Chap 17 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Eighteen: The Pirate King

Taylor was restless. She'd given up on sleep already, and now sat cross-legged on her bed in the "palace" she'd built to hold the burgeoning administrative services of the renamed Port Royal.

The past two months were the first since she'd arrived on the planet where she had a prolonged period of rest on land. She had Rezhal overseeing the training of the older Unsullied boys, and Toyne's people assisting in training those former Volantine slaves willing to fight in the arts of archery. Ser Jorah was working with Groleo in training men for boarding exercises.

And she was personally overseeing the production of primitive, fuse-lit bombs. Things were going well.

Too well.

Their ploy with the King of the North had worked, despite Taylor's doubts. When Zhan-Li came to her and confessed that she had been sent as a missionary by the High Priestess of Volantis, and that similar missionaries had been sent throughout Westeros and Essos, Taylor at first was tempted to send her back.

It was Quaithe, though, who counselled caution. "Why tell us?" she'd asked.

The young priestess bowed her head. "I have seen the Azor Ahai's power. I have seen her love for her people and her wisdom. She speaks a different message than those who trained me. A clearer message. I believe the Lord of Light favors her, and speaks through her now, rather than the high priests and priestesses who trained me."

And wasn't that terrifying? Zhan Li genuinely believed Taylor to be her personal Moses. She wanted to reject that as well, up until the young priestess revealed a small glass candle in her possession. Quaithe drew in her breath in surprise, and even Taylor felt a sense of shock.

Three days later, the three women used the candle to speak to Zhan-Li's counterpart in the Northern King's train to warn him of a plot revealed to them not through magic, but from ravens sent to them by an unknown agent.

Two weeks later, they received word of the North's greatest victory in the war. Taylor had to admit the young king was a sound tactician, overcoming vastly superior numbers and a devilishly clever if not utterly immoral trap.

The ploy worked better than Taylor could have hoped, weakening the Lannisters sufficiently they delayed the "royal wedding" and scrambled for more levies to replace the men lost in Robb Stark's lop-sided victory.

Things were going perfect. And if life ever taught Taylor anything, it was that nothing could go perfectly forever. Which is why she was restless.

With a stifled sigh, Taylor climbed out of bed. The sun would be rising within the hour from what she could feel. She dressed for the day, choosing a new pair of cotton culottes (which was the closest thing to comfortable jeans she could find), her linen blouse and a plain leather vest that served as a practical bustier. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled on her weapon belt.

"Aeksiae, are you well?"

Missandai had risen from her bed in the corner of Taylor's chambers, as always ready and eager to assist. She had hit a hard wall with algebra, unfortunately, but to Taylor's dismay there weren't many who knew even simple algebra. Pate, her engineer, knew just enough basic geometry to build the fortifications, but he was the exception.

"Just restless," Taylor said. "I'm going for a run. Go back to sleep."

"Are you sure, Aeksiae?"

"I'm sure, sweetie. Go back to sleep."

Missandai never quite seemed to know what to do with the affectionate nicknames Taylor gave her. On the one hand, she found them slightly confusing. On the other, a part of her was pleased. So, Taylor made sure never to use the nicknames except when they were alone.

The young woman laid back down in her own bed, unable to complain about more sleep.

The Royal Residence was not any more extravagant than any of the other buildings in the port. The only thing setting it apart was that they actually finished building it. Made with a mixture of local wood and the black basalt stone, the residence was a relatively modest two-story building with the wide, open windows best suited for the region, but with strong wooden and steel shutters that could be used to reinforce it. Nor was it just her residence-all of her senior staff had rooms in the building, along with several support personnel.

Unsullied snapped to attention as she came down the stairs. They showed no sign of exhaustion despite coming to the end of their shift. She nodded to them, asking after them. There were new ones every night, so she made a point of asking their names. The two on guard outside her room were Orghet and Blue Rat.

The moment she left her residence and let the warm subtropical air sweep over her, she knew. The Force seethed with a growing threat. Something was wrong. The two guards on outside duty were just as alert as those within. She recognized one of them. "Cat?"

"Yes, Aeksiae?"

"I believe we're about to be attacked. As quietly as you can, spread the alert. No bells, no alarms. Both of you, go."

They went, sprinting. Taylor herself rushed back inside. "Orghet, Blue Rat, the gods are warning me of danger. Wake everyone and prepare for battle, but no alarms! We must not give our enemy any warning!"

Like those outside, the two Unsullied sprinted to do her bidding.

Taylor jogged back outside. Already, she could feel shapes moving as her Unsullied quickly roused themselves. In the harbor, she could see their precious transport hulks at anchor.

Sitting ducks. Loud slithering brought her around to see Temeraire crawling along the beach at a good clip. He stopped and rubbed against her until she scratched behind his crest. "Hello, love," she whispered. "Are you strong enough to give me a ride?"

The dragon gave her a side-glance. Even if she didn't understand the body language, she felt through the bond the slight insult he took at the question. "I know, I'm foolish to doubt you," she said. "Take me up, Temeraire. I need to see."

The dragon was now twice the length of a man, due in large part to the anguished pig farmers, and a juvenile leviathan that washed ashore on a neighboring island that all three dragons devoured down to the bones.

His scales felt like plates of warm steel under her hand as she mounted his shoulders. He spread his massive wings and took three long strides toward the water before flapping down. She felt his strain with her added weight, but he overcame it through strength and determination. In moments, they were airborne.

She'd only ridden Temeraire once before, and then only for moments because he was still small to carry her not inconsiderable adult weight. Taylor was a tall woman with the muscles of a trained Bendu. Now, though, he bore it with pride as he carried her silently over the lip of the caldera. In the absolute dark of the pre-dawn night, she saw nothing on the water.

Leaning over until she rested her head against the scales of her shoulder, she whispered, "Lend me your eyes, Temeraire."

Through their bond, he responded. She slipped into his powerful and yet alien mind, and in moments she saw as he saw.

Dragons saw in both normal and infrared light, and they had thermal sensors in their tongue that she perceived almost like a taste. As the dragon cleared the caldera, he saw the water stretching below, and on the water long, narrow shapes. His powerful ears heard the sound of oars striking water. He smelled the stench of human sweat. Ships. Dozens of them. A hundred, even, each one bristling with warriors.

Who were they? Where did they come from?

The questions would have to wait. They were almost within firing range of her dozen dromunds, cogs and galleases that she'd accumulated that sat at anchor around the harbor mouth. She broke the mental connection and fought back the surge of dizziness that resulted. "Take us back Temeraire! We have to warn the others!"

He banked hard and turned back to the island. Taylor couldn't be sure the invaders didn't see her, but she hoped they were looking at the fires that lit the harbor mouth and not the cloudy sky above. At her direction he flew toward the Saduleon. She stood on his back, and when he was close she leaped off.

Harnessing the Force, she controlled her fall sufficiently to hit the deck of the ship at a roll. The seaman on duty started to scream before she grabbed his mouth. "I am the queen," she hissed. "Enemy ships are in-bound, just minutes away. Wake the crew, light no fires, and row toward the harbor mouth. Tell Groleo I want a defensive perimeter to protect the harbor at all costs. Repeat."

She let go of the man's mouth and he dutifully repeated the message. "Good, go!"

Before he could ask any questions, Taylor jumped over the side of the ship. Rather than fall in the water, she harnessed the Force and ran across the waves to the next ship. By the time she reached the third ship, Groleo had his crew on the oars heading closer to the harbor mouth and away from the incoming ships.

The invaders must have realized their stealth had failed, because as she reached her tenth ship, the incoming attackers lit their fire arrows and pitch-filled pots and launched a volley at one of the ships she hadn't reached yet. Taylor watched with growing horror as hundreds of flaming arrows and almost a dozen flaming balls slammed into one of her Voluntine dromonds. The deck of the ship erupted in flame. In seconds, she could hear men screaming, but despite her power there was little she could do. The pitch the enemy used burned on the water as well.

The ship was already lost.

The flaming ship served as a final alert to her own people, though, and because of her warning other ships had already managed to form a cordon around the mouth of the harbor.

And then one of her brand new, full-borne medieval trebuchets on the mouth harbor fortifications sent a flaming ball of pitch arching through the air. Taylor stood on the deck of a ship whose crew was desperately scrambling to pull the anchor and row to the cordon as the stone fell just short of the line of invader ships.

Range finder. A second projectile flew through the air, but this one didn't flame like the balls of pitch-soaked rag and stone. It left a thin trail of invisible smoke as it arched through the pre-dawn sky.

"Cover your ears!" Taylor warned.

The fuse ignited the primitive bomb ten feet off the water in the middle of three attacking ships. The explosion was spectacular as the hundred pound iron bomb ignited.

Three of the nearest ships were shredded. They cracked in half and their crews were pulped by the shrapnel that was mixed in with the gunpowder. The night filled with the screams of her enemies as well as the screams of her allies.

She felt Temeraire approaching, drawn by her unconscious desire. She shouted a warning to the captain and more orders before she launched herself as high into the air as the Force would allow. Her dragon was there before she even started to drop, rolling just perfectly so that she was able to secure herself with hands and feet. He dipped from her weight, but was so proud of the maneuver he roared.

"You are the best, Temeraire!" she called.

He flew her right toward the harbor mouth. She saw her soldiers on the firing platforms, preparing more bombs for her trebuchets and fire arrows. She didn't feel the need to give any orders. Within the harbor, she saw the hulks being towed by men in rowboats closer toward the beach.

Her draconic friend brought her down on the beach near where the largest body of her soldiers were marshalling. Rezhal was there, as was Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah. "We have incoming long boats, maybe a hundred," she told them. "Crammed full of men. We have to protect the hulks at all costs. Watch out for other ships trying to crest the caldera walls!"

"What flag do they fly?" Ser Barristan asked.

"We'll know as soon as the sun rises," Taylor answered. "Ser Jorah, get men to our ships with extra bombs and swords. Rezhal, go with him, but leave at least a thousand in the town in reserve, in case they use our own tactics against us and attack from the rear"

"And where will you be?" Rezhal asked.

Taylor stepped back to Temeraire. "Killing our enemies. Let's move, gentlemen. If you're not quick, I may not save any for you."

Saphira and Elliot deigned to join them. Elliot grumbled in a low rumble. "Don't talk to me, you're the ones who didn't want to wake up," she snapped back at the two dragons. "Don't worry, we have plenty. Temeraire, one more flight?"

She could feel her friend's exhaustion from carrying her, but he didn't hesitate to let her climb back on and take to the air. As much as she wanted to sweep the enemy boats from his back, they had weapons that put her dragons at risk, and they were her most important weapons. More importantly, they were her friends.

Instead, she had Temeraire fly her back to the Saduleon before she sent all three back up to the top of the caldera wall to wait for a good time to attack.

The sky was already turning pink on the eastern horizon, and with the growing light she got a better look at the attackers as she rolled onto the Saduleon's deck and ran to Groelo. "Who the hell are these assholes?"

The old admiral looked grim. "Ironborn."

"You mean like that ship I blew up in the Summer Sea?'

"The same. See that big one in the middle? The one with the kraken sail? That's the Greyjoy himself, the Reaper of Pyke."

"Why are they attacking us?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Her entrenched trebuchets fired again. There was just something awe-inspiring in watching them rock forward and launch a projectile almost as far as a cannon could. The attackers had learned enough to understand what her bombs could do. Oarsmen in the low-slung longships tried to move, but the fuses were timed (through a great deal of hard experience) to explode just over the water.

The blast shredded another two boats, killing half the men on each instantly.

"Catapult!" the ship's spotter shouted. "Starboard high!"

Taylor searched, saw the massive flying pot of flaming pitch, and with the Force directed it to one of the longships trying to approach the Maiden's Bane next to the Saduleon. Turning behind them, she saw a flotilla of dinghies and row boats approaching from the harbor. She couldn't help but smile when she saw that Ser Jorah wasn't bringing all the boats out at once, but was rather using them to make a pontoon bridge for the soldiers that were marching around the caldera. They weren't going to make it in time, though. The Ironborn were closing faster than Jorah was getting the boats ready.

Then Groleo shouted over the din, "Signal to fire!"

The order echoed across the deck of the Saduleon, and a red pennant was quickly raised up the mast. That's when Taylor's dozen warships broke out their own smaller catapults and ballista. Unlike the hundred pound bombs, these fired thirty pound bombs with shorter fuses.

But at short range?

The ballista-man aimed the giant crossbow-like device, nodded to his partner who lit it with a rushlight, and fired the bomb right into a fast-approaching Ironborn ship. The explosion didn't shred the ship like the monsters from the trebuchets might, but it played havoc among the rowers.

All across the line of her defending ships, smaller bombs shot out at the first wave of approaching Ironborn with lethal results. Taylor realized, watching men bleed and die by the hundreds, that she was watching the end of one era dying at the hands of another. She'd introduced the genie that was gunpowder, and after this battle, it would never go away again.

Still the Ironborn came. And though they were technically more advanced, Taylor's forces only had so many resources.

They ran out of bombs in the first five minutes of the engagement. When no more explosives came, the remaining Ironborn let up a thunderous roar and pushed their ships right at her defenders, now close enough to form a single wide platform across the mouth of the harbor.

Overhead, fire arrows rained down on the enemy, as did stones. The trebuchets had run out of bombs as well. But despite all that, there were too many attackers to stop them all.

"Prepare for boarding!" Groleo shouted in a booming voice.

At that very moment, Ser Jorah's pontoon boat reached the Maiden's Bane. Unsullied began climbing up the aft castle of the former pirate galleas, two at a time in quick succession. The men didn't stay on that first ship, but immediately began springing across the width of the assembly of ships that formed the protective cordon around the harbor mouth, jumping from ship to ship until they reached the end of the formation.

"Groleo," Taylor said as she lit her sabers.

"Yes, yer grace?"

"If you make me tell your wife and family you died, I will spit on your corpse. The hulks are important, but they're useless without people."

"I'll remember that, you're grace."

The first Ironborn ships reached her own, pushing against the hulls in a roar of wood and iron crashing. Large, burley men in full plate armor jumped onto the prow of both the Saduleon and the Maiden's Bane, as well as other ships down the line.

Those Unsullied in position charged forward without hesitation, despite being outnumbered initially. Taylor too, charged forward. She wasn't outnumbered, though.

She had the Force.

Blue lightning lit the morning brighter than the sun, sweeping the prow of both ships. Men screamed as the kinetic and electrical energy of the Force swept through their armor and sent them flying backward into the water.

She followed, jumping high with both sabers flashing blue. "For Westeros!"

Her sailors and her Unsullied roared back. "FOR RHAENYS!"

On another world, in another life, a man she grew to love once told her that they weren't vastly outnumbered by Chinese soldiers. "We just have a target-rich environment!"

Jumping down into a boat the size of a school bus that held almost two hundred armed men presented a target-rich environment. She made room with a blast of kinetic energy, and then laid into the men with her sabers. The Ironborn died quickly, but those behind pressed forward anyway, trying to overwhelm her by numbers alone.

It took only a moment to realize they could, too. Until a dozen Unsullied dropped into the ship beside her and formed a hasty shield wall across the deck, spears protruding through. The Ironborn charged against the shields, pressing against it brutally even as the Unsullied stabbed at their attackers.

Another burst of Force lightning bought more space. Taylor leaped over her shield wall and slashed in a dance of spinning plasma and kinetic bursts before the men pressed too close. Once again she somersaulted back over the shield wall when the enemy threatened to overwhelm her with numbers. It repeated two more times until the number of Ironbon grew low enough that the Unsullied broke their wall and charged forward. Taylor charged with them until they cleared the deck.

Around her, she saw her Unsullied fighting against the Ironborn boarders. Ser Jorah's pontoon bridge literally saved them all, as it gave an easy path for thousands of soldiers to reinforce the sailors on her twelve ships. The Ironborn assault was already beginning to stall around them as the Unsullied pressed down onto the attacking ships.

"Aeksiae!"

Taylor turned to see Gray Worm pointing. Of course he'd be there. Following his finger, she saw the largest of the attacking ships-a great big dromund that bore the kraken sail. Glancing around the ship she stood on, she saw that another two dozen Unsullied had joined her.

"Gray Worm, I want that ship. I want that bastard's head on a spear."

"Then we go!"

"Brace yourself!" She looked up and reached out with her mind. Her children answered. With a roar that momentarily broke the din of battle, Saphira and Elliot swooped down from the caldera while Temeraire flew over them in a circle, watching. The two slightly smaller dragons gripped the single mast of the longboat and pulled with mighty flaps of their wings.

They could never have lifted the ship, but they could easily break it free from the grouping it was caught in. Once free, Taylor closed her eyes, held her hands down, and let the Force flow.

Her two dragons broke off as they felt the boat moving of its own, borne now by the Force and Taylor's will. Behind her, the Unsullied shared amazed looks before raising their spears and shouting. Taylor, with a determined grimace, drove the purloined longboat directly at her enemy's dromund.

The moment they made contact, Ironborn poured over the edge of the larger ship. Gray Worm and his Unsullied formed a shield wall from the port to starboard railing, bent low with their spears at the ready. Taylor waited for the front line to get almost within reach before she pushed out with a Force blow not at the enemy's heads, but their feet.

A dozen men fell on their faces, dropping the dozen men behind them and bringing those behind them to a halt. The Unsullied broke their wall instantly, stabbing down at the stunned, helpless men struggling to regain their footing. For those beyond, Taylor lifted her hands and blasted them with lightning. In moments, they cleared the deck.

"Let's take her!" Taylor screamed as she launched herself onto the deck of the enemy dromund.

Her Unsullied followed, shouting her name as a warcry. They came face to face with two loaded ballistae and a dozen archers. Once again Force-lightning lashed out just as the men fired.

One of the ballista flew wide, arching over the heads of her men. The other slammed into Ynor the Swift. He didn't even have the ability to scream as the massive wood and steel bolt ripped through his chest and sent his lifeless body somersaulted into the air.

An arrow slammed into Taylor's shoulder and a second tore her ear. The three that would have hit her chest she sliced apart with her sabers before she and her men descended on the Ironborn. With most of their fighters already killed, those that remained were quickly overcome.

Taylor lashed one of her sabers across the fletching of the arrow in her shoulder. It hurt like hell, but the Force and adrenaline helped her keep going. The final men on the ship rushed with a charge-in armor and weight they outmassed the Unsullied. But they attacked without discipline or strategy, while the Unsullied formed shield walls in split seconds. Between Taylor's sabers and the spears of her Unsullied, they pushed the Ironborn back until only those on the aft castle remained.

Among them, in gold and iron armor with a crown of driftwood, stood Balon Greyjoy himself.

He glared down at her, string white hair and scarred face twisted with rage. "This is your end, you…"

He didn't get another word in before Temeraire bodily landed on the aft castle behind him and bit the man's head off. The dragon swept his wings around him, sending the dozen remaining heavily armored and most definitely not buoyant Ironborn into the sea.

Just like that, they'd taken the ship.

"Temeraire, you prat! He was mine!"

The dragon swallowed, then grumbled at her. The Unsullied stared a moment before raising their spears. "Temeraire! Temeraire! Rhaenys!"

Tired and now hurting from more than just the arrow in her shoulder, Taylor climbed the stairs to the castle and looked at the retreating Ironborn longships. The now fully risen sun revealed only thirty ships in hasty retreat. A hundred at least had attacked. Tiredly, she leaned against Temeraire, who sniffed at her wound and sent worry through their bond.

"I'll be okay," she said. "You and your siblings were wonderful. I am so glad I found you."

Overhead, Saphira and Elliot soared toward the retreating ships. Temeraire looked from them to her, a question in his golden eyes.

"They attacked us without cause or warning in the night like thieves." She realized she'd raised her voice, though she spoke to her dragon. "There will not be any mercy. Go, Temeraire. Have fun. Make them burn for what they did here today."

The dragon didn't hesitate, launching himself into the air with a happy roar. She stood there as Gray Worm joined her, watching as her dragons burned the remnants of the Iron Fleet.

"Grey Worm?"

"Yes, Aeksiae?"

She turned and met the man's dark eyes. "You and your brothers are the best soldiers I've ever known. I may be a queen of Westeros soon, but it will always be my honor to know I have men like you at my back."

The man's lips set. "It is...our honor to serve, Aeksiae," he said. "Come, you are wounded."

"Yeah. Let's go home."