Chapter 9.
Tyrion wasn't the only Lannister shaping history. On the other side of the world, Jaime began the invasion of the Iron Islands.
Balon Greyjoy had died some months previously, getting swept off of a bridge while crossing during a storm.
Long afterwards, debate was fierce between scholars and storytellers about that death. Was it the ritual that Melisandre, The Red Priestess, performed? Or was it an assassin sent by Balon's brother, Euron Greyjoy?
Years ago, Euron had been exiled after raping his brother Victarion's salt wife. Euron claimed that she had come to him willingly and taunted Victarion about it. To keep the peace and avoid kinslaying, Balon told Euron not to come back to the Iron Islands while he still lived.
If no assassin had been involved, it was certainly damned good timing. Euron landed a day after Balon's death.
Euron Crows-Eye as he was called (Because of the eye-patch he wore) was as vicious as Ramsay Bolton, as arrogant as Tywin Lannister and as treacherous as Petyr Baelish. And, like all three, he was very smart and very dangerous.
A Kingsmoot was held and Euron was chosen as King of the Iron Islands. Even his worst enemies had to had admit that he was a superb fighter and ship commander. Euron had spent the years of his exile pirating and pillaging and the rest of the Ironborn wanted to put those skills to good use against the other kingdoms.
It was the past examples of those skills that actually caused the invasion to be possible.
Everybody expected Tywin to simply start funding a new fleet, which would have been difficult since the Lannisters could not pay for it. Fortunately, the Small Council knew that Euron was coming back almost before he set sail for his homeland. Varys truly earned his keep on this occasion.
Messages and ravens were sent to the Summer Isles, to Essos, even to great merchant houses. All of them had been ravaged by Euron's depredations, all of them wanted revenge and all of them contributed a few ships.
By the time that Euron had solidified his own power and assembled his own fleet, dozens of ships had gathered at Lannisport and headed for the Iron Islands.
That many ships were difficult to hide and the Crow's-Eye knew that they were coming.
"They can raid and burn the coastal hamlets.", he told his captains. "But, these ships are from foreign lands and are only here for a short time. They can't take the time to beseige our castles or ports or anything fortified."
Euron paused and licked his lips, stained a pale blue from his constant drinking of Shade of the Evening. Rumor had it that he had once captured some Warlocks from Qarth and had tortured their magical knowledge out of them.
"Let them kill as many thralls as they want. In the meantime, we'll be raiding the Westerlands and the Reach and the plunder will be rich."
In turn, Tywin believed that thier raids would cause dissention and that the Ironborn would be forced to confront the Invasion Fleet.
"Being the victim for once will hurt thier pride in ways that nothing else can. Euron's leadership is too fresh to withstand much grumbling from his followers. Then, when he turns to face us, we'll have him."
It was a waiting game to see who would blink first. And, ultimately, it all counted for nothing.
A massive storm caused both fleets to change course. A lack of wind delayed one and strong gusts gave the other an opportunity to make up lost time.
So, both fleets suddenly found themselves facing each other.
No time for anything fancy. All plans were abandoned. Everybody simply went for everybody else's throat.
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The battle madness had taken hold of Jaime and he was joyfully drunk with it.
A new hand had been created for him. Basically, it was the same design as the old one, but was filled and weighted with lead to turn it into a hammer. A new socket had been created as well, a reinforced steel gauntlet that ran to his elbow.
Working with Bronn, Jaime had developed a two-fisted fighting style. He would use the right to block a weapon and strike with the blade in his left. Or, he would fake with the left and use the right to bludgeon his opponent. Or, any one of numerous variations on that theme.
As the sellsword had predicted, when Jaime started using his right in a fight again, it all started flowing together. Soon, he was good enough to start sparring other soldiers without embarrassing himself and his improvement sped up even faster.
He was nervous before battle. Then, the first man onto his ship swung an axe at him and there was no more time to worry.
Jaime sidestepped (No need to retrain his legs, thank the Gods) and punched the Ironborn in the temple where the bone was thinnest. His skull crushed, the man dropped like he'd been stepped on and the fighting began in earnest.
The deck had just been cleared when they were rammed by another ship. Legend would later tell that the Crow's-Eye used his magic to find the Kingslayer to challenge him.
But, when Jaime saw Euron jump onto the deck, the other man looked as surprised as he was.
Back and forth they went, hammer and tongs.
"Kingslayer," Euron sneered.
"Crow's-Eye," Jaime spat in response.
The Greyjoy was skilled and his abilities were laced with a fair amount of dirty tricks. But Bronn had shown Jaime quite a few too as well as counters to some of the more common ones.
"One-hand!"
"One-eye!"
The fact that they were reduced to childish taunts showed how hard the two were pushing one another.
Sword against sword, dagger vs. gold hand. Panting, streaming sweat and bleeding from a dozen cuts. Killing or dying was a heartbeat away.
But, much like what happened to the fleet, Fate and the Gods decided to take a hand.
The ship lurched underneath them, knocking both of them off their feet. By force of habit, both men threw out their left hands to break their falls.
It's a reflex of swordsmen to brace themselves with the non-dominent hand, so that they can keep hold of their swords. For Euron, that mean't that he lost his dagger and kept his sword. For Jaime, he lost his sword and was left emptyhanded.
With a wild grin, Euron lunged with his blade, intent on spitting the Kingslayer like a pig.
In his hasty elation, Crow's-Eye forgot that emptyhanded did not mean weaponless.
Jaime brought his new hand around and nailed the flat of the sword with his palm like a man squashing a bug. The blade shattered so quickly, the metal barely had time to shriek. And, Euron found himself holding just a sword handle and not much else.
Given a moment, he would have thrown the stub into the kingslayer's face and throttled the man with his bare hands. Jaime, however, did not give him that moment. He backhanded the Ironborn King, shattering his cheekbone and crushing his upper jaw.
A small grin of satisfaction was the only elation that he allowed himself. There were more enemies about and more work was to be done.
Jaime turned to get the sword he dropped and was nearly stabbed by Euron Greyjoy.
As he backed away, his mind stuttering and gasping, mouth agape, Jaime's eyes flickered between the Euron on the deck and the Euron holding a dagger and advancing on him.
Fortunately, a quarrel hit the second Euron in the chest and he vanished, the borrowed blade falling to the deck.
On the other ship, Bronn said, "You owe me extra for that, Kingslayer" and used the butt of the crossbow to brain an Ironborn before slicing his throat.
Seeing that they could be destroyed brought Jaime out of his stupor. When another Euron came at him, Jaime parried, stabbed and it vanished like before.
Two more. Kicked one in the balls, backhanded the other. Stab, stab, gone.
Four more. The only thing that kept Jaime from dying was that the Eurons were moving slowly, like...
Like a man who had been injured.
Jaime dodged his way past his attackers and towards the original Euron, who was still moving feebly on the deck. He brought his hand down like a ax on the nape of the man's neck, shattering his spine.
With relief, he saw that the other Crow's-Eyes had disappeared and none more popped up.
No matter, still plenty more enemies.
On land, the Ironborn bend the knee to a victor with no guilt. At sea, there was more pride at stake and the men of the fleet fought to the last drop of bitter blood.
But, even with Euron dead, the crews of the fleet had some ugly scores to settle. By the time the sun was setting, less than a third of the fleet was left and only one out of every ten of the Ironborn was still alive.
And, by the time morning had dawned, the tale of Jaime and Euron's bout had passed around among the survivors.
The Kingslayer was now renowned as the Crowslayer.
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Back in King's Landing, Margaery married Tommen and became Queen. And, Tommen became the luckiest teenager on the face of the planet.
Cersei had tried to derail the wedding by having the High Septon killed. Her plan to have the High Septon smothered failed when her father sent the killer back in seven different pieces and bluntly told her to never try that again.
She attempted to threaten Tywin with the knowledge of her incest and how making it public would destroy the family's reputation, his most precious possession.
That threat got shut down in a heartbeat.
"Admitting your... transgression would invalidate your marriage. You would be left with nothing. No kingdoms, no castles, no servants, no money." Tywin gave his daughter a cold look, colder than even the ones that he gave Tyrion. "I'll see to it that Tommen and Myrcella are looked after. But, you? Destroy our reputation and I'll leave you penniless and let you starve."
With no response to that, Cersei decided to try to build up her influence with Tommen. That plan was abandoned after she saw the infatuated way that Tommen looked at Margaery.
So, Cersei resorted to her usual standby methods. Wine and petty cruelty.
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"Why did you inform my father about my plans for the High Septon?"
Varys considered denying it. Cersei probably didn't have any proof, was probably bluffing.
Still, this confrontation had to happen sooner or later. May as well be now.
"My Queen, if I refused to do as your father ordered, he would have me killed."
Cersei toyed with her wine glass and gave the eunuch a cruel smile. "What makes you think that I won't?"
Varys sighed. "If I support you, Lord Tywin will have me dead. If I support Lord Tywin, you will have me dead. I am loyal to House Lannister and, if you'll let me, I will support you both."
"Both?", Cersei said, eyebrows raised. "How do you intend to do that?"
"Lord Tywin has something that everybody wants, gold, and he uses it effectively. As a result, he has power and people flock to his banner. Jeoffrey was King and Tommen is King now, but Tywin is the one who says yes and no."
With a wide sweeping gesture that started with Cersei and grew to include King's Landing, visible through the balcony window, Varys continued. "Instead of looking to destroy another's power, look to build your own. Possess something that everybody wants and people will flock to your banner. Margaery may be Queen, but, if you have enough power, you will be the one who says yes and no."
This was a mental image to Cersei's liking. "How?', she asked.
Varys smiled, confident that he had the woman hooked. "Ordinarily, after the death of a Lord, the title passes on to the eldest son. Lord Arryn died and Sweet Robin became Lord of the Vale."
Cersei laughed and poured more wine. "Pity the Vale."
"However, because Jeoffrey was going to be King and was going to have all his time taken by the duties to the crown, Robert had papers formally drawn up excluding him from ruling the Stormlands."
(Privately, Varys thought that King Robert also wanted a convenient excuse to keep the little shit from ruining his ancestral lands.)
"The Stormlands were to go to Tommen, instead. Now, that he is King, because of the way the document is worded, Tommen is excluded and it continues down the chain of lineage."
"No-one ever mentioned this before."
Varys shrugged. "Up until recently, The Stormlands were held by rebellious armies."
Eyes narrowing, Cersei thought about what this meant. "Myrcella?"
"She will not inherit. She will have a large dowry, but King Robert did not want control of the Stormlands passing to whomever she married."
"Stannis and Renly have been declared traitors and thier rights and those of thier families are forfeit." Varys inclinded his head towards Cersei. "You, my Queen, are Lady Paramount of the Stormlands."
Cersei had been so focused on the Iron Throne, she never even gave a thought to Robert's other holdings. "Not a very wealthy land," she mused.
Varys barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. A entire kingdom is hers and she bitches about it's worth? "It is wealthy in terms of timber and it does have many shipyards."
"You think I should build up our fleet." Most of the ships were taken by Stannis and destroyed at the Blackwater. Recent events with the Iron Islands had underlined the need for more ships. "Lord Mace Tyrell is Master of Ships."
"And, Lord Mace Tyrell can help shoulder the burden of paying for the construction," Varys said. "But, they will be built in your lands and crewed by your people. Who will their loyalty belong to?"
It wasn't in Cersei to thank anybody, so she dismissed Varys with a simple, "Well done. You may go."
It took very little to sell the idea to Tywin and the Tyrells.
The cost in gold was surprisingly light. Timber and manpower took the bulk of the expenses and the Stormlands had plenty of both. Slowly, the new Royal fleet began taking shape.
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Oberyn Martell watched the whole proceedings with interest.
Originally, he wanted to get revenge on Tywin Lannister. However, watching Tywin and Cersei tear at each like two cats in a sack was, in many ways, worse than anything he could have planned.
Although he had no proof, Oberyn knew that Cersei had told Tywin about the incest. The Lannister Lord looked like he had aged ten years that day.
And now, this new development with a new Royal Fleet. Another point of power for father and daughter to struggle over.
Unless the Tyrells managed to take it first.
Interesting times ahead.
