Gormon III

Pyke, 298 AC

Nobody, not even Maron Greyjoy himself, had expected things would go smoothly. There will be many who seek to undermine my authority, he had said. Many who won't recognize the truth not even when they see it with their own eyes. They will try to install my bastard brother's spawn on the Seastone Chair. And I can't allow that. Never.

He hadn't been wrong, and so far, fighting hadn't stopped at all. Most of the Iron Islands had turned into a giant, bloody battlefield. Old Wyk and Pyke were firmly under Maron's control. Others were split in half, with Maron's supporters fighting Lord Dagon's loyalists for control of the island. So far, the only place that had been able to resist any invasion attempt was Harlaw. Held by Lady Melara, her husband and goodfather being in King's Landing, the wealthiest of the Iron Islands was still holding strong against Maron Greyjoy's forces. Gormon dearly hoped the Harlaws wouldn't be defeated.

And of course, the mainland wouldn't just stay still and watch. Sooner or later, someone would be sent to help young Lord Dagon take back his birthright.

That someone had finally arrived.

Gormon watched through his Myrish spyglass as the ships slowly approached. They were still far, but he could clearly make out the banner on their sails.

It was the golden lion of House Lannister. Gormon breathed a sigh of relief. Lady Cerenna's kin would undoubtedly wipe out Maron Greyjoy and his lapdogs.

"Just as the king expected, I suppose." said a voice from behind him.

Gormon immediately recognized that voice, and turned to face the newcomer. "My lord," he said, feigning politeness. "I didn't hear you coming."

The Qarteen warlock chuckled. "I make a point to be as silent as possible, maester." He pointed his cane to the window. "Tell me, did you see an enemy fleet approaching?"

He nodded. "Indeed. It's the Lannister fleet."

The other man's mask hid his face, but Gormon could easily tell that he was smiling. "Well, they were bound to do something, after all. How diligent of them!" He laughed, a joyless sound that sent cold chills down Gormon's spine.

Gormon had met many men over the years. Some he had liked, while others, like Maron Greyjoy, he had utterly despised. But the man in front of him was the first one he had actually been afraid of. There was something about that man. He didn't know what exactly, but it was deeply unsettling. Every time he spoke, his voice seemed to come from a far and dark place, and he walked around in a manner resembling a wandering ghost. Even his cane looked ominous. He had heard that Essosi warlocks were kind of unusual even by their homelands' standards, but they couldn't all be like that man. Nobody knew when he and Maron Greyjoy had met, or even why the warlock was serving him. Hells, they didn't even know his name! Everybody, Gormon included, just called him "my lord".

Gormon took a couple of deep breaths and offered his best professional face. He couldn't let that man know how he felt. Though he suspected he had at least an inkling. Strange and scary he may be, but he was undoubtedly a man of intellect, as well-read as a maester.

"I shall alert King Maron at once..."

"That won't be necessary, maester." the warlock interrupted him, his voice mild and unperturbed. "Like I said, the king expected such an event, and had me prepare...adequate countermeasures."

He didn't like the way he said those words. Adequate countermeasures. What could he mean? Perhaps he has ships ready nearby. No, he would have spotted them. Then, what...

The warlock motioned for the window. "I would advise you to look again through your spyglass, maester. I can guarantee you will see something worthy of being mentioned in your books."

Gormon didn't know what to expect, but did as he was told. He positioned the spyglass near his eye and watched. Again, he saw the Lannister ships. They were closer now, their sails proudly flapping in the wind. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

And just then, something happened.

He realized the sails weren't flapping anymore, as if the wind had suddenly stopped blowing. The few seagulls in the area flew away as fast as they could. Gormon's jaw dropped in amazement as the portion of sky just above the ships darkened and the sea beneath...

...seven hells, the sea is blood-red! What's happening? Is it...is it some kind of sorcery?

As Gormon watched, a lightning came from the sky, soon followed by another two. There was a slight tremble in the water, which soon turned into massive waves that began to violently trash against the hulls of the Lannister fleet.

The first ship crumbled under the fury of the waves, like a drunkard in a brawl against a somber opponent. Soon there was nothing left but a mass of drifting wood and torn sails. The few, distant human shapes that Gormon could glimpse were swallowed by the sea.

The same happened to the rest of the fleet. Most of it, at least. Those few ships that were lucky enough managed to escape, without even trying to rescue the survivors. In the end, of the once mighty Lannister fleet there was nothing left but a few pieces of driftwood. That, and the screams of the sailors as they fell to their watery death.

Gods, I can...I can hear their screams!

With trembling hands, he let go of his spyglass. It fell to the floor with a thud as the warlock chuckled.

"Quite a sight, isn't it? And it was just the first step. All of King Maron's enemies shall die, and their blood..."

Gormon didn't let him finish. He had to leave the room right now! "Forgive me, my lord, but I'm not feeling well." The other man didn't answer. He just stared as Gormon left the room, without even closing the door.

Once safely alone, Gormon stopped and leaned against the wall, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. Gods, who is that man? What he had just witnessed could only be sorcery of the foulest kind! Something that was the bane of everything his order stood for. And what he had said! Just the first step...Gormon shuddered at the thought of what he meant.

The warlock would only bring death and destruction to the Iron Islands and the rest of Westeros, he was sure of that. Someone had to stop him. But who, and how? If he could do that to a fleet of hundred of warships, thousands of miles away, what else could he do from a closer distance?

What could he do to me, were Maron to decide I'm no longer useful?

He needed to calm down. He had to go somewhere where he could be alone with his thoughts for at least a little while. And he just knew the place.

Luckily, the rookery wasn't far from where he was now. He arrived there and locked the door behind his back. He half smiled. There, among his beloved ravens, he could find some kind of tranquillity.

However, he ended up finding someone in there.

"What..."

"Maester!"

It was Lady Asha. She was crouched in a corner of the room, her dress filthy and torn in several places, but looked otherwise unharmed.

"My lady...I'm so glad to see you alive!" And indeed he was. He had neither seen nor heard about her since the civil war began, and was fearing the worst. "Are you alone in here? Is Lord Theon with you?" The two siblings were always together, since they didn't get along well with their elder brothers.

She didn't answer, though her eyes did all the talking. Gormon felt his heart sink. Over the years he had taken a liking to the youngest Greyjoy sibling. To know that he was dead..."How?"

"They tried to protect me, those two idiots. He and Tris..." She let out a sob. Tris...she could only mean Lord Sawane's second son. "I told them time and again that we had to stay hidden until help from the mainland arrived, and that in any case I could defend myself. Do you think they listened? Of course not! No, they had to go and..." She stifled a tear and soon regained her composure.

"I came here through a secret passage I had discovered years ago. I hoped to find someone...anyone, to help me. Maybe even that fucking warlock," She clenched her fists at that. "so that I may cut off his cock and..."

"Lady Asha! Please, I'm grateful to see you alive and well, but I would be even more grateful if you abstained from such a language in my presence."

She scoffed at that, though Gormon saw a half-smile forming at the corner of her lips. "I forgot how much of a prude you were."

"Anyway, you can't hope to face that...that man all by yourself." Gormon said. "I understand your desire for revenge, but trust me when I say that it would take more than a simple man or woman to kill that warlock. I have seen what he can do." He then told her what had happened to the Lannister fleet. Lady Asha didn't even flinch. But after all, she was made of sterner stuff than him.

"What do you suggest, then? That we both do nothing and pray for a miracle?" She quickly sprung to her feet, gritting her teeth. "I can't let Maron and his pet get away with what they have done! They must die!" she angrily hissed at him.

"And you have to help me."

Help her? "My lady, how could I..."

"You mentioned the Lannister fleet. Surely, they won't be the last. Willas, Uncle Rodrik...they will send more men and ships. That monster can't kill them all!" She paused. "You will learn all of his habits. When he goes to sleep, when he uses the privy...and we will kill him right when his guard his down! And after that, it will be Maron's turn."

"My lady..."

"Will you help me, maester?"

Gormon wanted to get rid of the warlock as much as Lady Asha. However, the thought of being actively involved in this scared him. He wasn't a man of action. But then, he also realized there was no other way. They would have to be extremely careful, and maybe coordinate efforts with the Harlaws, if he somehow managed to send a raven to Ten Towers without it being noticed. But it could be done. Seven help me.

"Of course, my lady."

Then Lady Asha smiled. It was a toothy, sinister smile that made Gormon want to run to safety as fast as he could. Woman though she was, sometimes Lady Asha could be utterly terrifying.

"Good."

AN: Remember, folks: never piss off Asha Greyjoy.

Regarding the destruction of the Lannister fleet, it was slightly inspired (and when I say this, I mean that I shamelessly tried to copy the original) to a similar one from Scream against the storm, by Perfidious Albion (if you've never read it, do it now. Seriously, it's one of the best fics in this fandom). Of course, my writing being what it is, my scene isn't even nearly as good as Albion's. However, I hope you still enjoyed it.

As for the warlock, some of you might surely have tried to guess his identity. Well, I'll just say this: he's not whoever you think he is.

Thanks for reading! In two weeks, we'll go back to Storm's End and Errol, and...someone else will die (yes, I'm a cruel man).