This is my first proper A Song of Ice and Fire fic, a continuation of and/or sequel to A Dance with Dragons. I'll be adhering to the way things are in the books as much as I can, but hopefully this fic will be unique and accurate, as well as a good read!
Hope you enjoy!
The Hand of the Queen.
The Yunkai'i were throwing slaves at Mereen's walls for the best part of half a day before they stopped. By that point, teams of Mother's Men had been assembled in different parts of the city to dispose of the corpses fast. A pile of them was amassing in the harbour.
A messenger had rode up to the gates to tell them that they would do it again at the same time the next day, and the day after that, until the surrender of the city.
In the harbour, Ironborn ships sat. It was a blessing and a curse; though they had captured a full fifty of their enemies' ships that had blockaded the harbour, and set the rest alight or to flight, their captain and leader, Victarion, was yet another suitor for the Queen, who was missing without trace, and they could easily ally with the Yunkai'i and reinstate a new blockade with better sailors to do so, something Barristan would not allow to happen.
"Your king sends you?" He inquired of the Captain.
"Euron Greyjoy, the Crow's Eye, was elected at our Kingsmoot. There was support for me, though, and the Iron Fleet is mine alone. He intends to marry her, and to wield the power of dragons, but he has allowed me the chance to do both and I shall. I have the strength to do so. What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger."
"All well and good, but I must warn you, taming the dragons is a fool's task. A Dornish Prince attempted to do so but four days past. He was burnt, and died in agony. Unless you have a better plan, I-"
Victarion pulled out a horn, old, ornate, and with an ominous air. Barristan stared at it in silence as the other man spoke. "This horn was taken by Euron, a relic of Valyria. The glyphs around it speak of dragons, fire, and blood. It burnt at a man who blew it, and it is named Dragonbinder."
Barristan frowned. "And you intend to use it?"
"Aye, the dragons shall be mine, if the runes are to be believed. And so shall the Queen."
"If she was not burned by Drogon, possibly."
"Have you not heard the tales of her rebirth from a pyre with her dragons hatched? The way I hear it, the Dothraki would say it so. She cannot burn, Ser Queensguard. Not with fire."
"Then tell me, Iron Captain, knowing of this horn, could she not use it, unburnt by its power, to fully control all the dragons? If this horn does not grant control of dragons, merely indicates Taragyen blood and abilities, your quest is in vain."
This gave Victarion pause. The man's eyes narrowed. "It is a possibility. But even so, I have brought ships and men, and control of her dragons for her, and she would do well not to refuse me."
"How so? The Queen has been known to refuse suits before."
"She loves her people, and hates slavery, and slavers are camped outside your walls. I have broken this blockade. I can break your siege with you too."
Barristan remained passive. "How?"
Victarion grinned. "With the iron price."
Two hours later, Barristan was mounted, armoured, and ready. The best six squires if the twenty-six he'd trained were saddled behind him, clad in some armour on the vital places. The Stormcrows were mounted behind Barristan's six, with Unsullied behind them, armed and armoured. Grey Worm stood beside Barristan, ready to give orders. The company of Mother's Men would be staying in the city. The Brazen Beasts were another part of the plan.
"Orders, Ser?" Grey Worm asked.
"You know them. At the signal, we charge, and show Yunkai our strength. Destroy the trebuchets. They have ended too many lives. And kill the enemy sellsword leaders, but take the Yunkai'i leaders alive."
Grey Worm nodded, and returned to his troops, spreading the word amongst them.
It was not long until the horn sounded, and the five hundred-odd cavalry led the eight thousand Unsullied into battle.
The Yunkish forces were shoddily arranged and worse armoured. About four separate large sections of tents, arranged likely by sellswords, Yunkish, cavalry, and maybe infirm or those suffering of the Pale Mare. There were no flags, divisions, stakes.
The actual soldiers were rushing out of them; a mismatch of troops that looked to come from everywhere and to be going everywhere too, as half of them rushed towards Barristan and his men, charging out of the city with its backdrop of smoke of burnt bodies that the slavers had thrown them rising from the harbour, others raced towards the shoreline to combat the Ironborn that had landed along the shoreline, the Brazen Beasts within their holds emerging to fight too. Victarion had followed the plan, then; the Dragonbinder horn was blown, as the signal for the attacks on both fronts, and it had made an unforgettable noise in pitch and in volume.
Steady on his seat, Barristan's charge met the undignified enemies quickly. Regardless of numbers, he and his squires were mounted, armed, armoured, and prepared, with the Stormcrows at their backs experienced in such things. His sword bit deep, to left and right and left again, he deflected a blow from left and from right he ducked and killed his opponent with a backhanded swing and then he was onto the next, who he ran down. It was the dream of knights, the battle-lust that outweighed that for a woman and drove many a man more wild than love ever did. It was the result of training, the dream; hours of sweat exchanged for blood, and glory.
The Queensguard knight might have been old, but bold he was still, and he did not slow his charge until he'd broken through to the tents. By then, both the Unsullied and Stormcrows and the Ironborn and Brazen Beasts had driven most of their enemies back to the boundaries of the camp, and many were fleeing. They would not get far. Another group of Unsullied, a thousand strong, had circled around the camp and the fighting to destroy the trebuchets, and they were on their way to intercept most of those that ran for it. Barring that, if an alliance could be made, the Ironborn could take Yunkai and burn it to the ground, if necessary, within a week's turn.
Of the six squires, none were unharmed, but none were dead. The Red Lamb and one of the three brothers had injuries to the torso, but all the others were relatively minor, and Barristan suspected that at least one of those two was better than it looked.
Barristan had them conduct a search of the campsites for any leaders or men that had stayed behind, to treat with. They found almost no life; those cravens who would not join a fight were not likely to remain for the aftermath when it went disfavourably. The Second Sons were found, who had not joined the fight for political reasons, or so Brown Ben Plumm claimed. More was to be explained later, he promised. The Windblown, too, had accepted Barristan's terms for Pentos, and had not taken part.
The enemy's retreat fast became a rout. Barristan looked on as the Unsullied and Ironborn and Brazen Beasts broke their enemies, pursued them, and hunted them down. There was no mercy for slavers, or the oath-breaking Yunkish that had surrendered peacefully mere months previous.
Robert had showed mercy at the Trident, allowed Barristan his life. Aerys showed none to the Starks, escalating the war that did not have to be. But the Yunkish were broken now, with no bannersmen or allies; and with their leaders captive they would be making none soon.
Many of the sellsword companies were more or less intact, the Second Sons having not joined battle, and the Long Lances having, in an attempt to avoid the known prowess of the Unsullied against horsemen, attempted to circle around and get at the Ironborn; upon the dispatching of a company of a thousand Unsullied to cut them off, they had backed away and not given battle at all. They remained in position, possibly waiting for an envoy to treat with.
Barristan did not deny them such, and under the threat of the Unsullied and the promise of Westerosi gold, they quickly came to an agreement.
The Company of the Cat, on the other hand, had been more or less destroyed.
The captives were placed in cells before sunset, the diseased were left in place with the healers that had been there, and the enemy bodies were being piled for burning.
"We can talk and arrange and plan and execute on the morrow, my friends," Barristan said to the company leaders and captains that gathered before him, "but an old man needs must sleep, else he collapse before his Queen's return." And sleep he did, as the pyres of bodies lit the night and friends and allies revelled in victory.