Want to hold my bow?

“Of course I’ll have you.” he said anxiously taking the man up on his offer. “If you aren’t afraid of possible death then come to my side.” 

Arthur backed away from the edge allowing room for his partner to jump down. Turning his attention back toward the men awaiting their fight he analyzed their faces and stances. Both men looked ready for a fight but had expressions on their face that proved they were uneducated. Surely, neither man knew the proper way to fight and defend himself in the face of danger. Their stances were casual as they clearly didn’t see Arthur and Cley as a threat. Unfortunately for them, Westerosi men were not a threat to take lightly. 

Bringing his bow forward from his back, Arthur readied his weapon noting the sharp sword still attached at his hip in case the arrows would prove ineffective. 

“Don’t hesitate to kill them.” he warned firmly. “They won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“I haven’t feared death in the longest time Arthur, I’ll remain at your side”. Cley tells truthfully, knowing what could happen.

Cley jumped down with Arthur, gazing upon the two opponents. Savages… ready for a fight, and the blood it’d bear. He’d watched at least one of these men fight sometime. They don’t value tactics, only force, exotic fighting styles; compared of Westeros fighting style of course. Cley heeds Arthur’s warning, replying: “I won’t hesitate”.

While Arthur shot one of the pit fighters, Cley didn’t unsheathe his weapon yet, he wanted to get this out of the way first. He had practiced this all the time with Ser Kyle, even successfully pulling this trick on some of the rival sellswords here…

With one eye closed he aimed carefully at the opponent ready if Cley’s situation would take a turn for the worse.However, his new partner proved to be skilled on the battlefield..or pit for this matter. Hearing Cley taunt his own words of under estimating them, Arthur spoke up.

“It’s dangerous to under estimate an opponent.” he continued “Especially two men from the North.” 

Noticing movement from the downed fighter,Arthur shifted his eyes quickly as the man stood on his feet once again but with a slight limp. Trying to drown out the large cheers he focused greatly on the threat before him. The fighter looked furious and dangerous. Clearly he was a man with nothing left to lose. 

“Stand down.” he yelled loud enough to be heard over the crowd. The man hesitated for a moment unsure of what to do and what was to come. Arthur didn’t know as well. Pit fighters were unpredictable and for the most part had a wild-card fighting style.  

                                          when I was a child, I heard V O I C E S.

“uhh” he managed to say quietly awakening from his milk of the poppy induced sleep. 

His eyes adjusted to the light after laying in darkness for so long. Fully opening his eyes he scanned the room unsure of where he was at first only to be quickly reminded by his condition. Turning his head slightly he noticed Asher sitting at his bedside not wearing his famous grin. Admiring him for a few moments, he couldn’t help but feel relieved by Asher’s presence. His childhood friend had always been a sort of protector and wild card. 

“Asher…” he choked out in a raspy voice still consumed by the tiredness. “How are you?” he asked with a small smile trying to lighten the clearly thick atmosphere. 

The milk of the poppy held a weak grasp on him, perhaps he would need more later? Asher would find no trouble in retrieving it.

A smile of relief passed across his lips as Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, quickly reaching out to take hold of his hand. Briefly he ran his thumb across the rope burned wrist; how long had Arthur struggled until he realized it was futile? Giving a gentle squeeze, trying to assure his old friend he was neither a ghost or hallucination. Quite a handsome hallucination he’d be– the thought caused his smile to widen.

“I would love some water. Thank you.” he took up Asher on his offer for water as his throat had been extremely dry. Clearing it he couldn’t help but speak up again regardless of the pain coming from the dryness.

“Four years? Has it really been that long?” he said half to Asher himself and half aloud taking in the realization that he had gone so long without seeing or even hearing from his friend. 

“You look a lot different.” he commented with a soft chuckle giving his full attention to his friends features. Asher was just a boy of seventeen went he had left for Essos and now he had returned as a man. “I see you finally have that beard you’ve been wanting so badly.”

A pang of sadness suddenly hit him as a different kind of pain took over. Four years..four long years his friend went without his family and missed watching his siblings grow. His friend never had the chance to redeem himself in front of his father. It had been four years since their last interaction and here he sat without a moments hesitation at the bedside of someone who had been severely beaten and left for dead.