Leroya

The guards were sneering at Leroya and her crewmen as they were escorted out of the dungeons.

Cayn and Bloodraven's orders had been followed; aside from bruises where hands or manacles had gripped them, Leroya and her crew had not been harmed. Inwardly, she was astonished by this restraint. She had expected far worse treatment as she'd been dragged into the dungeons, especially when she'd seen the state of Aenys when he was pulled from the wheelhouse.

So fierce had been her struggles that she hadn't been released from her bonds when they put her in a cell. She'd been left with her ankles chained together and her arms tightly manacled behind her back, unable to do anything but hobble about and suppress the storm of emotions raging inside of her.

She could still feel Xalonyay's hand on hers, preventing her from drawing Doom when the gold cloaks first arrived. She could still hear her last word of warning, shouted to Aenys. Cayn had struck Aenys then, whilst Xalonyay had seized a short axe from one of the crew and hacked at a rope which tethered Aenys' ship to the dock. Leroya had not seen which of the gold cloaks had slain Xalonyay; she had only seen the spear pass through Xalonyay's throat and come out the other side. By the time she'd drawn Doom, it had been too late to save her life, or stop Aenys from being taken.

The mere memory of Xalonyay's twitching body, and the glassy-eyed stare of shock as she'd struggled to breathe her last, might have broken her down completely in that cell, but she was determined not to make a show for her captors, especially when they leered at her through the cell bars.

They had wanted so badly to mistreat and make use of her, she could see it on their faces, but their fear of Bloodraven overshadowed their hatred and lust.

No word was given to her when they released her soon after; they ignored her demands when her gag was taken off, and they threatened to imprison her again if she did not cooperate. Not wishing to endanger the lives of her crewmen, Leroya shut her mouth and led them outside.

A sneeze left her as she stepped out into the bright sunlight. The sun had reached its highest point, and it seemed stronger than it had in a long time. Before she'd fully recovered, she was mobbed by her siblings.

Baalun was the first to reach her. His arms were around her so suddenly that she flinched. Miru and Matthias were on either side of him, whilst Sadog stood behind them.

"Are you hurt?" Miru put a hand on Leroya's shoulder.

For a moment, Leroya felt relief at this reunion, but then she stepped back from them. "Is he dead?"

"Roya…" Matthias began, but Leroya interjected. Her limbs were shaking with emotion as all her anger and fear returned.

"Aenys! Where is he? Did they kill him?"

"They did," Sadog answered grimly.

She had been expecting this; of course it had been a trap all along. But the confirmation still felt like a blow to her stomach. First Xalonyay, now Aenys… but she was not finished with her questions. "What happened?"

"We weren't there," Miru answered swiftly.

"I was," Sadog interjected. Miru shot him a glance, which he returned with equal acerbity. Typical. She still wants to mother me.

"Tell me, then," Leroya demanded.

"Very well," Sadog replied tersely. "They brought his severed head into the Great Hall and threw it before the nobles, as a message."

A cry nearly left Leroya's lips as she shut her eyes. The disrespect and savagery of such an action left her badly shaken. She impulsively went to grab hold of Doom until she recalled that it was gone.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Roya, please don't-" Miru began, but Leroya stepped away from her older sister.

"Don't touch me," she raged. "His blood is on your hands too!"

Miru looked as though she'd been struck across the face. "I was betrayed," she stammered.

"So was I," Leroya snapped. "So was Aenys! Now he and Xalonyay are dead!"

"Xalonyay too?" Matthias stared up at her with a dismayed countenance.

"Aye," she affirmed angrily, unable to stop her voice from breaking as she went on. "Murdered by the City Watch in front of me!" She turned to Miru again. "Your precious Cayn arrested Aenys while he stood in Xalonyay's blood!"

"He is not my-" Miru protested, but Leroya would have none of that. Not even the snickering of the dungeon guards nearby could dissuade her from this course.

"Of course he is," she interrupted. "He's your precious brother, is he not? And of course Miru knows best among us! Trust in Bloodraven after all this time? Aenys' children are orphans because of you! Will you make room for them in Braavos?"

Miru was weeping silently now, and the sight caused Leroya to bite her tongue. She would not break, nor yield her resolve; her anger managed to suppress the remorse and misery which threatened to tear her apart.

"I'd watch what I say if I were you," Sadog suddenly warned Leroya in a dangerous tone. "Miru meant no harm. None of us did! We were all betrayed just the same as you."

"Speak for yourself! I never trusted Cayn," Leroya growled.

"Bully for you," Sadog retorted scathingly. "Such a strong, smart lady, you are. You're smarter than me, smarter than Miru, smarter than Father. Is that what you want to hear? You're the smart one who set all this in motion in the first place!"

For one frenzied moment, Leroya was tempted to strike him down with her fist. Instead, she stormed past her siblings, followed by her crewmen.

She was scarcely aware of her surroundings as she stalked the city streets, eager to put as much distance between herself and the Red Keep. Her mind raced as she took in everything which had unfolded that day.

"Roya."

Baalun was walking beside her, staring at her with a sternness that he'd never displayed before.

"Do not see fit to lecture me," Leroya declared. "Not on such a day as this."

Baalun frowned. "I can't tell if you're warning me, or begging me."

Leroya could taste blood in her mouth. "Have a care, brother."

He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. Neither of them said anything to each other for the rest of their walk to the docks.

The Black Bolt was still anchored at the dock, as was the Tyroshi ship which had delivered Aenys. But while Leroya could see the rest of her crew, she saw no sign of the Tyroshis which had crewed the Leviathan's Bane. Instead, gold cloaks patrolled the ship, lazily conversing with each other whilst they stood guard.

"What's all that about?" Leroya asked Bejjo as he approached the newcomers.

"They tried to flee when Aenys was arrested," Bejjo explained. "Seems that they were expected, though. Two galleys intercepted them. They must have surrendered quickly, 'cause they led the ship back to the dock and put their crew in chains."

Leroya hadn't seen the Tyroshi crew in the dungeon, but she had hardly been in an observant mood. "And what of Xalonyay?"

"She…" Bejjo cleared his throat before speaking again. "We put her in a rum cask. Thought she would want to be buried elsewhere than here."

"Aye," Leroya answered. "Just so. We'll take her back to the Summer Isles, where she belonged." She never should have been here. It was me that begged her to join my command. She did it for me.

"Speaking of rum…" Bejjo interjected, "we broke open a cask of rum in her memory."

"Good," Leroya answered with a sigh. This was what she needed; the way of the Summer Isles was to celebrate a life, not mourn a death. She had no time for tears and impotent wrath. She would remember what it meant to live. I'll live for you, Xalonyay. And you, Aenys.

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The sun was descending behind the city's three hills as Leroya made her way back to the Red Keep. She had spent a good portion of time with members of her crew, including Bejjo, Qahar, Malthar, and Tidir.

The latter had been the most enthusiastic in her efforts to celebrate Xalonyay's life. She had accepted that the missing Nosipho was likely gone for good. Therefore, it was fitting to her that she lie with Leroya, who had also been one of Nosipho's lovers.

Whilst the others were eventually sated, Leroya was still restless, still staving off those dark emotions threatening to undo her entirely. She could not forget the way Xalonyay had looked in her final moment of life. She still saw the way Cayn's had lit up with triumph as he'd taken Doom for himself. Aenys was still staring at her as he stepped down from the wheelhouse, only she couldn't recall if his eyes had been so accusing as she recalled them.

She had armed herself with another sword before leaving the dock, but it was made of crude and heavier metal than Valyrian steel. It only served to remind her of what had been taken from her.

The rum in her belly was still warm, and she needed to steady herself a few times as she ventured up the Hook towards the top of Aegon's hill. Her vision was still slightly blurry from all the drink she'd consumed, and her head was beginning to ache.

Still, she was determined to find Piato. Mayhaps he could help her release the Tyroshi who had not been allowed back to their ship. Mayhaps his embrace could help her find some semblance of relief from this hellish day.

As she re-entered the Red Keep, Leroya was careful to shirk the Great Hall, where she didn't doubt that dinner was still underway. Thrice that afternoon, members of her family had come to the ship, but Leroya had ignored them, sequestering herself in her quarters with her lovers. At the time, her emotions felt far too raw to put up with any sort of conversation which meant she would be held accountable. Now, she felt too abashed at the thought of running into them now.

Thankfully, few were about as she slipped into the tower which held the Grand Maester's quarters and the rookery. Leroya eschewed the rookery for his chambers, hoping that he had returned from supper.

After a few knocks, the door swung inward, revealing Grand Maester Piato.

Leroya nearly stepped back at the state of him. He looked as dignified as ever, but there was an expression of utter defeat and misery on his face. That alone might have been bad enough, but as he looked upon her, his countenance became wroth.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a choked whisper.

"I came to see you," Leroya answered hesitantly.

"Why? What more is there to be done? You and your father did your work well enough!"

Leroya suddenly felt very sober. "What are you saying?"

"Are you drunk or simply mad?" Anger seemed to give Piato a new burst of life. "You lured Aenys to Bloodraven's trap! Your father led the applause himself! Admitted that he'd been plotting with Bloodraven all along!"

"Lies!" Leroya was seized with a panic which she could not remember feeling for a long time. "I swear to you, Piato, on the first night we spent together!"

"Take it up with your father," Piato snapped. "He will tell you what happened."

"I was a prisoner too," Leroya protested. "They killed Xalonyay on the dock and dragged me and a dozen others to the dungeon!"

"A likely story," Piato remarked, unmoved by Leroya's passionate protest. "It matters not; you and Titus have ensured that this madness will continue!"

"It was not our fault," Leroya nearly shouted. It was one thing for her to say those terrible things to her siblings, or to snub her father when he came to speak with her. It was quite another for this man to question her or her family's honour. "How dare you speak so cruelly of me? After all we shared?"

"One of my deepest regrets," Piato assured her. "If it wasn't for you, Aenys might still be alive! And who knows what will happen to me now!"

Leroya really did step back from the Grand Maester. This brusque manner with which he spoke to her was somehow worse than the guards' ridicule, or Sadog's account of Aenys' brutal end. She had hoped - nay, expected - a chance to commiserate with this man and help each other recover. Now, she felt more alone than ever before.

"I did not force you to speak of Aenys," she murmured, for she was determined to repress the hurt from her tone. "Nor did I betray you as you are betraying me now."

Piato shook his head, as if in denial of her charge. "Begone, you wretched woman! May we never see each other again!" With that, he stepped into his chambers and slammed the door in Leroya's face.

She could not stop three tears from slipping down her face; luckily, nobody seemed to witness her hasty retreat from the Red Keep.

It was a mistake, she thought to herself. I have no true place in such a castle as this. And all the better for that!

Still, Piato's rejection continued to sting at her, like a hot coal which scalded her throat as she swallowed it, and which continued to burn in her stomach. All that's left is to quench it, thought Leroya as she followed Eel Alley down to River Row.

The sun was nearly gone as she chose a quiet-looking tavern which was practically backed up against the massive wall. One either side of the small structure was a thin alleyway, caked in dark shadows now that evening was in full swing.

Despite her drunkenness and her wretched condition, Leroya espied movement in one of the alleyways. Two figures loomed up over a third, who was crouched and huddling from them, cowering in fear as they snarled in ugly voices. One of them struck their quarry with his foot, prompting a loud whimper from the huddled form and a laugh from his companion.

This served a fine distraction for Leroya; in a flash, she drew her sword and lunged toward the three. "Get out of here," she shrieked, swinging wildly at the man who'd done the kicking.

Her aim was poor, but the ferocity of her sudden onslaught was more than enough. Both men turned and fled away, melting into the darkness as quickly as their legs could carry them.

Leroya grunted as she struggled to put her sword back in its scabbard. "Cowards," she cursed after the men. "Not brave enough to fight a woman, are you?" Not even if she doesn't have a sword of Valyrian steel.

"Thank you, my lady."

Leroya turned to the man whom she'd rescued. He was still curled into a tight ball, though he'd raised his head to gaze up at her. Because of the shadows, she could not make out any of his features, but the meekness of his voice was enough to inspire pity for his plight.

"What's become of you?" Leroya asked dryly. "You look like the only man in this city who's having a worse day than I."

The man gave no reply to that. He simply looked upon her as she straightened up and leaned against the alley for balance. Perhaps there simply wasn't anything to say.

Leroya cursed as she failed once again to sheathe her sword. Instead, she dropped it beside the man. "Here. You can use this if those men come back."

"Thank you, my lady," came his hesitant answer. "But I'm no man to swing a sword."

Ignoring that, Leroya clumsily reached into her purse and took out several copper coins. She reached out and let them fall into his lap with several soft clinks. "Take these too," she urged. "Buy yourself a drink and warm yourself inside. Have that on me." Without waiting to see what he did with those coins, she stepped back over him and entered the tavern.

Only a handful of sailors were inside, singing loudly amongst themselves in a corner. A few of them gave Leroya a hungry glance, but she ignored them.

Making for the bar at the far end of the room, she slumped onto one of the stools and demanded the strongest drink which the house offered. In no time, a tankard of strong stout was slammed down in front of her.

The beer was bitter on her tongue, but that didn't deter Leroya from her purpose. It was not long before the tankard was drained, and she was ready for her next one.

By the time that she was done with her third such drink, she sensed someone sitting down beside her.

The woman was considerably older than Leroya from the way her brown hair was turning grey; she boasted a more slender build, with clothes that might have appeared sultry if they weren't so ragged. The only thing of value which she seemed to carry was a brooch on her front. It was larger than most, and held a moonstone that was practically glowing in the torchlight.

"May the Seven bless you," she murmured when she and Leroya's eyes met.

Leroya had seen so many women such as this, including the missing Amabel. They had no brothel to protect them, so they wandered the streets when they couldn't find a roof over their heads. Like Sadog, Leroya had taken pity on Amabel, and had not minded at all to take her with them to King's Landing. Now she smiled at this unfortunate woman.

"Have you had something to drink?" Leroya asked her, trying not to slur too much as she leaned on one elbow.

"Not yet," answered the woman, smiling crookedly at Leroya.

"Choose something, then," Leroya urged her. "We'll drink together." She turned to the man behind the bar. "Two of whatever this woman wants."

The man seemed to mislike having a woman give him orders, but her coin was as good as any other, so it was not long before Leroya was raising a horn of cider with this woman. "What shall I call you?"

"Lantana," answered the prostitute.

"Really? I've heard that name before." One of the many plants which abounded in the Summer Isles was a gorgeous flower by that same name.

Lantana smiled and inclined her head. "I've known my share of Summer Islanders in this port. I thought it a good choice of name for me."

"As you say," Leroya acquiesced. "Call me Leroya."

"Yes, I know who you are," Lantana replied.

"Oh?" Leroya felt herself growing tense.

"Your reputation precedes you, Captain. How could it not? Most men cannot decide whether they envy you, desire you, or hate you."

Leroya rolled her eyes, but she did not dispute such a comment.

"But we've also met once before," Lantana went on. "I doubt you'll remember it, it was more than ten years ago. But you were here with Ollo of Braavos, were you not?"

Leroya hadn't expected that. She faltered as she took in Lantana's smile. Something felt very strange, but she did not know why. "Aye," she admitted softly. "That was us."

"He was such a good man," Lantana remarked with a girlish giggle. "He was one of the best men I ever had. Gentle, he was, but not too gentle either, if you get my meaning."

Leroya was feeling wretched as she listened to this older woman's account. She looked down at her feet as she fought against the wave of memories washing over her, as well as the vehement feelings which came with them.

"I swear, I wept for a week when I heard he was gone," Lantana whispered. "He was the finest sea captain I ever met."

So fiercely was Leroya striving to curb her misery that she barely noticed when Lantana ordered new drinks. When Leroya looked up again, she saw a new tankard in front of her, with Lantana holding another in both hands. She raised it up and called out in a loud voice. "To Ollo!"

"Good old Ollo," Leroya mumbled as she repeated Lantana's gesture. She was scarcely aware of how the drink tasted in her mouth as she thought of the greatest mentor that she'd ever had.

She had always loved the sea, and Ollo had been only too pleased to take her under his wing. The adventures which she'd embarked on with him were too numerous to mention, as were the remarkable people whom she'd met on those early voyages.

Lwandle had been one of the men in Ollo's crew. Bejjo, Kinjja, and Nosipho had been young archers in Ollo's employ during those voyages too. They'd all been part of that fourth voyage, the one which Lantana had invoked.

Leroya had been fourteen years old by then, taller than Ollo by at least half a head. The purpose of that long voyage had been to bring her to the Summer Isles. It had been time for her to undergo her education at the Temple of Love in Ebonhead, where Papa and Mama had first met and where Leroya had spent her early years.

She had wept - one of the very few times that she'd done so - when Ollo had bid her farewell outside of the temple. It was only then, as he was about to return to the ship, that she had confessed her deepest secret to him.

Ollo had been a part of her life for as long as she could recall, but although Papa and Mama had trusted him with their daughter's life, he was no kinsman to her. Therefore, it had seemed natural that she should fancy him when she was old enough. It had been her hope to prove herself to him when she became his cabin girl. Although he had been pleased with how quickly she'd imbibed his lessons on seamanship and sailing, he'd seemingly never noticed how she'd truly felt about him.

When she'd finally told him the truth, his reaction had been heartbreaking. "That will pass," he had assured her gruffly, even as he turned his back on her and returned to his ship.

Leroya hadn't known whether he was simply making an observation, or whether he hoped it would pass. It remained a mystery to her for the next three years as she'd undergone her time as an acolyte. Finally, when she was seventeen, she received word that Ollo was coming south again for a visit.

Much had changed for her in that time, but not her feelings for Ollo. She had still desired him, despite his rejection of her.

Her time in the temple had given her new perspectives on Ollo. He had never once touched her as a child, not even so much as looked at her the way other men clearly did. By fourteen, she had certainly had her experience with men and women alike, but Ollo had never been one of them. Thus, she loved him all the more fiercely for that. He had surely known about her feelings for him as a girl, but he'd never preyed upon her for them.

But it was different now, and he would surely acknowledge that when he saw her now, coming into her full womanhood.

He had been shy about entering the temple himself, so she had gone to see him on his ship. She had greeted those crewmen whom she recognised, only for them to say that Ollo was absent, arranging an agreement to sell their cargo. Thus, she had gone to Ollo's quarters to wait for him.

By the time he returned, she was naked. As he'd cursed and stared at her in shock, she had stepped forward, kissed his lips, and put his hands on her body.

Instead, Ollo had pried his lips free of hers and pushed her away from him. "No," he'd gasped, looking at her in dismay. "I will not do it."

"Why not?" Leroya had demanded, aghast at this second rebuff.

"I've known you since you were born," Ollo protested. "You've spent your whole bloody life calling me Uncle!"

She would never forget the way that he glared into her eyes, the way he spoke those judgmental words… All her life, she'd inspired reactions of shock, dismay, disgust, outrage… but none of it had mattered to her until that moment. Ollo's words were harshly spoken, and his accusing eyes seemed to burn her skin. She knew he wanted her to cover up, but she remained naked

"That was just a name," Leroya lashed out, towering over Ollo as he turned his back to her. "I will not be shamed for loving you!"

Ollo shook his head as he stormed out. "Not right," he'd snarled. "It's not right! If that's what they taught you in the temple, then… then gods be fucking damned!" His hand shook as he'd thrown open the door. "Dress yourself and begone!" As Leroya had collapsed and broken down, she heard him berating the crew members for allowing her to ambush him. When she did eventually leave his cabin, she hadn't gotten dressed.

Instead, she had proudly shown off her body to the gaping sailors as she'd stepped off the ship. Ollo had rapidly retreated to his cabin without so much as a glance at her. Neither he nor Leroya had exchanged a word to each other after that, neither spoken nor written.

Seven months later, a messenger entered the temple with news from Braavos. Ollo had gone to his final rest, with Papa arranging for his burial at sea. Leroya had spent two weeks celebrating Ollo's life, drinking rum and fucking her way through half the temple. He had always been a man of Westeros, she'd reminded herself. She would not punish herself for his sensitivities, but nor would she judge him for that, either. She would forgive him, and appreciate all that he'd taught her.

"I'm sure he would be so proud of you now."

"What?" Leroya asked, frowning as her mind was becoming cloudy from drink.

"Ollo," she urged. "He would be so very proud of you now, wouldn't he?"

For a brief moment, Leroya could have sworn that she saw something shift in Lantana's face. Perhaps it was some trick of the light reflecting off the moonstone brooch, she reasoned, and the moment was over before she could fully understand what she'd seen.

"Aye," she replied. "I would hope so." What would you think of me, Ollo? Would you be horrified that I seduced the Grand Maester of Westeros? Would you hate me for embracing my desires as Sadog does? Would you judge me silently like Miru?

Around her, the gloomy port coughed up more sailors, who strode into the tavern and made it their abode. They drank together, belted out their sad attempts at ditties and tunes, with the help of a few musicians wielding careworn instruments. Between songs, they also tore their sharp teeth into roasted fish, cheap stew, and stale cakes.

Two of them, stinking and filthy, approached Lantana and Leroya with obvious intentions.

Leroya felt her head spinning. She was surprised that the drink was affecting her so strongly,

"Come on, dear," Lantana told Leroya, seizing her forearm and tugging it with unexpected strength. "Let's celebrate dear Ollo tonight!"

Shaky as she was on her feet, Leroya stood up and followed Lantana's example.

The man holding her was shorter, and rougher. He leered at her as they danced, and eagerly put his hands on her body. When she offered no resistance, he was further emboldened.

Her clothes came off with difficulty, but Leroya did not mind showing off her body. Why should she? This was only natural, was it not? Why shouldn't she give herself to everyone who wanted her in this tavern?

As he tore at her jerkin and flung it away, something else had happened. His face was changing, morphing into another which she recognised all too well.

He smiled like Ollo did, with a mouth full of crooked teeth exactly the way Ollo's had been. His eyes were the deep shade of brown which had stared at Leroya with pride and affection, as well as shock and disgust.

"Is it really you?" Leroya exclaimed, even as she stumbled over her own foot and clung to the man for support while he put his hands on her breasts and squeezed them roughly.

"What was that?" Ollo asked her.

Leroya repeated herself, but Ollo didn't heed her. Instead, he forcefully guided her until she fell backwards onto a table. She cried out, half in surprise and in pain, even as Ollo spread her legs apart and took out his erect pink cock.

She could smell how rank it was, and she winced when it was rammed inside her. Still, it was not long before she felt the familiar pleasure coursing through her. A cry left her as she gazed up at Ollo's sneering face. Take me, she wanted to tell him, but her tongue felt as immovable as lead. Take me as I always wanted you to do.

He was eager to oblige her. A guttural yawp left his mouth as his warm seed spurted inside her. His spittle was also warm when he spat upon her face and breasts. "Not so proud now," he taunted, slapping both her breasts with a strange maliciousness.

Leroya was stunned, both at these actions and her own reaction to them. She felt anger and confusion, but also ecstasy as she struggled to control her breathing. It was all she could do as Ollo stepped back and made room for another man.

Aenys smirked down at her as his hands seized her hips like a vice. Men and women of Braavos and the Summer Isles crowded around her. She had known them all, for a day or a month, but her astonishment at their presence was overshadowed by the bliss which coursed through her body.

"I know her," shouted Grand Maester Piato. "She's that captain of the striped ship!"

Striped ship? You know its name! Leroya wanted to speak, but someone had thrust their manhood into her mouth. She began pleasuring it with her lips, and when her hands gripped other manhoods, she began pleasuring them as well. It came naturally to her, despite a little voice in her head protesting shrilly.

"Proud one, she is. Always has been!"

Spittle landed on her from all sides. Leroya moaned as she felt another man enter her roughly.

"How's this, Captain?"

A hand gripped her long braid and pulled it taut. Leroya screamed at the sensation, and a second time when she felt a knife blade slice through her hair. Her eyes widened as she saw Ollo waving her braid in the air before lashing her belly and breasts with it.

This is wrong. You wouldn't do this, Ollo. You wouldn't have cut off my braid… She tried to adjust herself, but her limbs were like lead. She could scarcely breathe as the cock in her mouth continued to thrust against her throat. I'm trapped…

A strangled cry left her, but these men and women heeded it not at all. They simply took turns emptying themselves inside her. They seemed to sense her despair and alarm, but it only provoked laughter and derision. Her vision slowly began to blacken as her attempts to breathe became more and more belaboured.

She was scarcely aware of the outcry which suddenly broke through the chorus of mockery. The obstruction in her mouth suddenly went away, and she gasped desperately for air.

All around her, men and women were screaming. Her lovers were being attacked, cut down, or driven away by monsters. They bore the heads of beasts rather than men, prompting cries of terror from Leroya as she lay helpless before them.

One of the monsters stood over here. Its head was a terrifying one; Leroya recognised it as the eagle owl which she had slain, the one whose head had been carved on her ship's prow. Now its eyes were wide open, glaring down at her as she began to whimper. She might have begged for mercy if she could speak.

After a moment, the eagle owl spoke in a rasping voice. "Fucking hell, Roya. What did they do to you?"

Leroya wailed as the monster bent over her and seized her. She continued to cry out in terror as another monster joined in, grabbing hold of her legs. Together, they carried her as if she was cargo, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Hold her steady!" A boar-headed figure loomed up over her.

"Stop her screaming, in the name of the gods!"

"Wait!"

Leroya felt something cover her mouth and nose. She couldn't move her head away from this onslaught, even as a sweet smell entered her nostrils. Her vision was clouding again. The frenzied terror which coursed through her was fading. She could not resist this encroaching void, nor did she even want to; she welcomed oblivion if it meant an end to these torments.

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"...word from the gold cloaks?"

"These men won't say a word to the City Watch. I'd sooner worry about the sailors' mates taking their own revenge."

"Nobody will dare challenge us, I promise you that!"

Leroya recognised these voices, faint though they were. She groaned as she forced her heavy eyelids to open.

She was in her cabin aboard the Black Bolt. Its familiarity struck her instantly as she looked about. Once again, she noticed the absence of her sword, prompting a pang of sorrow in her chest.

Sunlight was streaming into her cabin through the open window. She could smell the sea again, welcoming it as she took breaths of fresh air. She tried to sit up, but she was hit with such dizziness that she slumped back onto her bed with a loud moan.

The door suddenly opened, and Miru appeared, looking paler than usual. "Roya!" She glanced over her shoulder. "She's awake!"

Leroya flinched as her sister rushed to her bedside. She was followed by Matthias, Baalun, and Sadog.

"Do you recognise us?" Baalun asked worriedly.

"Of course I do," Leroya answered, shaking her head at such a question. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You didn't recognise them last night," Sadog observed. He did not speak snidely; indeed, he looked as shaken as Miru and Baalun did. Leroya could not recall the last time she'd seen that expression on his face. "Baalun and the others came to save you, and you were screaming in terror."

Worse than that, his words prompted a rush of hazy recollections; she recalled how her lovers had gathered to degrade and ravish her, how they'd been driven away by monsters, how those monsters had picked her up…

"That was you?" Leroya exclaimed.

"Aye," Baalun affirmed with a fearful countenance. "You were drugged, Roya. You couldn't move your body and you were seeing things. Screaming like you'd gone insane." He shuddered so fiercely that he stopped speaking.

His terror infected Leroya as she turned to Miru. "How long have I been here?"

"More than nine hours," Miru answered as she felt Leroya's forehead with her hand. "It's only two hours before midday."

"Go find the others," Sadog muttered to Matthias, who duly left the cabin.

Leroya wanted to ask what he meant, but Miru spoke up again.

"We were so worried, Roya. We couldn't find you anywhere. After we found out about Piato… we went back to the ship, but they said you were gone. If we hadn't been told…" She seemed to lose her voice as she contemplated the worst.

"You know about Piato?" Leroya frowned. "Did he tell you, then?"

Her brothers and sister faltered, looking at each other. Amidst their comprehension, she saw a mix of other emotions.

"You don't know?" Sadog asked her in a hushed voice. "We thought you…"

"Know what?" Leroya demanded as strongly as she could despite her enfeebled position.

"Piato is dead," Baalun told her. "They found him at the foot of a stairwell. Lost his footing, they say."

Leroya felt as though she couldn't breathe. She recalled the last exchange they'd shared, how he had accused her of betrayal. It was no accident… he feared what they would do to him… he threw himself to his death, all because of me…

Even as the horrible truth sunk in, Leroya saw three men enter her cabin. Matthias had returned, with two others. The first one cried out her name as he strode across the room and slowly knelt beside Miru.

"Leroya," exclaimed Papa. "What happened to you?"

As she beheld the faces of her father and her siblings, creased with unbridled concern and care, Leroya suddenly began to sob. She tried in vain to lift her hands to hide her face. She tried to keep her emotions in control. It was no use; everything came out so strongly that she could only lie on her back and wail like she hadn't done for

Papa knelt beside her and wrapped his arms about her form, holding her as tightly as he could. "There there," Papa whispered. "There there now, my girl…"

Her siblings crowded round the bed, putting their hands on her as if they could imbibe her grief. They said nothing, but there was no need. The looks on their faces said more than enough.

Finally, her sobs subsided as she took control of her breathing. She hated the words which were forming in her mouth, as if the act of speaking them aloud would ensure that all had really happened.

"I'm sorry," Leroya gasped. "I'm so sorry…"

"None of that," Papa urged. "You're safe now; that's all that matters."

"It's my fault," Leroya whimpered. "Piato and Aenys. They died because of me. Xalonyay died because of me!"

"Nay. It was not your doing. You did not order their murders, and you did not carry them out."

"I told the Grand Maester to meet with you," Leroya insisted. "I suggested we meet with Aenys. I helped him earn your loyalty. They would both be alive now if I hadn't been so…" There was no word which seemed fitting for what she had done.

Papa's fingers gripped her harder. "This is not your fault," he affirmed. "You were betrayed. We were all betrayed."

Leroya wept afresh as she looked at Miru and Sadog. "Forgive-"

"Stop," Miru begged. "There is nothing to forgive."

As Leroya regained control of her breathing, she fell silent, as did her family. They remained in their places for a moment which seemed to last an hour. When the silence was finally broken, it was done by a voice that Leroya vaguely recognised.

"If you will allow me," it declared, "I should examine her again."

Leroya had already forgotten that a third person had entered the room alongside Papa and Matthias. Now she stared up at a man dressed in ragged clothes. He looked to be around Sadog's age, with features that closely mirrored those of Matthias. Indeed, as he stood close to Papa, Leroya couldn't help but see an uncanny resemblance between the two men.

"Who are you?" she asked as he put two fingers on her neck.

"My name is Lyman," came the gentle answer. "I'm your cousin, as it turns out."

"He came to warn us," Baalun interjected. "He was in the tavern when he saw a woman slip something into your drink. You drank it before he could warn you. Then when you… well, anyway, he came to the docks and told us what was going on."

"You must pardon me," Lyman told Leroya. "I was not sure which ship was yours. I would have brought them back sooner if I'd known."

"Thank you," Leroya exclaimed. "But I feel as though we've met before."

"We have," Lyman affirmed. "You saved me from those two ruffians before you entered the tavern."