[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190622/32edf0bca732284db8a774ebb6da2a79.png[/img][/center]
[hr][hr]

	As the song of steel rang out around her, as men lunged, and parried, and died, Sara Snow paused and took a deep breath. Blood and death and seawater assailed her nose, but a moment later, there was another assailant to worry about. A man was charging her from behind, his oafish footsteps revealing his position, even amongst the clashes of swords, and screams of dying men. The Bloody Wolf waited, feigning ignorance, and bent over at the last moment, sending the pirate careening over her back, leaving him sprawled on the deck in front of her. Her sword found it’s way through his throat quickly enough, and then it was on to the next.

	Sara had come a long way from Winterfell, though in truth that had never been her home. She’d found her home on the battlefield, amidst blood smoke. She’d never felt more alive than with a sword in her hand and an enemy staring her down. That lust for battle had led her across Essos, and finally, to the court of Daemon Targaryen. His violet eyes and platinum hair had enamored her, his dragon had amazed her, and his riches had bought her and her men. Today though, she saw no sign of Daemon, or his beast. This was their fight to win, and theirs alone it seemed. 

	Blood ran across the deck of the [i]Sea Snake[/i], so much blood. She shook her dark hair away from her face, and began adding to it, cutting down another pirate with her shortsword, bashing another with her shield. The second pirate stumbled, but kept his feet under him, and returned her attack with his curved sword, bringing it down just as she raised her shield to block the attack. He was quick though, and came at him with a swipe from the right, which she parried with her sword. She jumped back, putting some distance between her and the pirate. He was good, she’d give him that. She beat her sword against her shield, a challenge that the pirate took, charging her, raising his sword, and then stopping suddenly as she drove her own sword through his chest. Laughing, she pulled her sword out, and watched him drop to the deck, another lifeless body that would soon feed the sharks.

	The Bloody Wolf fought on, slashing through foes as they charged her, blocking furious strikes with her shield. Blood coated the boiled leather vest she wore, and it had soaked into the sleeves of her tunic, staining the once blue fabric a dark purple. Her hair was sticking to the back of her neck now, matted together with sweat and dried blood. She might have worn a helm, but out on the sea she couldn’t afford to lose her peripheral vision. This battle would continue, until their enemies were dead, until they had their prize, until Daemon had pushed the forces of the Three Daughters out of the Stepstones. Until that moment came, she fought on.

[hr][hr]

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190622/26400e573260d8592e5b065654782f87.png[/img][/center]
[hr][hr]

	The great city of King’s Landing had been in view for miles, yet Ellard Stark could not seem to take his eyes off it. The Stark host had been travelling for nearly two months now, and Ellard was anxious to arrive. He’d made this journey once before, for the coronation of King Viserys, but that had been almost a decade ago, and he’d grown older since then. His bones ached, he grew weary, and most of all, his ass hurt. 

	Ellard had not intended on traveling south for the tourney. He preferred the North, and he shared his father’s distaste for the Targaryens, and so he avoided the capital. Bennard had convinced him to join Cregan for the tourney, and so he blamed him for his aches. He’d heard of the growing rift amongst the royal family, but it was Bennard who’d noted that a rift in the Targaryen dynasty, meant opportunities for the Starks. He was well aware that Cregan remained unwed, and now would be as good a time as any to negotiate a marriage with a prominent house. It might be custom to wed within the North, as he himself had, but Bennard insisted that the realm hung in a precarious balance, and strong allies would be the best sort of protection in the times to come. Ellard had protested, but Bennard had eventually won him over, and thus he ventured south, into the snake pit that was King’s Landing. Bennard of course, got to stay behind as Castellan, the lucky bastard. Arrana stayed in Winterfell as well, overcome with a sudden fever before their departure. Longing, for his wife, and for his home, pierced his heart. With any luck, this trip would be a short one.

	As the procession approached the Dragon Gate, Cregan trotted up beside him, astride his dark brown palfrey. His squire, Jon Umber, a boy of six and ten years and Cregan’s cousin, was not far behind, and soon came to ride beside him. Cregan had taken the boy on as a squire at his mother’s insistence, but the two had grown close over the past two years. He’d proven himself as good a squire as he could, considering his son had never seen a real battle. His son was ferocious in melees, but aside from the occasional outlaw in the North, he had yet to taste a true battle. He hoped the day never came that he would, but those were green dreams, for green boys. Ellard knew as well as any man, the inevitability of war.

	Cregan smiled jovially at Ellard, who remained steely as ever. [color=8fb98a][b]“Smile, Father. Our journey is almost at an end, and then we shall be awash in all that King’s Landing has to offer,”[/b][/color] he said, earning a hearty laugh from Jon. Ellard kept his eyes focused ahead of them, watching the Dragon Gate rise for the van. [color=afaaaa][b]“All that King’s Landing has to offer is vipers wearing the skin of men. I’ll smile when this wretched city is to our backs,”[/b][/color] Ellard replied. Despite the noticeable lack of humor in his voice, his son laughed. [color=8fb98a][b]“What is a viper to a wolf?”[/b][/color] he said. 

[color=afaaaa][b]“Venom kills wolves just as it does men, and no matter our sigil, we are [i]still[/i] men. You would be wise to remember that. This was a dangerous city when I last came, and if what Bennard says is true, it’s only become more so.”[/b][/color]

[color=8fb98a][b]“All this worrying will send you to an early grave Father. This is a celebration, we should treat it as such.”[/b][/color]

	Ellard remained silent at that. This was no simple celebration. They would be coming to court at a time when it was dangerously divided. Viserys may have named Rhaenyra his heir, shortly before his brother’s exile, but that had become a point of contention in the past few years. The young prince Aegon had a better claim to the throne, if the precedent set by the Great Council was anything to go off of. They would have to be wary of any outward displays of support. Ellard had no desire to choose sides. Issues of succession had a long history of tearing realms and houses asunder, and he did not intend to see the Starks fall into ruin.

	He’d be lying if he said he was not struck by the opulence of the city as they passed through it’s gates. The Red Keep soared high into the sky, and everywhere he looked commoners were raucous with celebration. Spirits were clearly high in the streets, and Cregan had taken notice. [color=8fb98a][b]“See, Father? Even the common folk are celebrating!”[/b][/color] he jested, before riding ahead, taking the young Umber with him. Ellard kept his pace, remaining in the center of the procession. He would arrive when he arrived. Until then, he would enjoy this fleeting moment of solace, likely one of the last he’d have for the next few weeks. There were no moments alone in King’s Landing, not truly.