A Grand Escape

The night about him was cold but the adrenaline that was coursing through his now princely veins kept him warm. His legs moved faster than they ever had as he half walked half jogged towards the quarters where his friend Florien lodged. He'd promised to repay the man that had saved his life and now the time had come for him to make good on those words. Now that he was a prince, Josmyn could raise the bastard knight to a lordship and give him a new name with which to hide from whomever might chase after him from the Night's Watch. As for himself, Martell was not worried about what they would try to do to him. He would have legions of bannermen to protect him as well as being in his home climate. The advantage would be to him, once he got to Dorne.

However, it was the getting to Dorne that would be the most complicated. They would leave tonight, in the middle of the night when with their black clothes, they could slip along the Wall and towards Eastwatch. If they rode hard and didn't bother to spare the horses, they could be there next night, on a boat bound for Sunspear before anyone truly missed them. It was what they had to do.

Looking down at his clothes, Josmyn was incredibly happy that this was the last day that he'd ever have to unwillingly don black clothes and armor. As soon as he was able, he'd wear tan leather breeches with a red doublet embroidered with his new house sigil. He was a true and proud Martell, Prince of all of Dorne and he would let everyone who saw him know his new identity.

As he wound through the corridors and halls of Castle Black, Josmyn was still in shock that the plan of his sisters had worked as well as it had. All he had done was provided motivation and a letter while they had masterminded the entire thing and all they wanted was lands of their own. He would gladly grant them that and whatever else they wished. His friend might have to settle for a minor castle to his name as his half sisters would get the choice lands of Dorne before anyone else, even someone who had saved his life.

The newly minted prince rounded the last corner and locked eyes on his friend's door. Quietly, he knocked on it for a few seconds before opening it and stepping inside. Yes, perhaps Florien would not be keen at his intrusion, at least at first. However, his ire was likely to cool once Josmyn explained the exact nature of his late night visit.

“I know it's late and that you were asleep, but gather your things. Now. We leave for Dorne. I am a Prince,” he said brusquely, not bothering for an in-depth explanation until he was sure the knight was awake. He did not want to speak too much until they were out of range of anyone in the castle for fear they might take him before the Old Bear. While the king's pardon would mean something to those in the realm, he doubted the elderly Mormont would see things his way.

Florien had been sound asleep after a long cold day spent upon the Wall, he hated life there and his dreams where always of returning to true home, the south. That night he had been dreaming of being back in the Reach in the service of his father, he had been representing him in some tourney consisting of high born lords and knights; Florien had bested each and every one of them in order to claim victory for both himself and house Hightower. In the next scene of his dream he was standing before his father in the great hall of his castle, even though he heard that his father never descended from his tower now, where he had been told that he going to be legitimized and named his father's heir above all of his other sons and daughters. Florien had been drinking and celebrating with all the knights that served his father, they all loved him and they where all happy that he was going to be their new lord but then, suddenly, there were several loud knocks and no one seemed to know where they came from. The walls of the castle began to collapse around Florien, his dream was coming to an end and he woke up just as Josmyn Sand entered his room, he was still at the Wall and everything was horrible once again.

“I know it's late and that you were asleep, but gather your things. Now. We leave for Dorne. I am a Prince,” Josmyn said.

"What?" Florien said, sounding both confused and drowsy, "We're... leaving?"

The knight climbed out of his bed, it was absolutely freezing, but he could not contain his excitement. He darted across the room, smiling the whole way, and began to put on his black Night's Watch clothing. This would be the last say he had to wear the clothes, this would be the last night he would spend at the Wall and it would be the last time he would ever spend time in the freezing cold; he would go somewhere warm as soon as he was free from the Watch. Florien was hoping that Josmyn would make him some kind of offer, he had saved his friends life when they been beyond the Wall together and there was a chance that he would be rewarded for having done so once they had reached Dorne and Josmyn was a real prince instead of a bstard that was being forced to live out his days in the cold north. Once the knight was fully dressed in his warm, black, clothing he turned to face Josmyn once again; still smiling widely. He could not believe his luck.

"This was unexpected, Josmyn. Are we riding from Castle Black or heading to Eastwatch to travel south by ship?"

When Florien immediately awoke and began to put on his black clothes, Josmyn could see a very similar smile to the one that had been on his face after he'd read his uncle's letter. Much like the Dornishman was excited to be off to somewhere the sun actually shone properly, so too it seemed like the knight was anxious to shed the black wool he'd been draped in for far too long. As Flowers zipped and zoomed around the room, pushing things into a bag not unlike the one Josmyn carried on his left shoulder, the new Martell began to think about the future in earnest this time.

For weeks, he'd been holding his breath and biding his time, waiting for word from his sisters or uncle and now, now he could go home. When he was asked where they were leaving from, he looked at Florien quizzically. Riding from the Wall in all black in the dead of night was daft. None of the northern lords were fond of those leaving the Night's Watch. While under normal circumstances, he'd might take his chance with them, considering he had a royal pardon but as the north had seceded from the Seven Kingdoms and declared themselves sovereign, it was likely all the pardon would do would get him executed even faster. Or, given his new status, taken hostage to be ransomed. Florien, though, would not fare as well as he still had no name but Flowers.

“We leave for Eastwatch tonight. There is a boat there, waiting with all the pleasures of nobility, including proper clothes, to take us to Sunspear. There I will be crowned Prince and heir to Dorne and you, my friend,” Josmyn smiled broadly, “You shall have a name, a lordship, and a castle in Dorne to call your own.”

No doubt, this was why the ranger had continued to stay close to him. Indeed, they were friends though in all his years on the Wall, Josmyn had never had a friend that had saved his life. For this, Martell would reward him with the best that he could. The choice lands would fall to his sisters first as they had orchestrated his rise to power. But Florien would not be far behind them. With his sisters holding keeps across Dorne as well as a friend grateful to be out of the ice, Josmyn would have a strong grip on his bannermen and would be able to raise them without fearing that the lords or ladies would not answer his call. With wars breaking out hither and thither, and the Night's Watch likely to be coming to take his head for being a traitor, it would be good to know that he'd have a stable base with which to protect himself and his new territory with.

“This might seem sudden to you, Ser, but I assure you, this plan has been in the works for months. We'll speak more when we are away from prying ears. For now, we must leave,” he said, Josmyn's voice dropping to a whisper as he opened the door slowly. He stepped into the hallway, his eyes glancing either way to ensure no one was seeing them leave.

Florien was very excited to be leaving the Wall, it had been many years since he had known anything but the icy landscape that people called the North; he hated the place and could not wait to leave. Josmyn had stepped into the hallway but Florien was not quite ready to go, he checked his small bag to be sure everything of value had been packed away and lifted his sword from under his pillow; for many, many, years it had brought the knight great comfort to know that his sword was within reach at all times. He quickly followed his friend, and soon to be prince, out into the hallway and began to move silently in the direction of the courtyard. Before they could make their way to Eastwatch they would need to take one of the lifts that lined the Wall upwards until they reached the very top, from there they would have to walk for a while until they reached the castle that lay by the sea; the knight had always wondered by the sea was not frozen in the North like almost everything else seemed to be but it was one of those questions that he would never know the answer to, he never planned to return; Florien would soon be a lord in Dorne or he would lose his lead when they executed him as a deserter.

The prospect of having a name, a castle, a lordship and, most likely, men to command was what excited him most. Josmyn was his friend but deep down he had known that there would have been something to gain by staying close to the bastard prince, who he supposed was no longer a bastard now that he had been named a true prince of Dorne. Florien was unsure of what things would be liked when they reach southern most of the Seven Kingdoms or if any from the Wall would follow them but nothing could cause his excitement to fade; he was like a child on the night before their name day, looking forward to the gifts that members of their family would give them. He was not entirely surprised to here that Josmyn had been planning for months before coming to Florien, one did not simply become a real prince without putting some thought into it; once they where away from the Wall and anyone that they did not want to know of their desertation the knight would ask his friend how he had managed to achieve such a thing, it would no doubt have been through some interesting plan.

"Do you know how long it will take to reach Dorne by ship?" Florien said, whispering just as Josmyn had before. They where close to the court yard and it wouldn't do for some black brother to over hear their coversation, if anyone found out that they where leaving the Wall and sailing for Dorne they would probably try to pursue them; if they where caught they would be executed.

He could tell that Florien was just as excited as he was, perhaps even more. The knight was practically giddy at the notion of finally leaving the Wall. Josmyn had been as well, all those weeks ago when he'd first gotten his sister Obara's letter. However, he'd been more able to control his impulses, though that he attributed to his princely blood. After all, while he had just been given the Martell name, he'd forever borne the Martell blood in his veins. That gave him a certain advantage over those that were lower born than he was, even if it was just a step or two. Still, the prince made move to judge his friend and companion.

It also did not surprise him that Florien had slept with his sword next to his pillow. Josmyn himself had never been concerned that one of his fellow black brothers would attack him. While he had certainly looked down upon them, he'd never antagonized them and always done his best to keep anyone from actively wanting his blood.

He was also sure that while Florien was his friend, it was now the promise of a lordship that would bind the man to him, not loyalty. And honestly, the concept did not bother him as much as it once might have. None of that mattered. He was going home to Dorne a prince. It would be glorious, no matter who was at his side or why.

As they made their way into the courtyard, to one of the lifts that would take them up to the Wall, Josmyn put up his hood, seeking to better conceal himself. For most of the lower ranking brothers would not bother them if they claimed to be taking over a watch shift, others that were older and had been here longer might ask more questions. It would be best to avoid any and everyone that they could. That way there would be fewer there to spill their secret.

When Florien whispered to him, asking how long it would take them to get to Dorne, Josmyn thought back to his original trip to the Wall. It had taken then two and a half weeks but the weather had been terrible and the wind had been again them. With any luck, they could make the trip in half that.
“At most, two weeks. With any luck and the wind, half that. Now come,” he answered, darting over to a lift and waiting for his friend.

"Great, two weeks isn't too long," Florien whispered, even though Josmyn had already set off towards the lift, the prospect of reaching Dorne so soon only added to the knight's excitement but, for the time being, it was more important that they made it to the top of the Wall without being spotted by any black brothers; Florien would prefer their journey to contain no violence or murder on his part.

The knight followed Josmyn across the courtyard as quickly as possible, he stuck to the shadows even though it was not very likely that a man of the Night's Watch would be out and about so late. Florien was practically running; the sooner he made to the lift, the sooner he and his friend would make to the Dorne to assume their new positions of power in the southern most of the Seven Kingdoms. He desperately wanted to have the name he had longed for since he was a boy, he wanted his own castle, his own servants and his own lands, just like his father, Lord Leyton Hightower, had in the Reach. Florien made to lift and stood alongside Josmyn, who would soon be his prince as well as his friend, whilst they waited for the lift to complete it's descent from the very top of the Wall.

Florien decided that he would take a quick look around the courtyard for the last time, he had spent the last few years of his life at Castle Black and had many memories, most of them unpleasant of days spent there. Out of the corner of his eye the knight caught sight of something, there was someone else in the courtyard which meant that person would see them take the lift to the top of the Wall and, putting two and two together, would work out that they where leaving for Eastwatch. In this situation there was only one thing Florien could do, he reached his side and drew his sword from it's sheath and tapped Josmyn on the shoulder to alert him to the fact they where not alone. The figure that he had spotted took another few steps forward which allowed the moonlight to shine down upon his face; it was Jon Snow and he just happened to be the one man that Florien would have problem with killing.

"What should we do?" he whispered once more, "I'm not sure if he's spotted us yet but he will when the lift reaches us; Snow might be an idiot but he's far from blind."

It had been one of those nights…long, cold and mostly boring. Being the Lord Commanders Steward most certainly had it’s perks; fairly good accommodation, the warmth of staying inside Castle Black a large amount of the time, and not to mention that he was personally being trained to succeed the Old Bear as Lord Commander. However, there were times when he just couldn’t stand the job - it could be so boring. Fetching food for the Old bear, cleaning out his privy, making sure his room was clean and that anything he needed was seen to. It felt beneath him, but he knew that was the point; he needed to learn some humility, for it would make him a better leader.

At any rate, it had been a terribly long night. The Old Bear had wanted Jon present while he went over some information on the current strength of the Watch, and it had taken hours. In truth he had only just finished, and as he moved out into the courtyard of Castle Black, he couldn’t help but be thankful to be out in the cold air again. He took in a very deep breath, the bitter nights air burning his throat and lungs as he did, but he didn’t care. With a slight laugh Jon looked up at the Nights sky, at all the bright stars and the moon high above. He often did such a thing; it was strangely enjoyable and gave him a sense of perspective.

Suddenly an unusual bit of movement caught Jon’s eye. It was against the Wall, which in the dark looked almost completely black, and so he had to squint to just about make it out; it was the lift, descending. At this time of night the patrol up on the Wall would only be half way through their shift, so why would it be on it’s way down? It made no sense. Jon looked to the bottom of the Wall within the courtyard, where the lift would eventually stop, and noticed the silhouettes of two figures. It was most unusual. Were the patrol running late tonight? Had something happened up on the Wall that meant replacements were needed? Jon’s curiosity peaked up and he knew it wouldn’t leave him until it was sated, and so the Bastard began making his way across the courtyard.

It wasn’t long before the two silhouettes became visible, both looking in his general direction and one of them holding an unsheathed blade as if they were prepared to attack. Jon stopped for a few seconds, trying to understand what he was seeing. Why would a Black Brother be worried enough to attack one of his own? It made no sense. Cautiously, his hand having now drifted down to grip the pommel of Longclaw, Jon continued to move towards the two mysterious figures. As he closed the gap further, their identities slowly became evident.

“…Josmyn? Florien? What are you two heading up the Wall?” suspicion was thick in Jon’s voice, but so was uncertainty. He didn’t trust Florien at all, but Josmyn had seemed dedicated to being a brother of the Night’s Watch; he would not accuse him without being certain that something was afoot. For all he knew this could be completely innocent, despite what his gut feeling was telling him.

Word Count: 554.

Of course it would be Jon Snow that found them on their way across the courtyard. Never let it be said that the gods did not have a sense of humor. Any other black brother could be easily enticed to come with them and dealt with at a later date. For the son of Ned Stark, another approach was needed and it would not be the one that Florien, his blasted sword already out, would chose. They would be able to slip away if no one was hurt during their escape. However, if blood was spilled, those of the Night's Watch would be out for vengeance and would harry them until the very minute they left Northern Waters and possibly beyond. It was up to him to ensure that his friend did not do anything stupid, which at this point, would be easier said than done.

Slowly, Josmyn stepped between Florien and Jon, giving Jon a sad smile. All he had to do is sing his story and appeal to the family oriented side of Jon Snow. He knew the boy had wanted to run off to join his brother's war effort. If he could use that, it was possible Josmyn could manipulate the boy into letting him go free. Clearing his throat, Josmyn spoke quietly, locking eyes with Jon.

“Something horrible has happened in Dorne, Jon,” Martell bit his lip, “My own father was found to be a craven and a lecherous uncle. He seduced his own niece and killed her brothers with poison and conspired to kill my uncle as well. The two of them... They killed many across my homeland to hide their assasinations. Now they have fled across the sea and my uncle calls me home to be his heir. I have been legitimized and given a name,” Josmyn explained, making sure a pained look was on his face at all times. After all, that kind of information would be horrifying, if it was true. It wasn't but neither Florien or Jon would know that. He might inform Florien now but his shocked look would help to sell the story.

He drew in a deep breath an looked off for a moment before focusing back on Jon Snow.
“I have been called on to help restore the honor to my family name, Jon. I hate to break my vows but I can not turn my back on my family. Not when my father has done such horrible things. I must do what I can to right the wrongs he caused,” the Dornishman whispered, almost pleading. This would be the most efficient way to deal with Jon Snow, to appeal to his honor.

A stray thought crossed his mind and Josmyn seized upon it. After all, it would not hurt to sweeten the pot.
“Florien is coming with me because he saved my life one day. I am going to repay his deed by giving him lands and a title of his own. I will give the same to you, Jon. Come with us. Like me, you were forced to watch your trueborn relatives get all that should have been yours. Now, I can change that. I can give you a new name and a home of your own. You will no longer have to bear the stigma of being a bastard,” Josmyn finished, straightening himself up and extending a hand to Jon.

Yes, between them, Jon Snow would stand little chance of surviving if it came to a deadly battle. However, others would hear the racket and come running. It was too dangerous. If this could be solved with the promise of some lands and a hand shake, that would be the best way. Violence was going to be his last resort.

(Word Count: 630, Total: 2127)

Florien wasn't surprised when Jon Snow spotted them almost immediately after stepping out into the courtyard, even though it was it very dark. The knight felt that if it had been anyone other than Ned Stark's bastard they would have been able to convince them to escape the cold north and journey with them to Dorne but Snow cared too much about his honour and would never break the oath he had sworn when he had become a brother of the Night's Watch. Florien had his sword drawn and would have gladly killed Snow before taking the lift to the top of the Wall but Josmyn stepped in front of him and began to speak to Jon, he was explaining to him why they where leaving for Dorne and the knight was somewhat surprised to hear his friend trying to convince him to join them on their journey south; if the boy accepted his offer, Florien decided, he would push him overboard on the boat that was waiting at Eastwatch to take them to Dorne. He had hated Jon Snow ever since they had fought when the northerner had been nothing but a recruit and his opinion of him would not change if he decided to join them.

"You can't seriously be considering bringing him with us," Florien whispered, taking a step forward with his sword still in his hand, "Josmyn, you should just be kill him, then we can leave. The sooner we're out of here the better, we can't stand here talking until first light or we'll never make it as far as Eastwatch."

The lift had finally reached the bottom of the Wall, Florien moved away from Josmyn and opened the door that seperated him from freedom; he waited outside of the lift whilst waiting for his friend and future prince to join him. The knight felt that his friend was wasting his time in offering Jon Snow a name, lands and a title because he knew that the boy would never accept such things if it meant forsaking his honour; the bastard of Winterfell would sooner have run off to tell the Lord Commander of their desertation than join them and be free of the cold north for the rest of his life which meant that if he turned down Josmyn's offer he would have to be dealt with before they left for Eastwatch and, even though he was decent with his sword, Jon Snow was no match for Florien alone in combat, if past experiences where anything to go by, let alone both he and Josmyn at the same time.

It was Josmyn Sand who made the first move, stepping in front of Florien and holding up his empty hands as a sign of trust. Jon felt a little more comfortable with Josmyn in front of Florien, as he doubted the latter would attempt to kill him even if nothing suspicious was happening. Nevertheless, Jon remained on guard with his hand wrapped tightly around Longclaw’s pommel.

“Something horrible has happened in Dorne, Jon,” Josmyn began, his voice thick with emotion. “My own father was found to be a craven and a lecherous uncle. He seduced his own niece and killed her brothers with poison and conspired to kill my uncle as well.” Jon was genuinely shocked by the news. He had not heard news of a raven arriving with such news. Surely the Lord Commander would have made some mention of it? “The two of them...they killed many across my homeland to hide their assassinations. Now they have fled across the sea and my uncle calls me home to be his heir. I have been legitimized and given a name.” the pain in his voice was evident

“I have been called on to help restore the honour to my family name, Jon. I hate to break my vows but I can not turn my back on my family. Not when my father has done such horrible things. I must do what I can to right the wrongs he caused.” it was as if Josmyn was pleading to Jon to understand his situation. At this point Florien leaned in towards Josmyn, whispering to him. Jon could not hear what was being said, be he doubted they were kind words. At that point Ghost appeared at Jon’s side, silently stalking out from within the shadows of the night. His showed his teeth in a silent growl, likely noticing the drawn sword at Jon, but the Direwolf made no attempt to attack. However, whatever Florien had said Josmyn seemed to ignore, as he suddenly began speaking again.

“Florien is coming with me because he saved my life one day. I am going to repay his deed by giving him lands and a title of his own. I will give the same to you, Jon. Come with us. Like me, you were forced to watch your trueborn relatives get all that should have been yours. Now, I can change that. I can give you a new name and a home of your own. You will no longer have to bear the stigma of being a bastard.” As Josmyn Sand, no Martell now, finished speaking he extended his hand out towards Jon, a sign of good faith.

The Bastard of Winterfell was conflicted, to say the very least. He had once been in Josmyn’s position, or at least there were very few differences in the circumstances. When Jon had heard of his father’s murder, he had wasted no time in saddling a horse and beginning his ride for Winterfell, and if it had not been for Sam, Green and Pyp, he would never have returned to Castle Black and would have been labelled as a deserter. Then once more, when his brother Robb raised the North and went to war with the South, Jon had attempted to leave again, but had been talked out of it by the Lord Commander and Maester Amon. Could he really blame Josmyn for doing the same? Then again, they had all said the words…

Looking down at the floor, Jon contemplated everything that was flying through his mind. His honour, his father and brother, the war, his previous decisions, what he would do in Josmyn’s position, the words oath he had taken, desertion…suddenly he looked up at Josmyn and took a few steps towards him, moving closer. Once he reached Josmyn he stopped, his eyes never level the man he was looking at. He lifted his free hand, the other still on his sword, and took Josmyn’s hand, silently accepting the handshake.

Without another word Jon stepped past Josmyn and moved onto the wooden lift, which had arrived while they had been speaking. All the while Jon never took his eyes off of Florien, not trusting the scumbag not to attack as soon as his eyes were off of him. Once Jon was waiting on the lift he raised his hand to Ghost, gesturing for him to stay where he was; the Direwolf obliged, sitting on the spot, silently watching the three men.

Word Count: 744.
Total Word Count thus far: 1,298.

Josmyn ignored Florien's angry jabs and urging to just kill Jon Snow. This one was letting his dislike of the boy cloud his judgment. However, Josmyn was well rewarded when Snow stepped forward and took his hand. The boy then joined Florien on the lift, though he did not take his eyes off the other man. Martell did not blame him. Even though the two of them had made their peace, it was doubtful that Florien's anger would cool so easily. Though he did not know what had sparked this fire between them, it was now his job to keep the flames low between them. When they got to Dorne, he'd put Jon Snow in a castle guarding the Red Mountains and Florien somewhere far south of that. If they had leagues between them, perhaps their ire for one another would die out all together.

“Thank you, Jon. You have made the right choice and I give you my word that you will not regret it. From this day forward, I name you both my blood brothers and swear that you will always have the best that I can provide for you,” Josmyn's words were meant for Snow, especially. With his honor, he would have a hard time turning his back on someone who had named him brother. He spared a look to Florien and clapped him on the shoulder. He would have to deal with the knight's anger now as well but that could be easily diffused.

His eyes wandered to Jon Snow, though, and noticed he signaled his wolf to stay. That was most unusual. From what he had heard, Snow and his wolf were far more attached that simply man and dog. Why then was he leaving his cherished pup? Was it because of the climate in Dorne or was Snow planning something else? While he did not truly think his fellow bastard had a devious bone in his body, it was better to ask him about it, than just to let it go.

“Your wolf would be more than welcome in Dorne as well, though we might have to give him a bit of a trim. Ghost, I believe his name is?” he said in jest, stepping onto the lift himself. His hands wrapped themselves around his spear, though he did not think he'd have to use it on either of the men he stood next to. Perhaps thrust it between them to keep them from fighting, yes but attack either of them with it, no. Florien was too anxious to leave the blasted Wall and Jon Snow had taken his hand in friendship.
(Word Count: 440, Total: 2567)

Florien could not believe what he was seeing; Jon Snow had decided to break his vows and accompany them on their journey south to Dorne. This was the last thing that the knight had expected from his fellow bastard but, he supposed, it was natural for someone to want to rid themselves of the social stigma of being baseborn; Florien knew from personal experience that despite being considered the brothers of every trueborn man on the Wall, bastards where often looked down upon and treated differently by others. Wanting to leave the Night's Watch made sense, it's was boring, it was cold and it was repetitive but Jon Snow did not seem to type to go down the path of oathbreaker and this gave Florien reason to suspect the Bastard of Winterfell of having some alterior motive for joining them in the lift; this suspicion was only added to when he ordered his beloved direwolf to stay behind in the courtyard. The knight decided to say nothing but kept his sword firmly in his hand, if Snow tried anything on their journey to Eastwatch Florien would be ready to put an end to it quickly.

The only thing stopping him killing Jon Snow was Josmyn's new found power. His friend was going to be crown prince when they made it to Dorne and it wouldn't do to anger before they had even made it far as the ship, he did not seem the type of man that would be willing to forgive and forget easily. Florien listened impatiently whilst Josmyn declared that he and Snow where now his brothers and would have the best that he could him, his friend was a smart man and these words seemed to be his attempt to keep the peace between the two bastards. It seemed that Florien had not been alone in thinking that it was steange of Jon Snow to want to leave his direwolf, Ghost, behind at the Wall as Josmyn had raised the topic before he too stepped on to the lift. As much as Florien cared for friend he was beginning to realise that he would probably talk for days if given the chance to do so and now was not the time for blabbering on about wolves, before Jon Snow could give his answer to Josmyn's suggestions about his direwolf Florien moved to the front of the life.

"This is no time to be talking about wolves," he said, closing the door of the lift before Jon had the chance to call his wolf, "We need to go before someone else notices us."

With that Florien activated the lift and began to carry the three men to the top of the Wall. As much as he knew they needed to get to the ship that awaited them at Eastwatch quickly, the knight had another reason for acting so quickly; if Snow was going to attempt to stop them leaving it would be up to Florien to stop them doing so and he did not want the northerner to have his direwolf by his side if it came to that.

“Thank you, Jon. You have made the right choice and I give you my word that you will not regret it. From this day forward, I name you both my blood brothers and swear that you will always have the best that I can provide for you.” Josmyn stated with a smile. The words had no doubt been meant for Jon, that much Jon had noticed from the underlining meaning, but nevertheless it still caused him to feel just a little uncomfortable. Jon Snow flexed his sword hand momentarily, a nervous motion he had unknowingly picked up over the years. Though nevertheless, Jon soon smiled in return and nodded his head.

“It seems you honour me, Prince Josmyn.” Jon wasn’t entirely ignorant of Dornish customs, though they were far from his strongpoint, and so Jon had made a special point of emphasising the use of the word ‘prince’; Josmyn had indeed come up in the world, the dream of every Bastard, noble born of common, and Jon believe he should have the chance to bask in that revelation. However, while Jon was waiting for Josmyn and Florien to get into the lift, Josmyn spoke to him once more.

“Your wolf would be more than welcome in Dorne as well, though we might have to give him a bit of a trim.” Josmyn said in jest. Jon let out a near silent laugh, but grinned. Was Josmyn making a point of Jon signally Ghost to stay behind? Perhaps it made them uneasy? Or maybe Josmyn was just genuinely making a comment; Jon wasn’t entirely sure, though he doubted the latter. “Ghost, I believe his name is?”

Jon nodded. “Yes, Ghost is his name.” he began. “And don’t worry, those on night patrol expect to see Ghost prowling Castle Black - at least until later than this. It’ll raise less suspicion if he remains behind, to be seen.” it was true, Ghost didn’t settle down in Jon’s room until much later than this, and before that he would roam the castle at his own will. “Ghost will wait an hour or so, then he will travel the South side of the Wall and meet us at Eastwatch-by-the-sea; at his speeds, he’ll no doubt be there before us.” Jon finished, just as Florien closed the gate of the lift.

"This is no time to be talking about wolves," he spat in a hushed whisper. "We need to go before someone else notices us." and with that said the lift began to rise.

It wasn’t long before the lift reached the top of the Wall, and when it did Jon opened the gate as silently as he could, and cautiously stepped out onto the ice. There would be a patrol up here, potentially more than one on the way towards Eastwatch-by-the-sea; those would be the most difficult to avoid, though if the Old Gods were good then the patrols would be at the Northern edge of the Wall, watching out for sneaking Wildlings on the ground below.

“It’s clear.” whispered Jon, waving the two of them onto the Wall with his free hand. Before long they were on their way East, cross the top of the Wall in complete silence. The wind was loud up here, but other than that and their footsteps on the ice there was complete silence, so their voices would no doubt travel if they weren’t careful; if that happened and they were unlucky enough for someone to be nearby, then they would be in trouble for sure.

After about thirty to forty minutes of walking in silence and inner turmoil, Jon finally stopped moving. He was looking down at the floor in front of him, his face stern but otherwise emotionless. He wasn’t sure if the other two had noticed he had stopped, but they soon would, as the sound of Longclaw scraping against it’s sheath as bared the cold valyrian steel to the nights air; the noise echoing across the Wall and into the darkness of the night. Jon looked up towards Josmyn and Florien, looking between them in silence.

“I’m sorry.” he finally said, looking at Josmyn more so than Florien; he didn’t truly care about the latter. Those two words were the only words spoken, well until after the echoes had vanished from their ears. If anything, though his face was still stern and emotionless, there was an underlining sadness to Jon’s voice that said he really did mean what he was saying. Raising his sword out in front of him, pointing it as if a deadly finger, Jon pointed it straight at Florien. “But I cannot let you leave.” his stare was now fixated on Florien, almost entirely ignoring that Josmyn was even there.

“Josmyn…your family needs you. And though you’ll still be a deserter…you have reason to leave and go to your family.” Jon began, never taking his eyes off of Florien. “But you,” his tone of voice alone made it clear who he was not referring to. “all you’re doing is using this as a free ticket to break your oath.” the contempt in his voice was as thick as the falling snow.

“I’m sorry Josmyn but I…cannot break my vow,” he added, with some hesitation in his voice. “but you still have a chance to go to your family. I will not stop you. I will not raise the alarm….but I cannot allow Florien to leave with you.” Honour bound Jon Snow like chains and shackles. It had been a big decision just to allow Josmyn to leave, instead of attempting to stop them both, but he could not allow Florien to take blatant advantage of Josmyn’s honour and the situation, not when Josmyn’s family had suffered…and he could not allow himself to do the same thing either.

Word Count: 966.
Total Finished Word Count: 2,264.

When he heard the words Prince Josmyn leave Jon Snow's lip, the Dornishman could not help but smile. Indeed, it seemed he was truly a prince. Even along the Wall he was being honored with his title and his name. Truly, it was unlike any feeling he'd ever had. While he might have been a Martell by blood, blood mattered little to the people he'd been surrounded by. Now, though, he had the name to match the blood and that was something that all people would respect. Or they would face his wrath. When Florien again chastised him, Josmyn gave his friend a sharp look. Yes, they were friends but it seemed the knight had little skills of thinking beyond that of battle. Asking about the wolf had been vital and not just idle talk. Jon Snow was his wolf and vice-versa.

His explanation of why he had left the wolf was simple enough to be the truth. He knew that Snow spoke the truth when he said that the wolf would likely arrive at Eastwatch-by-the-sea before they did. He'd seen the white beast run and it was a sight to behold. And Jon was right. The direwolf was a far too familiar sight to just go missing. If all of them disappeared, it was far more likely that they would be found out. With a quick nod, Josmyn signaled that he understood.

“As you say, Jon Snow.. I do hope he likes sailing,” Josmyn muttered as they slowly ascended the Wall. The lift creaked and groaned under their combined weight but still, it did not take long before they were at the top. Jon was the first to exit the lift and he was the one that declared the way safe. Josmyn exited after him, his hand right hand gripping his spear tightly. It was habit, when on the Wall, to always have his weapon in his hand. Unlike the men who preferred swords and kept them sheathed at their belts, Josmyn could strike in an instant, no time needed to draw his spear. His sword was a secondary weapon, one that he carried gladly, but it was his spear that had saved his life most often and it was his spear that he'd had the most training with.

For the longest time, the three of them walked in darkness and in silence, their black clothes hiding them, for the most part, from the eyes of anyone that would be looking for them. They'd not encountered any patrols and for that Josmyn was grateful. He would truly be hesitant to spill the blood of any Night's Watch man that tried to stop him. After all, these men, while they were not equal to him in status, were not all bad. He fought with them, gotten drunk with them, lived with them for years. However, they were not his family and this was not his true home. It never had been and now, it would never have to be.

His ears caught the sound of steel ringing as it slid from a scabbard and Josmyn spun about, his eyes focusing on Jon's sword as his spear leveled with his torso. What was the boy playing at? Did he intend to kill Florien? At that moment, the prince could not say that he'd blame him. While Florien was his friend, the man had never even made an attempt to be civil towards Jon Snow. However, a moment later, he found out just what was going on. Snow had never truly intended to let them go. Well, let Florien go. It seemed the boy had believed everything he'd said about honor, confirming for Josmyn that he was as good of a manipulator as he thought he was. After all, he was the son of Oberyn Martell.

It was interesting that he started by saying that he could not break his vow, though he was still willing to let Josmyn go to his family. What an interesting dichotomy within the steward. Perhaps Josmyn could use this for his advantage again. At least for a split second anyway. It seemed he was going to be forced to resort to violence to deal with his younger comrade. Still, Martell knew that he had to act before Florien had a chance. He could spare young Snow's life. He just had to act quickly.

Spinning his spear so that the blunt end was facing Snow, Josmyn sprang forward, his feet propelling him across the short distance easily. As he did so, he thrust the smooth end of his spear into contact with Jon's forehead, hitting him right between the eyes. The boy blinked for a moment, made an awkward face and then crumpled upon himself.

Glancing around, Josmyn noticed they were only a short distance from one of the warming sheds that the patrols used. Using Snow's own cloak as a way to bind him, Martell drug the smaller man into the shed and out of view of anyone would walk past. He also sheathed the boy's sword, Longclaw, that he had gotten from Old Mormont. While it was a fine sword, they were not petty thieves.

Panting with the force of the labor he just done, Josmyn looked down at the northern raised bastard and sighed. He could have had everything and been a lord but he had to throw it away for honor. That, Josmyn would never understand.
“And I made a vow to Florien the day he saved my life. That vow I will not break. I am sorry it came to this, Jon Snow,” he said over the unconscious man. He shook his head one final time and walked away, signaling to Florien that they needed to hurry about their journey. With a few more hours walk, they would be long gone by the time Jon awoke and found someone to tell his tale to. They needed to make the most of it and board the ship that was waiting for them.

(Word Count 1001, Total: 3568)

The lifts that carried men of the Night's Watch up and down the Wall had always Florien, he always had a feeling that their wooden frames would one day collapse and kill the occupants but that mattered little to him now that he was leaving Castle Black. The three men had been making good time along the Wall, they encountered no patrols of men that the knight would undoubtedly have had to kill, and Florien was confident that they would make it to Eastwatch before anyone even realised they where gone. He was in such a good mood now that they had finally took the first steps in making it to Dorne that he did not even care about Jon Snow travelling with them, Florien still suspected that Ned Stark's bastard had some kind of ulterior motive for crossing the Wall with them; perhaps he was going to wait until they reached Eastwatch and alert the black brother's there to their attempt at deserting. Eventually Florien's mood was soured once again when the annoying little bastard that was Jon Snow decided that half way across the Wall was the perfect place to stop walking and start making one of his stupid speeces.

Snow started talking about how he could not break his vows, Florien had known from the moment he had entered the courtyard that he wouldn't due to his precious honour, but it was what followed that confused the knight most and made him realise that he would never understand Jon; he had decided that it was fine to allow Josmyn to leave;

"I’m sorry Josmyn but I…cannot break my vow but you still have a chance to go to your family. I will not stop you. I will not raise the alarm…"

but seemed to have decided that Florien, despite the fact that he was an anointed knight that had risked his life for the sake of the Seven Kingdoms and their inhabitants, that did not deserve the same mercy that was being shown to his friend, the newly legitimized and crowned prince of Dorne;

"but I cannot allow Florien to leave with you.”

"I take it you're going to stop me?" Florien inquired, mockingly, he had beaten Jon once before.

The knight was livid at having his journey to Eastwatch and the boat postponed once again; he already had his sword drawn and would have stepped forwards to kill Snow had Josmyn not acted first, in a merciful manner. The prince spun his spear around so that the blunt end was facing Jon before leaping forwards and hitting him right between the eyes resulting in a knock out. Florien sheathed his sword, he was still angry as he would have prefered to have put an end to Jon's life rather than simply knocking him but there was nothing he could do now; Josmyn would never permit Snow's murder and even Florien would not stoop so low as to kill an unconcious man. The knight stood silently in the cold night air whilst his friend dragged Snow to a nearby warming shed and hid him inside of it, Florien hoped no patrols would feel the need to use the shed before the two men where safely on the boat to Dorne. When Josmyn returned from hiding Jon's unconcious body in the shed Florien sent a few words his way;

"You should have let me kill him, Josmyn," he spat, they where still at Wall where his friend held no power.

They where still a few hours from Eastwatch and, for that very reason, Florien did not wait for a reply from his friend. He set off at a brisk pace; he wanted so more interruptions before they made it to the ship that awaited their arrival. Even though he was trying to banish all thoughts of the northerner from his mind Florien could not help but think of Snow and the idiotic choice he had made in deciding that he would rather be a man of the Night's Watch than a rich lord in Dorne; it just didn't make sense to him. He once again spoke to Josmyn, this time in a much more pleasant tone of voice.

"I'll never understand why Jon Snow didn't come to Dorne with this. He could have had so much yet he threw it all away to stay here, of all places," he didn't think anyone would ever know why, exactly, he had turned his back on such things.

The next few hours of walking towards Eastwatch calmed the knight down considerably, the cold night air was useful for somethings. When they arrived at the castle he was finally in a good mood again and simply couldn't wait to board the ship that would carry him south to his brand new life in the kingdom of Dorne.

"I've never been here before," Florien admitted, "I spent all of my time at Castle Black or out beyond the Wall; where do we find this ship of ours?"