Chapter 25: Tyrosh
Jon fought back against the urge to throw up. He really did not like being near the sea. He'd been sick some four times on the journey over, each time the King had roared with laughter and said that was exactly what Father had done whenever they'd travelled by ship. The thought had made him feel only slightly better. Ghost had done the rest, the direwolf had remained quiet throughout the journey. And now remained so. Though his teeth were bared. Perhaps he knew what they were about to do.
The walls broke, and a roar went up. They had been laying siege to Tyrosh for a moon now, destroying their fleet and preventing stores coming in. King Robert had decided he'd had enough of waiting around and decided he wanted to get involved right away. And so early in the morning things had been set up and off they had gone. Jon held his sword in his hand, and said a quick prayer. Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard was commanding this side of the army. Jon looked as the man raised his sword and then went through the breach.
Jon followed. Ghost at his side. They found a boy no older than him, they fought briefly, but the boy was a stick not a real man. Jon cut him down and watched his eyes go blank. He ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach and pushed on. Another figure came, this one was a man. They duelled for a time, pushing this way and that. The smell of burning reached Jon then and he had to fight back the sickness that threatened to come up. The man disappeared when Ghost ripped his throat out. Jon moved on, Ghost following his mouth covered in blood.
Another boy, this time younger than him appeared. The boy stood with his stick and swung. Jon blocked, and then headbutted the boy and moved on. He would not kill a child. All around him was chaos. It seemed as though the world was going mad. There were men fighting men, and women and children. Ser Mandon Moore led the charge, leading them to the Archon's palace. The King was somewhere in the fray, no doubt loving every moment of this. Jon did not know how he felt. He had just seen a woman pushed down and her skirts lifted.
Jon blinked trying desperately get that image out of his head. Ghost was at his side, the enemy was being pushed back. The palace was somewhere in the distance. He could feel the bile growing inside him. He wanted to hurl, but he pushed it down. He could not show weakness now. He heard a bellow, turned and there was the King. Five men were fighting him, and he killed every single one of them with his hammer. Jon watched and saw the fight and marvelled. This was the King his father must have followed into the seven hells and back.
This was the King that Jon would follow. Jon turned back and fought his own way through. He heard someone shout something. "The palace, there it is!" He looked up and saw the palace, glittering like a diamond. Jon roared, the men roared and they pushed through. The streets were packed with men and boys fighting the Westerosi army. Jon killed the men he could, the children he left injured. He tried not to think too much, just tried to let his body take over. If he thought too much he would not survive that needed to be done.
They moved through the city, slowly but surely, they moved. Jon was covered in dirt, grime and blood. Whether the blood was his own or someone else's he did not know. He was not sure if there would be a difference now. They moved and fought and those who were in their way died. Jon saw a little boy get crushed by armour and men, and he blinked and held back tears. They came to the road up to the palace. There was no one there. The guards had gone. Jon ran up there, he did not know why, but he ran.
He got there before anyone else, pushed open the doors, and walked in. A few guards were there but they threw down their weapons. He walked on. "Where is the Archon?" He demanded in a voice he did not recognise. One of the men pointed to another door. Jon nodded his thanks and walked on. Ghost at his heels. He pushed open the door and found the Archon stood there.
"So, you have come have you?" the Archon asked.
"Bend." Jon commanded.
The Archon did as bid. "You know this is what they wanted. The dragons and their supporters."
"Silence." Jon demanded.
"They wanted your King here. He will not live to return home." The Archon said.
"I told you to be quiet." Jon said.
At that moment the King appeared, decked in his armour, his hammer in his hand. The King looked at him and then the Archon and smiled approvingly.
"The Archon of Tyrosh for you, Sire." Jon said, bowing.