EDITED CHAPTER. NOT MUCH HAS CHANGED, BUT I REMOVED NJÖRD.
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289 AC - Off the coast of Lannisport
Word traveled fast in the small castle that was Dragonstone. The truth had been told, but truth quickly turned to rumor and rumor turned in gossip. Instead of what actually happened in Shireen's bedchambers coming out of men's lips, it was gossip fit for crones and maids as they sat needling. People had started to say that he was an avatar of the Seven Gods, that he was their mortal hand in Westeros. Some said he had made a pact with demons and the gods punished him for it by giving him his scar. Others had said he was studying black magic and used vile sorcery to heal his sister. Only one of them even featured Melisandre and it was by far the most innocent.
They all said so many things, but none of them bothered to ask him.
He was surprised that Melisandre had not expounded the fact that according to her, it was R'hllor who had cured Shireen and given Harry the power to fight of the curse…mostly.
Harry had tried to explain it to his parents, Muirgen, and Maester Cressen. That he could feel the disease in him, could feel it trying to further infect him. He did not tell them of how excruciating it was. That was something they did not need to know. But, he did tell them of how he 'willed' it back, force it to compress.
They all had trouble accepting his explanation, but who where they to say different. Maester Cressen was a well-read man, even having his Valyrian steel link, but even he could not explain how someone could take greyscale into their own body and transfer it into another.
That was not to say he battled wills and come out unscathed.
Around his left eye was a small patch of tiny scale like stone skin. Maester Cressen had said it looked like advanced stages of greyscale, the skin hard to the touch, but never had he seen it in such a stylized or magnificent pattern. Harry almost swung at the old man when he said 'magnificent'.
The 'scar' took half of his brow and ended just below the eye, going away from his sight until it tapered to end just before his sideburns. Harry had seen it in a polish copper plate. He had to admit it didn't look that bad, even made him look a bit more roguish, but it would probably scare off the girls.
His father had asked Melisandre what her boon was, a little reluctant to give anything because Harry had been infected even if he was not contagious. But, the reward was for curing his daughter, a task the red priestess had completed.
'My only wish is to guide Azor Ahai. A great darkness approaches and he will need my guidance if he is to use the Lord of Light's power to push them back.'
Well, that and a room to convert into a shire so she may continue her prayers to her god.
Stannis had agreed, a price he considered rather small when other men would have asked for riches, land, or prestige. He allowed her to practice, so long as it did not disturb the castle or island.
Melisandre and Harry could settle the little shrine while Stannis went to battle the Iron Born.
That had started another conversation. Not that Harry cared that the priestess wanted to make a shrine. The woman had done as she promised him, what care did he have if she wanted to continue believing in childish fantasies of gods.
No, what bothered him was that his parents expected him to stay.
His mother and father had wanted him to stay at the castle. He had just been infected and 'cured' of greyscale. But, Harry was adamant about being at his father's side when they went to war. It was not about glory. Harry had killed men before; he knew there was no glory in it. No, Harry wanted to go to make sure that his father came back alive and anything he could do to aid in that, he would do. It would have been a downright shame if he had saved his sister only for his father not to be around to see what a good woman she would grow up to be.
Of course, that was not what he told them. His father would have only labeled him foolish.
Harry had told them that it was his duty to help the realm in times of crisis and he would not be called lily-livered. Him, the Heir of Dragonstone, hiding behind his mother's skirt while young men his age went to war. It was an excuse that served well against both of them.
Again, his father capitulated. Again, not happy, but understanding.
The very mention of duty and his father could not argue against him. It was Stannis Baratheon who taught him about duty. And, once his father was on board, there was nothing his mother could say. Well, she did cry, and Harry felt bad for making her so, but his mother had hugged him tightly and told him she understood. She had told him she loved him and expected him to come back home whole and safe. Selyse had said she would ensure the shrine to Melisandre's god was grand and would pray everyday for him.
He did not bother telling her that he didn't care. It would give his mother something to do, rather than worrying about him and his…well, him.
Then, she spun like a demon-woman and ranted at his father about how it was entirely his fault, him and his damn Baratheon blood.
Harry had made a quick exit, not wanting his father to turn on him. He almost felt bad at the look of betrayal on his father's face as he left. Well, he would have if not for the comedy of the situation. Stannis Baratheon chided like a child. Oh, how the realm would have snickered at the sight.
They had sailed the next day, with Harry having to convince Melisandre to stay at Dragonstone. How would her prayer room be completed without her there to see it finished?
She smiled as if she saw through him, which was easy as his excuse was thing, but acquiesced and told him to rely on R'hllor.
'He will watch over you and see those heathens struck down.'
His father commanded the Fury with Ser Devos to take the place of first mate and Harry had been given command of the Prayer. He knew his father was doing it to make fun of him with some sick, circular irony, but Harry didn't care.
He had been given command of his own ship.
Of course, the excitement of being given command was quickly dispersed.
All hundred men avoided looking or coming into contact him. It was as if his gaze alone would infect them. Never mind that he was not contagious.
Harry had even heard whispers about him wanting to sacrifice them to the Red god as payment for his sister's life. Muirgen, his first mate, quickly put the men into place. She had pointed out that if they were to do battle with the Iron Born, then any god was a good god to have on their side. He did not bother to correct her. Men had their superstitions; it gave them answers for things that could not be explained. And there was not way in all the hells he would speak to them about magic. They might throw him into a pyre.
The wind was with them as they arrived off the coast of Lannisport. Harry could feel its gentle, but firm touch. Reassuring as the sea air had always been to him.
They were close. He could feel it in his gut.
Harry checked his armor to focus his mind. He knew that it could not exactly move on its own, but it gave him something to do.
His armor was a thing of beauty, if very simple by Southern standards. Muirgen and his father had designed it and saw that the blacksmith did their imaginations justice. It suited his need of movement and flexibility well, no doubt Muirgen's idea. She had taught him how to fight, seen him fight, it was only natural that she would know what kind of armor he needed.
His armor consisted mostly of riveted mail with only a few plate pieces of blued steel. A fact he was grateful for. He could never understand how knights could stand to be in what Harry believed was basically a steel coffin.
He wore a gorget that covered his throat and chest. At the center were two bronzed stags rearing up at each other. Pauldrons, connected to his gorget with thick leather straps, with bronze stag heads and overlapping plates that went to just above his elbow. His hands were covered with gloves and gauntlets, sectioned at the wrists, knuckles and at each joint of his finger. At his sides were overlapping plates to make his tasset that covered his outer thighs, scaled armor under the plates all secured around his waist with a thick leather belt with a hardened bronze buckle. From knee to foot he wore plain over lapping plated greaves. All his armor had leather bonded to the backs of the plates thankfully; to stop the rather obnoxious clinking and clanking some suits were prone too.
Harry's favorite part of his armor was by far his helm. Much like his armor and sword was burnt blue, so blue it was almost black. It was a Barbute design with a slight curved at the nape of the neck. It had a visor with two rectangular openings for his eyes wide enough to not block his peripheral vision and two cross-shaped openings on either side to assist with ventilation. On the left side was a hook attached to the helmet proper, used to secure the visor in it's down position by hooking to the small nub on the visor. At the top of the visor, right in between the eyes was a bronze stag head in full charge with antlers that spanned the rest of the visor like gigantic eyebrows.
The waves grew chopper the closer they drew to the Iron Fleet. He would have been grateful for the wind at their sails, but they weren't chasing the Iron Born. They were headed for a collision course.
They cut through the water with impressive timing. It would only be a matter of time before they met their foe on the field of battle, an enemy that had spent just as much time learning to fight on land as they did on the water. It would be a harsh and cruel reality when they met, but Harry was set firm in destroying as many of their ships as he could.
"Are you certain it was the right choice to pass by Sunspear without telling Princess Arianne, my lord?" Muirgen asked, breaking Harry from his musings.
"I doubt my father would have been pleased with me taking a furlough without even having been in a battle yet. I fought to be here, remember?"
Muirgen nodded, fully remembering the 'conversation' that had almost turned into a screaming match.
"She will be most displeased if I were to tell her you perished against the Iron Born."
"You should worry about me being displeased if I die against the Iron Born. I will haunt you in your sleep." Harry smirked at her. Muirgen smiled back, patting him on his shoulder in support. He knew she would not let him die, not while she still drew breath. But then again, Death had ways of making fools of them all.
Muirgen's smile vanished as she looked over his shoulder and Harry knew why.
The Greyjoy ships.
Even for as far as they were, Harry could make out the Kraken sails amongst the others. They had easily a fifty long ships and a dozen galleys; all filled with thieving, hungry reavers that would slaughter all of them given the smallest chance.
Harry could feel the nervousness of his crew. He could not fault them that. They had reason to be nervous. Iron Born were raised to be natural pirates. They sailed, sacked a city or port, and sailed away. Their philosophy of the 'Iron Price' gave them carte blanche to do it to anyone not strong enough to stop them.
What bothered Harry was that he believed his men were strong enough to stop them. They were just riddled with self-doubt. Half of them looked ready to abandon ship and swim to Lannisport. There was only one thing he could do to ease their doubt and rouse their bloodlust. If he were a lesser man, he would have tempted them with gold. But, he did not want his new crew to think he would reward them for doing their duty. It was their duty to serve the realm, to protect the innocent, and it was time for him to remind them of that.
"Muirgen, gather the men. I would speak with them."
"Yes, my lord." She replied quickly with a bow before screaming at the men of the Prayer with a volume that could not doubt he heard by the entire contingent of ships.
Harry made his way to the bow of the ship, thinking of all the words he would say to hopefully inspire them, to make them want to fight. It was the way of all great leaders led, through inspiration instead of fear. He looked at them as they gathered at the center of the ship, all eyes facing him. Harry could see their fear, their doubt, and he wanted to feel sympathy for them.
But, all it did was make him angry. His father's fleet was the only thing saving the port cities from being ravaged by reavers and these men looked like children preparing for a beating. They were expecting to lose.
When Muirgen stood at his side, Harry spoke to his crew.
"Stand tall you craven, sons-of-bitches!" That had gotten their attention. Some even had the gall to glare at him.
Good.
Unless, any of them would of told his mother about his coarse language. War veteran or not she yank on his ear until it came off and tan his hide.
"Look at you sorry lot! Looking like a bunch of dogs who had just been whipped!" They had started to murmur. Harry could practically hear them grinding their teeth.
"Are you scared of the Iron Born?"
"Yes!" a sailor from the back said, covered by too many bodies to be seen. Men nodded and muttered their agreement.
"Good! That means you know what the Iron Born are capable of!" That had gotten them to click their teeth together.
"I too share you fear! I understand your doubt! But, none of that matters right here on this day! There may come a time when good men, good men like us, allow their courage to fail. When we allow the suffering of the innocent and abandon out duties to save our own skins. But, not this day! I will not hide while innocent people suffer! I will not cower to the men who would make our families saltwives! I will fight!"
It was as if a fire had been lit, his crew looked angry at the thought of their loved ones being taken. And they should, it was an all too real possibility. But, the fire in their bellies was still weak and needed to be stoked.
"We will not just hold the line! We will take back the sea! Those bastards believe in the Iron Price and we will make them pay it! They are not stronger or braver than us! They are nothing more than thieves, stealing from those who earn their right to live by the sweat of their brow! They are cowards! Lesser men than we! But, they bleed, like you or I!"
The men began to clang weapons and shields, looking like the fierce warriors they should be. The fear and doubt replaced with anger and fury. He could see the respect in their eyes and it just drove Harry on.
"The Greyjoy may not sow, but they will reap our fury! So, FIGHT!" The men roared their approval into the sky.
"Fight for honor!" They were in a righteous clamor, growling and snarling more like beast than men.
"Fight for the man beside you!"
Harry had to shout at the top of his lungs so he could be heard above the clanking of weapons.
"Fight for the futures of your families!"
He must have been loud enough for other ships to hear, because he could hear them chanting his name. It made him bold, more courageous, a feeling he wanted to share with his men.
"Fight!"
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" They chanted, their blood in frenzy. He could see the bloodlust had taken hold and they had not even started the battle yet. He allowed them to steep in it, permitted them to gather the courage they did not have moments before.
Bravery, courage, and bloodlust: they all had a strange way of making men feel invincible. And, in turn, making them fearless.
"Man the scorpions! Ready the boarding hooks! The Iron Born wanted a battle, but we are going to give them a war!"
The crew shouted their agreement and scattered to do their pre-assigned duties. They moved like men with purpose.
Forceful.
Determined.
The Iron Born ships were almost within scorpion range. Harry knew with the wind with them they would have a chance to maybe shoot three volleys. After that, they would have to board, because Harry would be damned if he allowed any Iron Born to board his ship.
"A rousing speech, my lord. You have stirred the passion in them as only great men can." Muirgen praised, as she went over his armor one more time. She was nervous, Harry could see it even if she did not look him in the eye. He placed a hand on hers, staring up at her. It took her a moment to find his eyes, but when she did Harry gave her a smile. She gave a shaky one in return.
"You take care of yourself, Muirgen. I consider you my friend and it would sadden me greatly if something where to happen to you." He told her with sincerity.
"I am your Sworn Shield. I would gladly give my life-" Harry stopped what he already knew she was going to say. He was glad that he inspired such loyalty in her, but it would be of little condolence if she died.
"That is not a request, Muirgen Snow. You will survive this." He ordered fiercely, before allowing his small smile to return.
"We still have so many adventures to go on and I told you long ago, that I believed you would become a knight on your own. Live long enough to let me see it. Such an occasion it would be: the first woman knight, the first Dame to ever be known in all of history. Allow me to see history in the making, yes?"
Muirgen pursed her lips together and swallowed deeply. Tears were threatening to fall, but Harry would not mention it. Instead, he took her helm from her and motioned her to lean forward. As she did so, he placed it on top her head and made sure it was as snug as it could be. He knocked against the steel a few times to ensure it did not move.
"You honor me with friendship, my lord. I will live to be a knight."
"My lord," one of the crew marched up to him before rendering a salute. He was a young man, probably no older than five and twenty. "We are almost in scorpion range. What are you orders?"
Harry gave Muirgen one last smile, before setting his lips into a line of determination. He looked out to the mass of Iron Born ship. His ship was closest to the shoreline and would attack the left flank of the Greyjoy. If anywhere to pass him, then the Iron Born could dock and run, causing all sort of havoc as they fled before hopefully being captured by the Lannister men.
The scorpions would be able to sink some of the smaller longboats. A solid hit to the hull would have the longboat take on water. The boats were smaller, more of a troop carrier than a warrior ship. But, it was not the longboats Harry was concerned about. It was the war galleys.
"Focus the bow and port side scorpions to the center of the Greyjoy ranks. Have them aim for the longboats. I want a graveyard of ship before we run into something we cannot sink. Direct the stern to run straight for the first galley so that we may board them. That will allow the allied ships behind us to slip past. Keep behind a minimal crew to man the scorpions when we board. Tell the starboard side to keep a keen eye for any Iron Born ships that look like they are trying to break off. Especially, stray longboats, they will have no problem beaching."
"It will be as you say, my lord." The sailor said, giving another salute, before barking orders.
Harry drew his sword and raised it into the air.
"Remember this day men! For it will be yours for all time! When you are old, gray, and your balls are at your knees," Harry started, garnered uproarious laughter, "and your grandchildren ask you where you were on this day. You can tell them proudly you sailed upon the Prayer and boldly beat back the Iron Born, the so called 'best sailors of the sea'." Again, the men cheered and laughed heartily, their spirits much higher than when they had first spotted the enemy fleet.
"Scorpions, fire at will! Men, prepare to board and gut these sea dogs!" Harry ordered when he saw ships next to them begin the attack.
With Muirgen at his side, he made his way to the portside railing, men for the boarding party forming up behind him. The men next to them were armed with spears at the ready to cast. They hoped to cause as many casualties before boarding, giving them the advantage.
"Hold together, stay with me, and move forward as one." The boarding crew did not cheer, only nod with grim fortitude. Muirgen nodded to him and drew her sword, readying herself for the upcoming slaughter.
"If you should find yourselves alone, standing in green pastures with the sun in your face, don't be troubled." He said loud enough to be heard. "For you are in one of the seven heavens and you're already dead!"
A small chuckle rippled through them, a good sign. The fearlessness had taken ahold.
The ship was large, easily on par with the Prayer. They had they own men standing, ready with hooks to latch unto his ship. But, his men were faster. Hooks sailed through the air before landing with a metallic thud. Harry's men acted like seasoned soldiers, moving without his orders. They knew what to do and Harry was glad he need not command them to do so. It allowed him to focus on the battle ahead.
As the men who cast the hooks ran towards the rear, tying down the ropes so the other ship could not escape, the spearmen launched their weapons at the Iron Born crew. They aimed for the closest men, the one armed with hooks, and felled many who could not get out of the way.
The ship was drawing closer. Thanks to his spearmen, the Iron Born who were to attach his ship were unsuccessful. Harry barely waited for the ship to get close enough before he sealed his visor into place and released a war cry. He ran forward and launched himself into the air with assistance from the railing.
His sword pierced the neck of a Greyjoy man who was wide eyed at his flight. The man fell, grasping at his neck as his life spurted out of him.
"Do you see that men! The young lord trying to take all our glory!" A voice came from his ship. Harry barely paid it any attention as his men started to clamor unto the Iron Born ship, clashing weapons and shields. Not all of the first line had made it, dying quickly as they attempted to cross the threshold. A few of them had managed to drag their attackers into the depths of the sea. Harry wanted to see how many men had been lost, but had other matters to attend to.
He did his best to clear the side of ship he landed on, but most of Iron Borns' were heavily armored and difficult to kill. Harry maneuvered himself to clear a way for his men to safely board, forcing the enemy to move back.
A brave foe swung at him with an axe. Harry slid to the side, feeling the blade wisp past his face. He spun around his opponent and chopped his sword in a wide upward arc. The blade sliced its way into the back of the man's knee, grounding him with a howl. Harry didn't wait and he didn't hesitate. With his sword already high into the air, Harry whipped his sword around from one shoulder to the other and threw his whole body into a horizontal cut. Even if it wasn't Valryian steel, his sword cut through the side of the Iron Born's neck like a hot knife through butter, separating his head from the rest of him.
It was only by sheer dumb luck he avoided an attack from the rear, a stab from a sword. His mail would have probably stopped it, but Harry was grateful he turned in time to parry the blow and not find out.
He did not back-step. Muirgen had always taught him to never back-step. Forward or around, the only two ways to move when fighting. Moving backwards allowed the enemy to gain ground and momentum. Harry stepped forward after his parry and used his pommel to bash his attacker in the face. His opponent was stunned, but Harry gave him another smash to be sure. As the man backpedaled, Harry gave a straight lunge. His aim was a little off; most likely to him being unused to moving in armor, but it was a fatal strike nonetheless. The sharp point of his sword pierced right under the man's chin, bypassing his helm, and lodging itself into his enemy's brain. Harry twisted and yanked, but the sword would not come out. So, he stepped in and landed a hard kick to his breastplate. The Iron Born stumbled back, moving as if still alive, and tumbled over the railing.
He saw movement at the corner of his eye and turned to protect himself. But, it was only Muirgen with the rest of the men.
"We stand with you, my lord." Muirgen said, standing beside him, her sword covered in gore. Harry looked back to look at the rest of his boarding party. They were bloodied, but ready for more. They were a pack of animals in that moment; faces carved into snarls.
Harry turned from eyeing his boarding team to the men who would side against them. The Greyjoy men did not look as eager as they once had. And, unless Harry's eyes deceived him, they even looked afraid.
"Well, they say they are eager to meet their Drowned god. Let's arrange a meeting."
"Aye!" came his crew's reply.
"To the railing!" Harry commanded, having the men with shields make a barrier that prevented escape. Their enemy had put up a valiant fight, but it was ultimately useless. They went to the god they were so fond of, screaming as if demons were pulling them into hell.
"Sack the ship! Take anything of value and store it below our deck!" The men cheered and ran around like mice looking for scraps. He made his way back to the Prayer, only to notice Muirgen behind him.
"Aren't you going to get your spoils?"
Muirgen looked surprise at the question. Why, Harry could not say. They were spoils of war and every man was entitled to their share.
"No, my lord. I have no need of treasure." She answered, laying her hand on his shoulder. Harry laughed at the implication, but allowed it. It was appreciated that he was so esteemed to her. He had planned to make the men split the spoils equally anyway. They had all played their part and all deserved a piece.
The sailors had made quick time of emptying the enemy ship and a few of them even had the mind to hack at the hull with their axes to sink the damn thing. He was glad his men had initiative.
As he looked out to the battle, Harry could see that his father's armada had gained ground and were slowly pushing forward. It would only a matter of time before their enemy routed.
He turned to the men, congratulating themselves on a job well done.
"I am not a man to reward men for doing their duty. My expectation of you is high and I would not patronize you." Harry had to hold back a smirk at the look on their faces. They looked like children getting their toys taken away.
"That being said, I am also not one to deny a man his wage for hard work. We earned this treasure and we sure as fuck are keeping it! Every man will get an equal share!"
That was taken collectively better. Some of the stronger men, the ones who had been able to carry more, were a little put out. But, it was better than losing all their spoils. Maybe, they could request certain trinkets that had caught their eye or trade for it later.
"Come on men! There are Iron Borns waiting to be relieved of their riches!" Harry announced, causing cheering and laughter to spread among his remaining men.
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