I do not own nor claim to own any of GRRM's works, nor am I profiting off this
Hopefully not too much of a cliffhanger for you, enjoy!
The Ironborn longship cruised through the water at an incredibly rapid pace. Built for speed, stealth and ramming power, the Ironborn had created the perfect vessel for their tasks. Powered more by oars than sails, every man rowed, and every man fought, each ship holding up to one hundred men at most. They were the bane of any merchant ship, and Jagare's new vessel was no different. Jagare had fifteen trained men, at the very most. Fighting was sure to result in death. The silence was broken by the booming of drums, the deep sound echoing across the water and filling the ears of the men with dread. The song of Iron and Blood. Immediately shouts of panic went up. A group of men had forced their way over to the only rowboat and were attempting to let it loose. But Jagare saw the chaos for what it really was, certain death. They would definitely die if they routed, at least together they stood some small chance.
"ENOUGHHHHHH!" Jagare bellowed. It took a couple of seconds but eventually, the panic died down enough to give him room to speak. "Do you think that running around like headless chickens will save you from the Ironborn!?" He yelled fiercely at them. "Do you think, just because you panic and plead for mercy, they will spare you? This is no Westerosi lord's fleet, that takes prisoners and treats them with respect. That is a fucking Ironborn longship!" He gazed around at every single one of them. "You don't need me to tell you of the dangers of the Ironborn. They will drown you as sacrifices to their gods." His gaze whipped around to the men by the rowboat. "You get in that boat, and they will run you down; all of you will die. Better to stay united, and fight them by our rules, and with a plan."
It was a weakly supported idea though. Jagare knew only too well that the Ironborn were not to be easily trifled with. Most looked down on them as nothing more than well-armed pirates, but when on their ships, they were the strongest sea fighters around. Their Isles bred tough men, who could survive the cold and wet of their downtrodden land, and were stupid enough to run blindly into their enemy without a second thought. Not the best tactic on the battlefield, but on a ship, it would cause mass panic. And of course, their fucking battle cry 'What is dead will never die' sowed fear into the hearts of sailors across the known world.
"We can't beat them" one of the sailors muttered, his voice hopeless. "We're not soldiers, just sailors." Other's around him nodded, already resigned to their fate. Jagare took a deep breath and looked around at his crew.
"We are not going to die here today, not if we stick together and work as one." There was a smattering of nervous chatter throughout the crew, more talk of abandoning the ship and braving the sea. But then Lemnos stood up, his voice booming across the like a warhorn.
"The captain is right! We can either all die like cowards here today, or we can fight to our last, and some of us might live. I for one would rather attempt the fucking second one."
"HEAR, HEAR" thundered Tommo, and he was joined by a few of the crew.
"Are we going to die here today?" Jagare asked them, to a small mattering of assent.
"I SAID ARE YOU GOING TO DIE HERE TODAY" bellowed Jagare.
"NO!" Came the resounding voices of the crew.
"WELL, THAT'S GOOD TO FUCKING HEAR. NOW GRAB WHATEVER WEAPONS YOU CAN AND STAND READY, LETS'S SHOW THEM THAT WE WON'T LAY DOWN AND DIE, BUT SHOVE OUR BLADES UP THEIR ARSE!" Jagare raised his axe and the crew cheered along with him. They then dispersed to find whatever they could to fight with. He looked around at his friends and saw truly the fear in their eyes, his words were nothing more than motivation for the crew. In reality, they were in extreme danger. And Jagare felt it too, a resounding thumping in his stomach that sent a sharp pain to the back of his throat.
"We might be the best fighters on the ship, we will have to lead by example," Tommo muttered; his expression nervous yet with a shine of his normal joyous attitude. Lyanna nodded.
"Aye, their morale would plummet if we hid in the cabin. We'll fight."
"And I will fight beside you captain" a low voice boomed next to him. Jagare jumped and turned to find Lemnos grinning broadly. "I would ask for the honour of standing by your side in battle, together, we shall kill many Ironborn!" Jagare grinned at him and clasped the man on the shoulder.
"And they shall fear you, my friend. It is I who has the honour of fighting next to you." Lemnos laughed a booming laugh, before turning to Lyanna and offering her the sword.
"Milady, I believe this is yours. If needed I shall beat them to death with their own weapons!" Lyanna smiled and shook her head, pushing the blade back into Lemnos's hands.
"I believe it will do better with. Show me how a Northerner fights and it's yours. " Her expression turned fierce. "Make sure it spills plenty of Ironborn guts." Lemnos nodded, grinning ferociously.
"As you command milady." He then swung the blade over his shoulder and turned to start ordering the vaguely assembling crew into fighting positions. Jagare turned to Lyanna, but she spoke before him.
"I'll take the bow and get a position on the helm; I'll try to pick off as many as I can but..." Jagare nodded shortly and pointed to Wendall, who looked even paler than usual.
"Take Wendel with you, he'll need the support." He put his hand on her cheek and stroked it. "He'll need you for courage…and so will I." She smiled warmly at him and held his hand.
"And who will give me courage?" She asked quietly. Jagare bought her lips to his and kissed her softly, it grew, and she stroked the back of his hair. He was worried, as was she, that this would be the last time they embraced. They broke apart and he fixed her in his gaze.
"You're the most courageous person I know" he whispered. They looked at each other for a while before Tommo tapped Jagare on the shoulder.
"Hate to break up the fuck me eyes, but that ship is getting bloody close." He grimaced at the two of them, and Lyanna gave Jagare one last kiss on the cheek before grabbing Wendel and pulling him towards the stairs.
"Don't die…" she called over her shoulders. Jagare's heart lurched as he saw her growing further and further away. He wanted her close, where he could protect her. Keep her safe. But Tommo clasped him on the shoulder and leaned into his ear.
"She's tough. Tougher than us that's for sure…she'll be ok." He clapped Jagare's shoulder again and looked him in the eye. "I know we've only known each other for less than a moon, but you're more of a brother to me than any of my kin back at Oldcastle. It will be an honour to fight beside you." Jagare felt a slight wetness in his eye at those words. Why did everything have to be so fucking emotional? They were meant to be fighting! Nevertheless, Jagare pulled him into a tight hug.
"And you, my friend" he murmured in his ear. "And you." Tommo pulled away and sniffed heavily then grinned.
"Now, enough of the sappy shit. Let's fucking kill some Ironborn scum." Jagare grunted in agreement and they both turned towards the men. Their crew had lined up in a rough formation on the stern side of the main deck. The sellswords had taken the front line with their shields, while a few spears and the odd fishing pole jutted out from behind them. Jagare joined the end of the line and turned to the nearest sellswords.
"How many of these men will put up a good fight?" The man turned to look at him, his long scraggly hair blowing in the wind from under his helmet. His eyes were a dull brown and hardened staring into Jagare like knives.
"Not fucking many. But Merri's father grew up a Mormont man and he learnt a small number of battle tactics." He motioned to a wideset black-haired man who grunted his acknowledgement.
"I had the big one steer us head-on with the ship" murmured Merri. "That way they'll attack us straight from the front. They won't waste time coming to our port or starboard." He motioned to the men standing near him, who unlike the nervously chattering crew were standing still and steady. "We five can keep them at bay for a bit while those 'pikemen' behind us give 'em some poking, but we'll need more if we're gonna beat them."
"We seven" spoke Tommo firmly, motioning to his shield. Jagare unslung his own nodding at the men. Merri nodded and peered at Jagare's shield.
"Ironwood huh, good. We'll need that." The first man spoke up again.
"We have three of our own with bows up on the rear deck" he paused for a moment "They'll lay down fire with your lady while we hold them off, but the Ironborn are better than all at firing from a ship, so they won't be as useful as normal." Jagare was quiet for a moment before nodding and joining the line of shield man. It irked him a little that he had not contributed as many plans, but it disappeared as soon as it came. This was life or death. Jagare didn't care if the old captain's corpse rose and gave them advice as long as it let them live. He could see the longship getting closer and closer, it would be less than a couple of minutes before they collided now. The ugly scarred faces of the warriors were barely visible and Jagare felt a surge of anger through his body. This was his ship. He had earned it. Won it. He would fucking keep it. He unsheathed his axe and gripped his shield tightly with his arm, taking a position in the centre of the shield wall. Apart from Tommo who carried a large tarot shield, the rest had kite shields, better for defending from horseback, but covered the entire body well. While most might have struggled to lift the hunk of wood, Jagare's moons in the forests of Karhold had strengthened him and he hefted it high to his chest. He felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Tommo lining up next to him, his helmet on and his sword drawn.
"I would recommend giving a speech. Good for the men." Jagare groaned inwardly but raised his voice anyway.
"THOSE IRONBORN FUCKERS THINK THEY CAN TAKE OUR SHIP. THEY THINK THEY CAN CLIMB ON BOARD AND FUCK OUR CORPSES WHILE LAUGHING ABOUT IT. ARE YOU GOING TO LET THEM FUCK YOUR CORPSE?"
"NO!" came the resounding cry back at him.
"ARE YOU GOING TO KNEEL DOWN AND LET THEM SLIT YOUR THROATS"
"NO!"
"ARE YOU GOING TO SHOW THEM WHAT IT REALLY MEANS TO NEVER DIE?"
"YARHHHHHH!" they all bellowed into the air, just as the Ironborn vessel came within spitting distance. Pulling on the steel helmet he had taken from one of the sellswords, he slowed his breathing as he watched the ship draw closer.
"Three…two…one" he whispered to himself, just before the ship struck. Their ship was bigger than the Ironborn's, but the sheer speed made up for the difference. The impact shot through the vessel like a battering ram. The deck shook and the ship was jerked starboard, but the crew had been smart when preparing, All of the sails were furled, and everything loose was tied down. They tipped slightly but kept their position. There was a brief moment of silence, where the thumping hearts of every man could be heard, and then came the dreaded cry from below them.
"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!" Men came streaming over the deck in droves. Some wore vairy green and black, the colours of House Blacktyde. Fucking ironic. The first line of men came swarming over the side, around ten of them at once. They had had to climb up onto the deck due to the low birth of the longship. Jagare tensed his arm as they crashed into the shield wall. It held. Two men were pressing into Jagare's shield. One short and one tall, both ugly as sin and holding short, chipped axes. Growling, Jagare called out to the crew.
"THRUST!" around them, polearms struck out from behind the shields, but they were of poor strength and bad metal. A couple of them struck home, but most were batted aside or glanced off the armour. Another wave of Ironborn had pushed into the backs of the first few, but the shield wall held firm. Out of the corner of his eye, Jagare saw Tommo thrust forward with his sword, gutting a soldier who grunted and fell. Snarling, he raised his axe over the top of his head and struck forward. The weak rusting helm of the man in the front split and the well-forged castle steel bit into his skull. His eyes slid out of focus but even as he fell Jagare saw the next man rushing to take his place. He never got there though. A black shafted arrow sprouted from the man's eye, and it took everything Jagare had to not turn his head and see if it was Lyanna who fired it. But the thought of her inspired strength in him. He howled and swung the axe again, chopping into a man's thigh and bringing him down. They were fighting well, to his left Tommo cut into a man's leg, forcing him to the floor, and to his right one of the sellswords buried his blade in another Ironborn's stomach. Arrows were flying above their heads in both directions, but many of theirs were findings targets. It filled him with hope, and he buried his axe in another warrior.
It was never to last though. Soon, one of the sellswords had an axe put through their shield wall. They dropped the shield and let the weight pull down their opponent's weapon, thrusting a long dagger through the Ironborn's eye. But the wall had been broken. Luckily, they were not without hope, a large shape passed through his vision and one of the men went screaming into the ocean as a massive force shoved him overboard. Lemnos had charged into the fray to cover the gap and was doing a great job of keeping the warriors back with large swings of his blade. A few more arrows came from above them, but even more, were returning in that direction. They couldn't be allowed to target Lyanna. It was time to join the battle in earnest. Calling for a thrust one more time, several Ironborn falling, Jagare yelled a different command.
"DRAW ARMS AND ATTACK!" A resounding whoop went up from the men and the sound of metal on leather echoed through the ship. Jagare knew that behind him were only a handful of true swords axes and maces, and the rest were an assortment of sharpened sticks, kitchen knives and marlinspikes. But it would have to do.
"CHARGE!" Tommo bellowed, and a jolt of energy surged through him as the roar of the crew filled the air. Rushing forward, they caught the Ironborn by surprise and forced them back a few paces. Jagare smacked the wood of his shield into a man's face, stunning him, then sliced his belly open with the sharp axe head. He fell as his guts spilt onto the deck, and Jagare felt a battle frenzy come over him. On the rare occasion, Lord Karstark had ever treated him like a son, he had talked about the nature of a battle. When all thought, emotion and inhibition disappears. It's like a fuzzy haze, where time becomes irrelevant, and your body moves on its own accord, with muscle memory and reactions only. You block, parry, thrust and swing like something else is controlling your body. And when it's over you will remember little of what happened. Only at that moment did Jagare truly understand what he had meant by that, as the wave of Ironborn crashed back into them.
Although he often saw Tommo, or Lemnos out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts were numb and his ears ringing as he fought his way across the deck. He remembered one of the sellswords taking an arrow in the shoulder before being cut down by a particularly large Ironborn wielding a war axe with both hands. In a cry of fury, he had launched himself at the man. He felt his shield slip from his grasp as the two of them fell across the deck, but he rose to parry a frenzied axe strike. With a yell, Jagare shifted grip and came in close with the man. He sliced the axe head over the Ironborn bruiser's wrist, forcing him to drop the axe. Jagare caught it and before the other warrior could think, he had buried his own axe in the man's chest before shoving him off the ship into the flowing water below, axe still lodged in his chest.
He grasped the new axe tightly and admired it for a moment. It was bigger than his old one, around the same length as his arm, with a head the size of a plate. Its hammer end had a sharp spiked edge to it as well. He grinned at his good fortune of finding such a good quality weapon, but then remembered he was on the verge of death and looked back to the battle. Picking up his shield again, he saw with horror that they were being overrun. They had little over half the numbers of the Ironborn, and by the looks of things, they had lost around fifteen of their men. In a desperate attempt to rally them, Jagare raised his axe to call out, but a heavy force crashed into his back, and he went sprawling, his head smacking against the wood. He hit the railing and the wind was knocked out of him. As he was gasping to regain his breath, he heard a voice call his name. He tried to rise but a heavy shudder from the ship sent him over again, the deck bloodied and hard. A cry went up from the men, but Jagare did not know why. There were screams and shouts of all different natures, and he clumsily parried a sword away trying to stand. The next moment a shaft was protruding from his attacker, but once again Jagare's legs gave way as another shudder ran through the ship. What was that? Two pairs of arms grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He glanced around and saw Tommo and Lemnos on either side of him, blood across their faces and panting heavily. Both had their swords raised, and Jagare turned his head back to see around seven Ironborn forming a semicircle around them. His head clearing with adrenaline and the thumping dying, he focused his mind with a snarl. Jagare raised his shield and axe, letting out a bellow.
But before he could charge them, a spear sprouted from one of the Ironborn's mouths. For some reason, at that moment, it occurred to Jagare that the spear was awfully well made. Pure black steel and very sharp, with two barbs on either side, resulting in a bloody mess when it was pulled back. For a moment the three of them lowered their weapons slightly, looking at each other with confusion. Then more strange things started happening. All over the ship, Ironborn were killing Ironborn, ugly turning on ugly. Some jumped over the side, while others went around securing his crew. Jagare couldn't find his voice, but Lemnos boomed out to his soldiers to re-join them in their original position. Tommo dragged him back to their shield wall. But most of the sellswords had fallen, and when Merri called once more for a shield wall to form, it was weak and ragged. But it didn't seem to be needed. They weren't attacking them.
"What the fuck is happening" he mumbled. A hand caught his own, and he turned to see Lyanna, her face a mask of shock. "What's happening?!" he spluttered, his voice catching once more from the exhaustion that started to catch up to him. Lyanna didn't seem to be able to speak either, merely pointing at the Ironborn ship, which had seemed to have gotten longer since when the battle started. No, it hadn't gotten longer. It was another ship. A much larger one. Not a longship either, but a warship, the flagship of a lord, with a jet-black sail flying from its main mast. In the centre, flying resplendent in the wind, was a golden kraken.
"Greyjoy's…" he murmured. "The civil war…".
"Look" came Tommo's tired voice from the side. He was pointing at a man who had just boarded their ship, striding across the deck with purpose. He wore fine black lobster-plated armour, and a smaller version of the golden kraken was portrayed on his chest. He wore no helm, but his pauldrons were wrought with krakens, and the hilt of his longsword bore another kraken with golden eyes. This must be a Greyjoy, Lords of Pyke. Sigil…well a kraken. But why he was he killing his own men? There was a moment of uneasy silence, before the Greyjoy turned to a nearby kneeling Blacktyde man with a snarl. With no warning, he drew a dagger and cut the man's throat. Blood ran across the deck and Jagare felt his heart freeze.
"KILL THE TRAITORS" the man bellowed, a sickening smile on his face. A smile he had only seen once before. In no time at all, all of the Blacktyde men had been killed. Either tossed overboard or their throats cut, the water ran red with blood. What must have been at least thirty fresh Greyjoy troops stood around laughing and looting bodies. Jagare had waited for them to be next, but it seemed as if they were simply being ignored. Eventually, Jagare whispered to Tommo to hold the line, before walking forwards towards the captain. As he got within a few feet of him, the Greyjoy men turned and drew their blades, pointing them menacingly at him. Immediately behind him, he heard bowstrings become taught and held up his fist to stop them from firing.
"Whoa whoa whoa, easy now" spoke the captain, holding his arms up at his men, who sheathed their weapons. He looked at Jagare expectantly, and so he turned to Lyanna and motioned for her to relax the bow. He gave a confident nod and then turned back to the captain, whose face relaxed and smiled at Jagare.
"I'm impressed, your men put up a better fight than expected against those lot. They were the last of an elite squadron of Blacktyde men. Trained to be merciless killers at sea. But you held them off…for a while." He bowed and gave an ugly sort of grin. "You must be a very skilled commander to keep regular sailors that organized. Most would have fallen apart at the first sight of their sails." Jagare's mouth set, his face growing cold and his expression icy.
"My men are men of the North. Hardened by winter and strengthened through hard labour. They are as strong and fierce as any Ironborn." The captain's smile flickered, and he gazed at Jagare for a moment.
"But not as well trained" he spoke softly. "I am complimenting you. Take it." Jagare didn't like the way the man was speaking down to him, but for negotiation's sake, he nodded.
"Thank you, my lord." The captain grinned at him, sheathing his sword and stepping forward.
"My name is Crown Prince Terran Greyjoy. Commander of the Greyjoy fleets and champion of her Majesty's crown." This confused Jagare slightly, but clearly Terran had been expecting it. "You see, my sister is Queen of the Isles, as is her right as the eldest." Jagare looked at the man's face, looking for a slight trace of bitterness as was often found in brothers being usurped by their sisters, but he found nothing. The man was truly content with his sister sitting on the throne. He decided then that he had to meet this queen; out of pure curiosity. He took that moment to study Terran as well. He had a twisted, strangely handsome face. A thin line of stubble stretched from ear to ear, and he had dark sea-blue eyes that shone with a sort of manic excitement. He had jet-black hair that was slicked back to his head and his features were thin and haughty. Jagare realised he was being watched expectantly and spoke quickly.
"My name is Jagare Snow. I am the captain of this ship. Where did you come from?" Terran's smile flickered into a frown, but not aimed at Jagare.
"We came in the shadow of their ship" he spoke, folding his arms and pacing closer to Jagare. "I suspect you were a tad distracted- which was fair of course. But we'd been hunting them for days, all the time one step ahead of us. We managed to place some scorpion bolts in their hull yesterday, however." He motioned to the hull of the Blacktyde ship, which was indeed spotting some thin holes in the starboard hull. "We suspect that they were filling up and couldn't keep bailing out forever. They needed a fresh vessel. Something that could get them to the Northern coast. Clearly, they expected some undefended traders that they could take quickly and set sail again almost immediately. Luckily" he flashed another smile at Jagare. "You put up more of a fight, and gave us enough time to catch up with them."
"I suppose you're welcome then" Jagare muttered. "But still, thank you for saving us." At that, Terran looked confused for a second, then laughed merrily.
"Oh, and we didn't save you. We slaughtered them. And now that's over, you're going to have to convince me to let you keep your ship. We're still Ironborn after all." It took all of Jagare's willpower to not strike the man's smirking face right then, but it was foolish. Even if by a slim chance he landed a killing blow he and everyone else would be killed in seconds. Instead, he swallowed his rage for Ironborn and met the captain's stare fiercely.
"We have no quarrel with you and will be happy to pay a fare for your assistance. But this is my ship." Terran laughed and shook his head.
"You are right my friend; we have no quarrel. In fact, I respect you, Snow. I saw you fighting from a distance. You managed to take out their captain fairly easily. You wouldn't have known, but he was one of Lord Blacktyde's sons." His glance drifted down to the axe in Jagare's hand. "Look at the axe if you don't believe me." Jagare's thoughts drifted to the Ironborn he had taken his new axe off. He might have been slightly finer dressed than the others, and he definitely had a better-forged weapon. He raised it up to his eyes and studied the metal. Now that he looked closer, it was definitely stronger than most axes forged for common soldiers. This one had a pattern woven into its metal. Green runic patterns, that glimmered in the sunlight.
"That doesn't change the fact you still seek to kill my crew and me" Jagare growled, gripping the axe handle tighter. Terran frowned to himself once more, looking down at the deck.
"I should apologise" spoke Terran, his voice more level and serious now. "I did not mean I would be taking your ship and simply leaving you to the sea. Believe what you will we have some semblance of honour, and you prevented them from escaping. But we did save you. You all owe me your lives." Jagare was silent for a moment before looking behind him at the remaining crew. There were only around two score of them left on the ship. Barely enough to sail a vessel this large on decent shifts for sure.
"What would you have of me then" he muttered quietly and out of earshot. "I would be mutinied on if I simply gave up the ship. Most of these men see Ironborn as little more than sea demons. I doubt they will follow you willingly" Terran sighed and walked over to the railing, his crew parting to let him through.
"This civil war has been hard on my people. But for the first time in many years, there might be some hope of truly winning it. Not so long ago… my father was killed in a battle to take the holy island of Old Wyk."
"I am sorry for your loss" murmured Jagare, knowing it was polite to say. Terran turned and smiled sadly at him.
"Don't be, he was an ass most of the time." Jagare nodded, a small smile appearing on his face as well. "But, after his death, my sister picked up his sword in the midst of battle and won us that damned fight. After that, we declared her queen and we have driven back the Harlaw loyalists to their own island." He motioned to the slowly sinking wreck that was the Blacktyde ship.
"What you see here is the last remnants of the Blacktyde fleet. A few days ago, we took their island and have been clearing up the bay, looking for stragglers. Now, all that's left is Harlaw itself." He started walking towards Jagare and eyed him expectantly. "And for that, we need fighters who can hold their own on land as well as on a ship." Jagare thought he knew where this was going "You see, Snow, the reason why this civil war has gone on so long is that we can beat each other bloody on the water, but when it comes to fighting on the Isles, it's pure luck as to who wins. Both sides have reached out to the mainland for even a couple hundred greenland fighters, from any of the houses. But for some reason..." Terran smirked, "They don't seem particularly keen to help either of us." Jagare had to smirk at that as well. Any and all houses near enough to the Isles would rather their house be extinguished than help the families who had reaved and raided their lands for thousands of years.
"What a surprise. So, what you're saying…is that you want me and my men to fight for you on Harlaw? Win you the castle." Jagare asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"That is correct. To tell you the truth Snow, I'm desperate. So is my sister. If we don't take this island now, then they will build up their strength and it will all start again. Both of us would rather die than see our lands go through that bloodshed again. We need the help of all who can fight on land. We need to end this war." He looked down and nodded to himself before clasping Jagare on the shoulder. "Come aboard my ship, I wish to talk further. Your men will be seen to by my healers, and we can discuss the future." Jagare tensed at the invitation. He would be hesitant to follow any mere stranger into a place where they were in control, least of all on the word of an Ironborn.
"And why should I trust you? I mean you no offence, but I have no reason to follow you and the ways you could murder me are countless." Terran sighed heavily and shook his head.
"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. Very easily mind you. But if you wish…" He called over one of his men, a tall wiry old man with a long thick beard, braided with what looked like seaweed. A priest of the drowned god. "An oath to your gods could be easily broken, as I have no faith in them. But to my gods." He turned to the man and spoke clearly. "I swear upon the drowned god, and the many lords in his watery halls, I will keep my honour and grant this man safe passage. I also swear not to harm a single man…or women, in his crew." The priest nodded and then spoke to Jagare.
"An oath broken in the eyes of our god would result in the worst type of punishment after death. Of this, I can assure you." Jagare was still wary but reluctantly nodded.
Naturally, Lyanna and Tommo wanted to come, but Terran had been adamant that it was only him. It was suspicious, but Jagare had little choice. The Greyjoy ship was named the Dark Voyager, a colossal warship that dwarfed others in the Iron Fleet by a large amount according to the prince. The decks and hull were made of hardened oak wood, with three masts, ten sails and four decks. The interior was richly furnished, with polished oak wood lining the walls, and the captain's cabin as large as all of the crew's quarters on Jagare's ship. Terran had a large ironwood desk in the centre of the room, that had been nailed into the floor. He motioned to Jagare to take a seat on one side. Behind Terran was a large glass window that caught Jagare's eye. Glass was very rare to come by outside of Essos, especially on an Ironborn ship. Even though it felt like a day, it had only been a few hours since they had seen the ship and prepared for battle, and the sun still shone high in the midday sky, reflecting off the water like glimmering diamonds. Jagare sunk into the chair, not truly realising how tired he was as the weight of battle pressed down on him.
"Are you injured?" Terran asked as he poured a horn of a thick, foul-smelling ale.
"No" spoke Jagare quickly. He didn't want to be reliant on this man any more than he already was. Terran sat in a comfortable chair and put his boots on the desk in a relaxed manner. He took a long drink and let out a deep sigh.
"Nothing like the feeling of winning a battle. Bloody good I'll tell you that. A…roaring sweet pain that courses through your body, the feeling that you've just killed so many men, but it was worth it."
"Worth it" Jagare echoed, his mind filled with blood and screams of terror. Worth it. Terran grinned at Jagare and took another drink.
"Can I tell you a story Jagare?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I'm gonna tell you a story." He finished his drink and took a long sigh, a small smile appearing on his face. "Many years ago, just a little after I was born, the dragons died in their conquest. Of course, before they died, they exterminated the line of Hoare and caused a power vacuum in the Isles. My family claimed them, as was our right, but so did the Harlaws." He paused and took another drink. "So, we tried settling things diplomatically. The first Kingsmoot in one thousand years was called, to proclaim a new king in the eyes of the drowned god. Our priests met, and everyone who wanted the crown put forward their case. You see Jagare, in our culture, every captain is a king on his own ship. And every captain has the right to put forward their case to be king. Of course, there were many petty lords and captains who tried to claim the throne, but all those there knew that it was the Greyjoys or Harlaws sit the Seastone Chair." His expression fell and became forlorn and sad. "My grandfather was Lord of Pyke at the time, and he was the claimant for the Greyjoys. He went along under a banner of peace in the eyes of our god…and he was slaughtered." Terran's eyes danced with silent anger. "The Harlaws laid a trap, when my grandfather rose to give his speech, an arrow was put through his head. The houses that supported them drew their swords and killed all contestants. My father was the youngest of three sons, and he was the only one who survived." Jagare could see the pain and rage across Terran's face, his skin stretched taught at the memories. "Myself and my sister were too young to attend so naturally we stayed on Pyke. My father made his way back and declared himself King for all to see. He proclaimed the treason that had been done, and many loyal families joined despite Harlaw getting the driftwood crown. Good men joined us. Loyal men." He looked back over at Jagare, his expression still hurt and wrought with pain. "You may not follow my god, but you know of sacred oaths. To us, murder at a Kingsmoot is kin with murdering guests at a wedding." His expression hardened. "But the gods know what happened, the gods know who committed those atrocities." He was silent for a moment before pointing at Jagare. "I believe that is why he has sent me you."
"Me?" Jagare responded, confused at the statement. He was nothing special, that was for sure.
"Yes, you. As I mentioned before, anyone who can fight and command on land is valuable to our cause." He paused for a moment and grinned. "I've lived half my life on a ship Jagare, and I know the signs of a recent mutiny." Jagare's eyebrows shot up for a moment, a slight crack in his façade. Shit. "It's ok. If a mutiny takes place nine times out of ten it's for good cause, and if it succeeded the captain was weak in the first place." He looked at Jagare more closely. "But you were a bastard from the North who took control of the ship with what I will assume was not full support. I have a good eye for warriors Jagare. And for cravens too. I saw a few of your men who were ready to throw down their weapons and surrender to me if I had made a move to attack you." Jagare was unsure of what to say, but he knew he was expected to speak.
"I simply did what I had to. The crew was suffering, so I put an end to it. I never wanted to become captain. It was forced onto me."
"Not that you complained though!" Terran grinned and stood up from the chair, stretching slightly before starting to pull off his armour and hang it on a wooden stand.
"No…I suppose not."
"I'll lay it out simply for you Jagare. I can tell that you are a leader. And I can tell you know strategy and tactics. That shield wall was a good idea, and it kept the Blacktydes off you for a while. Saw it all through the far eye." He brushed a strand of hair out of his face and drew one of the daggers on his belt, pointing it loosely at Jagare. "I want you to come with me to Harlaw and help me take the castle. In return, I will give you your ship back- no, a better ship, a true war galley. With that comes a crew of competent sailors and as many weapons and armour as you could carry. I'll also make you a captain in my fleet, and if you continue to serve me and my sister well, a spot of land and a keep might be in your future. What do you say?" The words rolled over Jagare's brain like cavalry over infantry. His mind was whirring with possibilities, plans and anything and everything that could happen from here. Terran saw his hesitation and chuckled slightly.
"I know it's a big decision, and although it is the only option, I'll give you a while to- "
"I'll do it" he spoke quickly. "But I want full control over my ship until we arrive, and a voice at your council meeting. If you wish for my help, allow me full control over your armies." Terran was silent for a few seconds, before nodding, and walking to the table and pouring two horns of ale. He gave one to Jagare, then raised his own in salute.
"Very well. To Jagare Snow. Captain in the Iron Fleet."
Jagare joins the Iron Fleet and is off to the Isles. Feel free to comment!