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Winterfell:

Ned had barely had time to dismount his horse before he was informed by Luwin of Bran's accident. His son had fallen from the broken tower and was yet to wake. To make matters even worse, a catspaw had then attempted to stab his son while he lay in bed, savagely wounding Cat's hands in the process and only Bran's direwolf had saved his wife and boy by tearing out the catspaw's throat.

Keeping up with the bad news was his friend and King Robert who had mysteriously managed to grow from one of the fittest men he had ever met into a possible kinsman (or black haired twin) of Wyman Manderly (who looked somewhat stunned himself at the near mirror image). Robert's admission that the knife used was his caused a chill to go down Ned's spine, and his fury was properly stoked as both Robert and Cat informed him that they had been unable to find the paymaster (nor the thief who stole the dagger)

He had just seated himself and bid Cat to leave him alone with Robert when his old friend who looked even more broken than he had been when Ned informed him of Lyanna's death took a seat at the other side of his desk and gazed mournfully at Ned.

"Did you think I didn't know?" he croaked sadly.

Ned felt ice shoot up his spine again as he focused his gaze on Robert. "Know what…Your Grace?" he finished haltingly.

"Seven Hells Ned stop that 'Your Grace' shit," Robert spat as he reached for a pitcher of wine that he must have brought with him. "Did you believe for one second that I wouldn't guess who the boy was when I saw him after you came back with-with Lya's body?"

Ned let out a frustrated sigh. "I thought!"

"You thought I'd kill him? Lya's boy," Robert interrupted. "why?" he asked with a broken voice.

"Because of the children," Ned said finally after a moment's pause.

"I knew as long as he stayed with you that you'd never tell him the truth Ned, which is why I never did anything about the lad."

"And now?" Ned asked.

"I…I don't know any longer," Robert said. "Gods Ned he is all that is left of Lya, but at the same time…I just don't know."

"Then do nothing," Ned implored. "As long as Jon is safe I won't start any wars, and I will not help him start one either. IF he decides to try and take back that blasted throne he will do so without support from anyone else but the Dornish."

Anger crept over Robert's face. "There are men in every single one of the kingdoms who still call me usurper, what if he gains the loyalty of the Reach? How about the Riverlands or even the Lords of the Narrow Sea? We both know that if he was to arrive at the head of an army more men would flock to him…he would only need one victory on our shores before people would flock to him in greater numbers."

"You still have time on your side Robert. If Jon was to try and get himself an army you'd know it, besides how many Lords do you think would be willing to join up with a bastard? A bastard who is widely known to have been fathered by me? It would be seen as nothing more than a Dornish plot and a bastard reaching above his station," it hurt to speak of Jon like this but Ned had precious little choice if he was to keep Jon safe.

After a minute of silence Ned finally saw the fight go out of Robert as the fat King let out a long suffering sigh. "One chance Ned," Robert said as he pointed a shaking finger at Ned. "One chance for Lya's boy, but the moment he sets sail towards Westeros with an army in tow I'll take his fucking head myself."

"Understood," Ned growled.

"Speaking of boys Ned, I have a son and you have a daughter, we'll join our houses together."

Ned winced, Robert would not be pleased. "Quite impossible Your Grace," he said as he held up a hand to forestall Robert's eventual tantrum. "I don't know how much you've learned while I was away, but my youngest daughter Arya…if I am lucky she snuck away with Jon and is somewhere in Essos, if not she is most likely dead."

"Shit…I-I'm sorry Ned, I knew there was trouble with the Boltons but-I'd never imagined…"

"Thank you," Ned said softly. "So as you can guess, with the Dreadfort needing new Lordship Sansa will have to stay here. My vassal Lords would not look kindly to me granting the Dreadfort to one of mine own sons, so Sansa will have to do."

"I suppose this means you will not agree to coming south to become my Hand either then?" Robert asked surly.

"There is too much that must be done here in the North Your Grace, at least for now."

Robert suddenly clapped his hands together as a smile stretched across his face. "Right, I'll be staying here to add some royal weight to your dealings," he said with a chuckle at the unintended pun. "Stannis can take care of King's Landing while I'm here," And before Ned could even start to protest Robert had jumped out of his chair and left the solar with impressive speed and grace for a man of his shape, leaving Ned to shake his head in resigned amusement. Sighing in relief as the door closed behind Robert Ned hoped dearly that Jon wouldn't do anything stupid. Things were bad enough already, and he was not looking forward to informing Sansa that she was to wed Ethan Forrester and move to the Dreadfort in a few years, for that matter he wasn't looking forward to telling Cat either. Opening the small cupboard on his desk he withdrew a bottle of strong alcohol that was a relic from his father and took a deep sip, coughing slightly at the taste. With his nerves now becalmed he strode out of his solar, intent on delivering news that would be welcome to either cat or Sansa.

City of Braavos, Essos:

Jon watched with amusement as Arya sullenly scrubbed the floors of the house they were lodging in. Not at all pleased at having discovered his cousin sneaking with them (without telling him) nor with his lover or her sisters not informing him of it. Jon's first actions (after finding a place to stay) had been to lay down the law harshly.

Until he received word from his uncle Arya would learn the joys of hard work (and if he did say so she was a tremendous maid, her rebellious mutterings aside). Nym and her sisters had also felt some of his wrath as he had soundly beaten them in the practice ring, proving to them that despite being younger he was rather skilled with a blade. None of them particularly liked losing, but were competitive enough that they came back every evening, (said ladies currently licking their wounds and tending to their rather bruised egos)

"What was that dear cousin?" Jon asked.

"I believe she said that you wouldn't be enjoying yourself as much if her father was here," their host said.

Their host was a rather beautiful black haired and purple eyed woman who had been rather desperate for not only coin, but also company as she was apparently living in the modestly sized house all alone after her brother passed away, and without work the young woman (perhaps of an age or just slightly younger than himself) had agreed to offer them shelter in the return for coin, Jon offering Arya's services as a maid was icing on the cake to their host who called herself Danny. In truth Jon had been lucky to find her as they arrived rather late in the harbour, just in time as a matter of fact to see her get robbed of what were her last coins by a rather large man with a shock of bright orange hair and a faded doublet with a duck of all things on it.

"Little 'Arry' should know her father enough that she is lucky to be getting off with this punishment," Jon said as he reached out for his harp. They had decided to not mention last names for the sake of safety, so while Danny no doubt suspected them of being nobility she knew nothing more than first names (or fake first names in Arya's case)

"Oh?" she asked as she raised a curious eyebrow, and Jon was struck yet again by some strange feeling of familiarity.

"Oh yes, hours upon hours of needlework," Jon quipped, barely keeping a straight face as Arya let out an involuntary gasp. "As a matter of fact, perhaps I should see if there isn't a seamstress here in Braavos in need of her blacksmith hands," he finished, ducking his head just in time to avoid the wet rag that flew at him.

"Threatening her with needlework again lover?" came the voice of Nym who walked in from the room the pair of them shared with Aegon (Egg as they called him when Danny was around)

"Merely informing our gracious host what most likely awaits my dear cousin whenever she makes it back home."

"Oh is it time for playing already?" Tyene asked with a grin as she too came in from wherever she had been, and Jon barely kept the smirk of his face as he spotted the slight limp she sported after their earlier training session.

"I suppose so," Jon said with a shrug as he grabbed the harp and let his fingers start playing, eventually his voice joined in as well. Smiling softly as he finished the song he spotted all of them with sad smiles and sparkly eyes.

"Such a sad piece, but truly beautiful," Danny sighed.

"The tale of Danny Flint is and always will be a sad piece I think," Jon said sadly.

"You ought to take to the streets tomorrow with that I think," Obara said, even her normally harsh gaze suspiciously moist. "The gold your uncle provided will not last forever."

Jon frowned. While it was true that they did not have an infinite amount of gold they should be able to live here for near a year at least with the price that Danny demanded, although that could increase depending on the appetites of the dragons and direwolves they had with them, at least Ghost was adorable enough to distract Danny enough that she never discovered the pair of dragons they smuggled in (their veiled cages helped there) and considering how much Ghost liked her (and her fingers that knew just where to scratch) she continued to be distracted.

"Ser Damon and I are going out tonight to see if there are any local sellsword companies in need of men."

"Sellswords," Nymeria frowned.

Jon shrugged. "It is the easiest way to not only good coin, but also as a chance to build a name for ourselves, something I will no doubt need as you remember," he said as he gave Nym a pointed look.

"I suppose so," she conceded

It was at that moment that Ser Damon walked in with a grin on his face. "I think I have found the perfect thing for us Jon but we better get in on this soon."

That was good news at least. Jon and the others had quickly decided that they wouldn't join any company unless they were willing to take women (Obara was most eager) or allowing for 'followers' as there was no way that Jon would agree to gallivanting all across Essos while leaving his son or lover behind. "How soon he asked."

"Tomorrow afternoon they said. They'll be going to the Iron Bank to see about a loan. With every man taking up a small loan they think we might get as many as five hundred men straight away and there are contracts aplenty just waiting."

"Explain," Tyene said.

"Well the Disputed Lands are drowning in violence. Half a dozen khalasars are ravaging back and forth, and Myr, Lys, Tyrosh and even Volantis are offering a neat sum of gold for every Dothraki screamer killed.

Jon spotted Danny wincing in pain (or horror) at the mention of the Dothraki (perhaps they were the reason her brother was dead as she never mentioned what had done him in)

"If there is as much gold in this as they hint at I suppose we can give them a meet, I am going to the bank tomorrow anyway."

"They finally agreed to meet you?" Nym asked.

Jon wasn't sure how things worked in the Iron Bank, so instead of strutting in like he owned the place and presenting the key had had been given he had instead asked for a meeting which they had granted him, but he would have to wait for three weeks, but better to wait and be safe than to tip his hand in full view of every customer in the bank.

"I suggest we all get some sleep so that we are rested properly for tomorrow, and you Arry should have been abed over an hour ago if you worked more and complained less."

It was a testament to how tired Arya was that she simply stuck out her tongue before shambling towards the room she shared with Obara and Tyene, Ser Damon had his own room while Danny naturally had the largest room to herself.

Iron Bank:

Jon did his best to keep his face still as he fumed in the chair he was seated in. The meeting which was supposed to have happened shortly before noon had been 'postponed' for inexplicable reasons and he'd been shunted into a small meeting room where a pitcher of wine and a plate of fruits and cheeses were provided and then left to his own devices. That had been hours ago, but at last a weedy looking man with the most effeminate pointed beard Jon had ever seen entered.

"I am representative Garyon, what can I help you with master Snow?" he asked with a high pitched voice that cast further doubt on the man's sexual preferences.

"This," Jon said as he tossed the key onto the table and watched as the representative's eyes widened.

"You are aware of what this is master…" he finished, obviously fishing for a name.

"You will understand representative Garyon that I cannot just tell you my full name as of yet? All you need know is that a relative gave me this key, a relative who received it from his brother who was at the time King on the Iron Throne."

The man nodded slowly. "You are aware then Master Snow that the Iron Throne owes the bank a tremendous debt already?"

Jon swore. "Debt that has been accrued by Robert of the House Baratheon no doubt."

"Just so," the banker nodded, "But as it is the Iron Throne that is the symbol of rule in Westeros so it is that the Crown's debt is to the Throne, not the House that sits the Throne.

"Ahh, so then there will be no issues with my vault then," Jon said.

"I beg your pardon," the banker said.

"The vault and key in question is in the name of House Targaryen, not House Baratheon or the Iron Throne."

The banker blustered. "This is most irregular Master Snow."

Jon grinned. "Perhaps an arrangement could be made."

That certainly got the bankers attention. "Do explain."

"You obviously do not want me to pull all the wealth my key entitles me to, and your surprise at seeing it leads me to believe that Robert Baratheon does not know of its existence, so here is what I suggest. The Iron Bank will refuse any and all further loans to the Iron Throne until the debt has been repaid. Furthermore a new key will have to be made for the Targaryen holdings in the bank, we wouldn't want anyone else to show up with another key after all. If I have not taken back the Iron Throne within a decade I will personally pay back the debt with my own coin with interest, but I will need to be able to access it to prepare for the conflict which will no doubt come."

"I must discuss this with my fellow representatives, I shall return soon," he said and then disappeared out of the room.

He eventually returned followed by five others, one of them introduced himself as Tycho Nestoris and had apparently been chosen to speak for the group. "We accept your offer, on the understanding that we will be holding the full debt as well as accrued maximum interest for the whole decade period you suggested in collateral."

Jon nodded, that sounded fair. "How much coin is available to me? In Westeros currency if you please, I am yet to be fully accustomed to Essosi currency.

"Your…ancestors made wise investments, so with the exception of the collateral you have roughly two million dragons at your disposal."

Jon goggled at the amount. "How on earth am I supposed to be carrying two million around with me?" he asked weakly.

Nestoris let out a light laugh. "You hardly need such a sum, one hundred thousand perhaps, for any immediate purchases, or salaries to be paid out to any men you gather. A representative of the bank as well as accompanying security will be following you around, not only to keep the gold safe, but also to send reports on expenditure or offer guaranties to any merchants."

"Guaranties?" Jon questioned, causing one of the other bankers to open a small wooden board that held an iron writ with the symbol of the Iron Bank as well as a drawing of his new key.

"This writ is as good as gold across Essos. Say you wish to purchase a thousand swords, the representative will provide your writ, a form that is then signed by you, the smith and or merchant and the representative will be sent back here. If the seller has an account with the bank the money will be deposited straight into his vault, or failing that will be provided to him post-haste with trusted courier…minus a small administrative fee of course."

Jon snorted. "Of course, well then I say we have an agreement."

"Excellent, representative Garyon will be accompanying you from here on Master Snow."

Jon shook hands with each of them in turn and turned to Garyon. "I will be meeting with a prospective sellsword company soon, I would like for you to be present for this meeting, after our business has been concluded I guess we'll see where we will go from there."

Garyon nodded. "Of course My Lord, after you."

Omake:

Sometime in the future:

Gendry was quite frankly amazed that he was still alive, and eternally grateful to Ser Davos who had provided him with a fishing rod, extra line and hooks. Just how long he had rowed around on the blasted ocean he didn't know, all he knew was that if he had to even catch a whiff of fish ever again it would be too soon. But now that he was finally standing on solid ground again he realized that he was not in Westeros any longer. People's dress was queer, he couldn't understand a lick of what they said, it was warmer than King's Landing had ever been (though thankfully without the accompanying smell of shit) and lastly for every man he spotted in fine clothing he could spot three four or even five others with collars around their necks or tattoos on their faces. And to make matters even worse his boat was slowly drifting away from him, the reason for why it was doing so was abundantly clear as he spied two brats who gave him mocking grins as they merrily rowed away from him as swift as they could.

"Well that's fucking great," he mumbled angrily.

"Are you from Westeros?" he turned his head and spotted a young man perhaps a few years his senior (though less bulky) with the most ridiculous white blond hair with faded streaks of blue in it that he had ever laid eyes on.

"Yeah I'm from Westeros," he replied.

"Thank the gods," the young man said. "I need your help."

Gendry raised an eyebrow.

"I need one more man on my ship, I can't sail it alone you see."

"I'm not really all that much acquainted with ships," Gendry said slowly. "As a matter of fact, with the exception of that bloody rowboat I spent gods know how long in I've never been on one before."

The man gaped. "You telling me you crossed the Narrow Sea on a bloody rowboat all the way to Volantis? How in the name of the gods did you do that? How the hell did you even survive?"

Gendry flushed in embarrassment. "I eh…must have rowed in the wrong direction I think, and I survived on fish and fish blood."

Despite how nasty it had been to consume raw fish for who knows how long, Gendry took a perverse pleasure at seeing the young man go green at the thought.

"That settles it then, if you can do that in a rowboat you'll be unstoppable on a ship. I have food and cargo to sell, and you don't look like you have anything so what say you?"

Somewhat amused at the young man's eagerness (and the fact that he didn't have any food, drink or coin) Gendry gave in. "Fine, fine. I'll come along, better than going back to Westeros at any rate."

The man smiled. "Great, I'm Aegon," he said as he held out his hand.

"Gendry," he replied as he gripped Aegon's hand in a shake.

Following Aegon, Gendry was further bemused as Aegon seemed to be jittery as a cat, his eyes going this way and that as if he was seeing threats in anything from doors, windows, alleyways all the way down to someone's innocent bowl of pea soup. "Something wrong?" he asked, causing Aegon to jump slightly.

"My fath…guardian," Aegon corrected himself, is trying to convince me to do something that is the last thing I want to do, so since the lot of them are searching the city for me, we'll sneak aboard the ship and sail the hell away from here."

"There she is," Aegon said suddenly, "The Shy Maid."

Gendry gazed at the ship and while he didn't know much about ships that had to be one of the ugliest ones he had ever seen. A single mast, the ship itself painted a muddy greyish brown that appeared to be flaking all over, and at the back he could just spot some golden letters that were so weathered that even if he could read he doubted it would be legible. As Aegon had said the ship was devoid of people and the pair of them made quick work of the moorings and readying the sail (with Aegon helpfully explaining along the way) and just like that the ship was heading out towards the open sea.

"So what's your story?" Aegon asked.

Gendry shrugged. "Some red woman purchased me and took me to my uncle to be sacrificed in some sort of ritual, and as if isn't enough that my uncle wants me dead the Lannisters and Gold Cloaks want me dead too."

"Damn…" Aegon said. "The hell did you do to make the Lannisters want to kill ya?"

Gendry shrugged again. "The red woman said I was the bastard son of King Robert, so that's why the Queen wants me dead apparently, and King Stannis, my uncle that is wants my blood for whatever magic his red woman performs."

Aegon stared at him dumbfounded for a few moments before breaking out into peals of laughter, "that…that's just, oh the irony," and he descended into giggles again.

"What do you mean?" Gendry asked confused (and somewhat insulted)

Aegon calmed himself to the point where he was only chuckling slightly. "I am Aegon Targaryen, smuggled out of King's Landing mere hours before Tywin Lannister sacked the city and killed my mother and sister."

Gendry winced, he had heard the stories (everyone had heard the stories) "But, that means you are the rightful King!" he exclaimed.

Aegon shook his head slightly. "Perhaps, but it would take a gods damned miracle to take back the seven kingdoms, especially after recent events."

"What recent events?" Gendry asked.

Aegon ran a hand through his hair. "Apparently I have a half brother, and an aunt, both of them have invades Westeros with their army, and between them they have six dragons…and my guardian apparently wants me to raise a force to press my own right to the throne. One dragon is bad enough, but six…as soon as I realized he wouldn't give up that idea I decided to make a run for it."

Gendry whistled, that did sound like a spectacularly bad idea, he could almost picture it. Coming up to a pair with six dragons under their command. 'Hi there, good work conquering the seven kingdoms, but now I must ask you to step aside as I am you older brother and as such my claims comes first, oh and I'd like a dragon if it isn't too much trouble,' Gendry snorted. He could only imagine how ludicrous that would be. "So what will we do now then?" he asked Aegon.

Aegon threw an arm across Gendry's shoulders. "Here we are, both of us a son of Kings, and utterly fucked if we ever go back home, so I say we sail the seas and make our own luck."

"Agreed," Gendry said and then the pair sailed off into the horizon towards the setting sun toward life full of adventure (but that's another story)

AN: I do apologize for how long it has taken me to update (and how short this piece was for that matter) but I have been VERY busy. Now a new poll is up so please make your choices about what kind of real life army/military force Jon will be basing his new sellsword company on (he is after all the financier)

Hopefully I'll be updating this much sooner next time. Also Bloody Wolf is coming along nicely at about 4.5k words so far and is not eager to stop.

P.S: Kudos to whoever spots the small cameo in this chapter. And I welcome speculation about what that can mean.