A/N: chidhu9999 - Thanks very much. The pairings will come when it's appropriate for early stories I wanted to focus on familial relationships, rather than romances. So Tristan and Robb, Lyonel and Shireen, Loren and the Lannisters, etc. I felt that an early romance for them would distract from their arcs and the themes I wanted to explore, so I've left any pairings for later in the series.
The boarding bridge slammed down onto the deck of the Righteous and his men at arms charged across. The men in front holding tower shields up before them to deflect enemy arrow fire, while those behind came on with hatchets. His archers, lined up alongside the bridge and on the fore and aft castles continued to rain fire on the enemy vessel.
The enemy met them at the bridge, shields high and firm, they boxed his men in at the boarding point, wooden practice swords and axes rising and falling, clattering off armour.
He glanced at his timing candles, one burned down, another halfway there. A minute and a half since the boarding process had begun. They still had time. He glanced up above. Someone had raised the boarding flags, so a ship from the second line should be moving into position. They pushed on, more men with large shields pushed out to create a small toehold on the other side. They drove out carefully, inching more and more space for the rest of the boarders.
The ship shifted beneath them. A lifetime at sea left him able to cope with it. But many of his archers were still finding their sea legs. If the gods were good, they would have time to find them before the proper battle. How many soldiers.
"The Resolute Judgement is coming in, my prince," a voice called to him. "They'll sandwich the enemy ship."
"Keep up the pressure!" He called to his men. The candle burnt down, another was lit, it burnt down, another was lit, then the other ship came up on the Righteous' other side. Resolute Judgement's grapples were tossed over and the boarding bridges slammed into place. They swarmed over and soon the Righteous' crew were laying down their practice arms. "Call it," he said to his signaller who blew out a tune on the trumpet, ending the combat.
The boarders helped the boarded to their feet as Lyonel joined them on the Righteous' main deck. "Very good, all of you," he smiled at them. "In the heat of battle that's almost as good as we could hope for. Just remember, don't crowd the bridge, you make yourself a sitting duck. Wait for the archers and first wave to clear an opening. Righteous, well done containing the opening. But you didn't switch the flags, to call for aid. Don't forget when you are boarded raise the flag that says so, then one of the second wave can come it and take your boarder from the other side."
The captain of the Righteous bowed. "Sorry, my prince, it won't happen again."
"Any day now, this could be for real. Be sure it doesn't."
The crews returned to their ships and Lyonel prepared to signal the pair of training ships. "What are the next two ships?" He asked ser Davos.
Ser Davos looked out at the next two vessels approaching the Fury. "The Mistress Myrielle and the True Grace, Prince Lyonel," he said.
Lyonel flipped his books to the pages on those two vessels. "The True Grace has surrendered too quickly in its last three exercises," he noted. "Signal them that they are to be attacked by the Mistress Myrielle, we're going to come in from the other side once the signal has been given. We'll see how long they can resist this time."
They kept up the exercises until the sun started setting and Lyonel sent the signal for the ships to return to port. Progress had been good. True Grace was able to resist far longer than they had before, Ire of Warriors had nearly doubled its shooting rate, and the Holy Maiden had greatly improved its signalling. He was happy with the progress that had been made, and tomorrow they would try again.
The Fury was first to anchor at Dragonstone and they disembarked in the late evening sun. He led his archers back to the camp, discussing their progress with Davos. They were discussing their ammunition stores when Davos stopped mid-sentence. "My prince," he pointed.
Lyonel looked. His mother had come down to the camp, flanked by four guards, looking down at the shipwright reports, arms folded lightly across her stomach. When she looked up at him she didn't smile. "Captain Rennic, take the men back to their tents, make sure they get some rest." As Rennic led the men away, Lyonel approached his mother. "Mother, you don't come down here often, is something wrong?"
Myrielle reached for her belt and pulled out a crumpled letter, sealed with green wax. "This arrived this afternoon," she said softly, and he saw that the wax had been broken. "It's from Lady Estermont."
He took the letter, reading it to confirm what he already knew. "The Redwyne fleet is coming north. At least one hundred and eighty ships."
"Probably more," his mother replied. "When do you sail?"
They had been ready for this day for a while now. They knew the preparations that would have to be made, and that he would have to go. He looked at the sky. "The day after tomorrow," he said simply. "There are no safe harbours for Lord Redwyne to put into port now that he's passed Estermont, which means he'll likely be sailing as fast as the winds and oars allow. Ser Davos, spread the word, tomorrow we'll gather all our supplies and the men are to say goodbye to their families, we sail the morning after."
"Of course, my prince."
"The day after tomorrow?" His mother asked.
He nodded. "The day after tomorrow."
"You'd better get some rest then, it sounds like your tomorrow will be busy," she half turned away before looking back at him. "You'll dine with me, tomorrow evening, just the two of us." She left before he could ask if that was a request or not.
The next day was a flurry of activity. He was awake just after dawn and was looking over the reports from his captains as he ate his breakfast. Most of those reports had nothing to action so he left them aside. Fourteen vessels reported shortages of arrows for the archers on board; three were still being repaired from damage sustained in the training exercises the day before, but they should be done before then. The ship that had nearly been holed the previous week wasn't going to be ready to sail, so Lyonel quickly dispersed the crew among other vessels. Three letters had been left for him, from noble captains who were to serve in ser Davos' squadron. Still they demanded superiority over the former smuggler. The food supplies were running low and many ships were reporting their stores diminishing.
He took each problem in turn. He sent urgent requests to the fletchers for new arrows, commanding them to work overnight if necessary. He put the letters from the captains in the breakfast fire, and they would serve under ser Davos as he had commanded them to do. He sent trusted men to the markets with bags full of silver to get them all the food they would need. When he was done he left the tent and headed for the archery butts. He ordered them taken down, telling his men to spend this last day relaxing and praying for the days ahead.
As he was in the market checking on the food supplies, Magister Melios approached him with wide arms and a wide smile. "Prince Lyonel!" He clasped Lyonel's hand enthusiastically. "Your mother tells me you are to sail tomorrow."
"Yes," he replied awkwardly, waiting for the magister's grip to slacken so he could pull his arm free. "Tomorrow, don't worry Magister, I won't let the enemy anywhere near this island."
"I believe it with all my being," the magister replied. "In fact, I wanted to offer my assistance."
"You can sail a warship?"
He laughed. "Oh no, my prince, warfare is not my domain, it's why I pay others to fight for me." He clapped his hands and the two warriors who had bested much of the garrison came forward. "This is Ardahan and Shahrbana, I believe you've met."
"We have," Lyonel bowed to them, graciously. "It's a pleasure again." They didn't have their helms with their mail masks that covered them from the nose down, so he could see that these two weren't just paired fighters, they were closely related. They had the same jawline, the same shape to their eyes, the same dark hair. Ardahan kept his short, while Shahrbana braided hers and brought it down and around her neck, almost like a noose.
"The pleasure is ours," Ardahan said. He fingered the axe and scimitar at his belt. "And it will be our pleasure to fight at your side in the battle to come."
He arched an eyebrow. "Come again?"
"We're going to fight with you," Shahrbana said. "The magister has commanded us to protect you in the coming battle."
Melios smiled at him. "As you have been so gracious to us, we thought it only fitting that our best fight at your side," he said simply.
"You know how to fight at sea?"
Ardahan nodded. "We have defended many ships from pirates in service to the magister."
"Sea or land, makes no difference to us," Shahrbana finished.
Every sword would be useful, and he'd seen the two of them fight. "Very well, I'll welcome you on board. Be at the Fury, tomorrow morning. We sail then." The two of them gave their strange, myrish bow, before going to get ready.
"They'll serve you as well as they have me," Melios promised.
"I can't guarantee they'll return."
"I understand," he replied, "they're going to guarantee you return. If you didn't, my darling Amalia would be most upset."
"She would? She told you that?"
Melios laughed. "Oh I didn't need to hear it to know it," he said.
"Where is she?" He looked around. He didn't see her at any of the stalls.
"She's still up at the castle. I needed her to look after some accounts."
"Accounts?"
"Oh yes," Melios replied, putting his thumbs in his belt. "She's a grown woman now. If she's going to start making promissory notes to people, she's going to take responsibility for them."
"Promissory notes?"
He nodded. "Oh yes, she's been making credit purchases of workshop parts, horsehair and twine, wood, sinew, all sorts."
"Credit purchases?"
He shrugged. "I keep an eye on her. If things get too out of hand, I'll step in and pay off some of those debts. But quite honestly, she's as good with money as me, maybe better. I trust her."
"And a lot more than me," Lyonel added, "I never learnt about money the way you do in the Free Cities."
"Well then I shan't bore you, or keep you," he stiffened and bowed. "Good day Prince Lyonel."
Unlike most of the times he dined with his mother, neither of them had dressed for the occasion. Simple clothes, his mother's hair was down and it was just the two of them, sat opposite each other at the end of the table. They'd spent the first two courses speaking about anything other than the war, but now they were out of topics. The war was everywhere and it was all they could talk about. He told her about the final preparations and the encounter with Melios.
"And you think you can trust them?" His mother asked.
"Their master will be remaining here, I don't see how I'm in danger when the magister and his family are in your care," Lyonel pointed out.
She nodded. "I know, you're right, I just worry, you're my only boy."
"You're not too old mother, you could have another boy if you lose me," he smiled lightly.
"Don't you even joke about that!" His mother hissed. Her hands were shaking so she put down her spoon. "You are my only boy, Lyonel, my only boy. Last time you went to war, it was just a siege at first, and even then you were under your father's watchful eye. This time it's just you, he's not there, and you're going to fight a mighty fleet." She clasped her hands, squeezing so hard the knuckles went white. "And I can't help you any more," she whispered.
He reached across the table, hand open. She unclasped her hands and placed one of them in his open palm. He squeezed softly, smiling at her, trying to calm his nerves. "You've already helped me more than I need. I'll be as careful as I can."
"I know you will," she said, biting her lip. She pushed the rest of her dessert away then, her appetite gone. "I've never lost anyone to war before," she said. "The chill took my family. I thought that I might lose you and Shireen to greyscale. Despite all your years' training in arms, I never actually considered that I would lose you to battle one day. One cursed arrow or spear, and you're gone."
"Well thanks to you I can stay out of range and still be as deadly as ever," he said.
She laughed. "Your father… he's never been violent with me, but when he learned I'd started training you and your sister with the bow, that was as close as he ever got."
"That was the first time?" He knew his parents didn't have the closest of marriages.
Myrielle nodded. "Yes. Your father wasn't violent with me, he just didn't want me there. At all. He would come to the bedroom once in a while to do his marital duty but-" she stopped when she saw the look on Lyonel's face. "Sorry, I know no one wants to hear that. But I may never get another chance."
"Alright," Lyonel said, steadying his stomach. "What did you want to tell me?"
"Do you know that your father never wanted your sister?"
"What?!"
Myrielle nodded, sitting back in her chair, fidgeting. "Not that he was angry when she came, or ever did anything but love her. From the moment she was born, it was impossible not to love Shireen. He just wasn't interested in any more children, not after he had his son. I had to coax him into bed and pray to the mother that he took. He'd just taken a leave of absence from King's Landing, Cersei had been, well Cersei. He was angry, frustrated by the council. But this was before Joffrey was born, so I convinced him it would show Cersei up if we had two children before she'd conceived one."
"I suppose that worked."
She nodded again. "So it did. I hope your wife won't have to resort to such methods," she added.
"My wife?"
"If- when you're married, when you're married, I hope you have many children."
He thought back to his childhood, how much of a handful he and Shireen had been. "Is that wise. Children can be a terror, and the more of them there are, the harder they are to handle."
Myrielle laughed. "That's true, but they are also such a blessing." She turned to him with tears in her eyes. "You and Shireen are my world, and now your sister is ruling a castle and you're going to war. Meanwhile I'll be here, worrying about you both, not knowing if you're safe. But it's worth every moment I got to spend with the two of you." She pointed down into the courtyard. "Like there, that's where I trained you at archery. Or here, where I cleaned your cuts and bruises. You'll see one day, when you have your own sons and daughters." She rushed over and pulled him into her body, holding him against her stomach. It was awkward from where he was sitting, but he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her back. "Promise me you'll be careful," she whispered.
"I'll be careful," he promised.
He tried to pull away but she held him tighter. "Not yet," she said. "Let me hold you again, as my little boy."
She held him for what felt like hours before she let him go. She wiped her eyes. "Thank you for this," she said. "Tomorrow I'll see you off and I won't be weeping then."
"It's okay to weep, mother. Tears aren't evil. You told me that." She laughed chokingly.
"I know. But you should go, I'll have this cleaned up."
"I can stay a little longer," he said, he didn't need to sleep this early.
"No, there's somewhere else you need to be tonight."
"There is?"
She sighed. "Lady Amalia, you haven't said goodbye to her yet, have you."
"No, not yet."
"By the gods Lyonel, go to her."
"I can say goodbye tomorrow."
"But you don't want to do you?" She fixed him with that knowing stare that only a mother could give. "Go to her tonight, tell her goodbye and… whatever else you want to do."
"Mother," he began, but she cut him off.
"Lyonel, you've thrown yourself into your duties these last weeks, you need to relax before the battle, even if only for a night."
He'd sinned before the last battle and it had cost them everything. He couldn't do it again, even if he pictured Amalia's curves when he closed his eyes, or her scent when he breathed. "I can't."
"Yes you can," she said. "If she wants you and you want her, it isn't so wrong."
"Before the last battle…"
"You were a different man," she lay her fingers on his arm. "Go to her Lyonel." She kissed him on the cheek and ushered him to the door. "Just think about it, will you hate yourself if you don't? If so, then go, if not, then you can go to bed and bid her farewell in the morning. But one last word of advice from your mother. I regret the things I never did but should have far more than the things I did but shouldn't have." With that she gave him one more kiss on the cheek and closed the door on him.
He took a breath, feeling his stomach turn over. He should go and say goodby to Amalia tonight, and thank her for being such pleasant company since she'd arrived.
But once he was in front of her door it was suddenly much more difficult.
He shouldn't do this, he knew that, it would be a mistake, a temptation too far. But he should. No, he shouldn't, he should. He should knock, just say goodbye to her in the doorway, that wasn't improper was it? No, she was probably asleep, he should just go, say goodbye in the morning. He turned and started walking away, but only got a few steps before cursing and turning back. He raised his fist to knock. How should he knock, formally, two raps, three? He turned away and took one step before turning back and knocking four times. No, that was too much, too eager! Should he leave, he could still make it to the end of the corridor if he moved now, she wouldn't know it was him.
The door opened. Shit!
Amalia peeked out in a cream dress with short sleeves, her hair falling down to the middle of her back, her amber skin illuminated by firelight. She looked tired, but smiled widely at the sight of him. "My prince," she opened the door and stood in the entrance. She looked him up and down, eyebrow raised. Was she waiting for him to say something? "Do you want to come in?" She half stood aside.
"I… came to say goodbye, I'm sure you've heard that we're sailing tomorrow."
"Do you want to come in?" She asked again, ignoring his comment.
"I said-" he began, but she pressed her finger to his lips.
"Do you want to come in?"
He swallowed and nodded, so she stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.
A fire crackled in the grate of the solar. Against the wall, just by the window, was a large desk strewn with books and papers with words and symbols scrawled across them. A door against the far wall led to the bedroom. "Can I get you something?" She asked him, "some food, water, wine?"
"No tea?"
"Not if you want to sleep tonight," she told him with a light smile. Gods how the fire made her shine. "Perhaps some wine," she took a cup from the desk and poured him half a glass. She pressed it into his hands.
"Only half a cup?" He asked.
She giggled. "I want you to have a clear head. I want you to remember what happens next."
"What happens next?" He had to play this off, make it seem like he wasn't so eager, so pathetic. "I'm just here to say goodbye."
"Oh, really, you want to play that game? You said goodbye at the door. We both know why you came to my rooms this evening." She stepped very close to him. He wanted to step away, but his feet suddenly felt like cast iron. "You came to give me your first kiss."
"A kiss," he said dumbly.
"Yes, that's all, just a kiss." She closed her eyes and turned her head up to him. "Go on."
Okay, he could do this, should he hold her, was that too much? But where, he shoulders? Her hips, no that was too close to her rear. Maybe her cheeks? "I'm waiting." He took her by the shoulders and leant in, pressing his lips to hers.
It was as hot as fire and as refreshing as water. He forgot his worries and just kissed her, letting the feeling wash over him and burn through him. He pulled back, out of breath.
Amalia smiled up at him. "I told you I would be your first," she whispered. She reached up and stroked his cheeks with her fingertips. "But now that's out of the way…" She clasped her hands behind his neck and pulled him down, kissing him with such passion that it took him several seconds to react. Then he wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss. He lost himself in her, the feel of her body against his, the taste of her. She pushed her tongue against his lips and as soon as he opened them she slipped it in his mouth, exploring him.
She pulled away, holding his forehead against hers as they panted.
"That was…" he began.
"Yes," she said, rubbing her nose against his, "yes it was. And that's only the beginning," she said. She stepped away, walking backwards towards the door to the bedchamber. She beckoned him onwards, luring him in. "Come, my prince, let me show you so much more."
He hadn't made the decision, he was just following her. He couldn't see anything in the bedroom, just her. She held out her hands, and when he took them she pulled him in for another kiss. "Arms up," she said. He did as she told and she pulled his tunic up, kissing his stomach and chest before throwing it on the floor. He recoiled, his hands going to cover his shoulder, but she took them and placed them on her hips. Before he could say anything her hands were tracing his greyscale scars, running over the cracks, carressing the dead skin. "I've never seen it before," she whispered, her breath hot on his chest. She looked up at him, eyes dark. "I can't even imagine," she said.
"You don't need to look at them," he said. Everyone else averted their eyes at the sight of him, but she stroked her fingers along them tenderly, not scared at all.
"I want to look at every part of you," she whispered. And then she did something that made his heart leap. She leant in and kissed the greyscale. Her lips pressed to the dead skin from his collar to his upper arm, her tongue tracing along the cracks.
He took her by the cheeks and kissed her, hard. She gasped as he pressed her against the wall, wrapping around him. She kissed along his cheek then down to his neck, sucking and licking it, then up to his ear, tracing her tongue around it. "One moment," she said. He paused, staring into her eyes. "Help me with this," she said, gesturing to the ties on her dress.
His fingers felt like wood as he tried to unlace her, but she didn't rush him, just stroking his arms and chest as he fumbled, until the dress was loose enough that she brushed it off her shoulder and it pooled at her feet, leaving her in a white, shapeless shift. He ran his fingers down her arms, revelling on the softness and warmth of her body. He kissed her shoulder and neck, trying to copy what she'd done to him earlier. She giggled and pulled away, taking his hands and pulling him over to the bed. He moved in to kiss her again, but she pushed back on his chest. "Ah ah ah," she said quietly. She slid the shift off her body and Lyonel's eye's feasted on her body, tracing every perfect detail that was exposed to him. She sat back down and covered herself with her arms. "You don't get to see the rest until you join me," she said.
Lyonel froze, swallowed and nodded, fumbling with the laces on his trousers, hands shaking. "Join me when you're ready," she said, and slipped under the covers, turning away from him. Without Amalia staring, he quickly slipped out of his clothes and hurried over to the bed, joining her under the covers. She turned to him with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She pushed her body against his, tucking herself against him and breathing in deeply. "Are you ready?" She whispered. He swallowed and nodded. She smiled and lay on her back, holding out her arms and beckoning him in. "Come here, on top of me," she said and he joined herl, resting over her, staring down at her face, her hair splayed out on the pillows beneath her. Gods she was beautiful. He kissed her and she stroked his cheek. Her other hand trailed down his body, slowly, letting him stop her if he wanted. He didn't want to, he let her keep going until she found him, hard and ready. She pulled away from the kiss and stared into his eyes. "Are you ready?" She asked again. He opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. She guided him to her entrance, hot and wet. She let him go and circled her arms around him. "I'm here, do it," she whispered. He thrust into her.
When he woke the next morning he felt so relaxed. Like he could just curl up in this bed and wait for the end times without a worry in the world. Amalia lay against him, head on his shoulder, body flush against him, arm across his chest.
So, that was what it was like to be with a woman. He felt himself stirring again. Did he have to do anything else, couldn't he just stay here with her and do that again, and again. He ran his hand up and down her back, feeling the softness of her skin, the curve of her spine. "You're awake," she whispered groggily, turning to look up at him, smiling contentedly.
"I am," he said, leaning down and kissing her. "It's morning," he said. She lay down on him again. "That means I have to go." She kissed his shoulder and held him close. "Amalia?" Her hand slid down and gripped him.
"Do you want to go, or do you want to make love again?"
"Oh gods, you know the answer to that."
"I know, but I want to hear you say it."
"I want you again." She grinned up at him and slid over his body, pressing hers against him.
"As you wish."
When they were done, Lyonel laid back on the bed, panting and sweating. Amalia got to her feet and pulled a pure white fur from her cupboard, wrapping it around her before going into the solar. "Lady Amalia?"
She returned with a ceramic kettle in one hand and a basket in the other. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the basket.
She grinned "I should have known your mother would send you to me," she laughed putting the basket down on the bed and taking the kettle over to the fire, heating the water inside. He crawled down the bed and saw a pile of his clothes in the basket. A note from his mother said that she'd sent his armour and weapons down to the ship. Lying on top of the clothes was a small bundle, which he untied to see a light breakfast for the two of them.
"She may have pushed me," Lyonel replied, his face flushing with embarrassment. "But I did want to come."
"I know, I'm only teasing," she said. She walked to the bedside cabinet and took out a small pot and two cups. She put a pinch of leaves into each cup and returned to the fire. Lyonel couldn't take his eyes off her the whole time. Her slightly disheveled hair her bare feet padding on the floor, the white fur wrapped around her body. "Tea?" She asked.
"Yes please," he said. Amalia poured them both a cup and he picked up a slice of bread. As he was about to eat it, she snatched it from his hand with a cat-like grin and pressed the hot cup of tea in its place "As you like it," she whispered, leaning in and kissing him again, slipping her tongue in his mouth. She pulled back and munched on the bread holding her cup of tea in the other hand. They ate and drank in silence. When they had finished she took the cups from him and placed them on the bedside table. Then she took the cloth that the bread had been wrapped in and dabbed at his mouth, wiping away the last crumbs.
She cupped his cheek and traced his lips with her thumb. He couldn't take his eyes off her. "We should get you dressed," she said pulling him to his feet.
She helped him dress in silence, and the warmth and euphoria he'd felt in thebed died away as she tightened his belt. When she was done she looked up at him. "Are you ready?"
He nodded. "I am."
She ran her the back of her fingers along his jawline. "Be safe out there. Ardahan and Shahrbana will look after you as best they can, but don't go taking unnecessary risks."
"I won't," he told her.
She pulled him into her and kissed him again, teasing his tongue into her mouth and sucking on it. "Good. Because I have so much more I want to show you when you come back."
The grin that split his face must have made him look like an idot, and he nodded eagerly. "I can't wait."
Amalia giggled, pecking him one last time before patting his cheek. "Just come back safely. I'll wave you away from the window."
"Not coming with me?"
She pulled the fur tighter about herself, closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. "No, I'm quite alright here." She sat down on the bed and gave him a flirtatious wave. "I'll see you when you get back, my prince."
Lyonel bowed his head to her and left the room. He made his way out of the castle and down towards the docks, his fleet, and his destiny.
