Chapter 12: The Return part 1

The Summer Sea was peaceful, calm, serene. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the air was warm. The Sea Wolf rocked only slightly as the tide of the ocean water gently pushed at the massive ship with a weak effort, or none. Yet despite the calm weather and sea, Ellaria Sand could find no peace. Not while her love was away from her side. Deep in the forsaken land of Valyria for over a sennight now with no word nor sign of himself, his bastard daughter, or any of the others that'd gone with them being even close to returning.

Normally, whenever her lover would go on some dangerous venture, it was never for every long and she was able to keep her mind off him and just what dangerous things he could potentially be facing. She'd tried to employ the same tactic this time as well. Unfortunately, she was stuck on a ship. It was a large ship to be sure, but nonetheless a ship. After only two days, she'd run out of activities that could potentially keep her mind off what could be happening to Oberyn and Obara. Well, not all activities. And while she knew that Oberyn would not chide her for turning to the pleasures of the flesh to keep her mind occupied, she simply couldn't work up the will to do so. Not without him.

The only thing that kept her occupied now was her daily duties where she helped the Lady Talisa, who'd taken on the unofficial role of healer on board. But even then, there wasn't much in the way of injuries or sickness when the ship stayed anchored in a single location for days on end.

The only oddity that had occurred was a few days prior when two long ships, not even galleons, had tried to attack the Sea Wolf while it was anchored. The battle or rather 'skirmish' – and even calling it that was a stretch – was very short-lived. The longboats didn't even get close enough so that the occupants on board could start attempting to board the Sea Wolf before one of them was sunk by well-aimed scorpion bolts and a firebomb. The other was very quick to flee in response. She knew that Ser Manderly had wanted to go after the ship, but two things stopped him from ordering the pursuit. One, the longboat was faster than the Sea Wolf and was already at full sail. And the second was the fact that their orders from the Sorcerer took precedence over petty grievances. And no one wanted to have to explain to that man why they weren't in place to pick him and his expedition up once they returned from the Valyrian Peninsula.

"My Lady."

Glancing to her left, she gave an acknowledgement to Ser Manderly as he made his way towards her. 'Honestly, I try not to be judgmental… But how does one gain such weight?' she thought as she could feel the deck boards give slightly under her feet as he approached and stood beside her, looking out towards the river that her lover had taken on his never-ending quest for adventure and thrills. "Ser Manderly."

The two stood in silence as they both stared out at the same spot leading upriver. "It's been a sennight, my Lady."

"I don't care." Ellaria shot back, just barely managing to keep the venom out of her tone. "Even if another sennight should pass, simply leave me in a boat and go on your way if you wish to flee."

"That…isn't what I was saying, my Lady," Ser Manderly responded slowly. "I meant… Well… I talked to the crew and, well… In the North, the Sorcerer is well respected. Even loved as much as the Starks themselves for what he's done for us all. And then there's Lord Stark's boy. Even if he is a natural born son, he's still Lord Stark's. Then there are all the other Lords and Ladies that went with them and, well, if they don't return in another sennight then I've gathered together a list of volunteers that are willing to head upriver and find them, no matter what."

"I – Thank you, Ser Manderly," she muttered, not entirely sure just else to say on the matter as the two continued to look out over the ocean water towards the river. "I – I believe I shall see if Talisa needs any more help with, well, anything."

Turning her back on the peninsula, she made it only a dozen steps before Ser Manderly stopped her. "You might want to wait on that for a moment, my Lady."

Spinning back around, she rushed to the railing of the ship and leaned over it as she stared hard towards the river opening. Her breath quickened as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she squinted, trying to see as far as she could. It was faint, barely little dots on the horizon, but it was unmistakable. Boats, several of them, were leaving the river and making their way out into the sea. "They're back," she breathed.

"Aye, that they are," Ser Manderly nodded before turning towards the rest of the ship. "Alright, lads! The Sorcerer is returning from having spit in the eyes of the dragon lords of old! Get off your fucking asses and get the wenches and ladders ready to get our men and women back on board!"

Around her, the ship exploded into a flurry of activity as the sailors began preparing the numerous ropes and wenches to raise the small boats out of the water. Despite everything going on around her, Ellaria stayed rooted to her spot, keeping a watchful eye on the slowly approaching boats, looking desperately for any sign of her lover and her half-daughter. As the boats crossed the halfway point between the land and the Sea Wolf, she felt the cold hand of fear grip her tightly as she could begin to make out aspects of the boats. While she couldn't make out the individuals on the boats, there were a few things she could already tell. One; there was an extra skiff that was drifting behind the others. And two; only half of the boats had people in them. 'They left in a full company,' she thought, trying – and failing – from allowing her fear to overcome her. 'Yet they return with what looks like less than half the number they set out with!' Ellaria wasn't a devout woman, but at that moment she was praying to the Seven, the Old Gods, the Many-Faced God, and even the Red God for her family's safe return.

Once the boats were close enough to begin making out individual faces on board, she nearly sagged in relief. For in the lead boat sitting beside the sorcerer was her lover Oberyn and her half-daughter Obara. 'Thank you,' she sighed in relief, her hands gripping the railing so hard she was almost sure to leave marks in the wood. 'Thank you.'

"Sorcerer!" Ser Manderly bellowed, leaning over the rail as the ships got close enough to begin tying off on the Sea Wolf while rope ladders were lowered down the side of the hull. "Looks like things didn't go as smoothly as you hoped!"

The sorcerer didn't respond as the boats began roping themselves to the side of the Sea Wolf. Once they were secure, the Sorcerer raised his hand and lifted several unconscious individuals out of the boats, one of whom she noted as being the Lord Stark's baseborn son, while Oberyn and a few others began scaling up the rope ladders. "Send for Lady Talisa and the healer on board!" The Sorcerer shouted as the sailors began scrambling to take the bodies that were being lifted using sorcery.

"You heard him!" Ser Manderly shouted as the bodies were lowered onto the deck. "Get your asses moving or I'll put my boot up 'em!"

The mother in Ellaria wanted to immediately go to the boy, but that thought was quickly pushed to the back of her mind as Oberyn vaulted over the railing and landed lightly on his feet right next to her. "My love!" She nearly cried, rushing into Oberyn's waiting arms and clutching him tightly to her. "Please, please tell me you will cease with these ventures for some time now! I don't know if my heart can take another sennight like this!"

Tears began opening falling from her eyes as she felt Oberyn's warm soothing arms encircle her and hold her close. "I think I can safely say that my need for adventure has been sated. And will be for quite some time."

"Good!" Ellaria smiled, pulling back just enough to lean forward once again and capture her lover's lips with her own.

"Sorcerer! I can't find any wounds on Jon! What happened to him?"

Breaking the kiss she'd been longing for, Ellaria felt her motherly instincts return full force as she broke from Oberyn's embrace and rushed over to Talisa, who was currently on her knees and examining the young Jon Snow. "He wasn't wounded," the deep, almost sensual voice of the sorcerer called out as the man himself slowly climbed over the railing of the ship. "He's merely exhausted. Due to our losses, Jon and I were forced to use our powers to help push and guide the boats downriver. And while Jon is powerful, he doesn't quite have the experience or endurance to bear such strain for longer than a day or so. He needs rest. Maybe a day or two and he'll be back to normal."

Talisa seemed to accept his words and left Jon to go to the other man's side, who she didn't recognize but could clearly see was in worse shape than Jon. Or anyone else for that matter. Rising to her feet, she moved to return to Oberyn's side, but halted as she watched her lover lean in slightly towards the sorcerer. His words were quiet, but she could still just barely make them out.

"You should be taking your own advice, Nox," Oberyn said quietly as the men and women around them scurried about, congratulating those returning from Valyria while working on bringing the loot from the voyage onboard. "The others may not have noticed, but I have. You haven't slept since we left the Sea Wolf. And you've been using whatever power you have the entire time to protect us, to fight that monster, and then to ensure we made it back safely and timely. There's no shame in admitting you're exhausted too. Gods know that if anyone has earned the right to rest, it's you. I can handle things from here for now. You need to get your pretty ass in bed."

Upon hearing that, Ellaria began examining the sorcerer closely. The man was doing a good job of holding himself up, especially if what Oberyn had said was true. But the closer she looked at him, the more she could see the telltale signs of exhaustion: the slight bend in his knees, his slight leaning, and while she couldn't see his eyes beyond their cloth coverings, she could see the signs of exhaustion clear on his face.

"Back in your paramour's arms for barely a few moments, and already trying to get me into bed, Oberyn? Have you no shame?"

Ellaria found herself smiling at the jest as she walked up and weaved her arm around Oberyn's. "Oh, I don't mind, sorcerer. I'm sure you two would put on such a show that I would be unable to remain a spectator for long before joining you."

The sorcerer chuckled. "And as I've said, I have a fine woman waiting for me back in the North that I will not stray from."

"Then perhaps we shall just have to venture North and bed both yourself and this mysterious woman who has ensnared you so," Ellaria laughed back, feeling a familiar warmth return to her lower regions. She needed to get Oberyn alone, and fast, or she would be taking him right here on the deck. "If she is strong enough to capture and keep your attention, sorcerer, then she is definitely the kind of woman I would gladly feast on."

"And with that thought, I believe I shall be taking your advice, Oberyn," the sorcerer replied, making a hasty retreat towards his cabin at the rear of the ship. "Ser Manderly! I leave the unloading of everything to you! Sort out and categorize as much as you can. I want the books kept separately as well as the crystals that are in some of the chests. Lady Talisa and I will begin working on translating as much as we can once we're back on the open waters."

"Aye, sorcerer!" Ser Manderly shouted. "Alright, lads! You heard the man! We got gold! Valyrian steel! And only the gods know what else to sort through!"

No longer able, or even willing, to remain above deck, Ellaria grabbed a firm hold of Oberyn's arm and began leading him back towards their own private cabin. "Why, my love," Oberyn chuckled. "So forward. Did you not find a suitable substitute while I was away?"

"Shut your mouth, love," Ellaria hissed, throwing open the door to their cabin and tossing Oberyn inside before shutting and latching the door behind them.

"Or, on second thought," she muttered, unclasping her dress and letting it pool at her feet. "Let us put your mouth to much better use."

He was sitting on a grass field, feeling the warm air brush across his face as he watched his little girl dance through the meadows. The wind catching her golden hair and her emerald green eyes full of mischief as she danced and laughed. This was peace. This was what he wanted. If only he hadn't been a fool, he could've had exactly this. But now, now this was denied to him. And the only chance he had of experiencing this bliss was in the world of dreams. His only escape from his current reality of horror. As if to curse him more than he already was, he could feel the waking world calling for him. Denying him the peace he so desperately sought.

He knew it was a pointless struggle to fight against that what was natural, but he fought against it all the same. Here, he was at peace. Here, he was with her. The waking world held no peace for him. No respite. Nothing but unending torment and hardship. But even as he struggled to remain in this peace, with her, he could feel the world slipping away from him as he began to regain conscious. 'Joy…my Joy…I'm so sorry.'

As darkness eclipsed his vision and his one hope left his sight, Gerion fought against the tears threatening to fall as he began mentally preparing himself once again for the hardships of the day that had become the norm for him while being stranded in this accursed land of the fallen dragon lords.

But as he began to wake, he noticed something…odd. There was a gentle but subtle rocking motion that was not normal. And whatever he was laying on was certainly softer than the hard-wooden planks of the shipwrecked Lion's Pride that he'd taken to call his bed. And there was also a…soft sheet covering him? 'What? What fresh hell is this? Have I finally lost my mind and succumb to the darkness that claimed so many that foolishly came with me on the promise of riches and fame beyond imagine?'

Forcing his eyes open, he had to immediately shut them once again as a light, far brighter than any he'd seen in a long time, assaulted him. Raising his arm to shield his face, he slowly cracked his eyes open once again. 'My, my armor is gone,' he thought, marveling at the rough woolen tunic that covered his arm. Though after so long wearing leather and whatever he could scrap together, the cheap wool felt more like the softest silk. 'What…What is happening?'

"Finally awake, Gerion Lannister. I must say that you certainly took your sweet time. I was starting to wonder if I'd overdone it with you. But I didn't want to take any chances."

Turning his head, he noticed that he was in a decently sized cabin of some sort. And just a short distance from him was a man who had his back turned towards him with a book in his hands as he sat in a chair. A man dressed all in black with his hood pulled up over his head. 'I'm dead,' he thought, closing his eyes once more. 'And the Stranger has come to take my soul to the Seven Hells for my greatest sin…or I've finally lost it. Either way…I suppose this isn't all that bad.'

"Interesting. Your emotions are screaming confusion yet acceptance. Yet at the same time, your thoughts, which should be screaming as well, are muffled. Quite curious. Yet it does serve to reaffirm my decision to take you with us, even if you did try and kill one of my expedition upon our first meeting."

'What?'

Forcing his eyes open once again, he turned to the Stranger. Only…he wasn't The Stranger. Or perhaps he was, but just a representation of what Gerion found to be the Stranger. A man with Valyrian features, yet who was blind so kept an ornamental cloth wrapped around his head to hide his ruined eyes. A man he knew of very well. After all, his insufferable elder brother wouldn't shut up about him, and his nephew continuously gushed about him. The Northern Sorcerer, Lord Alim Nox.

Scrambling away from the man, creature, whatever he was, Gerion only stopped as his back hit the wall, leaving him nowhere else to run. "No, no, no! You can't be real! You can't be here! This – This is impossible! This is a trick! You're the Stranger himself taking that form! Or just a figment of my mind sent to –"

He hadn't even seen the man, thing, move. But within a blink of an eye he managed to cross the distance between them and…flicked him in the forehead with enough force to knock his head back against the wall. "Does that hurt?"

"Does that fucking hurt?" Gerion yelled, rubbing the front and back of his head. "Of course that fucking hurt!"

"Then, by that logic, this is no illusion. Nor is this the afterlife. This is real. I am the Sorcerer Nox, as you more than likely know me by. Now, stop being a fool and don't do anything to hurt yourself. I would hate to have the effort I expended getting you out of Valyria to go to waste."

He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't let himself hope. Hope was something that he'd long ago abandoned in order to survive in the hell that had become his life. But, despite himself, he found himself slowly inching towards to the man claiming to be the sorcerer. Reaching out, he poked the man in the arm with a finger, half expecting it to go through his form and for him to once again be in the ruins of the Lion's Pride. But it didn't. His finger struck solid flesh under cloth.

"This – This is real?" he murmured, hope – dangerous hope – rearing its head within him despite his best attempts to suppress it.

"It is," the man, sorcerer, nodded. "Valyria is a few days at our backs. Soon enough, we'll be coming upon the Stepstones, and then into Westerosi waters once again. Soon enough, you'll be home once more."

He didn't want to believe him. He didn't want to get his hopes up once more, only to have them crushed. But even as he tried to deny what was happening, tried to suppress the hope this man had given him, he failed. The relief, the joy he felt was so overwhelming that he fell to his knees as tears of relief started pouring from his eyes. His brother, may the gods curse him, had always insisted on a image for all of those of House Lannister, especially after his father passed and he took up the mantel of Lord Lannister. And if he were to see the state Gerion was in now, he would consider it a disgrace. But Gerion simply didn't care at that moment. He was finally free of that hell hole. And now…now he could return home. Correct the wrongs he'd committed and do everything he could to keep his promise to the Gods, Old and New, for having delivered him his salvation.

He didn't know just how long he knelt there, sobbing like a child, but eventually he managed to compose himself enough to raise his head. Mercifully, the sorcerer had turned his back on his shameful display and had resumed his spot in his chair, the book he had been reading once again in his hands. Though just how the sorcerer managed to read the words on the page without the use of his eyes was beyond him.

"I…apologize for that display, sorcerer."

"There is no need," the sorcerer said dismissively as he closed his book and set it aside. "Given what you've just went through, it's understandable. But now that you have gotten that out of your system, perhaps you will sate my curiosity. I am most interested in just how you managed to retain your mind in a situation where you shouldn't have been able to."

Swallowing past the lump forming in his throat, Gerion nodded and sat down on the only seat left available, his small bed. "I…I don't know what I can tell you, sorcerer. But I'll answer any questions you have for me. I owe you that much and more. And a Lannister always pays their debts."

"Let's start with your mind," the sorcerer said, leaning towards him. "Besides having a noble upbringing and an educated mind, what thoughts occupied your mind most frequently? And were there any that you found to keep yourself from falling into despair?"

The question was honestly one that he had pondered frequently during his isolation in that hell. Why was he spared when so many of his men, good men, fell victim to madness? "I – I don't know," he answered honestly, dropping his head. "I…I thought often of my daughter. Of my failure to her as a father. I – I swore to the gods old and new that should they deliver me from Valyria and return me to Westeros that I would do right by her. That I would go to my brother or even the King and beg, on my hands and knees if I had to, to see her legitimized. And I would spend the rest of my life making up for my failure in taking full responsibility for her. And…And after I made that promise I…I started seeing her in my dreams. Of the few memories I had of her. Of her playing at the beach with other children or her running through a field of grass. I thought perhaps the gods had blessed me. But then as no rescue came, I began to think they cursed me. Torturing me day in and day out with thoughts of a peaceful life with my daughter only to have me awaken and find myself still fighting every day to stay alive and to keep my mind sound."

"You might actually have the right of it," the sorcerer replied, surprising Gerion. "The god part is debatable. But the thought of returning to your daughter and doing right by her, combined with your will, might have been enough to hold back the darkness that encased Valyria for a time. But such a protection should not have lasted for as long as it did. Especially as your brothers showed no obvious signs of Force sensitivity during the brief time I spent with them on Pyke. But maybe…hmm. Would you consent to an examination?"

Gerion could only follow about half of what the sorcerer was saying as most of what he said seemed like mere ramblings. "Why would you need my consent?" he asked, "I've been unconscious for days. You could've done whatever you wanted to me then. Why ask now?"

"Because there is a difference between examining an unconscious mind versus a conscious mind," Nox answered. "Now, do I have your consent?"

Warning bells were ringing in his head louder than the bells of King's Landing. But he owed this man a debt and he would see it repaid. "If…that is what you want. Then I give you my consent, so-"

He wasn't entirely sure just what happened as soon as he said the words. One moment everything was normal and then next it felt like someone had their fingers inside his skull. "What the fuck!?" he shouted, jumping to his feet and backing into a corner of the room, trying to put as much space between the two of them as he could as he felt the strange sensation within his mind disappear as quickly as it came. "What – What did you do to me!?"

"Nothing," the sorcerer answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I expected something along these lines, but certainly not to this extent. You are an extraordinary individual with quite the will to back it up."

"What in the name of the gods are you talking about, sorcerer!" Gerion shouted, his body physically shaking as thoughts of Valyria and the cries of his men descending into madness returned full force upon him. "No games! What did you do to me!?"

Scratching at the short stubble on his face, the sorcerer took his time in answering. "I did nothing more than probe your mind. A probe which you successfully rebuffed; I might add. You see, when you were asleep your unconscious mind repelled any type of probe, I tried to perform on you to see if you were in your right mind. In fact, I'll even admit that it was more than slightly difficult to keep you unconscious for those few days between our finding you and bringing you back to the Sea Wolf. At first, I simply assumed you had a strong will which manifested in your subconscious to keep foreign intruders at bay. The reality is far more complex. You see, you were Force sensitive. Not to a high degree, but there was some Force sensitivity within you. Perhaps, with the right training, you could've manifested the Force in slight manner."

"But your time in Valyria has altered that. Subconsciously, you pulled on the Force, centering on thoughts of your daughter and your will to return. You then coalesced the Force into a construct around your mind. Think of it as sort of like building a castle in your mind where the designs were based on your desire and will to survive and see your daughter and the Force made up the bricks and mortar of your castle. You then locked your mind within, preventing any outside interference. Your time in Valyria eroded quite a bit of your defenses and, if given enough time, they would have crumbled completely. But now, your 'castle' is constantly repairing itself to any attempts to breach it. In short, you subconsciously gave up your Force sensitivity and any future potential you might've had to manifest the Force in return for making your mind essentially as strong as Valyrian steel. It's actually quite impressive."

Gerion couldn't keep up with over half of what the sorcerer was saying, but he thought that he understood the general premise. Though the one facet that he was interested in was the fact that the sorcerer claimed he was Force sensitive, whatever that meant. "So, what does all that mean?"

"It means that in exchange for giving up any magical potential you might have had, you now have perhaps one of the strongest and best protected minds in all of the land, save for my own of course," the sorcerer answered. "But we can go into more details later. Now, I believe that it would do you a fair bit of good to get some fresh air, don't you?"

The thought of smelling fresh air, of feeling the sun on his face once again was enough to make him put thoughts of the sorcerer's words to the back of his mind. "Yes, that does sound good."

"Good," the sorcerer nodded, rising from his seat and going towards the door to the cabin. "Oh, and by the way. I would highly recommend that you make your apologies to Prince Oberyn Martell and his daughter, Obara Sand. After all, you did try and stab her in the back when we first found you. From what little I know of the Dornish, they tend to hold a grudge. And I doubt you want to give them any more reason to dislike House Lannister than they already have."

The elation he'd been feeling dried up immediately as a cold chill went through him. "Wait…I tried to kill who?!"

In the lower levels of the Sea Wolf, Jon Snow, son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell and Apprentice to Lord Nox, watched quietly as Lady Talisa made her way through the chests they'd brought back from Valyria as she carefully began pulling out selected books to begin translating from High Valyrian to the common tongue. By order of Lord Nox and Ser Manderly, no one could enter the room unless they were accompanied by Jon, Nox, Ser Manderly, or one of the other Nobles on board the ship. They had to keep everything under lock and key, which Jon had at first not understood the reasoning behind. But the reason became obvious as the night after Jon had awoken from his exhausted state, one of the sailors on board had been caught trying to filch some of the gold. The man had received ten lashings and been placed in the brig for the rest of the voyage, but after that Jon understood the need for precautions. The men of the North were honorable, but in the end, they were still men. And greed was a powerful motivator that none were free from, as Lord Nox liked to continuously remind him.

As Talisa continued her process of pulling out one book, opening it to a random page and then either tucking it into the basket she was carrying or placing it back, Jon idly looked around the room, taking in the riches that they now had. He'd been part of the original sorting and categorizing of the loot they'd managed to find, so he knew just about everything they had. But before they did, the nobles and the sailors who'd survived had each been allowed to take something. Naturally, all the nobles had decided to take Valyrian steel weapons. Jon Umber had taken a sword that could easily rival Ice in size. Eddard Karstark had taken a longsword. Dacey Mormont had held onto the mace she'd found while Asha had kept her twin throwing axes as well. Prince Oberyn had claimed his long spear and his daughter had taken a strange weapon that Lord Nox had categorized as a 'spear-sword'. As for himself, Jon had surrendered the short sword he'd used during his Trial for Lord Nox. After all, he was able to claim the strange armlet as well as the strange crystal Lord Nox called a 'kyber' crystal, which Lord Nox had recently taken possession of though he wouldn't tell him why. As well as the dragon egg, which he was keeping secret from everyone except for his Master. As for the rest of the men who'd accompanied them, Nox had promised each of them the sum of one-thousand gold dragons, which would be held in safekeeping until they arrived back in the North.

After the rewards had been sorted out, what was left had been catalogued and categorized, and the sheer amount they had collected completely shocked Jon. In terms of Valyrian steel, they managed to find seven-and-twenty additional swords, eight axes, over thirty daggers, two other spear-swords, two spears and three shields. What was also surprising was the fact that they managed to find two complete sets of scaled armor and seven chainmail vests. Gods only knew how his father and Nox were going to distribute or sell the steel. In terms of gold, that was far more difficult to count. But if Jon had to guess, he would have to say that they had over four-hundred thousand gold dragons worth in gold, and that was a low estimate. A very low estimate. Then there were the six smaller chests of rare jewels and jewelry. There were the four chests of the strange crystals that didn't honestly look all that valuable but, according to Master Nox who had taken a few to study, if they were what he thought, then they might honestly be the most valuable things they'd found. Then there were the dozen chests full of books as well. And with it all piled into this one room and somewhat on display, he had honestly never seen so much wealth in one place before. Even the treasury in Winterfell couldn't compare to what they now had.

"I believe this should suffice for the time being, Jon," Lady Talisa stated as she walked up to him, at least ten books in her basket held under her arm.

"I swear, Lady Talisa," Jon chuckled, holding open the door for her to leave. "Between you and Master Nox, I don't know which one of you reads more books."

Once they were both outside the room, Jon shut the door and held his hand towards the latch. Closing his eyes, he reached out with the Force and manipulated the locking mechanism inside the room and locked the door. It was another precaution implemented by Lord Nox. By using this method, only Jon or Nox would be able to open the door.

"We all have our skills, Jon," Lady Talisa answered him as the two began to ascend to the main deck of the Sea Wolf. "Reading just happens to be one of mine. No need to be jealous just because it is not one of your particular strengths."

The tone was teasing in nature, but she was quite accurate in her statement. He'd never been the greatest of readers, preferring instead to spend his time in the yard rather than sitting with the Maester or Master Nox reading one book after another. That wasn't to say that he couldn't read or didn't enjoy it under specific circumstances, there were just quite a few other things that he would prefer doing.

Coming onto the main deck, Jon took a moment to lean his head back and smell the sea air while Lady Talisa immediately left for her cabin to continue her seemingly never ending task of translating as much as she could from what they recovered. Until this voyage, he'd never really been on the sea, never really understood its appeal. But now, after so many weeks, he felt a slight pain of regret as he recognized that his time on the sea was soon coming to an end. Granted, they still had weeks at sea as they were still days away from the Stepstones, but still. He would miss it when he was back on land permanently.

"Lord Snow, the sorcerer wants to see you."

Opening his eyes, Jon turned the owner of the voice. While he'd tried his best to learn as many names as he could of the sailors on board, the simple fact was that the Sea Wolf was massive and carried a large crew to keep her afloat. Because of that, he only knew a handful of the sailors at best. And the one who'd come up to him was one that he did not know. "Thank you," he said, nodding to man, who quickly left him to return to his duties.

Heading for the back of the ship, Jon hesitated only for a moment outside of Lord Nox's cabin before knocking and letting himself in the largest room of the ship. The captain's cabin was a mess, and that was putting it lightly. The table within was covered with scrolls, books, the strange crystals, a hammer, pincers, and various other hand tools. And standing with his back to the door, facing out the back windows overlooking the sea behind them was his Master.

"Master Nox," Jon called out, shutting the door behind him. "You wished to see me?"

Nox didn't say anything, he just continued to look out the window. Or rather, face out the window. "Tell me, Jon. Why didn't you decide to keep the Valyrian sword I gave you at the start of your trial in Valyria?"

"I – I didn't think it was right of me to keep it," he answered slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Between the armlet, the jew – er, kyber crystal, and the…well, you know. I didn't feel it was right for me to keep the sword also."

"Fair. But keep in mind what is 'fair' is not always what will be in your best interest. In the future, do not discard a potential advantage just because you do not believe that it would be 'fair' to others. But I suppose it is a moot point regardless. I was going to have you surrender the blade. Not because it would be 'fair', but because such a weapon is frankly beneath one of your skill."

Jon's heart started to race as Nox turned away from the window and made his way back to the table. The day after Jon had awoken Nox had all but demanded the kyber crystal from Jon, which he had immediately handed over. Though what Nox wanted the crystal for he wasn't sure. But he had a suspicion, or rather a hope, of what the reasoning might be. Especially after their talk in Valyria just before they left. His already racing heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he watched Lord Nox bring out a long box, set it on the table, and open the lid such that Jon was unable to see what lay inside.

"You have done exceedingly well so far, Jon. You earned your place as my Apprentice, yet you still have much to learn. But now it is time for you to take the next step towards becoming a true Force Adept."

From within the confines of the box, a long cylindrical shape floated upwards before shooting across the room towards Jon, who just barely managed to catch the object out of reflex. It took him a moment to recognize what he was holding. But when he did, he nearly fainted on the spot. It was a hilt. A hilt with no cross guard. A black grip that was interlaced with silver decorative designs that seemed to almost form some sort of wolf like creature. And, while it was faint, he could feel the kyber crystal he'd found in Valyria within the hilt.

"Well?" Nox asked. "You can activate it whenever you want. It is yours. Just be mindful in here. You break anything, and you'll be spending the rest of your time onboard fixing it."

Nodding absentmindedly, Jon's thumb traced over the small red part of the hilt that he knew, even if he didn't know just how he knew, that would bring the blade to life. The blade hissed just like Lord Nox's as it emerged. But unlike Lord Nox's lightsaber that was a blood-red color, his lightsaber was as white as the winter snow and the blade almost seemed to hum in his hands. And – And he could've sworn he felt something within the blade feel almost pleased to be released. Lord Nox's blade didn't feel like this the one and only time Jon had wielded it. It made him wonder just why that was.

"This lightsaber is your life now, Jon," Lord Nox lectured as he retracted the blade. "Take care of it as you would your own child. For you will not get another."

"Aye," he murmured, marveling at the weapon in its hand. "What's its name?"

The question seemed to catch Lord Nox off-balance. "You know… No one has ever actually named a lightsaber to my knowledge. Hmm. Well, I suppose if you want to name your lightsaber, that is your prerogative. It is yours, after all. Perhaps I may even follow suit and name my own after all these years. But, until we're back in the North, do keep that out of sight."

A frantic knocking on the cabin's door abruptly ended their conversation, and Jon was just able to turn around and hold his retracting lightsaber behind his back as the door was thrown open by a frantic looking Asha, a state Jon had never associated with the woman.

"Lord Nox! Talisa needs your help now!"

Nox immediately stepped forward beside Jon. "What is going on?"

Asha swallowed hard, the fear rolling off her in waves so thick Jon could almost taste it. "It's Dacey. She…She has Greyscale! As does the Karstark lad and two others that went with us to Valyria!"

Cold dread settled in Jon's stomach at the thought. 'Gods be good…Greyscale. How – No, not like this! Not after everything we went through!'

However, Lord Nox didn't say anything. Instead he went over to one of the cupboards in his room and pulled out a large glass jar the size of a man's head that contained a thick yellow substance inside. He also grabbed a satchel of what he called 'surgical instruments', which to Jon just looked like very small knives and also a small bottle of vinegar. 'The strange substance that he made from all that molding food?' Jon thought, trailing behind Nox who was following Asha out of the cabin and down to the next level of the Sea Wolf. 'He called it medicine…Penici – Er, something like that. He said it would help cure diseases…But can it truly cure greyscale? Was this why he insisted on making so much before we left the North?'

As they descended the stairs, Jon could hear Dacey's distinctive voice shouting. "Just give me a fucking axe and I'll take the gods damned rotting arm off myself!"

"I keep telling you that won't do any good!" Lady Talisa's voice joined in at nearly the same level. "Cutting off your arm won't help matters!"

Shouldering past Asha, Lord Nox made his way into the small room with Jon right behind him. Inside were five people, Lady Talisa, Lady Dacey, Lord Eddard Karstark, and two of the sailors that'd come with them. Talisa currently had Dacey's arm held tight with her sleeve rolled up, and the others were seemingly trying to put as much space as they could between themselves and the two women in the room. The moment Nox entered, the yelling stopped as they all turned as one towards him and Lord Nox.

"Sorcerer," Dacey breathed, hope shinning in her eyes. "Please, please tell me you can heal this! Or, at the very least, use your fire-sword to cut my damn arm off! I won't turn into one of those mindless beasts! I won't!"

Setting the glass jars and satchel down, Lord Nox replaced Lady Talisa on the stool just in front of Dacey and took hold of her arm. Peeking over his mentor's shoulder, Jon shuddered at what he saw. A fist sized patch of skin on the top of Dacey's forearm had turned black and grey and was starting to resemble scales more than flesh. "Jon," Nox said, not moving from his spot in front of Dacey. "The tools I brought, start cleaning them with the vinegar and then let them air dry. Someone else go and get fresh clothes for all four of them that haven't been used recently. As for you four, strip. Now. Everything you're wearing needs to be destroyed. Even your small clothes."

Grateful for the excuse to leave the room, Jon picked up the small satchel of tools and the bottle of vinegar and left to do exactly what Nox told him to do. It took longer than he cared to admit, mostly because most of the knives were so small and sharp that Jon had to be extremely careful when cleaning them out of fear that he'd cut himself open. But eventually he managed to get all the knives and other various strange tools cleaned and dried.

When he returned to the room, he noticed that all four that were afflicted with greyscale had shed their clothes and were now each wrapped in a blanket to give them some modesty. And, once again, Dacey was seated before Lord Nox and Lady Talisa. This time the two were wearing gloves as they examined the blackened scaled skin on Dacey's arm. "Just in time, Jon," Nox said and, without looking, reached back and swiftly took one of the smaller knives, more like an oversized needled, from the pile. "I want you to tell me when you can feel anything, Dacey."

Dacey nodded. Her eyes wide as she tracked the oversized needle point as Lord Nox brought it down on her arm. He first poked directly in the center of the blackened skin, and Dacey shook her head. He then continued to poke, slowly moving away from the center of the blackened mass until he came to the edge. The moment he poked the skin just outside the black, Dacey winced as a small amount of blood appeared on her arm. "I felt that."

Nodding, Nox reached behind him once more towards Jon. This time he grabbed one of the larger knives available. Taking the knife, he carefully laid the flat of the blade against her skin just outside the greyscale and moved forward. Dacey stiffened and flinched but his Master's hold was too strong. So much so that she couldn't move, even as the knife sunk into the black skin. The instant the knife cut into the greyscale, yellow pus surged forth from around the knife. The stench and sight of which nearly made Jon lose the contents of his stomach immediately.

"The pus means that her body is trying to fight the greyscale," Lady Talisa noted. For the first time Jon noticed that she had a quill and a parchment beside her, which was already half full of notes written in her delicate hand. "The fact that she can feel outside the visible greyscale area means it hasn't spread too far. At least, that is what is widely believed. The best treatment is lime or vinegar to try and stem the tide of the infection until the individual can recover, but that doesn't always happen."

"Because that would be like trying to dam up a lake the size of Volantis using only twigs," Nox lectured, to which Talisa immediately began writing again. "No. We need to remove the visible infection first and then treat the infection from the inside."

Talisa's hand stopped writing. "Treat the infection from the inside? How?"

Turning around, Nox grabbed the bottle filled with the strange yellow substance. "This is called 'penicillin'. It's an antibiotic from my homeland that's created from mold. It will help the body fight off the infection."

Talisa stared at the bottle as if it were the most valuable gem in the world. "How?"

Setting the bottle aside, Nox took the vinegar from Jon and poured some out onto a cloth and began to wipe at Dacey's arm around the greyscale. "It's difficult to explain, so perhaps an analogy then. Think of your body fighting off an infection like two armies fighting against one another. This medicine is basically a second army of reinforcements that will combat against the infection, aiding the body to get rid of the invader."

"Amazing," Talisa breathed, staring at the bottle. "But…does it work for greyscale?"

"I don't know," Nox answered honestly. "In truth, I'm not even sure if it is a true cure for greyscale as, to my knowledge, it's never been used to treat this disease. But if we combine the penicillin with the removal of the visible infection, and then keep the original infection area clean with methods that you know of, it should be enough to help the body overcome the greyscale."

"Well, this is all fascinating… But can we please move on to getting this shit off me instead of just talking about it?!" Dacey nearly screamed as she kept the blanket clutched around her body with the arm that Nox was not holding onto.

"Very well then," Nox nodded. "Talisa, I'll need your help with this. You as well, Jon. So, get your stomach back in place. If you feel the need to lose it, for god's sake do not do it where I'm working."

Swallowing the bile that was steadily rising in his throat, Jon stood next to his Master as he held his hand over the greyscale. He wasn't sure just what his Master was doing, and it seemed to also confuse Dacey. "Sorcerer, what are you doing? I can't feel anything in my hand or arm!"

"Good," Nox stated, picking up the large needle again and poking it into the normal flesh on her arm. When she gave no reaction, Nox nodded and swapped the needle for another knife. "You might want to look away for this part, Dacey. It won't be pleasant."

Dacey quickly looked away, and Jon wished that he could as well. But he didn't want to disappoint Lord Nox. So, as hard as it was to watch as Nox and Talisa worked in tandem to slowly and methodically removed the blackened scaled flesh from Dacey's arm, Jon forced himself to watch. 'Gods…How can they do this so calmly!?' Jon wanted to scream as he watched the yellow pus stream out around the knife Nox was using to cut into Dacey's flesh while Talisa stood next to him, a pair of pincers in her hands as she helped to lift the cut flesh away. 'The sight…The smell! Gods. How can they do this?'

"Jon, bowl."

Wordlessly, Jon picked up a wooden bowl that was next to Nox and held it out for him. Just as he was about to ask what it was for, he nearly lost his stomach once again. Nox casually dropped a piece of hardened flesh the size of his thumb into the bowl. Coughing and swallowing, Jon pointedly looked away from the bloody, pus-soaked flesh, and towards the others. Dacey was still pointedly looking away from what was happening but didn't appear to be in any pain for some reason. The other four, however, they had all turned completely white as they watched what was happening to Dacey, knowing that they would be next. After what felt like an eternity, the infected flesh on Dacey's arm was gone, leaving her exposed flesh for all to see.

"That was step one," Lord Nox said, making Jon curse as he wondered just how many 'steps' there were. "Now, we need to clean and disinfect the wound before going about healing it."

Setting their tools aside, Nox and Talisa went about collecting clean cloths, water, and vinegar before going about cleaning the exposed flesh on Dacey's arm. By the time they were done, the cloth they'd put on the floor was covered in blood, but the wound on her arm didn't look nearly as bad as it had.

"Now, to cheat slightly," Nox proclaimed, holding his hand above the wound.

Jon could feel the manipulation in the Force this time. He'd seen his Master use this technique before, the Force Healing he called it. It was capable of completely healing most physical wounds. And, unfortunately, it was a technique that Jon had next to no affinity for. In fact, neither Robb, Arya, nor Bran seemed to be able to use the Force Healing. Which, according to Nox, wasn't necessarily surprising as the technique required a very specific understanding of the Force and often couldn't be taught. And just as Jon had seen happen several times before, Dacey's flesh under his fingers mended on its own. Leaving behind completely unblemished skin such that you wouldn't be able to tell that anything untoward had happened.

While Jon had seen the healing before and wasn't surprised, the same could not be said for Talisa. The Volantis noble was doing a very impressive impression of a fish out of water as her mouth soundlessly moved up and down. "By the all the gods! How – How did you do that?! And, if you had such a technique, why didn't you just use it to cure the greyscale at the onset?" Talisa all but yelled, moving to touch the freshly healed skin, only to think better of it and stop. "Is…Is her flesh safe to touch?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Nox answered cryptically before elaborating. "About the 'touching her flesh' part. I'm not entirely sure just how deeply the infection runs for now. So, until you all show no resurgence of symptoms, you are all under quarantine. As for why I didn't just heal her, the simple fact is that the Force is limited in this capacity. I can heal wounds, but not diseases. In this case, we had to remove the infection as much as possible and then I could heal the physical injury that was left behind."

"Amazing," Talisa breathed as Dacey found the strength to finally look down at her arm, her eyes going wide as she did. "What now?"

"Now, we send in the 'reinforcements', as it were," Lord Nox answered, turning and grabbing the glass of yellow liquid. "Each of you will need to take two spoonsful of this a day. Once when you wake and once before you sleep for the night. You'll stay on this regime for a week. And once that time is up, we will reevaluate your condition. Jon, wrap up Dacey's arm in a bandage so she isn't tempted to touch where the greyscale was. As for the rest of you, who's next?"

Keeping a firm hand on the ship's wheel, Asha Greyjoy kept her eyes steady on the horizon as she guided the massive Sea Wolf towards the edge of the Stepstones. She hadn't been on a ship since she'd been torn from her home after her father's ill-conceived rebellion, and until now she hadn't truly realized just how much she'd missed this. At the same time, she recognized just how pathetic it was that such feelings had gone unnoticed for years. She was an Ironborn, for fuck's sake! Not some soft greenlander. Salt was in her very veins, yet her time in Winterfell had softened her far too much. Within the next two years she would be able to return to the Iron Islands, and if she returned as she was now, she would never be able to achieve her long-term plans. Plans that would see the Ironborn rise above their status as simpleminded reavers and the dreads of Westeros. No, she intended for the Ironborn to be feared and respected once more, only for something more than reaving. And if she were to do that, she needed to forgo the greenlander tendencies that'd been drilled into her by Lord Stark and his family.

Not that she was ungrateful to Lord Stark, far from it in fact. The man had treated her like his own daughter despite her status as his ward. He'd treated her a hell of a lot better than her own father had, that was for sure. But that was just another reason why she needed to put her greenlander tendencies to the wayside. She wanted to protect the Starks; something she would've never thought she'd be saying in a hundred years. To do that, she needed to take over the Iron Islands. Because she knew, as things now stood, it would only be a matter of time before her father or some other fools decided to try their luck raiding the North. And that was not something she was about to let happen. Mostly because she didn't want her people to end up dying at the hands of the sorcerer.

Just the thought of the sorcerer drew her attention to the man, who was currently standing at the bow of the ship with Talisa and Jon right by his side. Jon being next to him was a forgone conclusion, he was his apprentice after all. A position that Asha had coveted when Nox had first explained to her the levels of learning within his doctrine. But after a few years, she began to realize it was futile for her to keep holding out the hope that she would take Jon's place. The irritating truth was that she just wasn't as strong in the Force as Jon, or any of the other Stark children were. To be sure, she could do a few tricks, but what took her an extreme effort to accomplish, Jon and the others could do as easily as if they were walking.

Talisa staying by his side however had been a relatively new development. After Nox had cured greyscale on Dacey, the Karstark boy, and the other two, the noblewoman from Volantis had pretty much stuck to the man's side like tar on the side of a ship, picking his mind every waking second. At first, Asha had thought that the noble woman was infatuated with Nox. An idea which made her chuckle, especially at the thought of what would happen when they returned to the North and he reunited with his lover, Nyra. That woman might have once been a serving girl, but Nox had raised her well above her station and she'd grown fangs, sharp fangs. It was a not-so-hidden secret that she'd nearly beaten the backside of a particularly ambitious whore red when the whore had tried to sneak into Nox's private chambers, which Nyra had been using to take a bath at the time.

But it quickly became apparent that Talisa wasn't interested in him physically, an extremely odd thought to Asha as she would easily admit that Nox was perhaps one, if not the, most handsome man she'd ever met. But Talisa didn't seem to care about that. Instead, her interest in him was purely for his knowledge, nothing else. Alternating between watching the slowly approaching island chain and Nox, Asha was able to glimpse a peak as Nox used his powers to lift a section of rope in front of Jon and Talisa and tie it into several knots before setting it back down on the deck.

Seeing such a casual display of his power brought back memories of Valyria. She'd seen the destruction he'd caused when he rampaged through the Pyke firsthand years ago when he almost singlehandedly ended her father's extremely short tenure as King of the Iron Islands. At the time, she thought that was his peak. But now, after watching what he'd done in Valyria, she was forced to accept the unthinkable. He hadn't even been taking things seriously when he'd invaded Pyke with the Starks. If he had, there wouldn't have been anything or anyone left alive. It was an incredibly chilling thought. And one that made her renew her vow that she would change the Ironborn, make them more than just reavers. Because if they did not change, if they went back to reaving the greenlanders once more, then Nox would come for them. And she doubted that he would hold back a second time.

Moving off the sorcerer and his little lesson he was giving, she scanned over the rest of the deck of the Sea Wolf. Which honestly, was sparsely populated even at this time of day with the sails at full mast. Outside of the normal amount of crew required to be on hand, the only ones of note were the Dornish and the Lannister sitting together, of all things. And talking…amicably.

'Honestly,' she thought with a shake of her head and a slight chuckle. 'A Lannister sitting with the Martells and talking with them like they are old friends. Any doubts I might have had about Nox's ability to do the impossible have been greatly diminished. Thought it might have helped Gerion's cause when his first action was to beg forgiveness from Obara for nearly stabbing her in the back and then following up his apology by calling his brother an ambitious cunt.'

Seeing that they were now close enough to see the first of the Stepstones, Asha cranked the wheel of the Sea Wolf, turning to port so they could align their starboard side with the island chain and make their way towards Dorne, where they would be harboring for a day or so to resupply and drop off their Dornish passengers. As the ship leveled out, she felt something. A nagging in the back of her mind that would not leave her alone. A nagging that she had grown accustomed to after hours spent under Nox's tutelage as he tried to coax out what power she had.

"Take the wheel," she commanded, not looking nor caring as to which sob grabbed the wheel as she turned her back and walked to the very aft of the ship and peered out into the distance.

Tugging at a small metal cylinder on her belt, she pulled on the tube as it extended to four times its original length and held one end up to her eye. 'Myrish eye glass,' she smiled as she closed one eye. 'Heard about em when I was younger, never thought I would see one in my time and always thought they were a waste of…shite.'

"An Ironborn leaving the helm of a ship. Never thought I'd see the day."

Not rising to the bait, Asha merely held the eyeglass out for Manderly to take. "Straight behind us, on the horizon."

Blinking at her curt manner, Manderly took the eyeglass from her and held it up to his pudgy face. "Looks like, two longboa – no. Two galleons. Both flying colorful banners. Can't quite make them out with the wind on our backs…More than likely merchant vessels from Lys or Volantis on route to Dorne or perhaps Oldtown."

"Unlikely," Asha countered, taking the eyeglass back. The two galleons were already starting to get slightly larger in the eyeglass, enough so that she could start making out the colors of the banners flying high on their main mast. "The ships came from within the Stepstones, and the banners are not those of Tyrosh, Myr, Pentos, or Braavos. Those aren't merchant vessels."

Manderly made the connection quick enough, "Pirates."

"Aye," Asha nodded, lowering the eyeglass. "And even with us at full mast with the wind at our backs, they are gaining on us quickly."

"Who is gaining on us quickly?"

She just barely managed to keep herself from jumping, Manderly wasn't so fortunate. Though it was a testament to the carpenters that built the Sea Wolf that the floorboarding held under the force of the fat man landing flat on his ass. "Fuck, sorcerer, you trying to make my heart go out?"

"If I was trying to kill you Manderly, you wouldn't know until you were already dead," Nox deadpanned before turning towards her. "What do you see?"

"Two ships, at least galleons in size. Probably a crew of fifty strong on each." Asha explained, moving to off the eyeglass to Nox on reflex, only to stop as she realized just how stupid such an offer would be to a man with no working eyes. "Both flying banners with colors corresponding to either Lys or Volantis, but they sailed out from the Stepstones and are making their way towards us at full mast."

"Pirates then." Nox nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "Not surprising. Our journey to Valyria was not necessarily a well-kept secret, especially in Volantis. More than likely they were waiting for us to finish our little expedition and then waited to ambush us at a location of their choosing, and a place where they could garner more likeminded allies to help take down a ship the size of the Sea Wolf."

Asha immediately made the connection in her mind as to just how they would know if they'd been successful in their venture or not. "The two longboats that attacked the Sea Wolf while it was anchored offshore waiting for us to return. They must've been sailing nonstop since the engagement to make it back to wherever they made berth to set all of this up."

"Benefits of using smaller and faster ships," Nox commented idly.

"Two galleons, no matter their speed, won't be a match against the Sea Wolf, Lord Nox," Manderly boasted, having finally managed to regain his footing. "We'll show these pirates that the North is not one to be trifled with."

Again, Nox seemed to ignore Manderly as she felt his attention on her being. "Asha, what would you do if you wanted to take a ship like this?"

Frowning, Asha thought for several long moments. She'd learned the hard way, the very hard way, not to simply answer any of Nox's question with the first thing that popped into your head. She still wasn't sure just how he managed to use that lightning trick of his to hit her backside while she was facing him and he was across the room not even facing her. So, she contemplated, deeply and carefully. Not only with her mind, but she thought through the Force as well, just as Nox had taught her to do. "Two galleons cannot take on a ship the size of the Sea Wolf and expect to come out on top. Not unless they loaded up their ships with enough men to almost capsize them. But I would do just as they are now. Use my galleons to draw the attention of my target, then once engaged I would have smaller longboats or even other galleons that were waiting in ambush to strike."

Nox seemed to ponder her strategy, nodding his head as she spoke. "And on the flipside, how would you defend against such a strategy?"

She didn't need to think as long to come up with an answer this time around. "The Sea Wolf is strong, but even she can be overrun if attacked from multiple sides. Our best option is to fight the two behind us and then after we've finished them off go after whoever else is out there. I'd have the sails pulled to half – no, quarter – mast and let those two catch up. While they were, I'd order the crew to begin preparing quietly for battle to not tip our hand. When they get close enough to make their move, we preempt them and strike first. And, if for some reason they turn out to just be simple merchant vessels, then we don't attack and go about our day."

"An ambush is only an ambush if one party does not know about it, otherwise it can be used against the aggressor. A sound strategy, Asha," Nox congratulated her, which caused her chest to swell with pride as Nox was not a man known for handing out compliments easily. "Well, Ser Manderly? What are you waiting for? You heard her. Get the men ready for battle following her instructions."

To her utmost surprise, the fat man started barking out orders that followed her strategy exactly. "What?" Nox asked, as she glanced towards him. "Your strategy was sound. No reason not to follow it. Even Manderly knows that. Stop doubting yourself just because of your ancestors' stupidity and look to the future."

After he walked away, Asha turned back out to the horizon. The two galleons were now close enough to see without the use of the eyeglass. 'Well, time to show these Northerners why the true Ironborn rule the seas.' She thought, leaving her spot on the deck to retreat to her cabin so she could collect her axes and don her leather armor. Steel had the benefit of offering the greater amount of protection. But during a sea battle you really did not want to be wearing anything heavy. If you fell into the water, then your armor became a weight that would drag you to the bottom of the sea.

By the time she'd got her leather jerkin on tight, grabbed her axes and made it back on deck, the two galleons were close enough for her to start making out individual details of each ship with the naked eye. The biggest clue was that colors they were flying. While matching Lys, they were incorrectly patterned. Hells, one was even upside down!

'Definitely not merchant ships,' she thought as she made her way back to the helm, taking care not to fully acknowledge the men who were hiding as best they could along the ship's railing with bows in their hands, waiting to spring their own ambush. Feeling her heartbeat wildly in her chest as she gripped her axe tightly, she took her place beside the sorcerer and Jon, who were also standing next to the helm alongside the fat Manderly and Prince Oberyn.

"Well, Asha, it seems that your hunch was spot on," Nox stated, nodding off into the distance in front of them towards the Stepstones. "I can sense a lot of…less than savory individuals perhaps a league or so ahead of us. We should be able to deal with the two annoyances behind us before the others crawl out from under the rocks they're waiting under."

"And how are we going to handle the two behind us Nox?" Oberyn asked, risking a glance over his shoulder. "The scorpions onboard are not in position to fire accurately at either ship. And turning quickly to give the two a full broadside is not a strong point of this ship of yours."

"We won't need to use the scorpions on the galleons," Nox countered as he motioned towards the galleon approaching on their starboard side. "When it starts, have our archers concentrate on that ship. Once they've cleared an opening, a boarding party led by Jon and Asha here will clear the deck and claim the ship. I'll deal with the other galleon."

"You'll deal with the other galleon…by yourself, sorcerer?" Manderly gaped. "I – I respect your strength, Lord Sorcerer, but isn't that—?"

"Overkill? Yes, I suppose it is," Nox commented, making those who had seen him in Valyria chuckle darkly at the thought of just what was about to happen. "But it can't be helped, I suppose. Oh, and Jon?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Don't hold back the advantage you now have. And give these bastards no quarter. If it were up to them, we would all be dead or in chains. And as for Dacey, Asha, Ellaria and Obara… Well, it is better not to say what fate would await them should these pirates have their way."

Asha wasn't exactly sure just what Nox meant by Jon not holding back his advantage, but the bastard sure did as he gained a hardened look in his eye and his hand twitched towards belt. Specifically, towards a long slender leather pouch that hung on his belt. 'Well, no point in wondering about it for long,' she thought as the two galleons drew close enough for her to start making out the members of the crews on board. 'The mystery will be answered soon enough.'

Just as the three ships were about to become close enough to reach out and touch one another, the colors on both galleons dropped while the sounds of dozens of bow strings snapping filled the air. Dozens of arrows arched up from each ship, aiming for the deck of the Sea Wolf. "Take cover!" Ser Manderly shouted, only for Nox to calmly turn around and raise his hand towards the sky.

All the arrows that'd been in flight just…stopped. Everyone, save for those who'd seen what he could do, stared awestruck at his display of power. Then, as if he were a puppet master pulling on strings, Nox turned his hand around and every arrow that'd been launched their way turned as well, pointing back towards where they came from. A snap of Nox's fingers, and the arrows shot off like they'd been launched from crossbows. Screams of fear and pain came from the two attacking galleons as the men onboard were suddenly trying to hide behind whatever they could to protect themselves from their own barrage of arrows. "Well?" Nox asked, turning his head around as the crew all stood, awestruck by his sudden display of power. "Return fire already, or I might just decide to use the lot of you as projectiles next time."

The threat was enough to spur the men onboard to rise from their hiding places and begin returning fire with their own arrows. Gripping her axes tightly, Asha grabbed a rope and hook that was nearby and waited for the ship to get close enough for her to board. Nox however didn't bother to wait as he walked to railing on the opposite side of the ship from her, completely unfazed by the arrows passing close to him. Had she not seen what she saw in Valyria, she would've sworn that she was drunk. But, having already experienced just what Nox could do, what happened next didn't even phase her.

She could feel the air grow colder as Nox held out his hand towards the ship on their port side, his fist closed tightly as if he were grasping hold of something. Sailors on both galleons and even on the Sea Wolf all cried out in fear as the galleon started to rise. The ship rose steadily into the air until the hull was completely clear of the water and above even the deck of the Sea Wolf. Then, without saying a word, Nox rotated his closed fist. The ship rolled in response, flipping over slowly as the men onboard cried out and screamed in fear as they clutched onto whatever they could as the ship was turned upside down in the air. Once the ship had been fully rotated, Nox opened his hand, and the ship crashed mast first into the seawater, crushing all of those who couldn't get out of the way.

"Stop gawking like a bunch of greenboys seeing a freshly shaved cunt for the first time!" Asha yelled, smacking one of the archers onboard with the flat of her axe. "Keep firing at those fuckers before they get their shit together again!"

"Sorcerer!" Manderly cried. "Ahead on our starboard side! Six longboats coming out from the Stepstones!"

"Well, they didn't waste any time, did they?" Nox asked, turning his back on the sinking ship he'd overturned with next to no apparent effort. "Plan stays the same. Asha, Jon, go and claim that galleon. I'll help deal with the longboats."

"Yes Master," Jon nodded, as did Asha only leaving out the whole 'Master' comment.

As Nox walked away towards the bow of the ship, Asha could no longer hold herself back. 'Fuck this! This is taking too damn long!' Dropping the rope and ignoring the others, she took off as fast as she could towards the railing. Using what little power she had to strengthen her muscles, she planted one foot onto the railing and pushed off as hard as she could. The air passed her by in a rush, rustling her hair as she jumped off the Sea Wolf and towards the deck of the remaining galleon. The moment her feet touched the hardwood decking, she tucked her head and rolled to soften the impact of the landing. Coming out of her roll, she shot up to her feet, both axes in her hands ready for the first poor fool that thought they could get the better of her.

She didn't have to wait long as the first of her soon to be victims ran at her with a worn saber raised high. But before he could reach her, he was suddenly launched off his feet and thrown over the side of the ship. "Damn it all, Jon!" she yelled, spying the bastard boy land on the deck right next to her. "He was mine!"

The young man shook his head and motioned towards the rest of the attacking crew, who were all staring at the two of them with wide eyes and shaking weapons. "There's plenty more here for you."

"True," Asha smirked maliciously as she revealed in the fight to come. "Whatever this 'advantage' is that Nox says you have, you might want to bring it out. Either that or get your pretty ass back on the Sea Wolf and leave these fuckers to me."

"As you wish," Jon said, reaching into the leather pouch at his side.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting Jon's so-called advantage to be, but it certainly wasn't what she was seeing now. A long cylinder like an eyeglass, only silver and black in coloring. She didn't even need to ask to know what it was, even though there was only one other like it she'd ever even heard of. 'No, it's impossible! Then…he can make more?' Any doubts to just what Jon was holding were firmly put to rest as Jon's hand twitched and a pure as snow white blade emerged from the hilt in his hands. The blade humming as it cut through the air.

"Well then Asha," Jon smirked, holding his blade in front of his face before sweeping it down and to his right. "Shall we begin?"

Leaping headfirst into the fray, Jon brought his lightsaber down on the nearest unsuspecting pirate. The idiot tried to bring the club he was holding up to block Jon's attack, but the lightsaber cut clean through the club and the man that'd been holding it. Not breaking stride, Jon dodged sideways, avoiding a thrust from a saber before retaliating by thrusting his lightsaber through the man's neck.

"Fuck this!" Asha screamed, slapping her chest with the flat of her axe, "I'm not about to let some pretty Northerner with a fancy sword show up a true Ironborn on the seas!"

Rushing forward, Asha focused on one of the fools that obviously thought Jon was the bigger threat and therefore had turned his back on her. Raising the axe in her right hand, she bought the Valyrian steel down with enough force to split the man's skull wide open and spill his brains out onto the decking. Her axe still logged in what was left of the man's skull, Asha parried a wild swing with the axe in her left before kicking the dead fool in the back to free her axe.

Time lost meaning as she stood back to back with Jon as the two of them methodically worked their way through the men onboard the galleon. 'Amateurs, the lot of them,' Asha nearly spat as she cut down another would-be raider, her eleventh since she stepped foot onto the galleon. 'Attacking a superior vessel in full daylight, pathetic. At least they came with a full crew and multiple ships. But still, in the end, their numbers mean nothing against a true Ironborn!'

After cutting down two more, Asha held her bloody axes ready for her next opponent, only to discover to her utmost surprise that were none left. Everyone who had been onboard the galleon were dead. Be it from her axes, Jon's fancy new blade, or from the archers perched up on the Sea Wolf.

"Damn," Asha muttered lowering her guard slightly. "And here I was hoping for an ac—"

Something solid struck her side, and it took her a moment realize that the 'something' was in fact Jon's hand. "What the fuck Jon!" she cursed, scrambling to get back to her feet, "What the fuck ar-"

The words died in her throat as she saw a crossbow bolt still quivering in the mast of the galleon. Which just so happened to be right where her head would've been had Jon not knocked her out of the way when he did. "Fuck, thought I had the bitch with that one."

Turning to the source of the voice, Asha found who she could only assume was the captain of the galleon. The man had a darker shade of skin and was wearing a ridiculous looking overcoat with a discarded crossbow at his feet and a saber in his hand. "Well, perhaps tis better this way. I get to kill the boy, take his fancy sword, and then go balls deep in your ass, girl, before selling you off to the highest bidder."

Growling, Asha leapt up to her feet, firmly intending to end the fucker. Only for Jon's outstretched arm to stop her. "There is no point in continuing this," Jon said. "Your men are dead. And the rest of your fleet is destroyed or surrendered. There is no point in continuing this."

Blinking, Asha risked a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the longboats that had descended upon the Sea Wolf were either sunk, sinking, or had sailors from the Wolf scouring across their decks and roping prisoners together. 'Fuck me, just how long were Jon and I at it?'

The captain merely chuckled. "You think I don't know that, boy? But I still have some crew left below deck, useless dregs, but they will serve their purpose of getting me back to holdings. But I'm not about to run away without some form of compensation. And as I said, I've taken a fancy to your sword and the woman you fight alongside. So, I think I'll be taking you both."

"Jon," Asha said, using her bloodied axe in her right hand to push the bastard aside. "Step aside. This fucker is mine."

Jon spared her a glance, but she didn't look back at him, her focus only on the captain before her. 'This fucker wants to claim me through the iron price…So be it! I'll teach him what it means to pay that price!'

Reaffirming her grip, she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and shot forward towards the captain without warning. When she was within arm's reach, the captain lunged forward, his saber aiming for the center of her chest. Throwing her chest back, she slid feet first across the deck, her axes swiping at the man's leg as she passed. The captain just barely managed to evade her, but the move cost him precious time. Time in which she was able to get back to her feet and engage him once more. The captain was skilled, there was no doubt about that. His strikes were quick, accurate, and used as little motion as possible to conserve his energy. But compared to her normal sparing partners; namely Nox, Jon, Robb and recently Oberyn, the man might as well have been as mobile as stone for all the swiftness he showed.

All too soon, the captain made his mistake by performing an ill-advised lunge into an opening Asha had purposely presented. Dodging to her left, she brought her right axe around and buried it into his sword hand. As the man was still screaming in pain, she followed up by kneecapping him with her left axe. Then once he was on his knees, she let go of her left axe and brought her right above her head and held it in both hands. With a yell, she brought the Valyrian steel down onto the top of the man's skull. The axe cut clean through his skull and neck, stopping only when the handle ended up getting caught on the top of the man's chest.

"Balls deep in me, will you!?" she shouted, spitting on the man's corpse. "There's only one man that I would let touch me like that, and you are not fucking him!"

Wrenching her left axe free from the man's knee, she took several deep breaths to calm herself before turning and facing Jon. The bastard was staring at her with wide eyes as he looked back and forth between her and the man she'd partially split in two with a throwing axe. "What?" She glared, to which Jon merely shook his head.

"Nothing," he said, looking around the galleon. "I think that's all of them. Let's tie this ship onto the Sea Wolf and head back to Lord Nox."

By the time Asha and Jon found themselves back aboard the Sea Wolf, the sun was nearing the horizon. The massacre, for that had been exactly what it was, had been over relatively quickly, but the cleanup had taken some time. In all, the pirates had attacked them with two fully crewed galleons and six longships. Of those, one galleon was now resting on the bottom of the sea along with four of the longships. The vessels that had survived were now tied off onto the Sea Wolf. The surviving members of the various crews, perhaps only fifty in total, stood onboard the Sea Wolf bound together into two rows with barely any space between them while around them the men of the North jeered and laughed at their pathetic attack. And sitting before the prisoners, remaining completely stoic was none other than Nox, flanked on either side by herself and Jon while the fat Manderly paced in front of the prisoners.

"You men stand accused of the crime of piracy," Ser Manderly bellowed, his girth jiggling slightly as he paced in front of the prisoners. "Under the orders of King Robert of House Baratheon, First of his Name, Protector of the Andals and the First Men; the penalty for piracy is-"

"Fuck your fat king!" one of the men near the end spat. "The Narrow Sea is ruled by no man! Not your king! Not your gods forsaken demon you have tamed! You have no right to ju- ah!"

The sound of bones breaking filled the air as the prisoner who'd spoken arched up onto his toes, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he gasped for air until his neck snapped at an unnatural angle and he fell to the ground dead.

"Anyone else feel like speaking up?" Nox asked, his hand held out in a tight fist. "No? Come now, surely one of you have an opinion on the matter at hand. So, speak up. You might not get another chance."

None of the prisoners said a word. Not even when Nox rose to his feet and approached them. Unless one could consider whimpering and pissing their pants as saying something. "No? Nothing? Well then, Ser Manderly, please continue."

Still staring at the corpse, Manderly had to visibly shake himself. "Right, um…You are all guilty of the crime of piracy. The penalty for which is dependent on the severity of your crimes. You will be either flogged, sent to take the Black, or put to death."

"There is no need to judge based on the severity of their crimes, Ser Manderly," Nox cut in, pulling out the captains log that Asha had taken from the surviving galleon. "According to the recently departed captain, this little fleet has been working together for over a year now. Raiding and pillaging the trade lines around the Stepstones, and you even managed to capture and kill an entire Dornish crew. Tsk tsk…not very smart."

Watching as Nox put his hands behind his back, Asha felt the familiar warmth spread through her body and pool in her nether regions as she watched Nox utterly destroy the fools before him. 'By the Drowned God…I respect Nyra far too much to poach on her territory…But if they ever gave me the chance, I would gladly give every first I have to this man!'

"You are all guilty of rape, murder, pillaging, torture, and of selling people into slavery," Nox stated, walking up and down the line of prisoners. "Not a single one of you is innocent in these crimes. And there is only one fate awaiting you."

At this, several of the prisoners wet themselves as many more began to whimper and a few even started to openly beg for mercy. "But," Nox stated, holding up his hand. "I am not a wasteful man. I see an opportunity here to help alleviate some of the issues surrounding the Stepstones. So, in the interest of making things better for trade in the future, I've decided to go about a different route. Tell me, Asha, how many would it take to sail one of the longboats back to where it makes berth?"

She hadn't been expected to be called on, so she had to fight back the blush that she knew was forming as she was torn from her fantasy of Nox bending her over the railing and having his way with her. "Five would suffice. It would be difficult, but doable."

"Five, very well," Nox nodded, walking up and down the line. "This one. That one. Those two and the one at the end that pissed and shit himself. Release them."

The five Nox pointed to were all cut from their bindings and moved away from the rest. "You five," Nox stated. "Will be delivering our message to any other pirates that call the Stepstones their home. And this…this is our message."

Nox moved so fast that Asha could barely follow him. One moment he was standing at one end of the line of prisoners with his back turned towards them. And the next he had his fire-sword drawn and as turning towards the prisoners. Only he didn't strike the nearest prisoner down. No. He threw his sword. The blade spun in a tight circle, cutting through the prisoners' necks one after another until it reached the end of the line. And then it simply stopped moving and flew back to Nox's waiting hand. By the time the first body hit the deck, Nox had killed all fifty or so prisoners and sheathed his sword.

"Ser Manderly," Nox called out as the five chosen prisoners proceeded to piss and shit themselves as they were approached by the Northerners. "Load the heads onto the more damaged longboat and then throw these five onto it. As for you lot, you get to leave with your lives today. But do not mistake this as mercy. You will deliver the heads of your fallen to whoever you call a leader and tell them that should there be any more pirate attacks on the trade lines between Essos and Westeros, I will personally sweep through the Stepstones. And I will not be merciful a second time. Oh, and should any of you get the bright idea of throwing the heads overboard once you're out of sight, don't. I will know if you do. And you will suffer in agony for hours before I allow you to die. Do not test me on this. Now, get out of my sight."

As the prisoners and heads were loaded onto one of the longboats, Asha sidled up next to Nox. "Can you really do that? Know if they throw the heads overboard and kill them from a distance."

To her surprise, Nox just shrugged. "Eh, I probably could if I wanted too. But I'm not going too. There's no need as they believe that I can kill them from here. And there is a lesson for you, Asha. It doesn't necessarily matter what you can do. It matters what people believe you can do."

Pondering his words, Asha watched dispassionately as the surviving pirates were set upon their way with the shipload of heads. Once they were on their way, Asha made her way back towards the helm where Manderly and Nox were discussing what to do with the remaining longboat and galleon they had tied off to the Sea Wolf.

"Shame to leave them behind," Manderly was saying as she arrived. "They might be pirate vessels, but they are well made."

"Then there's no reason to leave them behind," Nox replied. "We can tow the longboat behind the Sea Wolf easily to Dorne with us. Perhaps the Martells will be interested in purchasing it off us. As for the galleon…Asha, you have captaincy of the galleon until we return to the North."

Her mind froze. "What?"

"Did I stutter?" Nox asked. "I said that you have captaincy of the galleon until we return North. After that…perhaps you could talk to Lord Stark and try and convince him to allow you to keep it as name-day present or something of the like. Either way, for now the ship is yours."

Nox turned back and continued speaking with Manderly, but Asha didn't care. Her attention was solely and only on the galleon tied off onto the Sea Wolf. A ship. Her ship. One she'd earned through the iron price. 'The moment Nyra says I can share their bed…I'm going to show them both a passion greater than the sea!'

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