—The Iron Islands—
Pyke…
Daemon, shirtless and disarmed, sat on a pile of straw before standing to pace around in his cell. His attention centers around the crew of the Falcon's Flight—its captain, the engineers, staff, even Petyr and Broden. Were they all right? He did not know for certain. The cells of the Iron Islands were harsh and unforgiving. In an adjoining cell, three seedy-looking prisoners try to coax a nearby guard. One holds a sack of gold; another offers a wineskin.
"Come on! How about a nice cold one?" one prisoner beseeched.
"I've got more money, ser," another beckoned. "Let me out and I'll make you rich beyond your dreams."
One of Daemon's cellmates, however, was not so inclined.
"You can keep pleading and bargain all you want, the guard is not going to budge an inch," he replied grimly.
The ironborn guard nodded. "So, keep your mouths shut 'less you all want to visit the gallows much sooner!" he huffed as he took another gulp of his wine.
« …They're coming. You must leave… »
Daemon groaned; shaking his head once more, the dreams kept coming.
"You look like you haven't slept, friend," his cellmate observed.
His voice sounded different. "Your accent… You're not from Westeros, aren't you?" Daemon inquired.
"No," he replied. "I'm a colonist."
"Where are you from, friend?"
"Mirantibus Spe, across the Sunset Sea. Baelor Farrin's my name if it means anything to you. My father is Lord Jorgan Farrin, Governor of the Kental Province."
"Nice to meet you, Ser Baelor. I'm Prince Daemon of House Baratheon."
That peaked Baelor's curiosity as he raised an eyebrow. "So… you're the famed rebel Prince," he observed. "What brings you to this godforsaken island?"
"My mission here is only part of it," the Prince explained. "I'm building an alliance. I need the Vale's support, who need the Tullys of Riverrun and who in turn need the Greyjoys of Pyke."
"Which is why I never became a diplomat. Too much coddling – much to father's disappointment."
"HEY! Keep it down in there!" the ironborn guard hollered again.
Daemon shrugged at the ironborn. "So… how did you get here?" he whispered.
"I'm a freelance merchant, responsible for ferrying supplies from the homeland to the colonies. We were expecting our next shipment a couple of months ago, then… nothing. When that happened, my father wanted to know why. Instead of risking our fleets, our colony decided it was best to send someone alone to investigate the sudden change in this regime. So, I volunteered. That's when I first heard about the civil war." Baelor sighed. "The ironborn must've thought I was one of King Argilac's spies sent to assassinate Lady Asha. I tried to plead my case, but they didn't believe a word I said."
"Yeah. They did the same to me and my friends as well."
"Then you understand how rigid their culture can be. I still had my documents in my pack, but I suspect the guards still have it." He turned to the Prince. "And what about you? How did the Prince—Argilac's flesh and blood—manage to venture out here?"
Daemon contemplated his options; either tell Baelor the truth and risk word spreading or lie and risk alienating a potential ally. He shook his head upon weighing his options. "This business I have with the ironborn is part of a much bigger picture. I need the Vale's support, who need the Riverlands… who in turn need the Iron Islands."
"I… see. Sounds like you have quite the task ahead of you. Forging alliances and all that." Baelor raised a curious eyebrow. "Hmm. Tell you what, we're both in quite a predicament here where none of us can get out of this cell by ourselves. if you help break us out of here, I'll send word to Mirantibus Spe about the situation."
"What kind of support can the colony provide if I agree to your terms?"
"Our colony can't send any of our local militia, but my family does come from a long line of merchants, traders, businessmen, and bankers. We even have connections to the Central Bank of Westeros dating back two centuries! One word from me and I'm sure some will be sympathetic to our plight. To be honest, Your Highness, if what you're telling me is true then your army will need money. And my family has an outrageous amount of money. We can not only fund your mission but also better equip your troops… you name it."
Daemon examines his choices. He has a large fleet in terms of naval warfare and that can be an advantage, but with only a smaller number of ground forces serving his cause is still a disadvantage. And he needs as many allies as he could, yet logistical support was also a crucial factor in tipping the scales in a war; any equipment his forces would only be limited. He needs supplies! His troops can improvise, yes, but his resources are bound to be a problem if his outnumbered army can't get access to more along the way should they run out.
"Looks like we both have what the other needs. Alright, ser. You have a deal."
"Great," Baelor sighed. "Now, our first order of business is to—"
"HEY!" the ironborn jailor barked, smacking the cell bars. "I thought I told y'all to—"
From a distance, there is a BOOM…
"Shh! Did you hear something?"
…accompanied by the whistle of an incoming cannonball.
"GET DOWN!" Daemon yelled.
Baelor and Daemon barely had enough time to react when the dungeon walls explode, sending debris in every single direction. Unfortunately for the jailors, they were too close to the blast and were killed instantly; as for the other prisoners, only three died whilst the rest scattered trying to get away from the danger near the window. Their ears were ringing and were feeling disoriented. Once the ringing began to slowly subside, Daemon and Baelor crowded near the gaping hole in the wall as more booms ripped through the air, accompanied by explosions and sounds of faint hollering below.
The scene that greeted them will always be remembered.
An oceanic battle is underway between the Iron Fleet and Argilac's Royal Fleet; both sides unleash a barrage of cannon fire, each hammering and seeking to overwhelm the other. Many ships have sunk or are in flames. Longships carrying ironborn marauders are either boarding or fending off Argilac's naval officers as more cannon fire continues to rain down indiscriminately.
Nearby infrastructures are caught in the crossfire. Streets, buildings, docks, and trading vessels shatter and explode beneath the onslaught. Civilians panic and run for cover as best they can while the port town of Lordsport's cannons returns fire on the invaders. If this is not hell on earth, then it's about to be.
« …Leave. Hurry… »
"Sunset Sea Flotilla, Western Maritime Division, Royal Fleet… Damn it!" Daemon cursed. "It's my brother's men."
"The Western Maritime Division?" the prisoners crowded around the bars of their window terrified. "I've heard stories about these sons of bitches… they've been hunting pirates, smugglers, and slavers along the western coast for fifteen years… and not one survivor."
"Yes, and the sailors serving on those ships have been instilled with the belief that all who prey on the weak are scum. That includes pirates, smugglers, and slavers. It's all they know because at least one member of their families was a victim of their crimes, so they tend to be a bit… fanatical."
"But why are they attacking us? We didn't do anything to them!"
Daemon shook his head. "It doesn't matter. They've come to kill Asha Greyjoy." He turns towards a gaping hole in the wall created by the cannon fire. Beyond it: freedom. Raising one foot over the other, he slipped through to the other side. "You lads want to live to see another day? Then follow me! We're getting out of here!"
Baelor nodded and followed close behind, prompting the others to scramble towards them.
"No need to tell us twice!"
Baelor bent down and searched through the ironborn jailor's corpse, digging through each pocket until he found the documents he was looking for. "Ah! There you are," he said. "Now that I have my papers back, all that's left is for us to escape. You got a ship nearby?"
"Provided the Falcon's Flight hasn't been impounded and stripped for parts, yes," Daemon confirmed. He flung open the doors to the armory to retrieve his belongings, including his firearms and the blade of his ancestors, Stormbringer. "But to pilot it I need to get my crew. Get them out of here. Otherwise, we're all stuck here."
"Then they're most likely somewhere near the lower levels." The colonist turned to the prisoners. Seeing they had nothing left to lose by risking going alone, they figured the best means of surviving is by sticking together. "We'll find your mates. You… you find Lady Asha and keep her alive if possible but try not to get yourself."
"Seven blessings to you, Ser Baelor."
"Same to you, rebel Prince. And… please drop the formalities. Just call me Baelor."
Baelor and the remaining inmates descend the rocks below, going the opposite way to locate the other captive Falcon's Flight crew. Daemon is alone and steels himself for the battle of the Iron Islands. Figuring his musket pistols were bound to run out of ammunition, he gathered some extra equipment: slipping a boarding axe into his belt at the small of his back, a dirk in his belt, then a second and a third. He picks up two three-barrel muskets and ascends the steps of the dungeon before venturing into the open.
Ironborn kraken guards nearby attempt to repel the invaders but are cut down one by one by the Baratheon maritime officers.
"There's the traitor!" one of the captains points towards Daemon, getting his comrades' attention.
Look who's calling who a traitor.
One… two… three… four… Six sailors standing in the way to his target. And with the pathway in front of him so narrow, it would be easy to funnel them into a single choke point so they wouldn't have any room to maneuver. They'd be forced to come at him one at a time. Prince Daemon wasn't going to allow anyone to stand in the way of his main objective – even if the people blocking his path did have good intentions. But these men were too brainwashed by blind loyalty that they were too far gone beyond redemption. He didn't say anything as these six came running towards him as soon as they saw him.
Unsheathing Stormbringer from its scabbard, Daemon was ready to engage them. Steel rang on steel, but the rebel Prince ducked and slashed horizontally, felling one. He felt somehow impressed with the effectiveness of Valyrian steel. So, it really could cut through the breastplate. The second rushed forward, yelling and cursing with his sword raised high; hard and fast the cuts came, and each one Daemon blocked and felled the second. Then the third… then the fourth… and the fifth… until there was one left standing…
Panting and his blade covered in blood, blood painting the onyx stones, Daemon locked eyes with the remaining sailor – who seemed to snap out of his euphoria and stopped to observe the pile of bodies on the ground. Six against one and he was the only one left standing. Undaunted, Daemon approaches the sailor and swishes Stormbringer to cut off the point of his blade, then swinging it back to chop it further at the central ridge and again the fuller until what was left of the blade was chipped down to the ricasso.
Seeing his odds of survival, the sole surviving sailor throws what remains of his weapon to the ground and raises his hands. "M-Mercy! I surrender!" he pleaded.
Daemon eyed him up and down. "What's your name?" he interrogated.
"A-Arthur, Your Highness! P-Petty Officer T-third class!"
"Do you have a family?"
"A wife and two boys! Th-they live in the capital! P-please don't kill me!"
Oh, the irony. "Funny. These people you and your comrades killed here today didn't want to die either. But you did it anyway. You've brought shame and disgrace to the uniform."
"B-but I surrendered! I surrendered! Please don't kill me! I surrendered!"
« …The one you seek is not too far from your position. Find her and you are more likely to succeed… »
Daemon groaned as he felt another headache coming. He felt as if his head would burst open. But… in his mind started throbbing and his eyes suddenly glazed over white, going completely still. Strange visions had begun piecing themselves together until it showed him a silhouette of a large war galley engaging in a battle at sea near Lordsport: the Great Kraken. On it, it showed him Asha Greyjoy and her brother Harwyn boarding a large vessel with their men and fighting with dozens more sailors… led by a large man wielding two battleaxes. This man… wore inlaid armor, heavy torcs, and fine silks.
A Talon marauder!
Once the vision faded, Daemon regained consciousness and turned to the sailor. "Leave. Go home to your wife, take care of your children… but I don't ever want to see you again."
The sailor nodded. "Y-Yes! Of course! I-I won't trouble you again!" he readily agreed. Not wanting to stick around further, he dove off the edge of the walkway into the waters below. On the off chance that he would be seen, he would be branded as a traitor and be executed… perhaps going AWOL would be more suitable.
« …The Greyjoy is vital to your future. She must not die here… »
Daemon groaned. Seven hells, some strange voice in my head is telling ME what to do! But they're right. Without this alliance, we've got no chance. I can't let the Talons kill Asha Greyjoy. I need her alive. "Put me through this hellhole… then I'm done playing nice." He turned to glance over his shoulder. "My crew, Petyr, Broden… you'd better make it out of there alive." His sights turned back to the Great Kraken. If he could just make it to that ship in time, it could potentially show the ironborn that he's on their side and prove his worth. "Just sit tight, Asha Greyjoy. I'm on my way."
Daemon then turns and starts running to the port town, leaping from one stone to another on his way to reach Lordsport. As the sword fighting and artillery fire rages all around the Iron Islands, the hunt for Asha Greyjoy… has begun.
—The Vale of Arryn—
Near Gulltown…
Sharra and the lone knight escorting her were already on horseback – traversing down the Mountains of the Moon en route to Gulltown. Even with the Vale's Monorail Station, the risk of Talon spies infiltrating her ranks could spell out trouble should one of them sabotage the station's rails – either preventing the monorail car from moving or sending its passengers plummeting to a gruesome death against the mountains and cliffs below.
So, she opted not to take that risk.
Still, Sharra had to be cautious when traveling around the foothills; reports of hill tribes—the Stone Crows, Black Ears, Burned Men, and Moon Brothers—were relatively active in this area. Any unwary travelers would find themselves preyed upon and slain or captured. Even the knights of the Vale and Brotherhood of Winged Knights came into frequent contact with them.
"Gulltown should be beyond these cliffs, my lady," the guard reported.
Sharra nodded. "Good. Lord Grafton should have received word by now, as did Lord Admiral Jacaerys. Daemon's navy is the only thing that's standing between Argilac and access to the Vale's greatest port. Without Gulltown, we can't get access to any supplies by sea."
"Well, then I guess it's a miracle Prince Daemon's helping us."
"Yet we cannot afford to do the same, not unless we get support from the Riverlands. I've known Daemon my whole life, and here I am stuck in the Eyrie unable to lift a finger to help him without upsetting my bannermen." She sighed worriedly, a look of concern on her face. I do hope nothing's happened to him out there. I still need to talk to you…
"Don't worry, my lady. I'm sure he's all right."
Sharra felt as if her escort knew what she was on her mind.
"You love him, don't you?"
"I…" Sharra felt flustered. For a moment, she wanted to decline to answer. But then she remembered what Teressa had told her at the bathhouse, about her trauma from her maiden years. The fear of putting too much distance between herself and her beloved twisted her stomach in knots. She was still plagued by nightmares of what Argilac's men did to her in the throne room, but she understood what Teressa was trying to tell her that day. Sharra exhaled slowly and finally answered. "Yes. Yes, I do."
The knight was somewhat surprised but felt out of place. "Forgive me, Lady Arryn," he apologized. "I didn't mean to intrude on one's private affairs."
"No, ser. It's… it's all right. You asked me an honest question."
Having traversed over the recent hilltop, both Sharra and her escort caught sight of Gulltown below. But something was a little off; the fleet siding with the rebels remained in constant vigilance, the port town denizens felt a sense of security, trade still flourished, and the Royal Fleet was nowhere to be seen. Were they misled by false information? Sharra now suddenly felt nervous… like she was being watched.
"Lady Arryn, we should—"
The knight's words were silenced by the sound of gunshots and musket balls piercing through his throat and upper abdomen, tearing through his breastplate. Sharra then felt something in the air whizzing right past her – missing her entirely as her guard was thrown off his horse, landing on the ground dead.
Someone had taken a shot at her!
The sound of gunfire caused Sharra's horse to get startled, rearing on its hind legs before throwing her off her saddle. The Lady of the Eyrie shouted and landed on her back with an audible thud. She groaned and gasped as if the oxygen was forcibly expelled from her lungs.
"My, my… look what we have here, lads," the assassin approached. "A pretty bird. A rather lost pretty bird. A lost pretty bird who never learned to fly." This individual wore inlaid leather lamellar with steel studs and was equipped with the finest daggers and flintlock pistols. Accompanying him were members from each of the surrounding hill tribes. "Nothing personal, but… King Argilac wants you dead, Lady Arryn, and we have a contract to uphold. The Talons send their regards."
Sharra's eyes widened with fear. She was lured into a trap! The Talons found her, and this assassin wasn't alone. Black Ears, Burned Men, Moon Brothers, Stone Crows… they were with him! Staring down at her, each of them peered at her.
"Maybe before she dies, this Talon would let me have a night with her," uttered a Stone Crow.
"Pretty face, and the eyes too," a Moon Brother leered.
"Get in line!" a Burned Men barked. "I will lie with the Arryn bitch, fuck her day and night, and if the ancestors are king enough, she'll give me a son."
"Now, now," the Talon unveiled his secondary firearm. "You'll have your fun… after I do my job."
Sharra shook her head. No, no, no! Not again! "You stay away from me! Get back!" She quickly stood and backed away, stumbling slightly as her heel felt something steep. Glancing over her shoulder was a long drop from the hill leading down to the city. The hillside wasn't smooth, but rough and had plenty of rocks and trees for her to hit. But what choice does she have? She had to evade capture and get to safety!
With a steady arm, the Talon aims at Sharra. "As I said, the Talons send their regards."
Sharra immediately shut her eyes and jumped as her assailants fired more rounds at her, missing by mere inches. The Talons and hill tribe members rush towards the edge and watch as Sharra rolls down the hill towards Gulltown, cursing in different tongues.
"After her!" a Black Ear bellowed. One by one, the hill tribes leapt onto the hill and gave chase with the Talon following closely behind them.
Sharra grunted and shouted as she continued tumbling downwards, occasionally colliding with rocks and trees in her attempt to escape her pursuers. Her chest, arms, and legs were getting the brunt of each rough impact while trying to protect her vulnerable head. After what felt like a painful eternity, she rolled to a complete stop. Covered in dirt, scratches, and bruises, a disoriented Sharra tried to stand up but fell to the ground upon feeling a horrible pain in her left leg.
"YAAAOOOW!" she screamed.
Hissing through her teeth, Sharra rolled up the hem of her dress and looked down to see that her ankle had started bruising and swelling mildly as evident by a deep shade of bluish-purple discoloration. With a sprained ankle, she was now in deep trouble.
"What was that?" a nearby sentry called out.
Sharra shot her head up towards the street. Her shouts were loud enough to get someone's attention. "Here!" she hollered louder. "Over here!" she hurriedly waved. "Someone please help me!"
More sentries and guardsmen rushed over to the brush and were astonished at what they found.
"Lady Arryn?" one gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh Gods, that looks bad," another noticed Sharra's injury.
"My lady," the captain approached. "We'll get send for a maester to—" His ears perked up at the sound of hollering. Raising his head, he now realizes why his ruler was in such a horrible state. "Assassins… To arms! Raise the alarm! Get Lady Arryn to safety!" he ordered.
Sure enough, the gunfight between Vale soldiers and hill tribes was now underway.
One of the scouts hurriedly rushed towards the city's bell tower and pulled the rope down repeatedly, ringing the bell as much as he can. With the bells echoing throughout the city, all of Gulltown was alerted to the impending danger.
"To arms!"
"Get your weapons!"
One of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights immediately rushed over, dodging muskets and diving from cover to cover. Kneeling beside Sharra, the knight removes the helm to reveal a woman underneath. She had shoulder-length long straw-colored hair, and large blue eyes. Standing at 6 feet 3 inches tall, this female warrior was tall. "Lady Arryn," she called out. "Can you hear me?"
Sharra looked up, occasionally ducking to avoid debris. "Captain Jasline!" she exclaimed.
Jasline cradled her arms around Sharra and lifted her bridal style. "It's all right, my lady. I'll get you to safety!" she rushed towards the center of town.
Civilians and merchants begin to panic and flee to safety as more of the port's defenders open fire on the invading hill tribes. Nearby, the navy's officers took notice of the activity on the mainland.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Sharra winced in pain. "Captain, it's the Talons. Please protect the people."
"Understood, my lady. We'll do everything we can to protect them, but your safety is our utmost priority."
Sharra wrapped her arms around Jasline's neck, closing her eyes shut tightly as the battle raged behind her. Her savior brought her deeper into the city towards the Motherhouse of Maris, a monastic community of the Faith of the Seven; upon arriving at the doors, Jasline knocked loudly.
"Mother Meya!" she hollered. "It's me, Captain Jasline of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights! Please, open the door! I have Lady Sharra Arryn with me! She's hurt and needs immediate medical attention!"
The doors hesitantly creaked open, revealing Mother Meya. An elderly septa, she oversaw raising and educating orphaned girls at the Motherhouse of Maris. Inside, what few clergy, widows and orphans were already frightened and praying to the Mother and the Warrior for safety. Upon seeing Sharra's ankle, Mother Meya was appalled.
"By the Maiden… Quickly, bring her in! Sister Dasina, get the medicinal herbs and ointments. Hurry!"
Jasline walked inside the place of worship and gently laid Sharra down on a nearby bench, allowing the clergy to tend to her swollen ankle.
"Ow, ow, ow…"
"Easy now, child," a septa hushed.
"Just try to relax, my lady," a senior septa gently dabbed ointment on Sharra's ankle.
"My people," Sharra winced.
Jasline stood guard. "They will not take you, Lady Arryn. I swear by the Old Gods and the New, I will kill any who tries to come through that door. They will not get past me. I swear it," she vowed and stood vigilant, gripping her longsword – ready to defend the innocent.
Daemon… where are you?
Chapter End
Author's Note: I've been gone from this story for far too long. Sorry guys. But now I'm back with a new chapter and hoping to get the series back on track! With Daemon Baratheon breaking out of prison and Sharra Arryn having her first encounter with an assassin, both young leaders are targeted by these Talons left and right. We're also introduced to new characters—Baelor Farrin and Jasline—a merchant and a female knight. Do any of these people remind you of anything in particular? And what is up with the increased warning signs Prince Daemon has been receiving lately?
CodeWesteros: Hi, first sorry abaut me English, because i from chile... i read Trails and tribulation of the outhkeeper and i happy abaut his history, I hope see descendent of jon snow the new night watch, the wildlings or maybe more abaut Argilac and his Hand, the kings before there...
I imagined for a while (when the series was on) in children of iron using gunpowder weapons brought from the other side of the narrow sea (Yi ti) because gunpowder exists and it would be interesting to know how they developed their weapons, but more than anything I hope to see more of the Greyjoy house written by you, maybe a nephew or take more prominence as Theon did in trials and tribulations of the oathkeeper.
Thank you very much and I hope to see more updates of this fantastic story. Who is the lord of the Reach? Is Argilac the real enemy or is something else coming, or other enemy like Euron or Ramsay? Will we see Daveth and Sansa again? or some descendant of Davos Seaworth
C.E.W: Gotta say, didn't expect you to return to writing.
So now the Iron Islands are under attack by the royal forces loyal to King Argilac. Daemon has to race to save Asha Greyjoy's who life is danger, by the royal fleet, also perhaps assassins or her own bannermen meaning to sell her out given the chance. Perhaps Argilac made a deal with one of her bannermen, her death in return for their allegiance and support against the rebellion. His new friend Baelor Farrin kinda reminds me of Jack Sparrow who was talker and a convincing one at that.
As for the voice, must be the Three Eyed Raven. Probably that King Argilac seeks the Three Eyed Raven, and the Three Eyed Raven is guiding Daemon to put a stop to him.
Sharra Arryn is in danger, by assassins sent to kill her and hill tribes who have become bold to attack the Vale's major port. As for Jasline, she kinda reminds me of Brienne of Tarth who will strive to protect their lords, ladies and monarchs to the death if they must. No doubt Jasline is very capable fighter herself.
Guest5: All right glad you're back keep your game of thrones story going
Guest #1: This is great