Chapter 26: Stepstones

They had taken the Stepstones relatively easily. The fleet that had been guarding it for the Three Daughters had been nothing when compared to the might of the Royal Fleet even when it was halved and the Redwyne Fleet at full strength. The commander of the Three Daughters' fleet had been slain during the fight. Tommen could still remember the noise and the chaos of that battle. The smell of sulphur permeating his every waking moment since then. On occasion he would wake up in a cold sweat, not sure whether he was still alive or not. And then he would calm down.

Now though, things were getting interesting. The main body had been sent from Lys and Myr to retake the Stepstones. They'd spotted them some days ago. Uncle Stannis had barely said two words to him throughout the entire time they had been here. But now he was barking out orders. He'd given Tommen command of the southern command, to ensure the Stepstones did not fall from the rear. Davos Seaworth, the onion knight was his advisors, as was Lord Redwyne's second son. Tommen put the eye scope to his eye. "They are coming in even greater number than before." He murmured.

"No doubt the fleet we fought was a trap, Your Royal Highness. Meant to lure us into complacency." Ser Davos said.

"The ships of the Royal Fleet are stationed at anchor." Tommen said. "Why is the Redwyne fleet not engaging?"

"Your Royal Highness, my father has been instructed to defend the northern command." Redwyne replied.

Tommen grunted in response, the ships were getting a lot closer now. "Man the scorpions and the ballistae." He commanded. They would take the ships out through sheer force if they had to. His orders were passed down through the chain and the soldiers did as bid. He waited and then when the ships got into the right line he barked. "Fire!" And so the weapons were launched. They came with a fierceness that he had not quite expected.

He removed the eye scope, he would not need it to see what was about to happen. The projectiles hit the first ships and they sank without much effort. The remaining ships were more difficult. They fought back, launching their own weapons, which fell short by quite the distance. "Launch again." Tommen commanded. And so they did, this went on for some time, back and forth. More ships of the enemy fell to their ultimate downfall. He watched as ships sank and men cried out in pain. He kept quiet throughout, merely watching proceedings. When the ships were sinking away he turned to Ser Davos and said. "There will be more, won't there?"

Before Ser Davos could reply a shout came. A messenger stopped before him, looking harried. "Your Royal Highness, more!" the messenger said.

Tommen pressed the eye scope to his eye and cursed. "Turn the weapons." He barked. "They're coming from the east."

With quick precision that would've made Stannis proud the weapons were turned and were soon firing off bolts and projectiles at the enemy ships. They didn't get as many as they had before, but that had been expected. Slowly but surely, Tommen knew that they would have to fight this battle. He barked an order and got his mace at the ready. A moment passed, then another, and then the first ships landed. "Prepare to attack!" He barked.

Another moment and then the men were pouring out of the ship. Another ship landed somewhere. Tommen pushed that thought from his mind, and moved to greet them. His mace did the talking for him. It clubbed down one man, black as night, and then another man and another. On it went, the enemy didn't stop and he wasn't going to give them any reason to think him weak. He kept pushing. He took a few blows, felt blood come from somewhere deep within. Still he did not stop. His mind kept going.

The enemy were good, he knew that, but they weren't better than him. They were rich boys and sellswords, who fought and then drank. He was a knight who'd been training for something like this his entire life. His mace did the talking and he let his mind just focus on that. The smell of the sea, and the smell of all this death washed over him and he ignored it. There were boys there as well, sent to the slaughter for something that he didn't understand and he was not sure they understood it either.

Eventually, the fighting died down. Tommen was covered in dirt and grime and he was sweating, by gods was he sweating. He took a moment and then pushed on. There were no more foes to fight. "Why are they not fighting?" He roared.

"They've surrendered, Your Royal Highness." That was Ser Davos at his side, bloodied and drenched in sweat.

"Why?" Tommen demanded.

"It seems that the King has taken the Archon of Tyrosh." Ser Davos replied.

Tommen thought for a moment and then said. "Send a rider to my uncle, I want confirmation."

"Yes Your Royal Highness." Ser Davos, the words were passed down, and a rider was dispatched. A few moments later, the rider appeared with his uncle.

Stannis bowed his head and then said. "We have the Stepstones, and Tyrosh."

Tommen nodded. "Now what?"

"Now, we wait." Stannis replied simply.