4 Months before the Death of Jon Arryn
Dagar
Dagar walked along the dock where the ship he had captained for the last two months was moored. The Venture, a foolish name for a ship, had returned to Harlaw the night before, and Dagar's crew was now scattered throughout Myrekeep, another foolish name.
House Myre, which apparently did not have a history of creativity, did have a history of opposing the Harlaws. The two sides had warred all through antiquity for the right to claim kingship, later lordship, over the island of Harlaw. Though House Myre was now a vassal of House Harlaw, Dagar hoped the ancient animosity would slow the awareness of his return.
Sooner or later it would become common knowledge that Dagar had returned, and that he had killed a Harlaw on the voyage. But while he still could, Dagar was going to enjoy his time ashore. More importantly, he was going to get used to being ashore again.
Dagar, like all true Ironborn, was more at home on a ship than on land. But few Ironborn could claim to have spent nearly six months aboard a ship without a single moment ashore. Even now, Dagar could feel the land rocking below him as his sea legs baffled themselves with the stillness of solid land. His body had been trained to adapt to the rocking of the ship, and now that there was no rocking, it would have to readapt. Dagar staggered a few steps as his sea legs overcorrected and he nearly lost his balance. Dagar knew his stagger would pass in time, as he relearned the art of walking on the shore. A small part of his brain suggested Dagar's stagger would pass in time as he relearned what it was like to be sober.
By now the moon was two-thirds of the way across the sky, which indicated to Dagar that it had been a full day and more since he had docked the Venture. But at the present, he remembered none of what had happened that day, and most likely never would. On the upside, none of his crew would remember yesterday either. When the voyage was done, the men had fun. Half had gone straight to the brothel after docking, and the other half had gone straight to the tavern. At midday, the two groups had switched.
Dagar boarded his ship and staggered to the captain's quarters. Being back aboard the ship didn't help his stagger, which proved drink the culprit of his clumsiness. He staggered to the captain's quarters at the rear of the ship, where he had been staying to save himself some coin. More importantly, Dagar was not going to let someone take his ship without paying the iron price. He was worried someone might try and take it from him without paying.
The door closed behind Dagar, but he had consumed enough alcohol to not immediately comprehend the strangeness of that. When Dagar's mind finally recognized he was not alone in the room, he spun around as fast as his drunken legs could move. He spun just fast enough that the knife blade meant to pierce his heart from behind plunged into his shoulder instead. Dagar roared in pain and stumbled to his bed, turning to face three assailants.
The assailants fanned out and tried to press him from three sides, but Dagar was not going to let them trap him. He moved to the man on his left and kicked him in the chest, driving the attacker into the wall of the captain's quarters. He spun to the right, but lost his balance and fell to one knee as his head began to spin. His drunken stumble saved Dagar's life, as he ducked below the swipe of a knife by the second assailant. Too drunk to realize his luck, Dagar pummeled the attacker twice in the cock, and then struck the doubled-over assassin in the throat.
Dagar launched himself into the third, lowering his shoulder with the intent to barrel into the attacker and drive the wind out of him. But Dagar tripped over the man he had just dropped and lost much of his momentum and speed, giving the man time to react, as the last attacker drove his knife between Dagar's ribs. The attacker did not have the momentum on the strike to cause any serious damage to Dagar, but as Dagar slammed his opponent into the back wall, his own momentum drove the knife in to the hilt. He stumbled back as another knife entered his back and he fell to knees. The man who attacked him from behind drove his knife in one last time, before Dagar rolled onto his back.
All three were now standing again and they stood at Dagar's feet.
"Who were you, to think you could kill a Harlaw and get away with it?" one asked. "You thought we wouldn't come after you? We're going to send you to meet the Drowned God."
"How like little lordlings, to ambush a drunk opponent, three against one" Dagar spat. "I paid the iron price for my command. What do you hope to gain from this, my ship? You're doing this because the last captain of this ship wasn't man enough to hold onto it. You Harlaws are all the same: salt wives masquerading as Ironborn."
Suddenly, Dagmar burst into the room, a hand-ax in each hand. Dagmar laid into his three opponents, and none of the salt wives who thought they could lead Ironborn stood a chance before a real Ironborn warrior. Living up to his name, soon Harlaw blood and gore coated the hands and weapons of Dagmar Redsteel.
Stepping over the three corpses, Dagmar stood over Dagar.
"You know, Dagar, I always did want to command my own ship. Here I have a chance: kill the Captain, pay the iron price, take my ship."
"At least you want the ship" Dagar responded. "Kill me and take it already, so I don't have to keep listening to people tell me why they want to kill me. What ever happened to killing men for the sake of killing men?"
"I am not going to kill you while you're drunk, suffering from multiple stab wounds, and have such grandiose plans for the ship. You promised to take me somewhere the Ironborn have never sailed before. I am going to hold you to that, Dagar."
Dagmar turned to leave, but stopped briefly. "You are going to want to roll over" he said over his shoulder, "or else you will suffocate on your own vomit." When he finished, Dagmar left Dagar, who slowly slipped into his own confused, haphazard, drunken dreams.