Fire and Iron
Hope is so fickle
WARNING: This chapter contains allusions to physical abuse, torture and sexual assault. An asterisk will be next to the P.O.V break to indicate where this is happening. If you're sensitive to this topic or could consider it a trigger please feel free to skip it, most of it is for character building and emotional impact and will not entirely affect the plot. Look for a small summary at the bottom without the possible trigger.
Do you know that feeling, when there's a person that does not belong in the conversation. And try as you might you cannot shake them? Like a cold that will not go away? That's what Jon and Theon were suffering through. What they had been suffering since Tristifer Botley had decided to plonk himself in the middle of every conversation they were having. Whether Yara was part of what they spoke about mattered little to the usurping swine, as Tormund had so eloquently put it.
At the moment they were being hosted by the will and grace of his royal highness king Botley, while they attempted in vain to shake him once again.
"I don't see how any of this conversation could have anything to do with you" Jon signed exasperated, rubbing the stubble on his face with his ungloved hand.
"any and all things discussed on and about the iron Islands are my business" Tristifer tipped his goblet back knowing full well how annoying he was being and really not giving a damn "I've claimed the salt throne, if anyone is not important in this conversation its Theon"
"his sister is the rightful queen of the Iron Islands"
"she will be. Once you agree to marrying her to me"
"She already is a queen" if the room were silent you could hear Theon's muscles tightening, and his promised resolve to not sock Botley in the face breaking "you are out of your mind"
"you must be confusing me with your uncle dear Theon" the young man made sure to smirk before turning his attention to the annoyed King in the north "this situation is simple your grace. I will give you all the help you need, you need just say the word"
"what word?"
"The King in the North has more power to grant me what I want than my claim does" Jon narrowed his eyes, indicating his patience was running rather short "promise that, once the mainlanders are defeated, I will be the sovereign of the isles, and that Yara Greyjoy will be promised to be and no other"
Theon smacked his dagger against the table, ready to jump over it and rip the insolent bastard a new one, until Tormund grabbed him by the shoulder. For a man who rather fight first and discuss later, it was a weird reaction. He knew Jon, and knew that something had to be cooking in that head of his to not have ordered Botley's head to be split from his body.
"I can't promise you that" Tristifer took a deep breath, ready to repeat the facts of the new life in the Iron Islands once again "I cannot. But queen Daenerys can" Theon perked up at the mention of his sister-in-law, and at the thought of what she would do at the man wanting to marry her wife "she will be the regent and protector of the realms. I cannot in good faith promise autonomy over the isles. Queen Daenerys could, once she sits the throne"
The spokes in Tristifer's mind were turning up roses. There's no way that Theon was being truthful, Daenerys Targaryen would never marry a Greyjoy, least of all a woman. She could dispel the vicious lie and grant him leave to marry his one true love. Hell, she could officiate so any and all doubts would be forgotten.
"when can I meet Queen Daenerys?"
-Fire and Iron-
Yara knew the plan. She knew it would work, hell she had crafted it. Of course it would work. When the time came to order her men ashore and ride towards the rock though, that's when the doubts started clawing at her.
What Darrion said had some truth, Euron Greyjoy behaved like a wild animal on a daily basis as it was, how would he behaved knowing be was cornered? Or at least very easy to find, with at least one pissed off queen after him?
"doubts?" the newly appointed captain of the Iron Victory leaned down to Yara's hunched over pose on the side of the ship.
"you could say that" the young Queens hands hung limply over the wooden railing. The seawater spraying her hands everytime the ship rocked "Euron is one unpredictable son of a bitch after all"
"aren't all Greyjoys?" the two sailors shared a laugh over Victarion's memory, they haven't had much time to mourn, not that they would in any case, not that he would enjoy that either "it is true though, that Euron Greyjoy is one insane son of a bitch. It's also true that the crazier they are the harder they fall"
"isn't that for how big someone is?" Yara's question really was half-hearted. She knew what Darrion was doing, and to be perfectly fair it was soothing her nerves "did you write my wife yet?"
"I assumed you would like to? At least add something so she knows it's not just words" from one of the many pockets in his coat he pulled a scroll that would leave with a rider the moment Yara and her men left the ship. It was a simple message. Queen Yara is alive, Victarion Greyjoy fell in battle. Obara Martell is presumed captive of the usurper Euron Greyjoy and the traitor Daario Naharis. The signature and enough parchment to write a note were all that was left to write.
Yara took the parchment and offered quill from the man before he left to check the landing preparations. Yara sighed and scribbled a quick message that would assure Daenerys it was actually her before signing her name and titles (never skipping on Consort of the Queen) and sealing the scroll.
*-We Do Not Sow/Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken-
Obara smacked her head against the solid stone foundation of her prison over and over again. She had been doing so for the past… Well she couldn't really tell how long she had been there, to be honest. More than berating herself for being in a prison, she was beating herself up over being captured at all. She was a capable warrior and now a leader of her own kingdom shouldn't these be things that happened to other people? To incompetent fools?
To be fair her imprisonment could be worst. She hadn't been bothered much, and other than how roughly they had transported her across the west, it was like being dragged around with her father. Clearly she took after Oberyn, because she too hated having to prance around Westeros. And at the moment she hated it even more. More importantly, she could also feel that her commodity was running out on her. Rather quickly too.
"well well well" the door to the cell creaked open, and her least favorite Greyjoy walked in. It was tough to pretend she didn't know why they said he had gone mad. There was a hint of maniac in the shine of his eyes. And a definite spot of crazy in the way he cackled as he pranced in. "I hope our little princess is comfortable"
Obara's scowl deepened with every menacing step the man took towards her. In other times she would've had Nymeria to tell her to shut her mouth. Unfortunately for her that was not the case "Take these chains off and I'll show you how comfortable I can get"
Euron laughed, cackled, Obara could almost be mistaken for saying he giggled. Whatever it was it was deranged and didn't promise anything good for her "all in due time my pretty" from around his neck he took off a satchel of sorts. Black leather and full of metal and glass if the tinkling was a clue. The odds that this was a social call were dropping exponentially "for now. I want to have some fun. And I do like chains for my fun"
The princess of Dorne cranked her neck up to get a preview of what Euron had in store for her. Knives and glass vials were most of what she could see, the knives she knew, the possible poison in the vials is what worried her. This promised to be bad for her, and she almost wished she was back to beating herself up over getting captured.
-Winter is Coming/Within Our Sights-
Sansa and her small cohort crossed the threshold of winter town to a cheerful sight. It looked like the north was revitalized. Yes the cold was still biting and miserable, and the signs of war and battle were everywhere, but the people of the north were resilient, and being home again, peacefully in a home where the liege lord didn't threaten to skin you, was doing the northern town a world of good. Sansa could be mistaken for thinking there was some kind of celebration.
"Lady Stark!" a young girl approached her, her mother in tow carrying a basket of food. Her mother looked towards the young Wardness apologetically but there was clearly no stopping the child. "Welcome home M'lady"
Sansa couldn't help the smile that came over her. It had been a long time since she had felt at home quite like this. "Thank you sweetheart, it's good to be back" behind her Podrick and Brienne smiled, admiring the young Lady in the making.
"to think there was a time you wanted to leave and never come back"
In Sansa's opinion you could hear a pin drop around her. The sound was essentially sucked out of her ears in favor of hearing that voice. She hadn't heard him in many years, and almost didn't recognize him when she did. All three turned around to see a young man, with the long face and dark hair so typical of the Stark family, seated on a wooden chair with wheels.
It would've been hilarious to anyone who knew Sansa, always poised and collected, jump off her horse and ram into her brother. Or it would've been if it wasn't heart wrenching and emotional. The people around took heed and walked away as much as possible to give the siblings space. The two had believed each other to be dead for a while, and to be here, in the north, with Winterfell looming behind them many years later, you could be mistaken for thinking it a miracle.
"Bran… I… How"
Bran chuckled into his sister's fur cloak clinging to her as she was to him "if I knew you would've been this speechless I would've come home ages ago".
"while these two reunite, I do not believe we've met" Brienne extended her hand to the young woman that had been pushing Bran's chair and was now standing away from it to give the Stark children privacy "Brienne of Tarth, I'm Lady Sansa's protector"
"then I guess that makes me Bran's protector?" the young girl smiled to liven the solemn mood "Meera Reed, nice to meet you"
"this is my squire, Podrick Paine"
"ah see Lady protector, now you've one upped me. I don't have a squire"
"not that you seem to need one. He's still in one piece" Sansa stood from her spot, good manners kicking in "it's very nice to meet you Lady Reed, thank you for bringing my brother home safely"
"believe me there's nothing to thank me for. And believe me when I say I am not a lady" Meera smiled at the redheaded before taking up her spot behind Bran "maybe we could move this reunion indoors? I think people are getting a bit antsy about their food". Meera of course was right, people were trying to skirt around the edges of the emotional reunion, trying to get to the different stores as much as they could without intruding.
"please, lead the way" Sansa took the reigns of her horse and followed the two who seemed more than acquainted with the road back to Winterfell.
-Winter is Coming-
Arya Stark was very hard to fool. When one trains under people who are not who they seem to be, one becomes keen at detecting deception. And oh were her senses a-tingling at the moment.
She of course was as suspicious of the Frey's as her uncle was, and refused to let them be alone in too big a gathering for too long. What deeply bothered Arya was that she couldn't tell what they were up to.
If a faceless person was trying to nab someone it would become apparent to those who knew what to look for. The ultimate goal was to add a face to the hall and pay the faceless God it's dues, but with people's motives the endgame was entirely too complicated.
Power of course, is what everyone ultimately craved. But the ladder of power presented itself in the middle of an endless labyrinth, where an infinite amount of turns and twists could ultimately lead to a prize. Arya didn't care for power, hell she was born into a powerful family and didn't much care for that. She didn't care for wealth, having lived with the bare minimum if at all for years. She didn't care for anything the Frey's might care for, and that made it so much harder to anticipate.
That didn't mean her skills were useless. If nothing else the people she was dealing with had never dealt with a faceless person. Which meant whatever trick she could pull on them could and would be flawless. She would figure out what they were up to eventually.
*-Unbowed/Unbent/Unbroken-
Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken. Obara couldn't help but laugh. How those words were wrong. How childish she had been to think her position might keep her from harm. Can't make use of power, or skill, or strength when you're powerless and restrained.
Euron Greyjoy knew that fully, and he knew the buttons to push to humiliate her, more than his actions already had.
Everything also hurt. There wasn't a body part that Greyjoy hadn't mangled and twisted to his own sick fantasy, and the young Martell could swear she would hear the cackling laughter in her nightmares for the rest of her life. However long or short that life may be.
The door to her cell creaked open again and she could feel every one of her nerves stand to attention, her muscles coiling to try and fight best she could, and her mind convincing itself to shut down so it wouldn't remember what could happen again. It wasn't Euron Greyjoy at the door though. Through the threshold walked Daario Naharis, the traitorous son of a bitch whose fault it was that she was here, that she had suffered. He was carrying a tray of potions, a bowl of water and a rag, over his shoulder was a linen shirt and a pair of pants.
"can I come in"
"it's not like I could stop you" Obara's steel gaze remained on the commander of the second son's, who put down the pail on the table where Euron had previously laid satchel—which Obara came to know he had nicknamed his fun knick knack bag.
"did he hurt you?" the humorless almost spiteful laugh that came out of the chained warrior made Daario cringe "I mean did he…"
"what does it matter to you" Obara refused to be humiliated further, even more by the upstart that was standing in front of her like an idiot "if you ask me, the one who should be suffering this is you. And I swear by all the gods that if I ever get out of here, you will"
"that's fair" he fiddled with the clothing for a bit before deciding to leave it on the table.
"what do you want"
"Greyjoy sent me. He said he–that you might need some clean up. There's no maester on the rock, so I'm the next best thing"
"that's a poor replacement" her anger subsided when the pain from one of her many injuries kicked in. She might hate him, but if the wounds weren't dressed and cleaned soon they would get infected and fester. And she refused to die in a puddle of sweat and pus "what are you waiting for. Get to it"
Euron had been very specific about what wounds to treat and which ones to leave alone. Which ones would cause the most suffering. But Daario couldn't bring himself to follow the orders. The only warrior he believed deserved to be laying here, broken and bloody had escaped his grasp. If it had been Yara Greyjoy he would have happily spilled the remedies in front of her. He might have decided to have some fun of his own with her. Obara Martell had only been the sad casualty of war, she didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Euron Greyjoy's madness.
As carefully as he could all the wounds were cleaned up and dressed, and hoping the woman was too tired to fight back, Daario even managed to pull the remains of her shredded clothes and put her in the shirt and pants.
When all was done and he was ready to leave, the door smacked open, and Euron Greyjoy swaggered in. Obara shrunk into herself, the fear response kicking in. Daario on the other hand looked like a fish out of water.
"oh you soft man you" the Greyjoy sailor skipped over to Obara, kicking the side he knew would be tender and probably bloody under the wrappings "don't know how to follow instructions do we?"
"I did what you asked"
"did you" he kneeled to slowly open the shirt that just seconds ago was protecting Obara's modesty "I remember saying to leave these alone" his hand pulled roughly on the bandaging on Obara's chest, where the worst of the injuries laid. Slash Marks, puncture wounds and teeth bites were all visible, raw, and bleeding "must have escaped my mind then?"
"must have"
"I'll give you clearer instructions from now on then" Euron to his full height was about as tall as Daario, and yet the aura of crazy made him seem bigger, more menacing. He smirked and reached to take Daario's favorite dagger, the one with a golden woman carved in the pummel "you will stand here. And watch"
As he spoke he stepped back, and grabbed Obara by the hair, forcing her to stand. Daario's guilt rose tenfold and yet he had actually followed the order to enter the prisoner's cell unarmed, so he was powerless to stop what was coming. The Greyjoy usurper dragged the table over, close enough that Obara could be thrown on it without undoing her chains. The commander of the second son's stepped towards the door when the cloth of the new garments he had put on Obara dropped to the ground. No amount of screaming and fighting would get the young woman away from Euron, and Daario knew this, that didn't mean he needed to be present to watch.
"no no no" Euron cackled, as he unbuckled his pants "you stay. You watch. This is all your doing"
-Fire and Iron-
Yara was patting herself in the back for a reconnaissance well done. Her uncle and that bastard Daario didn't have men who knew the rock, and definitely not enough men at their disposal to fully staff it, so getting in had been a piece of cake. Even asking Rhaegal to wait for them in a hidden cliff had been easy too.
Thankfully, finding the dungeons hadn't been that hard either. At least not when they had one of Reginald Lannister's men guiding the way during their planning stages.
It also seemed that there was a great big party happening, or at least a great big excuse to drink and fuck the night away. That was alright with Yara. At the moment their mission was finding Obara Martell and leaving, hopefully unseen. It had taken a while to plan, and definitely perfect timing to execute. But it was definitely going according to plan.
The men she had brought along had strategically broken off from the search party every so often, to make sure they weren't being followed. Up to the moment they rounded the corner and got to the only occupied cell in the complex, everything was looking up.
Yara poked the door softly, and to her surprise it was unlocked. Inside, curled up in a corner, was the formidable Obara Martell. Her eyes shining first with fear, then with worry, and finally with relief when she saw who was there.
"rescue party for Obara Martell"
"t-t-took you long en-enough" ignoring the small stutter and instead taking the comment as a victory, Yara leaned down to check for injuries she might compromise by helping the woman up. Carefully as she could, she helped the warrior up, her chains falling to the floor, since they hadn't been actually restraining her. "ar-are they still here?"
"what do you mean?"
"I heard E-Euron, saying t-they were leaving for K-K-Kings Landing"
Yara looked back at her men, who shrugged back at her.
"they're still here. We won't be for long though"
Getting out had been as easy as getting in. The party was only getting rowdier and the soldiers were more intoxicated than when they had made their way in. Having an injured woman with them had slowed them down considerably, but they were clearly making good time. More importantly no one seemed to care for the few ironborn that didn't look familiar. Probably not all the men had even met each other, and Yara did her best to keep her head down. A woman in ironborn leathers with an eyepatch might just give them away.
If any of the rescue group had been feeling a sense of dread, it was validated the moment they left the castle. Torches began lighting all around them, and men came from everywhere.
"apologies for what's about to happen" Yara whispered to Obara and proceeded to grab her more firmly with the help of another man on the other side. Obara's skin was freshly wounded and bleeding in places, and her screams of agony could be heard across the field as the ironborn made their way to Rhaegar.
The dragon intuitively knew something was wrong, and sprung into action. Creating a wall of fire between the escaping ironborn and those coming for them as much as possible. He swooped down to get Yara and the men before they were swarmed by Euron's cutthroats, who despite the fire were still coming.
"take her and go" Yara ordered to the other man helping her carry the injured Martell. Before he could say anything she screamed again and pushed him onto Rhaegar's back before running to help the few who had stayed behind. Their flaw in an otherwise flawless plan had been that it required two trips on Rhaegar or an unbelievably perilous and long walk to get from Iron Victory to the Rock. It was clearly coming back to bite them in the ass.
-Fire and Iron-
"your grace" a man, clearly a scout, barged into Dany's tent, where the small council were huddled around a map of the west. Calculating how long it would take to arrive and the manpower cost to bust into the Rock and drag Euron Greyjoy out kicking and screaming.
"come in" Daenerys, clad in black with Yara's sailing cloak around her shoulders, ordered him in. She had asked for a mourning period and at the moment not a person in her camp wore anything but black "what is it"
"a rider in the night…" before the young man could finish speaking the parchment was pulled out of his hands. Daenerys' hands trembled as she cracked the seal, a crowned kraken with its tentacles wrapped around the tail of a crowned dragon.
Yara Greyjoy is alive and well. Victarion Greyjoy fell in battle (what is dead may never die). Obara Martell is presumed prisoner of the usurper Euron Greyjoy and the traitor Daario Naharis.
Daenerys felt the tears crawl down her cheeks, poise on public be damned, in this moment she felt she could cry enough to let the sea go dry. What truly got her heart going was the scrawled handwriting at the bottom, the same of the countless letters she had been staring at for days on end since Yara was presumed dead.
Can't get rid of me that easily, your grace. The sun will rise on us again Daenerys, this I promise you.
I love you, and I will see you soon. Bring the cavalry when you visit.
Queen Yara Greyjoy. Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, queen of the Iron Islands, Queen of Salt and Rock, daughter of the sea wind and Lady reaper of Pyke, Consort to Queen Daenerys Targaryen.
"your grace?" Tyrion touched her for arm softly, trying not to startle the emotional monarch. Her bright smile however told him that might not be such a bad thing "good news I hope?"
"she's alive" Daenerys handed him the scroll to read. He didn't really need to, he just had to take a quick glance and what he had told Yara looked like chicken scratch, to know who had written it. If his queen had been dashing at breakneck speed to get to the rock, gods knows how quickly she would drag them there now. "what is it?"
"your dragon, he's been spotted a few leagues away"
The scout could not get away from the entrance of the tent fast enough to avoid getting bowled over by his hasty queen, Nymeria Martell hot on her heels. Despite the cloudy sky, they could make out the silhouette of Drogon and Viserion flying to meet their now bigger sibling.
When they eventually touched down, rattling the ground as they landed, the euphoric mood the small council had gotten riled up to was quickly dashed away as a heavily injured Obara Martell was helped off the dragon's back.
"y-your grace" Obara grabbed Daenerys by the arms as soon as she stood on firm ground, her eyes wide "your grace it's your wife…"
-TheIronDragon-
Okay. First things first the promised summary without the descriptive triggering scene, or at least the part that is for character development.
Euron is one insane bastard and Daario feels bad for Obara. Not that he betrayed Daenerys, because if Yara were in Obara's spot he wouldn't give a damn, but he genuinely feels bad for her. None of the scenes described the torture specifically, but one does address the aftermath and hints heavily at sexual abuse.
That being said. I hope it wasn't too heavy and still enjoyable if you did read the torture scenes, it seemed necessary for the story.
Also one point of clarification, house Reed doesn't have any words as of yet, so I chose Within Our Sights (I was tempted to use It's not Easy being Green as someone suggested on a forum post for fun but that didn't fit lol)
Hope you liked it. I did promise I wouldn't take so long between updates but I still can't be sure when the next one will come so I can't give a set schedule.
Leave me some criticism or some reactions, and I'll see you guys next chapter!