Into the Jaws of No One

A/N: Well, here I am. Sorry for the delay. I had a very busy week working as I dealt with the aftermath of Black Friday. Technically, I still am but I really wanted to continue so I made some time to update. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

As always, please read, enjoy, and review!

Shallan Ravad, High Priestess of the Temple of the Moonsingers, was running as fast as her legs could carry her. She had spotted the dragon staying mostly above the Happy Port sector as if looking for a place to land so she imagined its rider was there. In her hands was a small chest, carrying a century-spanning scroll within. Normally, she would have been concerned about openly carrying around the original copy of one of their major prophecies and one so dear to her heart at that but, even if most of the city wasn't focusing on the skies above, people gave the high priestess a wide berth.

Her escort of Faceless Men made sure of that.

"Are you sure about this?" One of the group's members asked her, his deep eyes looking older than the handsome, young face around them.

Shallan tilted her head to look at him but barely slowed down in her pace. "No, I am not completely sure but that behemoth is firing frost-flame, it has a rider and no Ice Dragon had ever traveled to Braavos before. That makes the rider a major candidate to our Moonsinger prophecy at the very least. Do you really want to risk killing them before we are as sure as we can be that they are the ones we have been waiting for?"

The shapeshifting assassin grew quiet at that for a moment, then hesitated before shaking his head.

"I can't believe we didn't consider that possibility when our order gathered together to discuss the recent visions on the House of Black and White," He said solemnly. "It seems we were too focused on the more insulting resurrections we learn about and of their implications."

Shallan took a deep breath, understanding that, under normal circumstances, her Faceless escort wouldn't have revealed such information about their secretive order to her. But these were far from normal circumstances.

For it seems the Moonsinger prophecy that was witnessed and recorded by one of the first Faceless Men before the Doom of Valyria was starting to unfold. And she thanked every aspect of the moon for helping her convince the members of the order that were sent to guard her temple to follow her once she explained things to them.

After all, she suspected she would need their help to convince their brethren to stand down long enough to plead her case.

Jon Stark stared right back at the older Faceless Man that just threatened his life as the implications hit him.

"How did you know that I managed to return from the dead?" Jon demanded to know.

The assassin crossed his arms. "The Many-Faced God does not appreciate getting cheated out of a rightful kill," He proclaimed. "Between that and somehow managing to claim another dragon, it is evident that our **** god wants us to return you to the grave. You shall not herald the return of those blasphemous White Walkers, do you hear me?"

The young king's eyes widened. "What? Wait, no, you have it backwards..."

Suddenly, he got stabbed in the back of the neck by a dart thrown from afar, making him flinch.

"Enough talk," The Braavosi said, his voice cold. "Let's see for how long you can fight with wolfsbane coursing through your veins."

Jon started feeling enormous pain from the high dose of toxins even before he had finished talking, and Arya shouted his name in alarm as he started to shake a bit.

"Jaqen!" She screamed. "I know I let you down but please don't do this!"

Thankfully, he had an easy solution for that problem.

"I wish poisons wouldn't affect Arya and me in any negative way," He said mentally as he willed power into his words.

In an instant, the pain was gone and the secret god smirked as he stood straighter. "For as long as I need to," He declared.

After a long moment passed and he didn't drop still, the assassin before him actually looked surprised. Before long, however, his expression turned sour.

"So, you are sorcerer on top of an abomination," He said with narrowed eyes. "You have more than one way to cheat, it seems. But it still won't save you."

Suddenly, part of the roof started collapsing to the empty floor some distance behind them, and Jon chuckled when he realized he heard his mighty she-dragon roar.

"You were saying?" He asked with confidence in his tone.

When the assassin's first response was only to raise one hand to the air, the young king raised an eyebrow. But then yet another jar was thrown to the fiery blast furnace by one of the assassins in his group.

And to a man, the Faceless men stared at the face of the Ice Dragon and started to move in concert.

First, two of the assassin opposite facing each other across the gap between the rooftops hammered a large iron nail to the center point of their respective section. Then, one of the men behind the one his sister had called Jaqen reveled a black-boned bow from the inside of his robes and Jon gasped when he realized that meant it was made of dragonbone, thereby making it one of the rare bows that produced more powerful shots than the famous goldenheart bows of the Summer Islanders. He quickly let loose an arrow made of the same material and this one actually perforated one of his dragon's shoulders, making her yowl.

Before she could retaliate with frost-flame however Jaqen punched him in the forehead while he was distracted with a hand that carried metallic rings in every finger, and pushed him directly in front of the archer while disoriented. At the sight of her wounded rider, the Ice Dragon hesitated and closed her jaws before her stream of frost could flow.

And that must have been all part of their plan, Jon realized, because then some of the assassins emerged from the shadows with a long iron chain that they must have found in the blacksmith shop and after muttering something in another language that Jon could barely focus enough to hear, the assassin stabbed his own upper chest with another dragonbone arrow and, unless strong punch was making him hallucinate, the entire bow glowed red for a moment.

Then he blinked as he got drowsy. "That Faceless archer is also a wizard of some sort," He thought, feeling strangely drunk as blood trickled down his face.

He had barely started contemplating that line of thought when he fired the blood-soaked arrow through the hole in the chain...and it carried the large iron links with a speed and strength that shouldn't have been possible as the trajectory twisted along with the archer's eyes.

By the time Jon had blinked the blood out of his eyes, his Ice dragon's torso was covered in metallic chains. And while he stumbled to get up they finished the process of nailing two more iron chains from the rooftops to the increasingly restrained dragon below, her roars of outrage echoing across the canal.

Jon fell down on his knees once more and looked around in disbelief, unable to understand how this happened so quickly. Then, he turned around and...saw Arya and Bellgere passed out on the floor.

And it hit him.

"What...what was in those jars you hurl to the fire?" He **** himself to ask, gasping.

Jaqen got down to one knee so that he could look him in the eyes on a leveled footing. "A concentrated form of milk of the poppy," He replied. "We are trained to resist its effects of course, but once it burns for long enough through smoke, most in the area start falling into a deep, deep sleep. And ah, as you can see it's starting to affect your dragon too," The assassin noted, sounding slightly pleased.

Jon turned around and stared at his winged companion and realized he was right, her struggles had become far less frantic and her eyelids started to look visibly heavy.

The secret god was trying to concentrate on a wish that might be able to get him out of this dangerous predicament but he simply couldn't focus on his thoughts long enough to form coherent sentences. And his confusion ended when he remembered that the milk of the poppy was technically a form of medicine, not a poison, which is why its negative effects in excess are still affecting him.

He tried to reach for Longclaw but the Valyrian steel blade felt too heavy in his hands for once and he dropped it, the drowsiness in his mind increasing. His eyes remained open long enough to see Jaqen withdraw a dagger from his sleeve but then he collapsed.

Distantly, almost as an echo, he heard a woman's voice yell with the sound of authority, demanding the assassins stopped. But he couldn't focus any more after that, as he was claimed by darkness.

A/N: Well, as they say, God is in the details and it seems Jon should have been more detailed with the one wish he made in this chapter XD

Anyway, I will try to update when I can but for now, I hope you like it. More Moonsinger and Faceless Men revelations coming in the next few chapters.

Until then, feel free to leave your thoughts down below :D