After such a torrential storm, it should not have come as any surprise when the wind abandoned them and the Stargazer was becalmed in the middle of the ocean as far away from one coastline as another. The oars were put to work but after several days of making very little progress, the men were beginning to tire. Their provisions were beginning to run low and fresh water suddenly became more valuable than gold. To make matters worse, tensions were rising amongst the crew. Several had broken into an argument over a game of dice and when accusations began to fly between them that someone had cheated, it had ended in a bloody mess. Three dead and one lost three fingers. Unable to do anything else, Ilyan punished all those involved and the dead he flung overboard as well as the wash of blood. He could not keep corpses. They would fester and bring disease, so he gave them to the sea and hoped that would be the end of it.
Being a captain who would not ask anything of his crew that he would not do himself, he too manned the oars, pulling and rowing with his fellow sailors in order to make for Essos, hoping to reach the coastline so that he could send men for fresh supplies. He worried that the princess would grow tiresome and difficult to be trapped for so many endless days upon a ship with no wind to carry them to shore, but Ilyan had again been pleasantly surprised by the princess's character. She made no complaint, merely sat quietly reading the few books Ilyan had managed to find for her in his stolen cargo and contended herself with them until he was able to join her for conversation. If anything, it was now she who attempted to rally his spirits, sharing her stories and one evening sang him The Dornishman's Wife, and her voice had been like silk and honey to his ears. Her diversions kept his spirits from depleting, and although he knew that such efforts would vastly benefit his crew, he did not trust them enough with her safety. They were pirates, after all. Although the crew obeyed him, it was only because they feared him. There was no ship's captain better with a sword, nor more daring and successful in his ventures. He punished rule breakers harshly and maintained a strict command so the crew obeyed him, even loved him to a certain extent since he made them rich, but as the long days continued to stretch into several weeks becalmed at sea, Ilyan would not allow Rhaena to come to any harm because of half-starved raving madmen. Were he not the captain, Ilyan reasoned that he would not hesitate to take Rhaena for himself.
And so, she remained under close guard, the only other person allowed in her presence his First Mate, Barbaros, for he knew he could trust the man with the princess. He preferred gold to women, and no matter how dire their situation, Barbaros was a man always in control of himself. Even if something were to happen to him, Ilyan was satisfied that Barbaros would pick up his mantle and keep the princess safe until she could be ransomed. Though admittedly, the idea of ransoming the princess was growing less appealing by the day. How could one put a price on that which was invaluable? What use was gold when he could have her smiles and her songs? It was a folly, one that Ilyan would not indulge himself in, but a sweet dream to comfort himself with during the long night hours when his muscles ached from pulling the oars and the dryness of his mouth scratched down his throat. He had never known weather to go on for as long as this. The wind would return soon, otherwise he would only continue to lose his crew. Several more died, some of an illness, some of exhaustion, and some simply cast themselves screaming into the water as the madness took them over. Sun and dehydration would do that to a man.
Soon they were leaving a trail of bodies in their wake, but what else was there to be done? In some ways it was fortunate. The less men there were, the longer their rations would last. The water needed only last as long as it took to reach land, then they could replenish their supplies and continue on their way. At this stage, Ilyan was willing to make port and allow the men some time ashore to release their urges, they had more than earned it. Lifting his head, Ilyan scowled at the vast blue sky and cursed under his breath, watching as the flag upon the mast remained as limp and lifeless as an impotent member. The oarmen were resting, meaning that they were utterly dead in the water. Turning aside, Ilyan though he might go down below and take stock of their remaining provisions when the Stargazer suddenly gave a lurch. It was a small one, but enough to cause Ilyan to freeze, waiting to see if another would follow. When it did not, he smoothly started forwards and began descending the stairs.
The sound of an almighty crack struck the hull of his ship, causing it to heave and stagger as the rush of foaming water churned off the starboard side, this time with enough force that his legs were taking out beneath him, and Ilyan had to lunge for the handrail to keep himself upright. Something was out there. With a shout, Barbados came running and as Ilyan straightened himself up, ordered the men to beat to quarters. When the third attack came upon them, his Stargazer groaned in protest as she was ravaged. The first snaking tentacle crawled its way up the port side, feeling its way ahead until gradually, several more followed. Dread washed through Ilyan as he stared. "KRAKEN!" Immediately the shout was taken up and several of his men screamed as they ran for their weapons, a deep, resonant, chittering sound clicking from beneath the water as the kraken clawed its way up the Stargazer, giant and fleshy, its tentacles curled around the rigging and, as archers released their arrows against their predator, only caused to anger it. A shriek pierced the air, higher than a woman's scream.
The arrows fell uselessly against the tough, blubbery hide as the kraken swept one of its curling arms across the deck and knocked several of his men down, capturing one who screamed and cried for the Mother's mercy before he was dragged overboard and swiftly made silent. Spears and harpoons followed, stabbing at the beast as its ugly, flat head rose up and giant eyes stared. Men screamed, raving words of madness and even Ilyan had to wonder if perhaps this was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by dehydration and endless miles of open ocean. It drove many a man wild, trapped and becalmed with no land in sight. However, when one of those horrifying tentacles struck the deck and nearly grasped hold of him, Ilyan had to begrudgingly accept that this kraken was real. Only true sailors knew them to be real. The land-folk always scoffed whenever they told their stories, but unless you see one for yourself then it was easy to dismiss them as nothing more than legend. This one was very real, and if they did not kill it soon, it was going to break the Stargazer and drag her down along with the crew to feast upon such easy pickings. What Ilyan wouldn't give for a dragon at that moment. He bolted, diving across the deck with a shout to his men before he went below to his cargo, thinking of the sword that the princess had been wearing when he captured her. Valyrian steel. Perhaps this will do better against such a beast. It remained where Ilyan had hidden it, the dragonhead pommel glinting with its jewelled eyes as he seized it, belt and all. The ornate hunting horn came with it, strapped to the belt but Ilyan had no time to remove it. He strapped the entire thing to his waist then returned above deck.
Chaos was what he found. Men screaming, his ship breaking, and a kraken attempting to tear down the main mast with its powerful arms. Ilyan did not remember drawing the sword, but suddenly it was in his hand, lighter and sharper than anything he had ever held before. Knowing that it was the princess's weapon, he found strength in merely holding it. Striding forwards, he slashed cleanly at the arm grasping hold of his ship's mast and cut it cleanly away. The kraken shrieked and whipped back all its arms as it writhed in pain, blood like dark ichor flying as its severed arm waved wildly and the useless half collapsed to the deck. Blinking, Ilyan looked at the sword again. There was nothing finer, and now he had the means to kill the kraken before it could destroy his ship. He launched himself into the fight, slashing and hacking as the kraken seemed to understand that he was the greatest threat, focusing on him as his men rushed to man the scorpions now that the kraken was distracted. Several of the bolts struck, but other than retreating momentarily, the kraken did not abandon its cause. It was stubborn and relentless, its powerful appendages crashing downwards and making splinters of his stairs. Anger fuelled him further, and Ilyan stepped closer to the kraken. Perhaps a sword through the eye would kill it one and for all.
As man fought kraken, Ilyan almost reached his goal. Soon he was so close to the kraken he could smell its rank breath, the sharp beak clicking as it shrieked, barbed arms rising from below where they had been keeping the beast anchored to the side of the ship. So focused upon his task, Ilyan did not notice the other arm until it was too late. It crashed down from above and he jerked to the side in order to avoid being crushed by it, slashing instinctively with the sword to open a deep wound into the flesh but it meant that the stepped too close to the kraken, and with a lash of the barbed arm, felt long tears open across his back like the sting of a whip. No sooner had the pain registered Ilyan had turned, answering with the blade but the kraken struck once again, and this time sent Ilyan flying forwards as a heavy arm crashed against his back. He fell upon the stairs, sword dropping from his grasp whereby the point drove itself deep into the wood of the deck, but Ilyan hardly noticed. He was distracted by the fact that the splintered remains of his staircase and handrail were impaled into his side.
The unclean wound scratched and throbbed, the wood swiftly taking on the red hue of his blood. As his own weight caused his body to drop, the splintered shaft snapped from the rest of the wood and remained impaled into his flesh as he struck the deck. For several moments Ilyan lay there too stunned to move, staring at the wood as spurts of his own blood came in crimson rushes. Even as his mind went utterly blank, Ilyan heard the screams of his men. The kraken. He had to slay the kraken. It was painful, agonising even, but knowing that the lives of his crew and, more importantly, his ship hung in the balance, Ilyan pressed a hand over the wound to quench the blood and began to drag himself towards the sword which stood protruding from his own deck. He grasped the handle and attempted to pull it free, but the motion caused his side to scream, and his arm lost all its strength. Desperate, he tried to pull himself more upright, but still, he could not summon enough strength to lift the blade, or even rise to his feet. It seemed utterly hopeless, and as Ilyan's head spun, he blearily wondered if he would die from his wound before the kraken consumed him. If he was to die, then he would die at sea. Ilyan had always told himself this, so although he regretted all the things he was yet to do, he took a small measure of comfort from the fact that his body would go to the ocean which he loved more than anything. The only downside to this was that he'd become a meal for a kraken then his bones would be shat out the other side. If a kraken did shit, that is. Ilyan wondered if he would rather it did or did not, then decided that either way he did not care. His fingers went lax around the hilt of the sword, all but ready to release it entirely when, unexpectedly, someone else grasped hold of it.
Opening his eyes with a start, Ilyan saw the princess herself standing there, hair tousled from the rock and sway of the ship whilst her eyes blazed fearlessly. His heart gave a jolt, a sensation pulsing through his entire body as Ilyan watched as Rhaena pulled the sword free from the deck and strode without hesitation towards the kraken. He called to her, weakened from blood loss, but unable to keep himself from staring in fascinated awe. She slashed with a turn, cutting at both sides of her body as the arms of the kraken continued to pull itself onto the ship, however when it met against the unstoppable force of Rhaena Targaryen, it screeched wildly. Before anyone could recover themselves, a bloom of fire burst upwards and billowed in a twisting mass of white, gold and lilac. The sight of it sharpened Ilyan's focus, and a sense of fearful wonderment struck him. It was as if one of the gods had descended upon them and had come to save them from their foe. Rhaena's fire blinded the kraken who took aversion to the heat and flame, screaming and writhing as she scorched its eyes, damaging them irreparably. Her sword flashed and cut several more arms, weakening its hold upon the ship until finally, she darted up the rigging, climbing the net one handed before she leaped from it and fell through the air, arching her back and raising her sword above her head. In that moment, Ilyan thought the princess looked utterly magnificent as she gave a heart rousing battle cry.
The tip of her sword drove deep into the kraken's head, pushing through flesh and membrane before she slid down the slimy, fleshy surface of its body. As she sild, the sword tore a great gash down the flattened head of the kraken all the way to its beaked maw. Blood flowed in a great river but as the kraken's final scream died with it, everyone watched as the arms went limp and as useless as a boneless fish. Landing upon the deck, Rhaena walked away without a single glance over her shoulder, wiping her blade against her britches as the kraken slipped back into the water with a calamitous splash. Unable to take his eyes from her, Ilyan watched as Rhaena approached him, sword still in hand. She looked down at him as if contemplating ending his suffering and giving him a quick, clean death. She did not. Instead, she took hold of his arm and pulled upon it, helping him rise to his feet then draped it over her neck to help keep him upright, glancing to the blank faced crew before taking Ilyan back into his cabin where door had been made into splinters, cracked at the centre. No wonder she had managed to get out through a locked door.
Without saying a word, Rhaena brought Ilyan into the bedchamber and let him slide onto the bed as he struggled for air, gripping his wound and biting down upon his teeth. Wasting no time, she brought the most potent wine he had in his collection and poured it over the wound to cleanse it, ignoring his shout and curse in order to work. She removed the largest shard of wood then delicately removed all the smaller splinters, keeping the flesh clean and free of blood by dabbing at it until she was certain she had removed all that she could find. To help settle the pain, Rhaena gave Ilyan rum to drink. He was a tough man, keeping from screaming or weeping from the pain he was no doubt feeling, but rather seemed utterly fascinated with watching Rhaena as she tended to his injuries. With a practiced and rather skilled hand, she stitched closed the wound then bound it before having Ilyan turn onto his back so that she could wash the angry lashes across his back with wine and cover them with a salve she had found, hoping it would keep out the infection as she then placed strips of cloth against the lash marks so that wearing his shirt would not irritate the wounds. Once she was done, she touched his shoulder lightly then moved away. "You should rest. There was a great deal of blood that I saw. Too much for a man to lose."
"I cannot, I must see to my men and my ship." Slowly rising to his feet, Ilyan took one final swig of rum before reaching for his belt and unbuckling it, dropping it with the scabbard and hunting horn onto the bed behind him. Rhaena arched an eyebrow at him questioningly, earning a weak laugh from the pirate captain. "You have your sword, and I should not like to try my luck attempting to take it back from you. You may as well have the rest. Only promise not to impale me, Kraken-Slayer, or your hard work will have gone to waste." Although severely injured, Ilyan moved as if he felt no pain at all. He strode forwards, wearing the image of a captain as he bowed to Rhaena before disappearing, the sounds of his shouts drifting after him as he began to rally his men and begin the repairs. Allowing herself to finally breathe, Rhaena walked to the bed and lifted her scabbard to sheathe Whitefyre then buckled the belt around her hips. Her hand then went to the hunting horn, closing her fingers around it as she contemplated. One call and Rhaegal would come flying to her rescue. One call and she would be gone from the Stargazer and never have to look upon her again. She considered for a long time, standing there with her hand upon the horn until gradually, she relinquished her grip. A few more days would not matter.