TRISTAN
"Perhaps I should have brought my armor."
"At least a shield," Shanna Blacktyde agreed, a sad smile on her face. Wilf Tawney smiled back at her, though his face was pale and drawn. He could not so much as stand from the straw pallet where he lay any more; even in the dim light of the cramped little cabin, Tristan could see where the blood had soaked through the pallet and now stained the floor beneath him. The smell of blood hung thick on the stale, cloying air.
"Let it be known I fought three men without so much as armor, and felled one," Wilf said. Shanna nodded.
"You'll be known," she promised. Tristan looked down to the ground. The cost rose with each day. How many of little Rhaenys' protectors were already dead…
"Help me up, green lander," Wilf said, catching Tristan's attention. The Brash Lion looked back.
"You… can't even stand," Tristan pointed out. He was drunk on Summer Isles rum and wine from the Arbor; they had little else to quench the pain of his injuries.
"That's why I need your help," Wilf said. "Help me up to the deck."
Tristan hesitated a moment longer. He looked to Shanna; the captain gave him a nod. Carefully, the knight helped Wilf Tawney to his feet, but without his support the first mate of the Reaper's Wind would collapse.
"You've lost too much blood for this," Tristan noted. Wilf scowled.
"Then we must move quickly," the Ironborn stated. "Help me up to the deck, Lannister."
Tristan took the smaller Wilf under one shoulder and helped him up the narrow, steep steps of the Reaper's Wind, keeping him steady despite the ship's rocking.
The Reaper's Wind sped towards the west in the light of early morning, the sun dancing off of the choppy seas as the ship's oars dipped and rose. The crew hurried across the deck and through the rigging, keeping the Reaper's Wind catching the most of the breezes even as the oarsmen pushed them towards distant Dorne.
At least the chilly wind drove off the smell of Wilf's tiny cabin.
"To the bow, Lannister," Wilf directed. Tristan aided the Ironborn across the deck, heading for the prow of the ship. As they passed, Tristan noticed some of the Ironborn that Shanna had taken from the Grim Lady stopping their tasks. Wilf reached the bow with a bit of a struggle, but as they did he marshaled the last of his strength and stood on his own. Shanna remained a step behind the two, a look of sadness on her face. The other Ironborn, a dozen or so in all, slowly moved up behind their captain.
"You'll be a strong oarsman," Shanna said. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
"Make it a good song," Wilf Tawney said. He turned to the railing…
"Wait!" Tristan exclaimed. Wilf turned back to him. "What… you cannot be serious!"
"I will not wait to bleed out like a stuck pig," Wilf said with a shake of his head. "Better to go meet the Drowned God, green lander, than wait for him to come to you."
"What is dead may never die," Shanna said quietly.
"The bleeding… it may yet cease," Tristan tried.
"No," Wilf said. "Better in this fashion. You do not understand, but this is better."
Tristan shook his head, but there was nothing left to say. Slowly, carefully, Wilf Tawney dragged himself over the railing.
He made no sound but a splash as he hit the water below.
Tristan moved hesitantly to the railing. By the time he reached the side, Wilf Tawney had disappeared beneath the sea, swept under and away by the speed of the Reaper's Wind. Better he be knocked senseless by an oar, the Brash Lion thought; he had heard stories of drowning being peaceful, but he could not imagine how peaceful gasping for breath beneath the waves could be.
"Come," Shanna said, grabbing the knight's attention. Tristan turned back to the captain; she had put aside her grief at the loss of her first mate. "We must decide our next course. We have been wounded, but so have they."
Shanna did not wait for an answer. She turned and headed back for her own cabin, her black hair loose and flying in the breeze that stirred across the deck. As she crossed the deck, Axell and Amory fell in behind her, Axell hobbling on a crude cane. Tristan followed along, stepping into the cabin behind his three companions. He shut the door behind him and turned to the others, moving to the table in the center of Shanna's well appointed room. Once it had been a guest cabin for wealthy travelers, complete with a large, finely cushioned bed and sitting chairs. Tristan suspected it was the only reason why he had been given permission to remain in Borso's old quarters, regardless of the location of Abriana's remaining wardrobe.
"Oberyn Martell was an unexpected surprise," Axell said, speaking first.
"Would that we had known he was in Tyrosh," Shanna said, looking to Tristan.
"I would have been wiser to suspect," the Brash Lion admitted. "Rhaenys is his niece. It would only be reasonable for Dorne to send someone to fetch the girl home."
"But Prince Oberyn?" Amory said.
"She is his niece," Tristan said. He shook his head. "Oberyn, or Doran, or any other lord, it matters not. The might of Dorne is behind him."
"Not yet," Axell countered. He looked to Shanna. "The seas are the realm of the Ironborn, not the Dornish."
"As you say," Shanna agreed with a ghost of a smile.
"He'll make for Sunspear," Tristan said, sparing only the briefest attention for Axell's flattery. "Rely on the might of Dorne to protect the girl."
"So we must catch them before they reach Sunspear," Amory concluded. He growled. "Would that we had both our ships, instead of just this one. We could overpower him with little difficulty."
"Can we catch him?" Tristan asked, looking to Shanna.
"We do not have the oars," Shanna answered. "And his ship is smaller, a raider built with speed in mind. No, the Reaper's Wind cannot catch him. Not without help from the Grim Lady."
"Can they help us?" Tristan pressed. He was too close to lose her now… although would it be so bad if Rhaenys slipped away to Sunspear?
No, the war would continue…
"We cannot catch the snake even without looking for the others," Amory said. Shanna's smile broadened, just the slightest.
"There are ways to contact another ship," the Ironborn said. "I know where Borlan Pyke waits, and I will be certain that he knows to stop the little princess before she can reach Dorne."
"How?" Amory asked. Shanna smirked at him.
"There are ways," she repeated. Shanna gestured to the small, rounded door behind her. "If you would?"
Axell limped out of the room first, quiet since he had lost his most recent chance to take the hand and head of Taillefer Snow. Amory followed close behind, then Tristan moved to follow. As he reached the door, he turned back to the captain.
"You're certain your message will reach the Grim Lady?" he asked. Shanna batted her eyes at the knight.
"What makes you think I have not already sent my message?" she asked coyly. With a saunter that set her hips to swaying, the Ironborn strode past the Brash Lion to take command of her crew once again.
Tristan stepped out into the brilliant morning light on the deck of the Reaper's Wind, looking out towards the prow of the ship as they barreled forward through the choppy seas. Although he had not enjoyed the initial journey to Tyrosh, he found himself growing more and more accustomed to the bob of the vessel as it pushed through the foam, a steadily rising wind from the east pushing the Reaper's Wind along with it. Shanna had called for the oars to be stowed as every available scrap of cloth caught the wind, sending the ship hurtling towards distant Dorne.
On that same wind, however, was Oberyn Martell, Taillefer Snow, Jocelyn Tyrell, and Rhaenys Targaryen. In a smaller ship built for speed.
Tristan looked up above him, to the sterncastle where Shanna gave her orders. The cabins and railing of the structure blocked his view to the Ironborn captain, leaving him wondering how she would ever reach Borlan Pyke and the Grim Lady without so much as a view of the other ship. Messages were passed by flags or lanterns; without sight…
"She has tricks up her sleeve," Axell said, catching the Brash Lion's attention. Tristan turned to the northern mercenary, leaning on his sword for support. "Perhaps you should have taken an Ironborn beauty over a Dornish star."
"There is more to Ashara Lannister than her beauty," Tristan said. Axell smiled.
"I am certain," he agreed. He turned his eyes to the seas ahead of them. "Do you think she will find a way to have Borlan Pyke cut the prince off from Dorne?"
"I hope so," Tristan said. It was a gut answer, but he wondered if it was true. The Lannisters could no more afford a Targaryen successor than the Baratheons, but she was a little girl…
"I trust in her," Axell decided. "She's brought us this far. She will find a way to keep the snake from his nest."
"I am certain," Tristan agreed absently. He turned and entered his state room, closing the door behind him.
Abriana sat quietly inside the room, her lace dress showing the signs of wear. The petite Tyroshi's purple was fading from her hair as well, allowing her natural honey blond to show through at the roots and in some uneven patches. She looked up as the knight entered the room, her dark eyes following him as he moved to the bed.
The ceilings of the cabins were too low for his liking. Land, and his Lady Wife, would never be so welcome as when he completed this task.
"My lord?" Abriana inquired. Tristan turned to her.
"Yes?"
"Have… have we failed?" Abriana asked.
"Not yet," Tristan answered quietly. Abriana watched him for a moment.
"What will happen if we do not… find her?" the little Pentoshi asked. Tristan shrugged.
"I cannot answer that," he replied. Uncle Tywin would not be happy, he was certain. His father would be furious. There would be no land, no Castamere, no place to raise his family as a landed lord. He would be cast out from the Rock, stripped of his colors, nothing more than a hedge knight.
He would not have the blood of a child and a friend on his hands.
"Do you…" Abriana paused.
"Do I what?" Tristan asked.
"Do you… want to find her?" Abriana asked.
"I cannot answer that," Tristan replied with a weary shrug.
"You do not want to find her," Abriana concluded.
"I want to," Tristan said. "It would end this war. To remove her… it would end the war that ravages the Seven Kingdoms. One child, or many children…"
Tristan stopped.
"It would be easier if she could just… disappear," he admitted. "Killing a child, and killing a friend… I never dreamed this war would end like this. That I would be the one to have to end the war. It would be so much simpler if I was Lord Tywin, dispatching others, men like Axell or Lorch, to do the unthinkable."
"Why did he send you?" Abriana asked.
"Because I know Taillefer," Tristan replied. "Because I knew where to look. Because I traveled with Snow long enough to begin to know him, know what he would do. Because I am a Lannister, and Lannisters put their family before all else. And when Lord Tywin Lannister decrees that an errand be done, we, his family, make certain that it comes to pass. That is what it means to be a Lannister."
"You do not want to," Abriana said. She watched him, waiting for an answer. When he said nothing, she hesitantly continued. "You… we… we could disappear. We can leave, the next time we make port."
"That is not so simply arranged," Tristan said. "My Lady wife may be in Starfall. I sent her there before I ever left King's Landing. But even if she is, Lord Tywin will not be kind to her if he discovers my treason."
"Lady… wife?" Abriana asked. Tristan nodded.
"She waits for me, with our child," he explained. "Hopefully, in Starfall. If my message reached her."
Tristan paused, and shook his head.
"It matters little," he continued. "The next time we land, it will be in Dorne. If we do not catch Rhaenys and her escort before."
"Perhaps… perhaps we will not," Abriana said. "Perhaps you will find some other… some other way."
"Perhaps," Tristan said. A frustrated smile crept to his face.
Kill a child and a friend, or be cast out from his family. Life was full of difficult decisions.