, she climbed up her spines to the bare back… her daughter having had flown here so quickly that the dragonkeepers hadn't saddled her. "Are you two coming or not?"

"Your Grace, the horses?"

"We can come back for them, and they're just hired nags," Sansa hissed. "We'll get to Storm's End within the hour and every second counts." She rushed towards Syrax, climbing up quickly. Arthur followed, while the three direwolves all gathered near Syrax's talons.

'Did the stags do this?'

Daenerys almost answered Syrax confidently in the affirmative, but something held her back. "We'll find out."

'I'll bathe them in righteous dragonfire if they do, muna.'

Stroking Syrax's smooth scales, Dany nodded. "We all will. Sovegon." Syrax roared and vaulted herself skyward. Forgive us, my love, but I will be back…

"You weren't at your dancing lesson this morning, sister."

Laying horizontally on the plush chair in their shared solar, legs dangling over the arm while she barely paid attention to the book on her chest, Bella Baratheon cast her sister a bored look. "Didn't feel like it," she said.

Mya placed her hands on her hips. "It's important that you attend your lessons, Bell. Aunt Lynesse and uncle are worried about you."

"And they sent you to interrogate me instead of coming themselves?" She scoffed, staring at the coffered ceiling. "Weak."

"They did not. I came of my own accord because I am worried about you."

Rolling her eyes, Bella had enough. "Since even being younger than you - and having skipped half my lessons - I'm a better dancer than you and your thick thighs and beefy shoulders could ever be, I'd worry more about your own ugliness and less about me." Her tone was biting now, knowing exactly how to dig under Mya's skin.

To hurt her.

There was a flash of hurt across Mya's face. Towering over Bella and even uncle Stannis, she was the epitome of a 'gentle giant,' who could probably wield a warhammer as well as Gendry or Edric but just didn't. However, surprising Bella a little, she stood her ground. "I'm worried about you. We all are… we gave you space after your mother died but you're still shutting everyone and everything out…"

"Mayhaps you should give me some more space then!" Yes, she lost her temper. Yes, it was probably counterproductive, but Bella didn't care. "Just leave me."

"No."

Bella stood up, glaring. "Leave me or I'll make you…"

Mya opened her mouth to respond when from the outside bells rang. Not the bells of the sept, but the warning bells of the household guard. "What in the Seven Hells?" Mya asked, walking to the window. "Are we under attack…"

At that point their cousin Shireen popped her head into the door. "Dragon spotted!"

"A dragon?" Bella knit her brows in confusion. "The King, here?"

"No, they say it's Syrax. Princess Daenerys' dragon." That was… odd. "We're to report to the courtyard!" Unlike before, this was something Bella could not wriggle out of, so with a groan she toed on her sandals and followed on after her cousin - not sparing her sister a glance.

The household assembled outside as if a parade ground army. The household guard was decked out in full armor, while servants and stablehands milled about nervously - everyone from Stannis down to the lowliest milkmaid knowing that the arrival of a Targaryen upon dragonback wasn't anticipated.

All except… "So Prince Baelon's here?!" Bella bit her tongue, fighting the urge to roll her eyes as her father emerged decked out in his full finery. No armor, but the best silk doublet and fine trousers, elaborate in their display of Baratheon wealth and nobility rather than martial strength. "That boy, Lyanna's boy - he'll be our honored guest, Stannis."

Only the Prince. Always the Prince. She saw Edric chafe with anger. One of the few times she agreed with him.

"The Princess Daenerys' dragon is approaching, brother," Stannis answered, himself looking nervous.

"Hmmm… alright then." Her father shrugged it off. "Let's see what she wants then."

Even to Bella, who cared little about sights and trappings, the arrival of a dragon elicited awe in her. Her eyes widened, wonder and interest flashing as the yellow-white dragon soared above, scales glinting in the sun. Loud roars shook the great keep. Some flinched while some, like Bella, stood their ground. Her father laughed, slapping his knee.

Storm's End was big enough for a dragon to land in, but Syrax instead flew out of view, hoots and shrieks audible from beyond the walls as she landed on one of the outer courtyards overlooking the cliffs. Where three Conquerors had landed when visiting their half-brother Orys, at least that was what the stories said. As such, they would be forced to wait for the arrival of the Princess. Bella scoffed and kicked at the cobblestones with her feet, not hiding her boredom.

"Be still, sister," Edric hissed.

"Eat shit and die," Bella spat back, earning a grunt from her elder brother.

"Open the gate," shouted the herald, and the thick wooden doors were hauled open to reveal the figure of the Princess Daenerys. Slight, graceful, and petite, right on the cusp of childhood innocence and feminine beauty. She shouldn't have been imposing, but Bella immediately noted the roiling dragonfire in her eyes and stiffness in her posture. She was enraged.

Of course, her father was oblivious. "Princess!" he called out, opening his arms in a gesture of welcome. "It is an honor for your presence…"

"Silence!" Daenerys screeched. The voice sounded partly like a petulant child, but when a daughter of the house of the dragon yelled, she roared. Even Bella found herself standing shock still, eyes wide and trembling with a sudden fear.

Robert reacted if struck, while it was aunt Lynesse that recovered first. "Your Grace, what is the meaning of this uncouth…"

"You'd keep your mouth shut if you knew what was good for you, Lady Lynesse," Daenerys snarled, silencing the unflappable woman. Behind the Princess showed Sansa Stark and Arthur Dayne, though none of them attempted to interfere with Daenerys. "Where are they?!"

Her father gulped. "Where are who?"

"You know damn well who. Where are they?! Find them and bring them to me!"

"I haven't the foggiest…" He stepped back several paces as a flash of fire erupted for a split-second from both of Daenerys' hands. Bella did. All did.

"Don't play stupid with me, Lord Robert."

"Daenerys, please." The words from Sansa calmed her… only just. Enough so she wouldn't spew fire on all of them… Bella looked up, finding Syrax perched on top of the walls of Storm's end. That threat wasn't extinguished, it seemed.

Clearing his throat, her uncle Stannis stepped forward. "Your Grace, I must ask what you mean with these vague accusations." How he was keeping his cool when even Bella was trembling she didn't know, but respected. "You have entered the keep of House Baratheon. While we have accepted you in peace you have shown nothing but hostility to us, so I must demand an explanation or will take up your conduct with the King."

"Do go ahead," Daenerys seethed. "And then explain to my brother and goodsisters, whom all know your brother's attitude towards them, about the attempt upon my nephew's life in your lands."

Her father gaped. "What attempt? What in seven hells is going on here?!"

Answering before Daenerys could, Arthur Dayne stepped forward. "Just this morning, a group of brigands attacked our party in the ruins of Summerhall. We fought them off, but Crown Prince Baelon was wounded and fell into the Slayne. He is currently missing."

Bloody seven hells… shit… Even young as she was, Bella knew this was a disaster in the making. From the fear in her aunt and uncle's expressions, they knew it too.

As expected, her father only laughed. "Summerhall? That's barely in the Stormlands."

"You laugh at my cousin's plight?" hissed Sansa. While calmer, she was just as angry.

"What?" Her father was stumped, no surprise there. "Are you accusing me of something, girl?"

"Do you think we're accusing you? I mean, your lands, Lord Robert."

"Summerhall's closer to Dorne or the Reach. Take it up with them…"

Syrax roared at the top of her lungs, fire spreading out of her maw to bathe the air above them. Her father pitched back onto his arse, which would've been hilarious to Bella had she not been keeping herself from pissing her smallclothes. From the scent of Edric's breeches, he'd failed in that goal. "The culprit is obvious!" Daenerys thundered, drawing a sword. Some guards drew theirs, only for Syrax's roar to halt them. "You hated my brother, and fought my house! Killing Baelon on your lands is something you're clearly guilty of, Robert!"

"Your Grace," implored her uncle. "Neither my brother not any of House Baratheon would dare nor desire to harm Prince Baelon."

Daenerys didn't answer her uncle, instead walking up to Robert. Sword pointed at his belly. Her father raised his hand to still her, but Bella could see the hate in her eyes. "If Baelon is not found safe and sound, Storm's End will be a new Harrenhal and the dragons will be feasting on stags."

"Do you think he's dead?" Mya murmured to Gendry beside her, both behind Bella.

Before Gendry could speak, Bella scoffed softly. "The great Baelon can survive on his own…"

Not soft enough. "What did you say?!" Soon it was her that the sword pointed at, Daenerys' rage directed to Bella.

True fear filled her. "Nothing, your Grace." She trembled, close to tears.

The Princess narrowed her eyes. "Watch your tongue Lady Bella. My brother made you a Baratheon, but he could just as easily turn you back into a Rivers. Or a corpse." Bella nodded frantically. Daenerys finally sheathed her sword. "I shall be sending a raven to my brother, who will be arriving here most likely. If you wish him to spare your keep, then I suggest marshalling the banners of the Stormlands to find my nephew."

"We will, your Grace," Stannis said. "I promise."

"Good." As Daenerys walked away, Bella watched her. Fear leaving… and replaced by rage. Here she was, humiliated so badly that she didn't even defend herself. Made a worm in her own keep, just as her mother was.

You'll regret this, Daenerys Targaryen. One day, you'll regret this.

"On second thought, I'll sit this one out."

Frowning, Rhaenys motioned for her lover to follow into an alcove where they could speak privately. "Don't be nervous, love. You look beautiful."

Objectively, Rhaenys was completely correct. Ygritte may have grown up wearing nothing but furs and tanned animal skins but the slender light-red gown looked completely natural on her. Billowing in the sleeves and skirt a bit, the chest and waist gripped her figure snugly and the color matched her fiery locks. It was a beautiful dress, one that complimented the black with orange patterns that Rhaenys wore in a similar style.

"Would you care to make all that primping you endured from the maids go to waste?"

Ygritte snorted, clearly wanting to thump Rhaenys' shoulder… but she refrained. "It's not that… I kin say I's uncomfortable in this getup, but would rather not go in and look lick some savage to yer…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

Rhaenys sighed. "My muna?"

"Aye."

"She'll say nothing. This is a more formal dinner with a dozen or so higher nobles, and my kepa and muna will keep her from acting out." Lyanna Stark was many things, but she'd lived twelve years as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Firmly graceful and polished she wasn't - the fierce warrior of the North always shone no matter what she wore or what she did - but never had Rhaenys seen her act as an uncultured boor when it mattered. "It'll be fine."

"I hope so," Ygritte murmured before there was a knock at the door.

Missandei poked her head in, demure as anything with her hands folded over the front of her dress. "Your Grace, Lady Ygritte," Rhaenys heard Ygritte scoff at that, causing her to giggle a bit. "Her Grace the Queen is inquiring about your whereabouts."

Rhaenys chuckled. "We'll be right there, Missandei, you can head back." The girl nodded and was gone. Rhaenys turned to her lover. "No one will raise a stink, I promise." Stare hard… Ygritte eventually relented, letting Rhaenys take her hand and lead her back towards the large dining hall.

Guards parting to allow them entry, Missandei cleared her throat. "Her Grace the Princess Rhaenys, and her companion Lady Ygritte." As if Ygritte was simply a friend escorting her - Rhaenys accepted it. Such were the formalities of court.

If her kepa had a mistress, the titles would be the same.

Already the first course had been served, so the arrival of the King's eldest daughter drew all attention to her. Rhaenys addressed it immediately. "Forgive me for my tardiness, your Grace," she said, curtseying to her kepa. "It took longer than I expected to get ready."

Her kepa nodded, though Rhaenys could see her muna mumbling something into her wine chalice. Unintelligible, but what she assumed was about the dressing habits of 'wildling savages' or the like. It made her bite her lip, hoping Ygritte - hanging back a few steps behind her - didn't notice.

"You are forgiven, daughter, just start preparing earlier next time so this doesn't happen again." Rhaenys nodded. "We saved you a seat next to your muna and Lady Missandei."

"Thank you, kepa."

"Thank you, your Grace." Accent aside, Ygritte's words and very low curtsey were up to the standards of any noblewoman.

Adjacent to Queen Elia and across from Lord Tywin, whom Rhaenys noted had seated himself next to Shienna Aekylosh, the servants pulled back the chairs for Rhaenys and Ygritte to sit - already their soup bowls had been served with a chunk of bread beside them. "You didn't miss anything, Rhae," her muna assured her, patting her hand. "Just blather from Lord Velaryon and Lord Merryweather directed at your father and Tywin."

"When does Lord Merryweather not blather?" she heard Cella whisper to Missandei, making Rhaenys giggle. Ygritte said nothing, just slowly spooning her soup.

"It's not a shock," whispered Rhaenys across the Naathi girl, just loud enough for Myrcella to pick it up. "That Orton's wife would seek solace even with Viserys."

Ygritte looked up. "Hol' a moment." Her voice was also low. "Yer' sayin' that yer' uncle's fuckin' his wife?"

"Yes… one of his many lovers."

She rolled her eyes. "If someone tried to fuck what didn't belong to him up north, there'd be a fight to the death."

Cella giggled. "As if Lord Orton could fight anything not a pie. Wonder if he knows his wife's havin' Viserys' bastards."

"What is a bastard?" Missandei asked.

"A child whose parents weren't married."

"Oh." She shrugged. "On Naath there is no marriage, so the concept is alien to me."

Rhaenys furrowed her brows. "Makes sense I suppose."

"Gossiping, dears?" Elia inquired, eyes on Rhaenys. "Try to be less obvious, daughter."

"Kessa, muna." From the small smile now on Ygritte's face, her lover more relaxed, it was worth it.

But things could change rather quickly. "So, Rhaenys' companion?" Rhae stiffened, looking up to see Viserys' smirking face. He wasn't drunk - Talisa seemed to be at least inebriated, but Viserys was drinking water. "Yvette was your name?"

"Ygritte, your Grace." She was more deferential than Rhaenys would've been.

"Right right… so you're a wildling?" The table was silent, all eyes on Ygritte when she nodded. "Born above the wall and everything?"

Rhaenys could strangle her uncle. He - likely out of boredom and trying to stir the pot to distract himself from his wife - had just ruined her hope for Ygritte to keep a low profile and slowly make herself at home. Already many gave her lover glares, her muna included. Her kepa, grandmother, and Lord Tywin were quiet, as if curious as to how Ygritte would handle herself.

There was a nervous air around the redhead… Until there wasn't. Ygritte set down her spoon and cleared her throat. "Aye, Prince Viserys. I am and I was… at a small village on the… Antler River, what ye' Crows call it."

"Crows?"

"The Night's Watch."

"Hmmm, ah yes. Because of their black cloaks." He chuckled. "Clever."

Before Viserys could make another probing comment, Lord Tywin interjected. "So you actually grew up amongst the savages?" Equally insulting, but Rhaenys knew the Lord Hand well enough to discern there was a point beyond mere insult.

Ygritte didn't seem offended. "Aye, Lord Tywin." She giggled. "Actually never wore a dress till I was in Winterfell. To be honest, they're a bit weird on me."

"I told you muna," said Alyssa. "It's not just me." Several snickers came from around the table.

The conversation was taking a bit of a turn for the better. "So how did the two of you meet?" Taena Merryweather was as kindly as she was beautiful - at least tonight. "There's a lovely story there for sure."

Rhaenys took this one. "Actually I was ordered to execute her."

"Order a Princess?" Viserys again. "Surely not?"

"I was the youngest of a ranging group of the Night's Watch, I didn't take offense, uncle." She tried not to sneer. "In any case… I was holding the sword when a bit of a rockslide was coming towards me. Ygritte leaped at me to knock me out of the way… and that's when we were captured by Mance Rayder."

"I thought ye' were interestin'." Ygritte smirked. "Turns out I was wrong." Rhaenys mock scowled and smacked her knee - not an unnoticed act, for the entire table laughed. A good start, a good start for sure…

All interrupted when a chair clattered to the floor, her kepa bolting upright. "Everyone out!" he bellowed. "If you're not of House Targaryen or my Lord Hand, leave our presence!" Very rarely did her kepa publicly lose his cool, so when he did, no one dared to disobey him. Lords and ladies fled, except for Ygritte - no one really noticed but Rhae that she stayed - and Ser Oswell who had whispered in Rhaegar's ear while everyone was still talking. Once they were alone. "We are flying to Storm's End, everyone with a dragon - Lord Tywin, you will hold the capital in my absence."

"I will obey, your Grace, but what is the matter?"

"Kepa, what's going on?" Rhaenys asked, getting a painful pit in her gut.

"Baelon's lost."

"Who'd have thought we'd end up here?"

"Not me, that's for sure." Chuckling, he suddenly noticed a little flash of hurt in her eyes and he sighed. "Sorry, didn't mean it like that."

"No, I know." She shook her head. "I love you, just that I never thought…" She trailed off too, just as awkward as he. "They're alright with it, though."

"Your lady, or mine?"

"All three." She blushed a bit. "You're giving Maegor a run for his coin."

He grinned. "I'm luckier. My prospective ladies actually love me and aren't with me out of fear."

"Fear…" She trailed off. "I don't fear I'll ever turn on you, Bae, I love you… I've only just figured out how much, but…" She bit her lip, the inky-black locks framing her face wonderfully with the snow falling around them. "Tyanna of the Tower turned on her sister-wives before any of them turned on Maegor. Alicent and Rhaenyra fought over their lines and they were just friends. What if we do that too?"

"I don't think you ever will, Rhae. I trust you, and I trust them. I know we all love each other."

"Your capacity to trust is endless."

"Only our family. Only those who've been with me through thick and thin." The goddess sitting next to him smiled, leaning in close. Their joined lips banishing the cold.

Lids fluttering open, shifting on the cot… waking up the second time was far more pleasant than before. A dull ache in his side, but not the stabbing agony and ice cold that covered him. Now just warmth. An ache and warmth, not solely from the woolen blanket draped over him.

"You look contented, Prince Baelon."

For the first time Baelon realized he wasn't alone - the rest came to him quickly. "Gods." He turned onto his back and tilted his head up, finding the giggling form of Reiko, clutching a basket of fresh greens. "I forgot you were there, Lady Rieko."

Reiko giggled again. "That dream must've been lovely, with how you were smiling in your sleep," she said in her excellent common tongue. "Is it about Princess Daenerys? Lady Sansa?" A sparkle in her eye. "Princess Rhaenys?"

He found himself blushing, especially by the last part. "Is the love lives of my family that obvious even to a pair living in a hut in the forest?"

"The first dragonriders in centuries? Hai." Jon blinked. "Yes."

"Ah." Made sense.

Dropping the basket on a table near the kitchen - Jon finally noticing the surroundings, a simple but well-kept hut with the main bedchamber being a floor above them accessible by a ladder - Reiko's teasing dropped as she sat next to him. Concern filling her round, pretty face. "Are you still in pain? Milk of the poppy, even a little?"

Jon shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"Thank the gods. You definitely look better. Mayhaps something to eat?"

Feeling his stomach growl, Jon nodded. "Aye, but I'll eat when the both of you do. Mayhaps a walk." Reiko seemed in agreement, motioning to the door. "Um… pants?"

Blinking, suddenly the girl blushed. "Apologies, my Prince."

His clothes being waterlogged and covered in blood, a simple work tunic and trousers a little too big for him were forthcoming. Jon felt his side twinge but his body welcomed the sun after such a long slumber… among worse things. The stormlands air was humid but not insanely so, a freshness about with droplets falling from the leaves of the trees and the soil damp from the morning showers. It felt like the Kingswood when he and his kepa and brothers would go out for hunts - good memories.

Good memories tasting like ash these days.

A loud smack drew his attention to the side of the cabin, nestled in a slight glade of the forest. Sure enough there was Reiko's father, Hoon. He was… splitting logs of all things? "Come closer, my Prince," he called out.

Jon blinked. "You know I'm here?"

"Could hear your footsteps. Reiko's are much softer." Jon stayed where he was, causing Hoon to scoff. "If I were going to kill you, your Grace, I'd have already done so." With a chop, the axe came down and split the log in two. A clean cut.

Gulping, Jon nevertheless complied. Rare for him, given his status.

Hoon rested the axe on his shoulder and grabbed a skin of water. "Surprised I can wield an axe cause I'm blind?"

"It… it came up once or twice."

Hoon chuckled. "Well, you're about to see a lot. Place a long on the stump for me to split instead."

Baelon looked at the pile of wood already split. "Don't we have enough?"

"You aren't up for some honest work, boy? Some king you'll be." Biting his tongue, Jon only sighed and grabbed a log, setting it on the stump. "Very good, very good." He hefted the axe almost perfectly, as if an extension of his arm - Jon had seen many warriors in action, and while the axe was different entirely from the sword it was clear to him that this old man could challenge Ser Arthur or his kepa as a swordsman. "Muscle memory."

"Excuse me?" Baelon asked, confused even as he cleared away the split logs, stacking them.

"How I can still fight, even blind… you never forget the skills unless you cease engaging in them, and even still…" He rested his hands. "Plus there's the position of the log, and the slight whoosh the air makes when you swing, though to be quite fair it's far easier fighting against men than logs." Hoon chuckled. "More noise, more smell, more vibration."

Nodding, Baelon placed another log on the stump as Hoon readied himself. "Seems there still is much I am foolish about."

Hoon paused. "Come again?"

Jon looked up at him, though he needn't have bothered - Hoon couldn't see him. "I've learned a lot of lessons lately, it seems," he mumbled, staring at his feet. "I'm flattering in none of them."

"Not shocked," the blind man said. "No boy goes through death without feeling like a failure… though you're the first I've ever come across who actually died and recovered on me."

"A distinction I'd rather do without, to be honest."

Snorting, Hoon reached out and slapped his back. "I've heard much of you, Prince Baelon. Reckless, headstrong - a bold man everyone knew would make a great King…" He paused, as if noticing Baelon's soft, shame-filled exhale. "Baelon, while I can sense that you are a good boy, I cannot quite shake off the feeling that you are… unsure about yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"Boy, I have lived long and my ears still serve me well. When I heard that you were appointed the heir over your dear older brother, I knew that you were going to go through your own bout of insecurity. Like… you don't know what your worth is and what your place is. I have seen such things too many times."

He bristled. "You don't know a thing about me."

"You're wrong, you fire child." Even milky with blindness, it was as if his eyes stared into his soul. "I know everything about you."

"What are you saying?"

"Boy, you are not as unique as you think you are. The doubtful second boy being made to rule? That's happened so many times, it's so boring."

Jon blinked. "Boring?"

"Nobody cares. Nobody gives a shit about what doubts you have." Hoon shook his head. "But just you. Only you limit yourself, and right now, only you tie the bonds around your hands and feet."

The axe came down hard, splitting the log down the middle.

"He is dead."

Eyes narrowed. "Then show me his body." Staring at his confused subordinate, Vargo Hoat resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Show me his festering fucking… corpse or his head mounted on a fucking… pike! Unlessss I see either, how can I prove to the one who paid us that the cunt prince is dead?!" Fuck, his lisp always got worse when he was angry.

"He was bleeding out from his kidney. He's dead, even if that random traveler slaughtered our men…"

Vargo Hoat picked up the man - a scrawny but scrappy fellow, traits perfect for a scout and skirmisher - by the throat. Squeezing slightly, the scout began to wheeze as he thrashed his legs. "Gather round men… you see that I know that little Alyn issss close to death because I can watch him ssssuffocate. I can feel the life draining from his eyes."

"Please…" Alyn sputtered. "Mercy…"

"Fine." Left arm encased in a metal brace as it had been since that day at Starfall, the blade affixed to the grip came in handy - driven forward between the ribs of the scout's heart. The heart's constant beating essentially impaled itself on the blade, enough time for Alyn's eyes to widen before the life leeched out of them. Dropping the corpse, Vargo nodded to another one of his men. With a swing of an axe, off came the head. Vargo picked it up by the hair. "Now sssee that I know Alyn's dead cause I see the ssssevered head." He chuckled at the rhyme. "I can put it in a basssket and take it anywhere for proof."

"What does that mean, mi'Lord?"

The idiot was lucky Vargo didn't register who the voice belonged to. "Am I the only one here capable of thinking?" Apparently so, at least among the dozen or so at the main camp. "It means that until Baelon Targaryen's fucking head is in a fucking basket, we operate under the assssumption that the cunt Prince is sssstill alive. And we're going to find him!"

Easier said than done. Vargo dropped onto his camp chair, the one luxury he allowed himself on any sort of operation. He'd always known the ambush would come with complications… two dragonlings, a wolfling, and Arthur fucking Dayne, yet even he didn't imagine the result. Ten casualties among forty, six dead and one so injured he died later.

And to top it off, the three sent after Baelon Targaryen were killed by some random pilgrim. Unsustainable, but he had two dozen more to call upon. Vargo wouldn't make that mistake again.

"We're going to have to disperse."

He looked up to see his second, a Braavosi. Most of his men were exiled westerosi deserters or fortune hunters from Volantis, hence his choice of the calculating other as his second. "Aye, they'll come looking for Baelon… with dragons. Better be in ssssmaller groups."

"How do we find him?"

"Couldn't have gotten far…" Vargo blinked, narrowing his eyes. "Let's sssstart with that traveler. Yi Tish… Those are rare even in the port cities."

Even if it cost him his other hand, Vargo would find Baelon Targaryen and put his head in a basket.