.A/N: Chap 13 review responses are in my forums as normal. And for those who don't look at my forums, just as a reminder that Euron died in the very early chapters of this story. Unnamed, unimportant-just another dead pirate in the Summer Sea. Thank you all for reading.
Chapter Fourteen: Fire Upon the Deep
In retrospect, Taylor's first large military action as a queen was a complete failure in terms of execution. If they had faced any type of organized resistance at all, they would have been badly routed.
The only thing that saved her army was the absolute lack of anything even resembling organized resistance. Her tour of the disaster began the next morning as she stood on the rocky north shore of the caldera where one of her precious hulks had run aground on a ridge of stone that was plainly visible in the day just under the water, but at night was hidden. The bottom hull of the ship had been ripped out so violently it would have sunk in moments except that the bar itself kept the ship partially above water.
"We only lost fifty men," Rezhal admitted, too exhausted from the night's adventures to be embarrassed. "It could have been worse. We evacuated the crew and men to shore."
The other two hulks that were assigned to delivering the majority of the strike force to Torturer's Deep, having learned from the first's demise, stayed further out and ferried the soldiers over on their dinghies. Because half of their shore boats had been given to Taylor's advance ships, it took twice as long as it should have.
Which is why the Unsullied didn't actually reach the town until after Groleo began attempting to seize the ships at harbor with mixed success, and Jorah began the blockade of the harbor mouth. That meant instead of three thousand Unsullied falling onto a horde of sleeping pirates, they instead fell upon a horde of angry, frightened pirates.
Taylor knew a simple scout around the island would have solved the risk, they couldn't afford any advanced scouting without risk of being seen.
"How many casualties in the fighting?"
"Two hundred dead, another eighty injured," Rezhal said. "The port's secured. Groleo's men secured us only seven of the ships at anchor. The rest fired themselves, or made a run for it. Of those, Ser Jorah was able to capture three. At least four ships escaped the blockade."
Which meant the various Free Cities knew she'd taken Torturer's Deep.
"No plan, no matter how perfect, ever survives first contact with the enemy," she said.
Rezhal stared at her a moment before chuckling tiredly. "Wisdom, Aeksiae. Words of wisdom."
Rather than sail back around the caldera, the two followed the path the Unsullied made, climbing the scree-covered slope and then climbing down the rope into the giant caldera. The walls of the caldera were basalt and even a few columns of obsidian, making for a dramatic, sheer cliff. Once they reached the base of the wall, they first came not to the settlement, but to farms. The farms looked to be very prosperous, at least in the volume of food produced. The smell was pretty awful, but what she saw were healthy fields of sweet potatoes, pigeon peas, cassava plans and banana and orange trees along the swatch of richly fertile, volcanic soil within the caldera. She saw summer wheat as well.
The farmers looked like a hodgepodge of Valyrian and Rhoynish, light and dark, often times mixed within the same family. There were pig styes and scrawny, wild fowl that looked like a peacock mated with a chicken. In many ways, it looked like a little glimpse of paradise.
None of the farmers paid any attention to her or Rezhal. In an island as small as theirs, the farmers were in a way one of the most essential personnel. They were the difference between the island being self-sufficient, or having to import food and be subject to the whims of embargoes.
She lost two hundred and fifty men taking this little island. She'd lost another hundred and fifty during the course of their travels through illness on board the ships. Five hundred men dead, and she wasn't even to Westeros yet.
The first picket of her Unsullied stood at stiff attention as she walked by. She nodded to them, pleased to feel a sense of pride in their minds that she valued them, and then she was moving on.
When Black Tooth Tara and the other captains realized their ships were at risk, they'd run to the shore to get on their own long boats and dinghies to try and save them. It frustrated Taylor that her Unsullied were not there to stop them, but she didn't have the resources to do so herself.
The Peake brothers didn't try to flee. Instead, Laswell Peake began shouting orders to any of the remaining people to organize a defense. She went along with him, and Toyne and his people followed her lead. The night went on-Taylor watched with growing frustration as Tara took her ship and set oars.
The massive, three-masted dromund moved like a beached whale without her sails, though. Despite her goals, Taylor found herself hoping the woman survived if her Unsullied ever swarmed the great boat.
When the Unsullied finally fell on the town, Taylor knew that Laswell and his brothers represented the biggest threat. The men were trained, experienced and skilled soldiers. She felt bad when she turned on them with her sabers set to stun, but felt she had no choice.
Blindsided by weapons outside of their understanding, she had the three brothers and their fellow mercenaries unconscious in moments, and in the confusion was able to open the quickly drawn defensive lines of the town enough to give her Unsullied relatively easy access.
The fighting that followed was door-to-door until all the combatants were killed or subdued. The Battle of Torturer's Deep came to an end as the sun rose.
Most of the population of the town were on the black sand beach, surrounded by thousands of Unsullied. Her men had not slept at all over night, but showed no sign of the exhaustion they had to have been feeling. She and Rezhal walked right to the line. Jorah was still outside the harbor mouth. None of them were willing to be caught with all of their ships in the harbor if there were any counter attacks.
Among the prisoners, she saw a squad of very upset Peakes and their fellow mercenaries. She also saw hundreds of women, children and regular tradesmen. And coming right at her over the water of the bay, she saw her kids.
"Ser Jorah says they've been yowling for you all night," Rezhal noted.
"They wanted to come play." Taylor quietly removed her ruby, letting her gold starburst eyes be revealed.
A few people in the crowd cried in alarm when the wingspans of three dragons crossed over them. The three had grown now until they were larger than a grown man in body, which didn't even take into account the length of their tails and wings. Temeraire banked sharply as he flew over, flapped his great wings twice, and then settled into the sand with a satisfied sniff. Saphira was more sedate in her approach, while Elliot tripped in the sand.
All three dragons rushed to her, forcing Rezhal to step away as Taylor hugged and scratched each one. The crowd of prisoners watched silent awe, or fear.
"You three have been really good," she told them, speaking aloud and through their bonds. "Go play, have fun. Stay around the island and don't eat anyone. Any thing, though, is fair game."
Their excitement was palpable-she rarely gave them opportunity or permission to just play and hunt. All three launched themselves into the air, screeching their pleasure. "I sense the pig farmers are going to have a bad day," Taylor said.
Rezhal snorted.
With that, Taylor turned her attention to the crowd. She raised her voice, using the Force to ensure they all heard. "I am Rhaenys Targaryen, Azor Ahai reborn. Sorceress of Asshai and rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And I have no intention of killing anyone else today. Within the hour I will have people come who will take your name, your age and your trade in writing. And then you are free to go about your business. If you live here, we'll ensure your homes are left unharmed.
"If you are a sailor who lost your ship, and are willing to take service with me, we will ensure you have a place and work. If you are a visitor, and give me your word to cooperate, we will allow you to leave in peace at first opportunity. This harbor has been claimed by Westeros in my name, and it is my intent that it remain part of the Seven Kingdoms under my rule. Cooperate, and no one else need be hurt."
She turned to Rezhal. "When Missandai and Quaithe arrive, I want a census taken of all the people here. I'll be with the wounded. Make sure everyone is watered and fed until they're released."
"Anyone who doesn't give their word or cooperate?"
"Keep them under guard for now. I'm too tired to execute anyone, and I have wounded men to heal."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Taylor was pleased when the two Unsullied who helped her with healing on Volantis survived the battle and were willing to help again. She was a little less certain when Zhan-Li joined. The priestess of R'hllor looked a little more ragged from her time aboard the ship. Her red gown was stained from her travels. She was already a very thin woman and appeared to have lost further weight. But she presented herself with a bow and asked to serve.
With Quaithe helping Missandei take the census, she couldn't refuse the help. "Then fetch cauldrons to boil water and wine. They have a drink called sugar wine. Get as much of it as you can-it will help clean wounds as well. Recruit any men you need to assist. The treatment of our wounded is my priority, today."
The priestess accepted the orders and set about with the two Unsullied medics instantly.
The medical tent itself was an inn. All the chairs and tables were removed, leaving every inch of floor space in the building, and the grounds in front of it, filled with wounded. Among them, Taylor saw Gray Worm. Of course he'd have led the charge. "Take me to the worst wounded first," she ordered.
The day passed in a haze of healing, leaving the administration of her new conquest in the hands of those she trusted.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
The port of Torturer's Deep had a total of one thousand four hundred and twenty-three actual residents. More than half were women, and of those more than half were prostitutes. The rest consisted of farmers, dockhands, laborers, carpenters, fishermen and every other profession she could think of. The majority of the island's income came from the pirates themselves. The ships arrived with hulls bulging with stolen gold or trade goods, and the men spent every coin they could on booze, whores or gambling.
It did not surprise her to find that the town leaders, many of whom had tried to flee but were caught with unbelievable amounts of gold, were not privateers. They were Free Cities financiers.
The room she met them in on her third day was the same tavern where she met Black-Tooth Tara, whose ship was still in the harbor and was still holding out, surrounded by two of her own seized vessels. It came as a relief to know the woman still lived, even if she loudly threatened to gut anyone attempting to board her vessel.
Taylor would deal with her later. Right now, it was all about money.
The four men sat in a miserable heap around the very same table she sat at. All four looked exhausted and thoroughly ruffled by the Unsullied who stood in silent guard around them. Nearby, one of Rezhal's Ghiscari-a man named Haknar, if she remembered correctly-stood looking out the window at the ships in the harbor.
"Gentlemen," she said as she walked into the inn.
The four financiers jumped to their feet, all dressed in expensive YiTi silks imported through Qarth, with cloth-of-gold trim and fine suede hats that looked very much to Taylor like graduation caps. Instead of tassels they sported brightly colored feathers.
"This is an outrage," one of the men declared. "I am Senior Assistant to the Secretary to the Vice Consiglio of Myr! You must release me at once!"
Taylor tried wrapping her head around that particular title as the other three squawked and made similar declarations of their importance. Two from Myr, two from Tyrosh. She stood between two of her Unsullied, still in her fighting culottes and chest plate, and watched with her arms crossed until their protestations finally died down.
"That was very informative, thank you," she said when they finally stopped talking. "So, what I hear you saying is that the city of Myr and the city of Tyrosh have been sponsoring piracy against Westeros and the other Free Cities for their personal profit. That's good to know. Haknar, would you kindly inform Missandai to prepare missives to the First Sword of Braavos and the Magisters of Pentos, and of course Prince Doran of Dorne, that I have titled officials from Myr and Tyrosh who have confessed to be sponsoring piracy on behalf of their cities?"
She turned her attention back to the now horrified men. "I almost pity you. I was just going to let you go without your gold. After all, if you weren't profiting from your time here and were just visiting, then surely neither you nor your cities could be responsible anything that happened. But if you were here in your official capacities...well, I'm sure Braavos and Pentos both will want to draw and quarter you. The Dornish will likely bury you in the sand up to your neck and let the ants consume your heads. I suppose I'll have to give the gold back to you as evidence to Braavos, Pentos or Dorne, whichever of them come first to kill you."
All four men began blubbering incoherently as she walked out to let them stew. Her next appointment was right across the street to the brothel.
The women were not anything like Hollywood brothels. Most were older, heavy, and anything but pretty. When Taylor walked in with her ever-present Unsullied, it was to a surprisingly graceful curtsy. The madam was a wide-bodied brick house of a woman with Valyrian white hair and eyes, but skin the color and consistency of tanned leather.
"Your grace."
"You're Anancy?"
"I am."
"Have your guests given you any problem?"
"None my girls can't take care of, your grace."
"Sugar wine if you please, Anancy."
She bowed her head and turned to echo the order as Taylor made her way to a long table where the madam would feast her guests. It held the three Peake brothers and the other members of the Golden Company, with Wylis Toyne and his Westerosi right beside them. All of them appeared to have been drinking. She saw an eviscerated goose, a wheel of cheese and several pieces of flat bread on the table.
"Wylis, pass some of that food over. I haven't eaten since yesterday," Taylor said as she sat at the head of the table.
"You heard the queen," Toyne said. "Pass it up, boys."
With a gesture, Taylor levitated one of the large chairs from another table to this one and sat. All the men there stared in shock at the casual act of power, which gave Taylor several minutes of silence to eat. "So, Ser Laswell, my apologies for knocking you and your men out. Any lasting injuries?"
Temeraire crashed onto the street right in front of the inn with half a bleeding pig in its mouth. He dropped it and looked up at her proudly through the broad windows, blood dripping from his snouth.
"Good job, Temeraire," she called. "Did you share any with your siblings?"
The dragon gave his head a sinuous shake, puffed smoke into the air, then retrieved his pig before launching back into the air. A moment later Elliot could be heard following after for a piece of the prize.
She went back to making a goose and cheese wrap. She gave the serving girl a happy smile when the rum came out and lifted it to drink when the Force surged in warning. Sighing in disgust, she put the cup back on the table. "Anancy?"
"Yes, your grace?" The madam came rushing over. Taylor turned, met the older woman's gaze, and then stabbed into her mind with the Force.
One of the Unsullied stepped to the larger woman's side as the madam screamed and fell to the floor. "Aeksiae?"
"The sugar wine is poisoned," Taylor said. "Tears of Lys, probably. Anancy, if you were following someones orders, I might have been able to forgive you. But you weren't, were you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, your grace," the woman cried. She was clutching her head from the pain of Taylor's less-than-gentle intrusion.
On the stairs leading up to the tiny cubes where the girls did their business, Taylor could hear several of the prostitutes weeping.
I have to kill her. The thought made her sick to her stomach. She had no problem killing in battle, but to coldly order someone's execution left her feeling dirty. But she knew she was being judged, and in this world anyone willing to try and kill a king or queen had to die. Otherwise the attempts would multiply like cockroaches.
"Anancy, I don't enjoy hurting people," Taylor said. "But you just tried to poison me. Even if I let you go-even if I ordered my Unsullied to leave you alone-my dragons would fall on you and eat you alive. They view me as their mother, and anyone trying to hurt me is food as far as they're concerned. So...I think you should take that cup and go back to your room, and decide how you wish to die."
The woman blubbered and cried, and each cry made Taylor's chest ache. She looked at Wylis, and at the man's gesture a pair of his men dragged the madam away. A third took the cup with him.
When she was gone, Taylor grimaced and put her wrap back on the wood trencher. "Fuck. Executing pirates who just fought me is one thing."
"How did you know the cup was poisoned?" Laswell asked.
She leaned back in her chair, smiling grimly as Toyne took one of the cups already on the table and passed it over. "Magic."
The man's brothers bristled in alarm. Laswell just stared. "I'm sure Wylis Toyne here has told you that he knew Prince Aegon Targaryen. I wasn't there myself, but I was friends with his keeper and knew of their passing. You do not look like a Targaryen."
"Did you know my eyes changed color when I bonded with Temeraire?" Taylor asked. Despite her disgust over the poisoning attempt, she was too hungry to completely ignore her wrap. She picked it back up and began to eat while recalling the story she, Quaithe and Barristan had concocted on the Saduleon after Qarth. "My keepers wanted more than another princess in Exile. They wanted more than another beggar queen. Aegon was to return as the king.
"And me? I was to be the next Daenys the Dreamer. I was to be the new mother of dragons, to return and assume my place at his side as his wife. I think someone considered adding Daenerys as well, just like Aegon I, Visenya and Rhaenys of old. But then my brother died, my Aunt Dany hatched the eggs, and I arrived late. The rituals they performed on me changed me, just as surely the ancient magic changed my ancestors. I promise you, the first Valyrians didn't have white hair and violet eyes."
If nothing else, having spent years with a Thinker 8, Taylor had learned to lie effortlessly. The trick was to act like you didn't care if they believed you or not. And she was hungry enough and tired enough that she really didn't care at that moment.
"What will you do with us?" Laswell finally asked.
"I'm going to let you go, of course," Taylor said between bites. "With a message to your Captain-General and the rest of your company. Ser Barristan Selmy tells me that the Golden Company is made up of Westerosi exiles, either from the various Blackfyre Rebellions or, more recently, for those that supported my father and grandfather. If the Golden Company wants to come home, they do so with me. I will restore lost lands and family names. And the rest? Well, I do believe I just came into quite a bit of gold. I'm sure we can come to an agreement."
"It won't be my decision alone," Laswell said. "All the captains have a vote."
"I know. I'm letting you go anyway. You seem to me an honorable man, Ser Laswell. I hope we never have to meet on opposite sides of a battle. But it would be an honor to have you at my side."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Shortly before the sun went down on her second day commanding Torturer's Bay, Taylor had her Unsullied row her out into the harbor toward Black Tooth Tara's huge dromund. The pirate queen herself stood at the railings of the ship, watching Taylor approach with a crossbow in her hand.
"You! You lyin', traitorous whore!" the pirate called down. "You just keep a comin', and I'll put a foot of wood 'n steel in ya!"
"Woman should not say such things," one of her Unsullied said.
Taylor smiled at the man. "It's alright, Wolf. Words only hurt if you let them. I actually think she likes me."
"She shows it oddly," Wolf said.
"She doesn't know me well, yet." She stood up in the dinghy, shifting her balance instinctively to keep the small boat from tipping. "Black Tooth Tara, I come in peace. If I wanted you dead, I'd have my dragons burn your ship into ash. Give me an hour of your time, and when done I'll let you leave this harbor in peace."
The old pirate stared, crossbow in hand. "You're the queen, ain't ya?"
"I am. And if I get an hour in peace with you, you row out without any fight at all. Or you die right now."
"What'd you do with the Peake boys?"
"Fed and watered them, and put them up at Anancy's place. They didn't seem too bothered by the accommodations."
"Anancy was okay with you doing that?"
"Anancy drank a cup of sugar wine laced with Tears of Lys," Taylor said. "She's no longer with us."
"Just as well. The woman was a lying bag o' horseshit. Fine. One hour. None'll harm you, my word as captain."
Taylor sat and motioned for the two Unsullied to row her over. She briefly considered Force-walking over the water or levitating aboard, but she doubted it would impress Tara much. The woman seemed ready to believe magic without letting it awe her.
Instead, she climbed up a rope ladder just like anyone else and met the wide-bodied woman on the deck. "This way, if'n' you mean to talk."
Tara led Taylor under the large aft castle to a series of impressive cabins that made the Saduleon's cabins looked like closets. The largest of the cabins was obviously Tara's, with maps and a tapestry woven of two surprisingly beautiful young women with white-gold for hair and vibrant purple eyes.
"My girls," Tara said. "Only good things I ever did in this world. Bought them good husbands in Braavos."
"You'll see them again," Taylor said.
Tara huffed and sat at a small table nailed to the floor near her roll-top desk. "Alright, yer grace. You have me for an hour. What words will you say?"
"I'd like to hire you to give Laswell and his men safe passage back to the Golden Company."
Taylor knew from the woman's eyes alone that she'd been in discussion with Laswell for something related to the Golden Company to begin with. She leaned back in her chair. "You talked like you were one of us. You put down men twice your size. But you're supposed to be a queen?"
"Tara, I could walk up onto the deck of your ship and kill every man in your crew. That's without my dragons. I am a queen, yes, but I am a sorceress and warrior first. I am going to take Westeros. And when the Long Night falls, which my Shadowbinder assures me is going to happen within the next few years, I'll be at the vanguard protecting the realms of men."
"Ten gold pieces a man," Tara said.
Taylor couldn't help but laugh. "Twenty gold for the lot and safe passage. I'll need to send the Myrish and Tyroshi financiers with you too. They were going to claim official status to try and keep their gold when I pointed out that doing so would result in war with Braavos, Pentos and Dorne for sponsoring piracy. They decided the gold wasn't as important as their lives."
The older woman stared long and hard at Taylor. "King Joffrey is set to marry a Tyrell of Highgarden within a fortnight. That'll give the Lannister king fifty thousand men and all the gold they could ask. Do you really think you can win back Westeros?"
Taylor leaned forward with a hungry smile. "It isn't how many men he has at his call. It's how many men he has in any given location. I don't need to defeat every soldier in Westeros. Just those soldiers facing me in battle. Do we have a deal, Tara?"
The woman made her mind up quick enough. "Aye, a deal."
"Good. And Tara? Pull that tooth. The rot inside it can get into your blood and kill you. It'd be better to be called Gap-Tooth Tara instead of Dead Girl Tara, right?"
"Mayhap," Tara agreed, a little-wide eyed.
Hours later, Taylor watched from the black sandy beach as Tara rowed her great dromund out of the harbor as the sun set. She had aboard not just Laswell and his men; not just the financiers who left behind all their precious gold. No, the pirate queen also took another two hundred men whose ships burned but who didn't want to take service with Taylor, or whom Taylor did not want their service.
"We have a long day tomorrow, you two," she said to Quaithe and Missandai. The two flanked her, with more Unsullied behind them.
"What will we be doing, Aeksiae?"
"We're going to be establishing a new colony, Missandai. A colony of former Volantine slaves."