(A collab with [@MrDidact] we were sitting on for a while.)

Eventually, Arak picked himself off of the floor and slowly made his way back to the Red Keep, leaning heavily on whatever walls he could find. When that wasn't possible, he had to resign himself to crawling. There, however, was no opportunity to rest, as the moment he entered the castle walls a servant rushed up to him.

"Arak Snow?" he asked, flipping through a few documents.

"Yes, this is he," Arak wheezed. Talking was expending far more energy than it used to.

"This way, please," the servant said, quickly striding away and motioning for him to follow. Silently, Arak groaned. He was immensely sore all over, and the end of the hall appeared so far away. Steeling himself, he pressed a hand on the walls and followed. The servant led him to an ornate door, perhaps leading to an office of sorts. "I was told to send you here, so I'm afraid this is where I leave you," he said, and disappeared as quickly as he appeared. Arak nodded, and slumped on the handle, pushing the door open and collapsing on the floor. There he lay for a few seconds, before he looked up and realized that every eye in the room was on him . . . including those belonging to the King of Westeros. He jumped to his knees, trying to ignore his muscles screaming in agony.

"Your Grace! Forgive this slight of mine, it was my own weakness that forced this humble citizen to conduct myself with such rudeness in your enlightened presence! Please, I beg of you, show mercy on this lowly armsman of yours!" he babbled, trying to hide his fatigue.

Jon smiled indulgently at Arak and motioned for a servant to bring him a chair, "Please do not stand on such formality Arak. You've served my brother well, you have nothing to fear. Please sit." The servants helped the guardsman into a seat and even brought him a chalice of mulled wine. 

Daenerys proceeded, "We've just informed these others that we will have use for them in the wars to come. We have many enemies to deal with, the Pirate King among them. We're sending an expeditionary force to put the Stepstone rebels to paid once and for all. If you accept, you will be among a special detachment sent ahead of the main force. My sister-in-law will inform you of the details further, but I understand that your half-brother is among the company. My son Aemon will have the command and my niece Visenya will be his second." 

Jon picked up after his wife, "My brother tells me that you are one of his best. Do this service for us and I will see you well compensated. What do you say? Do you accept? Do you have any questions?" 

"The best?" Arak echoed. "Surely not, Your Grace! You may have me confused with my brother-in-arms, Erin. He is a vigilant eye and an unmatched blade, surely he would make a fine addition to your task!" A few other thoughts passed through his head, but Arak had the sense not to burden the king with his pointless inquiries.

"Brandon recommended you to me himself, " Jon replied, "You're loyal. I can depend on you to help achieve this mission. You may certainly ask for volunteers from among the Northmen. And one of my brother's sons will accompany the expedition, I believe I can count on you  to shield my nephew in battle and make sure he comes home. Do you feel up to the task?" 

"Erm . . ." Arak mumbled. He was conflicted now. To challenge the sound judgement of a superior, especially one so high up as a king, is without doubt treason, and disrespectful to say the least. Yet he didn't feel up to the grand mission the king was setting for him. After giving it some thought, honor won out in the end, as usual. Arak stood up from his chair and kneeled before the king. "If it pleases Your Grace, I shall join your Stepstones Company, and fight for its cause to my death." 

Jon nodded in approval, "Rise, Arak. Rise a true and loyal friend of the realm. You will have five days before the expedition departs. I want you to gather a small group of men you trust that you feel will be useful for this mission. When you return, I shall make sure your chivalry and service are rewarded greatly. Do you have any further questions?" 

"No, Your Grace. By your leave, I shall prepare for this mission," Arak said, rising from the ground. With Jon's nod, Arak turned and left. The moment he was out of sight, he collapsed on the floor and began cursing himself. The queen knew he was a Bolton . . . and had just blabbed it to everyone present.