Stannis' men marched out of the Stone Drum in a long column, banners flying and horns blowing. To an unaware observer, it would have seemed to be little more than a change in garrison, save for Stannis' banner that was slowly lowered from the top of the tower.
Rolland Storm had asked for the right for his garrison to honourably yield Dragonstone, a request which both Rick and Wyman swiftly agreed to. Though the Northmen took most of Dragonstone after a sudden flamethrower attack, the Stone Drum was well-fortified in its own right, and they no longer had the advantage of surprise. Rolland's offer to surrender the castle therefore came as a welcome development.
The injured soon followed. Men who broke an arm, men who lost a leg. But far more were the victims of those 'spitfires', burned men wrapped in layers of linen who were carried out on stretchers. The Alexandrians had agreed to take them in, along with the few Driftmark men who no longer wished to fight for Stannis' cause. The rest of the garrison would travel to Braavos with Rick's expedition, and then be free to go where they pleased, even back to Stannis.
Perhaps the gentle treatment of Dragonstone could convince Stannis to end his quest for a now destroyed throne. Stannis could keep the Stormlands if he wished, Rick had decided, as long as he abandoned any claims on the rest of Westeros and opened the Stormlands to trade.
Rolland himself was the last to leave. He held onto Stannis' folded banner, reverently carrying it in his arms as if it were a newborn babe.
"Dragonstone is yours, Grimes," declared the Bastard of Nightsong. Armour charred and hair dishevelled, the knight was still every inch a warrior.
"It seems your men fought well," Rick suggested in a conciliatory tone.
"Aye, we did," the Stormlander sighed. He briefly nodded at Wyman Manderly. "And so did the Northmen."
"When you meet Stannis again, Ser Rolland, tell him what happened here at Dragonstone. Brave men and sharp blades can only do so much against guns and spitfires, and the Alexandrians' guns are more powerful still. Pray you do not meet us in battle again," Wyman warned.
Rick withdrew a letter from his pouch. "Bring this to Lord Stannis. These are our terms."
"King Stannis will have the letter when I return to Storm's End," Ser Rolland promised. "But I cannot make him heed my counsel if he wishes otherwise."
The Alexandrians and their allies swarmed into the Stone Drum after the Stormlanders left. At least they wouldn't find charred corpses there. Much of Dragonstone was littered with the remains of those slain by the Northmen's flamethrowers. Some of those had been reduced to little more than ash, but others still bore the shape of Man, limbs contorted in their final moments of agony. Rick had forbidden any of the children from entering Dragonstone Castle itself for the surrender, ordering them to stay at the docks with Andrea until the soldiers had time to remove the burnt bodies.
On the top of the tower was a small round hall. Sunlight shone in from four tall slits carved into the dark stone, and onto a massive table shaped into a map of Westeros. Many a great leader had brooded over this table, Rick was sure, planning marches and battles and campaigns on painted rivers and varnished hills.
Rick made himself comfortable on the seat near where Dragonstone stood. He would have helped Dwight and the Blackfish place the small flags that marked where Alexandria's dominion ended and House Stark's began, but pulses of pain shot up his bad leg from all that climbing. The better part of his fighting strength was left behind in days gone by. Rick could only hope that the same could be said of his fighting days.
Whether he liked it or not, there was still much fighting to be done north of the Trident. Frey and Bolton were trapped in the Twins. Ironmen held Moat Cailin, the Stoney Shore and even Deepwood Motte, Bolton's son clung onto the Dreadfort, while wildlings pressed on the Wall. Though the War of the Five Kings was over, much of Westeros was still in the hands of stubborn foes.
Many of the Northern lords wished to destroy the Twins first, to reduce it to 'ash and smoke' as they had promised at Arya's coronation. The Lannisters may have been defeated, but the actual perpetrators of the Red Wedding were yet to be dealt with. Let Frey and Bolton be a warning for all those who betray our sacred laws, Glover declared. The Blackfish concurred. Wipe out the traitors while the expedition retakes Moat Cailin. Then march north against Bolton's bastard, the wildlings, and the rest of the Ironborn.
Manderly gently shook his head. "Need I remind you of the Stark words, my lords. Winter is coming. And the maesters say this will be a harsh one. The Twins will be a long siege, I fear, doubtless Frey and Bolton know what fate awaits them should they ever surrender. Should we wait month after month for thousands of men to idle around the Twins, then trudge through deep snow in the thick of winter, eating through the meagre food stores of our own folk?"
"What do you propose then?" the Blackfish asked.
"I propose we strike at the Dreadfort first. It's about as far from Braavos as White Harbor is, and there we can immediately remove a threat against the North's backs. The Manderly and Hornwood men are now free to help fight the wildlings." Rick got down from his chair. He flipped over the Bolton counter at the Dreadfort, and then flipped over more counters at the Wall, counters of savage men holding crude spears. "When we're done with the wildlings, we sail back to White Harbor, with a larger army to retake Moat Cailin and assault the Twins."
"Lord Grimes speaks truly," Manderly agreed. "What if we delay a few more weeks? Mallister will have more men from Riverrun and the Craig, more time to fortify Seagard in case the Ironborn attack while we besiege the Twins. I will have more guns made at White Harbor and more men to wield them. More time for us to prepare us against our foes, even hire sellswords and sellsails if need be, while our foes' supplies dwindle every day."
Harrion Karstark added his voice in agreement. "I can raise more men from Karhold. Old men who have seen too many summers and green boys who have seen too few, yet our strength joined with Manderly and Hornwood should make short work of Bolton's bastard, to say nothing of this expedition."
"Need I remind you that Deepwood Motte is still in the hands of our foes," Glover reminded the council.
"When the wildlings are defeated, you will take three hundred pikemen and fifty gunmen into the northern mountains. There you will gather the Harclays and Liddles and all the clans to retake your castle. As for Stoney Shore… march south along the shore, if you have enough men and enough supplies to last the winter. If not, let the Ironmen waste themselves on those barren rocks."
Aurane Waters looked closely at the map. "If the Reach remains loyal, we could even have the Redwyne fleet strike at Pyke itself, while the Ironborn bleed themselves out in the North."
"If," Rykker reminded. The other case remained unsaid, but Rick knew all too well. Rick and his Northmen allies may have won the war, yet it was the lands they now ruled that saw most of the fighting, lands that were ravaged and sacked by host after host and had to be rebuilt in the face of an oncoming winter that would likely last for years. Yet the Reach's lands in the south were mostly untouched by war, its storehouses full with grain, its armouries with better weapons than all Westeros save Alexandria and its guns.
Guns. Rick's brows creased at the thought. Almost three quarters of Alexandria's rifle bullets were used up in those three weeks of Westerosi warfare. The brass they had recycled and they could still make more, but the primers and smokeless powder were another matter. One more war like this and the Alexandrians would be down to bolt-actions. Another, and they would be down to the Hall rifles Eugene was struggling to build in numbers. If the Reach ever saw cause to revolt…
"You think they will revolt?" Rick asked as nonchalantly as he could.
"I'm not saying they will," Rykker replied. "The Tyrells were at Joffrey's feast where Alexandria's might was made plain for all to see. But many in Westeros still see Alexandria's people as a foreign folk, much like the Targaryens were three centuries ago. Our ravens had flown to Casterly Rock bearing your offers of peace, yet no raven had ever returned. It's been two months, Lord Protector."
Rick rose from his velvet seat. Thump, thump, his footsteps echoed in the stone chamber as he approached the Painted Table. How dare they hold their own people hostage for a war they had no hope of winning? He would let the Lannister remnants hole up in their caves for a little while longer. But when the wars in the north were over, Rick and his allies would march down the Kingsroad to the Ruby Ford near where they fought their first battle, and past Riverrun again on the River Road to Casterly Rock.
And then… and then up the goldroad back to King's Landing, down the Kingsroad to Storm's End if Stannis had not yielded by then. If Stannis wanted war, then war it was, a war of sword against gun.
The door burst open before Rick could elaborate on his plans. "Lord Grimes!" Sansa shouted. "Th… there's fighting going on!"
"Where?" Rick rested his hand on his revolver and headed straight for the door. Behind him the Westerosi lords drew their blades, ready to face down any foe that still lurked on the island. At least Carl had his pistol if the enemy sought to rush the docks. Rick had made sure of that before entering the castle to receive the Stormlanders' surrender.
"Aegon's Garden, my lord," Sansa replied. "Brandon is hurting Tommen!"
Brandon. The Stark girls had a brother named Brandon, but Rick heard he was slain when the Ironborn took Winterfell months before the Alexandrians arrived. There was, however, a Hilltop kid named Brandon Rose who moved to King's Landing with his family after the Alexandrians took over the city. Rick's own people? The Alexandrian leader frowned at the thought. The Alexandrians were meant to serve as role models for the Westerosi, to show them the civilisation that they could one day build!
It was even worse than Rick had thought. They had barely stepped into Aegon's Garden ten minutes later when they saw Tommen sprint in front of them, Brandon close behind with a malicious grin on his face. Finally Brandon was able to grab at Tommen's golden curls and yanked the Lannister boy backwards, before kicking at Podrick Payne who tried to rush over and help. Another kick tripped Tommen over and sent him sprawling, the bully still holding onto his hair. Stop! Rick ordered, but his voice was lost amidst the fierce winds and Tommen's screams, and Rick had to weave his way past thick hedges to get to the boys.
"Fuck off." An all too familiar voice shouted. Carl stood in the way, hands curled into tight fists and Arya by his side.
"Stay out of my way, Grimes. Pretend to be one of those shitty lords all you like, but don't make me beat you for defending that fucking inbreed-"
"He didn't choose to be born a bastard, but you chose to act like one!" Carl shouted. He sprinted towards his foe even as Brandon was picking up a small rock. Before Rick could warn his son, Brandon swung the rock at Carl's flank with all his might. Even at this distance, Rick could hear Carl cry out in pain.
Yet Carl was able to grapple onto Brandon before he fell. Both boys tumbled onto the ground with a dull thud. Arya's teeth sank into Brandon's arm before he could raise the rock to strike at Carl again. Brandon dropped the rock in surprise, his face twisting into a pained grimace. "You bitch! You fucking BITCH!" He screeched, even as he brought his other fist down onto Arya's back and sent the girl tumbling backwards. Then Carl kneed Brandon right between the legs, eliciting a scream from the bully, who now clutched his groin as if it had dipped in fire. The rest of the kids had raced to the scene by then, the Alexandrians on one side, the Westerosi on another.
"Alexandrians! Alexandrians!" Brandon finally found his voice. "Teach'em brotherfuckers a fucking lesson like we did at King's Landing!"
A wad of spit landed in front of Brandon's face. "Fuck you," said Clementine. "We wouldn't have invited you to the Grey Wedding even if you asked."
Before anyone else could say more, Rick strode into the fighting and pulled Carl and Brandon apart. Tommen had curled himself into a ball, rubbing at his stomach. Podrick knelt beside him and wiped the tears off Tommen's face. Podrick had been injured too, Rick saw, though little more than a few scratches on his face. Arya was momentarily stunned but seemed fine otherwise. If she had been injured… the last thing Rick needed right now was a diplomatic incident, one caused by his people no less.
Rick's eyes fell upon the centre of the scuffle. Carl slowly stood up and moved off to the side, slightly limping as he did so. Brandon clutched at his arm where Arya had bitten down, even as he tried to make himself as small as possible. The perpetrator of this whole affair tried to slink away, but Rick gripped onto the boy's arm. "Brandon Rose. Can you explain yourself?"
Brandon shivered, but he said nothing in reply.
"Thought so. Here's what is going to happen. You will return to the harbor immediately. You will clean every toilet on House Manderly's fifty galleys. Then you will stay in your cabin until we arrive at Braavos. Tommen and Podrick will bring you food. If you bully them again, or anyone else, I'll put you on the first ship back to Alexandria. Is. That. CLEAR?" Rick shoved the boy backwards into Dwight's arms. "Get this bully out of my sight!"
Rick looked around. The other kids had long since scampered away, Alexandrian and Westerosi alike, replaced by Oberyn Martell and Ser Addam Marbrand who had found their way to the commotion.
Addam Marbrand spoke first. "I thought Alexandria's children were well behaved. Though not at weddings it seems, nor when we Westerlanders are involved."
"It may be that Ser Marbrand has fewer functioning eyes than Lord Carl," the Blackfish quipped. "For I recall seeing the Alexandrians children playing with Tommen and Podrick just as happily as they would amongst themselves, and nearly all of them chose to defend Tommen in this unpleasantness."
"When you Northmen take Pyke, I think you should give it to Addam. He will fit right on the Salt Throne." The Westerosi did not comprehend what Michonne said, but the Westerlander knight understood her intent all the same. He stomped off without a word, leaving angry footsteps behind in the dirt.
Aurane stared at Addam's shrinking figure in the distance. "All the better that he left. It's time," he announced mysteriously.
"Time? Time for what?" Rick asked.
"Time to decide what to do with this fortress," Aurane explained. "Dragonstone sits right in the Gullet. I freely admit I had thought of claiming it as my own seat, for I will not inherit Driftmark, but the fortress is far too important for the realm. It is the first line of defense for King's Landing, and whoever holds it will dictate whether our ships could easily enter the Narrow Sea or be bottled up in Blackwater Bay. it should be given to someone whom we could all agree on. An Alexandrian perhaps."
Rick nodded. Just like King's Landing, Dragonstone was too important to be left to the Westerosi's own devices. Maggie could have it if she was interested, or Jesus if she was not. The Hilltoppers had been nothing but loyal, through both the Negan war, and Alexandria's intervention in the wars and politics of Westeros.
"Why not your son?" Rykker suggested. "Name him Prince of Dragonstone, so that he could hold this castle in his own name."
"Carl?" exclaimed Rick. "Isn't he already dealing with King's Landing?"
"Under your regency, Lord Protector, in fact if not in name. And with the Alexandrians and Northmen guiding every move. As it should be, since Lord Carl has yet to celebrate even his thirteenth nameday, and King's Landing is the largest city in Westeros, far too much for a child to run by himself. But Dragonstone is smaller and far easier to rule. Here he can learn how to rule a holdfast by himself," said Rykker.
It was Aurane's turn to speak. "And are you Alexandrians not building machines on the Tower of the Hand, ones that can one day converse with machines as far as Driftmark? Dragonstone is only a short hop away."
"You promised the Northmen that Carl will be an Alexandrian prince," reminded Michonne. "'Prince of King's Landing' or 'Prince of the Crownlands' doesn't quite have that ring to it. 'Prince of Dragonstone' sounds better in my books."
"What do you think, Prince Oberyn?" Rykker asked. "Surely you would have some thoughts on this matter?"
"There is now no king south of the Trident. Nevertheless the Crownlands had occupied a special place in Westeros for the past three centuries, for the kings of Westeros had taken these lands as their demesne," the Red Viper explained. "It is only fair that the lord of the Crownlands shall be known as a prince if he cannot be a king, and Blackwater Bay was ruled from Dragonstone before Aegon's Conquest. Dorne would welcome another Prince of Dragonstone."
"Dragonstone would make a good second seat for your son," Manderly added. "It is much closer by ship to the Kingdom of the North and Trident, and the Vale which we shall add to our realm. It is but a stone's throw away from Driftmark and Duskendale, which Carl had turned into cities in their own right. One could perhaps even reach Alexandria more quickly when travelling by ship and carriage."
"Fine. Prince of Dragonstone it is," Rick decided. There were a few small villages on the island, but Rick suspected they would be fine with the arrangement after what he had seen his son do in King's Landing, and Carl could always give up the title if they weren't. "Tell all the lords to meet up under the Stone Drum. I'll make the announcement there."
The assembly met half an hour later. Renfred Rykker arrived with his dozen guards garbed in the colours of his house, Aurane Waters with Driftmark's sailors and the goldcloaks who came along with this expedition. Wyman with almost a whole army, swordsmen and spearmen and musketeers clothed in their mermen-and-trident surcoats. The Blackfish arrived next with the lords of the North and Trident in tow, followed by the Red Viper and his fifty Dornishmen, then Margaery with her ladies-in-waiting.
Michonne found Carl near Sea Dragon Tower, playing hide-and-seek with all the other children. Even Tommen and Podrick had joined in the fun, the earlier unpleasantness forgotten long ago.
"Dad?" a worried Carl asked when he and his friends arrived. "I swear I didn't mean to-"
Rick placed his hand on Carl's shoulder. They would talk about the fight later, but Rick had nothing to fault Carl for, if anything he was proud of his son defending a weaker boy as a true leader would. "Carl Grimes of Alexandria, I name you Prince of Dragonstone. Since the Westerosi like their titles so much, this will be yours as leader of the Crownlands. We will help you with King's Landing and the rest of the Crownlands, but this island will be run by you alone."
"Th-the Prince of Dragonstone?" Carl stuttered. "But, but I thought-"
"Is there a problem, Carl the Mountainslayer?" the Blackfish had a smile on his face, but his voice was laced with steel. "This was decided by your father and the lords of Alexandria and the Crownlands, in a council which the Northmen and Rivermen bore witness to. Do you wish to defy all of us?"
Carl hung his head. "No, I guess."
Michonne knelt until she saw Carl eye to eye. "Can't say I didn't warn you," she said with a grin on her face. "You'll be a prince when you marry Arya anyway, maybe a king by Westerosi custom. We're just bringing this forward for a few years, that's all. And for all of us Alexandrians in King's Landing and the rest, it was you who saved them from the Lannisters' tyranny before our troops even started down the Kingsroad. You managed to keep them fed, you kept order on the streets, you won the Crownlanders over for us. You're already the Crownlanders' leader, the one they look up to. Not me, not Maggie, not your father. You."
"It's weird," Carl insisted. "It just seems… I'm not really myself anymore since the Grey Wedding. First I'm a lord. Now I'm a prince."
"Or a king in a few years time as Michonne said. Maybe even an emperor," Rick joked. "But lord or prince, king or emperor, to us Alexandrians you'll just be Carl, you'll always have a place back home. And to me you'll still be my brave, kind son. Nothing less, nothing more."
Rick felt his son's arms wrap around him, in such a tight hug that he could scarcely breathe. When did Carl grow up so fast? "You too, Dad. Leader of Alexandria, Lord Protector of Westeros… you're still a hero and my Dad."
From the foothills of the Dragonmont, Rick and his wife watched the sun set.
"I'm sorry," Andrea apologised. "Didn't think any of the kids could be that cruel."
"Don't be," Rick soothingly replied. "You had to help out at the docks, nobody expects you to be everywhere at once. We'll have to help the few bad apples back onto the right path, but I'm not worried. I'm very proud of most of the kids today."
"Like the Prince of Dragonstone?" Andrea asked, her face beaming with pride. "I know we can count on him to stand up for those who need help."
Rick nodded. The newly made Prince of Dragonstone was sitting in a hot spring with his friends, chattering excitedly about… something, but Rick and Andrea were too far away to hear, apart from the occasional peals of laughter. At least the kids seemed happy and relaxed, for a moment free from the responsibilities that they should have been far too young to deal with. "Those kids sure have their secrets, not unlike that other lot." The Westerosi nobles were chatting intently with one another. They had given Rick and his wife some privacy, but he likewise couldn't make out what they were saying. At least Michonne and Claudia were talking with them. He would just have to ask them afterwards.
"And we have our own secrets too." Rick felt Andrea's face nuzzle against his. She planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "So when are we leaving Dragonstone?"
"Tomorrow," Rick decided. If what the Westerosi said was true, Braavos was another rich and powerful city where, like Alexandria, everyone was equal and free. The quicker they got to Braavos the better, to gain an ally of like values and minds. "Eugene should have enough time to take his measurements, and Aurane should have readied the fleet by then. I can't wait to meet the Sealord and his court."