"I!" shouted Arak, raising his hand up. He didn't even fully understand the mission, but ke knew well enough when to serve. "I vol-" a hand came up from behind him, enclosing itself around his mouth, while another wrenched his wrist down. 

"No you don't," whispered his daily tormentor. Arak knew, without looking, that his brother was glaring daggers into the back of his head. "No he doesn't!" shouted William, over the muffled screams that might have suggested otherwise.

Aemon, the dauntless and driven Aemon, seemed a little taken aback by the outburst and scuffle and Viserys swaggered up and eyed the brothers oddly, "Now, perhaps Lord William has a point. We just finished rescuing Arak there at no small expense. We may be tempting fate a tad much by throwing him into the fire again. Perhaps Arak should stay with the ship. I don't know if the man is a convincing cutthroat either." 

Visenya spoke up, "Well I am going with Aemon. I'm the best shot in this company. Will can be a convincing lout, he's been practicing his entire life after all." Visenya winked at Will. 

"No no no . . . agh, damn it . . ." muttered William, but chose not to argue. Just like her to goad him into mad stunt after mad stunt. Now, Arak struggled harder, and broke free of his brother's grasp. "Hey-" William shouted, but Arak zipped through the crowd, running up to the front and kneeling before the crown prince.

"My life I pledge to you, Your Grace. Let me serve you in this mission," he said, so quickly they seemed to merge into one long word. William covered his forehead with one hand. He should be surprised, but he wasn't one bit. Gods, he needed mead.

Aemon seemed bemused by the whole situation, he urged the man quickly up with a gesture of his hand, "Please, ser there is no need for such dramatic action. You are a member of this company, we are bound by ties of friendship and brotherhood from this day till the end of our days. Your loyalty and conviction is not in question. But are you sure you can do this? You're not a deceiver. This mission requires you to act the part of a sellsword or pirate. And you only just barely escaped death and imprisonment. None among us would question it if you wished to stay behind on this assingment." 

Arak winced at the mention of brotherhood, but stood at his liege's command. "I am what Your Grace commands of me. Put your trust in your servant." He felt awkward standing in the presence of such greatness, like as if he was mocking his future king by his actions. He sank back down to a kneel, thoroughly confused.

"Take him off. Don't allow him to go ashore," William said, sidling up to Visenya and grabbing her shoulder. "Don't make me beg. I'm not a convincing beggar."

Visenya nodded and said aloud, "Lord Bolton may have a point. Arak is a valiant warrior, but we need more than that once we go ashore. This is a certain amount of... duplicity involved in this that a man of honor like Arak may be somewhat ill-equipped to tackle." 

The Crown Prince stroked his chin and looked down at Arak, "Arak, why do you want to come so badly?" 

This made Arak think. To serve? What was he doing. He kneeled there, trying to come up with an answer. Firm hands grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him back into the crowd. "You've made enough of a fool of yourself," said William. "Time to quit while you're ahead."

"Wait!" Arak cried, slapping a hand away and rushing back to the front. "I'd like to recall the wise Eddard Stark of Winterfell. Despite his loathing of the position as Hand, despite is inability to decieve and maintain fear, he chose to take the responsibility for that was his duty. Let me do my duty, Your Grace, for better or worse."

Several moments passed and Aemon smiled slightly, "Spoken like a man of Winterfell. Very well, Arak Snow. You may join us. You'll need a change of clothes. And you'll need to keep your sword arm ready and your mouth closed, just follow our lead. But you can come with us. Lord Will, you can mind him as well." 

Arak finally let himself be pulled away by his insistent brother. "Listen, you complete, utter imbecile," growled William, hissing in his brother's ear. "That was a bad move. You're not a Stark, you're a Bolton, and Boltons don't make bad moves. I cannot believe . . . just don't run in front of swords, and don't challenge anyone to a duel, and most importantly, don't leave my sight." Arak nodded, not really paying attention. He was to serve by the side of the crown prince! Such an honor could not be stained by anyone, not even William.