I do not own nor claim to own any of GRRM's works nor am I profiting off this story
Birthday today, got a GOT cookbook from my mate, absolutely hilarious recipes go look it up. Enjoy!
"You did WHAT!" Lyanna screamed. Jagare ducked as a book came hurtling across the room, it clattered against the oaken wall behind him and. He stood up with a scowl.
"Now hang on, let me just ex-" another book crashed into the back of his head, a throbbing pain forming. He turned fuming to see Tommo hiding another book behind his back, his smirk instantly vanishing.
"Please don't kill me" he spoke quickly. Jagare growled at him and turned back to Lyanna who even with a murderous face looked exceptionally beautiful.
"Listen. I did the only thing I could in the situation. If I had said no I wouldn't have made it back with my head."
"The only thing?" she muttered, holding her head in her hands. "I know that you couldn't have outright refused, but did you have to swear us to him in perpetuity? You know what this means Jagare. We cannot leave. We're stuck in the service of a fucking Ironborn." Jagare shook his head and was ready to explain further, but Wendel piped up from the corner before he could speak.
"W-which gods did you swear on?" he asked timidly, and Jagare pointed at him with a look of knowing.
"Wendall's got it spot on. I didn't swear by our gods. I swore by his gods." He looked around the room, meeting Lyanna, Tommo, Wendel and Lemnos's eyes in turn. "Do any of you worship the drowned god? I didn't think so. I have sworn no holy oath to him. Not in my eyes. Not in the eyes of this ship."
"I still don't like it" rumbled Lemnos from the bookcase he was leaning on. "I understand they were fighting on different sides, but Ironborn are Ironborn. Lying scum who have no intention of keeping promises or playing fair. No honour. Don't trust them."
"Do you trust me?" Jagare asked.
"I do" Lemnos sighed. "And I trust your decision making, it's saved us today already." Jagare breathed a sigh of relief that at least two of his friends had his back. He turned to Tommo who was looking pensive.
"Look" he spoke bluntly. "After we've helped them take this island, we split. Straight away. Before we get caught up in their bloody politics. I don't want to be there any more than you believe me." Tommo smiled nervously.
"I have no wish to be fed legs first to the sharks for not drinking enough salt water. As long as you can guarantee that…" Jagare couldn't help but chuckle slightly.
"I swear Tommo. After we have helped the Greyjoys, I'll claim the ship and the benefits that come with it. We should come out of this even better than we started. Hopefully." Tommo nodded.
"Then I'm in. I trust you Jagare." He gave Tommo a nod of thanks, before turning to Lyanna who was gazing at the floor moodily. She spoke before he could.
"I just don't like it Jagare. I don't like putting us under the control of another. The whole reason that we…" her breath caught on a sob, and he felt a lump of shame form in his throat. "We left Winterfell so that we would never be under the control of anyone. Ever again." She wiped away a loose tear, then looked fiercely at him. "This is a risky move, and if it fails…" He hadn't thought of this. Hadn't thought of her.
"Leave us." He spoke to the room. It wasn't a question. When they left, he immediately bought Lyanna in with a close hug, pulling her tight against his chest and stroking her hair. She readily accepted and buried her head into his body with a jagged sigh.
"I never want to be scared like that again" he heard her murmur up at him.
"I swear to you, Lya. After this…never again. Never will we take orders from someone else. We just need a little more power, and then it will be us at the top of our own world. I swear." Lyanna sniffed and nodded into his chest. He bought her chin up with his hand and kissed her. It grew steadily, and they tumbled each other onto the bed in a burst of excitement and passion. It was heated and rushed, and Lyanna was definitely in control. Afterwards, they lay there in each other's arms as the sun slowly filtered down below the horizon.
"I know that this isn't where we envisioned, we would be" spoke Jagare softly, as they lay there with the soft rocking of the waves below them. "But we could be much worse off." Lyanna sighed at that but nodded her head.
"Aye, I suppose you are right." She turned to look up at him and smiled. "We could be strung up in Jon Starks torture chamber." Jagare laughed.
"Or be hiding up a tree as a wild pack of wolves waits below for us." She giggled and stretched out her arms around his neck.
"You know what, I've decided that I am perfectly happy exactly where I am. And I wouldn't change it for anything." He smiled and brushed his thumb over her cheek.
"Aye, neither would I. As long as we're together, and that's all that matters."
The next day, Jagare woke with a feeling of soft dread in his stomach. He could no longer simply go around his business as he pleased, as it was for the moon beforehand. Now, he had a superior to report to. A lord. There was some excitement at being asked personally to command the forces on land, but he hid it well in front of Lyanna. Dressing quickly before she awake, he left the cabin and found Lemnos outside, leaning against the rail. He looked tired, and his hand was white on the hilt of his sword. He hadn't…
"Lemnos" he started sharply "Don't tell me-"
"With respect, captain, don't even try" Lemnos interrupted with a growl. His voice was tired and hoarse, but his eyes held the same strength. "The Lads and I trust those squids as far as we trust a wildling." Definitely not very much then.
"Well, that I suppose I can understand…But you needn't have stood guard." Lemnos grunted and spat on the deck.
"Scum, the lot of them. I understand it was the only option to join them, but we should get out as soon as we can." Jagare sighed and patted Lemnos on the back.
"Aye, that we will. Who are the lads? I doubt the entire crew would take turns to watch over me as I got my beauty sleep." Lemnos chuckled and shook his head.
"You'd be correct. The remaining sellswords-"
"The sellswords!?" Anyone who swore for gold was never to be trusted outright.
"Aye, sellswords, yes. But their loyal Jagare. Loyal to gold true, but you have saved their lives twice now. They know that if it was the old captain, we would all be fish food right now." He glanced at Jagare furtively. "Their leader is Northern, I'd recommend getting to know them, captain." He looked over at the Ironborn ship with distaste. "Them on the other hand, best not we get too chummy." Jagare nodded at him.
"And I wouldn't ask or expect you to. Now go get some rest. You look like you need it." Lemnos nodded and trudged towards the private quarters on the lower deck. They were small but much more private than the crew or soldier quarters. He mulled over Lemnos's words and turned back to the main deck. The five sellswords in question were all sparing in the brisk morning sun. Two of them carried bows, two of them axes and one a longsword. But they all carried a variety of knives that could carry out a murder in a hundred different ways. He concluded that getting to know them couldn't do any harm, so started to move towards them. They stilled their weapons as he approached.
"Mornin captain, what can we do yer for" spoke Cragg, the one who had commanded the sellswords in battle. He seemed to be the group's leader and spoke for all of them most of the time. The others he rarely heard speak.
"I came to thank you, for standing guard last night. I didn't ask that of you." Cragg sniffed and scratched his roughly trimmed black beard. His face was northern and plain; long features with a strong jaw and steely brown eyes.
"I'm sure you only see us as hired muscle, and I don't blame you. But we're not those kinds of sellswords. Aye, we take the gold, but each of us here was once sworn to someone. Just so happened that someone didn't like us so much." Jagare nodded gravely.
"I understand. The dealings of Lords often leaves us clinging to the rafters for dear life."
"Aye, but you're not a lord like them. You're a good man, something the North is scare of these days." Jagare smiled nervously.
"You honour me but I don't think I-"
"You fought beside us in battle" spoke one of the others. Merri, he thought. Two curved hand axes adorned his belt and a shaggy brown beard covered most of his face. "You saved Brik's life…don't think you even realised." He motioned to the other axeman who nodded his head slowly. Brik wielded a large double-headed battle axe, and was much more wideset than the others, with a chinstrap beard that stretched across his ruddy face.
"He's right" Cragg grunted. "Most who hire us cower behind our shields and push us into the arrows. You don't. Why?" Jagare knew the answer immediately.
"Why should I order other men into battle, to die for me, if I would not fight beside them and sacrifice just as much? That's not the way of the North" All five of them grinned grimly at him.
"Bloody good answer captain" spoke one of the bowmen. His voice was low and slow and his with an exotic touch. He was darker skinned than the others, and his hair was tied in braids down his head. A Summer-Islander. To solidify Jagare's guess, he saw his bow was a bright, golden colour and curved strangely. Goldenheart, the best wood for bows in the known world, rivalled only by weirwood and dragonbone.
"Your name?" Jagare asked.
"Xavi. Come from Tall Trees Town, but the ship I worked on got blown onto a Westerosi coast. That's where I met this one, decided I liked it here." He gestured to the other bowman who wore a permanent smirk, similar to Tommo's.
"Angie, captain" he spoke in a lowborn southern accent, almost Dornish. "Born on the Marches and won every archery competition from Nightsong to Storm's End. After a little skirmish with a lord's daughter, decided the Stormlands would be well shot of me." Jagare smirked and gave him a friendly nod.
"Good to have you aboard as well. I reckon the gods were in my favour when choosing you lot to be my sworn men."
"Aye, and ours for our new captain." Cragg shot him a small smile before his face morphed back into stone. "You've come to ask us about our opinions on the Ironborn, haven't you?"
"I did come to ask that." He looked at them expectantly. "I know some of you are from the North, and I'm sure you've all had Ironborn run-ins before. I would understand if you had a problem with our situation." Cragg seemingly spoke for them all.
"We sellswords are not as simple-minded as most think, captain. We understood the choice you had to make. We will stand by you, and your plans." He nodded at Jagare, and he felt the flutter in his chest. They were on his side. He held out his hand, and Cragg took it firmly. Jagare nodded and left them to their sparring. He had one more person to talk to, but it was only then that he realised there was no longer another ship moored against his. He looked off the starboard side and saw the ginormous vessel gliding slowly off towards the west, only half of its sails rigged. Truly a magnificent sight, he imagined a moment what it would be like to helm such a magnificent ship.
"They left a message, that we are to follow as soon as possible" spoke a voice from behind him. Wendel stood there shifting on the balls of his feet. For some reason, not even the rationing of food on the ship had changed his figure, and he looked uncomfortable. "Don't recommend making a run for it, that ship could definitely catch us." Jagare sighed and rubbed his temples.
"Very well, go find Tommo and tell him to get the crew moving, then come join me at the helm." Wendel nodded and left to fulfil his duties. Jagare watched him leave then breathed out heavily. He glared at the large black hull in the distance, with envy and reverence. Things had been going far too easy for Jagare Snow. Course he had another problem to deal with.
Soon enough, the ship had set sail and was gliding west towards the Isles. Wendel had come and discussed the charting with him, but Jagare wasn't listening. His hands gripped the wheel tightly and his mind was elsewhere. It was clear to him that there was something different. The crew looked slower in their movements. There was less chatter and more reluctance to work. Dirty A lot of them
"Their angry" Jagare muttered, interpreting Wendel who looked slightly affronted. Not all sailors were the smartest of folk, and he had just sworn to an Ironborn cause without giving them any sort of explanation. Wendel had asked him a question, but he was so unfocused Wendel had to kick him to get his attention. "What? Yes yes, our rigging is in decent shape, all is the same as it was yesterday." Wendel huffed in annoyance, and Jagare looked around bemused.
"No no, our rigging is not in good shape, it was cut in around fifteen places. Our railings are full of splinters and our deck is covered in blood. And do not get me started on the front hull. This ship is tough, but we got rammed and by some miracle it didn't break; but it's as fragile as a driftwood stick!" He finished the last part and then squeaked, covering his mouth. Jagare nearly laughed and patted him on the back.
"Good to see hanging around with Tommo is doing you well, my friend. You are learning to speak up and tell me what's what." He smiled at Wendel fondly. "You are gaining more confidence every day, and I apologise for not listening. I just have… lots on the mind right now." Wendel nodded solemnly.
"Don't worry Captain, I understand. I'm sure that it will all flatten itself out." Jagare snorted and looked up to the sky.
"Only the gods will know." The wind whipped at his face and the fresh salty air burned his cheeks. The wind was coming from the east and bought the heat of Essos with it. "But for now, there is peace and quiet. I suggest we-"
"Peace and quiet? We can't have that now can we." Jagare groaned.
"Relish in it while it lasts…mornin Tommo." Tommo slid across the wood like it was ice and with a yell fell into Wendel and they both clattered to the deck. Fighting like mad to keep a smile off his face, Jagare turned towards the bow.
"Bloody carnage wherever you go Locke." He leapt up like a fish and struggled for a moment to pull Wendel up as well.
"Ahhh but it's never boring with me."
"Sometimes boring is best" grumbled Wendel as he nursed his shoulder. It was Tommo's turn to be surprised at Wendel's new confidence .
"Well, well well, my rotund friend. Are you standing up for yourself? Took you long enough! See Jagare, spending time around me is a good thing, look how much I have helped our bear of his shell! May he soon meet his maiden fair..." Jagare rolled his eyes and Wendel blushed slightly.
"Yes, I am starting to wonder if it's all worth it though," Wendel remarked. "After all, I am sure I could have gotten just as much confidence out of Lya without the constant pestering and stories about girls."
"I never asked how the battle went for you" Jagare spoke softly, looking at Wendel curiously. He shrugged uncomfortably.
"It was all over so quickly, I guess I didn't really think about it. A couple times someone got too close and I just…" his hand drifted towards the mace strapped to his back, it was a wickedly sharp thing, and the blades were still covered in some dried blood.
"You were brave. Lyanna told me so, and I have no reason to doubt her." Wendel smiled at him appreciatively before his features morphed back to serious again.
"Now that we are all here, shall we talk business?" Jagare nodded.
"Let me just wake up Lyanna." Their cabin was directly below the helm, so he slammed his foot on the wood five times, and a muffled groan came from beneath them.
"That won't do it," remarked Tommo thoughtfully. "But maybe…" Before Jagare could stop him, he had filled a bucket with seawater and dumped it onto the deck. The wooden planks were pretty close together, but nonetheless, a scream echoed from below. It appears he poured it exactly in the right spot.
"WHAT THE FUCK YOU CUNTS" came the voice from below them.
"Tommo!" Jagare growled. "That's my fucking bed too!"
"Ah it'll dry, ENOUGH BEAUTY SLEEP GORGEOUS!" yelled Tommo. "It's work time!" Five minutes later Lyanna dragged herself up onto the deck, her hair a mess and her face dripping. She walked past Tommo who giggled and got a fist in the stomach for it.
"I think" Jagare smirked as Tommo wheezed on the deck "That you deserved that." He didn't reply.
"What" she grumbled again. He laughed and stroked her hair mockingly.
"Your hair is gorgeous this morning darling." She faked giggling then slapped his hand away, looking murderous.
"Simply coming down to get me would have been just fine you know."
"Yeah…but nowhere near as fun" wheezed Tommo, still smiling. Lyanna looked ready to kick him but Jagare interrupted.
"Enough! We must discuss our plan, truly now." He looked down at Tommo with a raised eyebrow. "Are we paying attention."
"Listening…" he gasped out with a wave of his hand, so Jagare shrugged and continued.
"Right, listen up. We are going to follow them to Harlaw, it's the last stronghold of the Harlaw Kings and breaking the castle will result in Greyjoy victory. When we get there, it will be dangerous, extremely. We barely have a working crew…and I question their loyalty." The three of them nodded glumly, knowing their hard work was all coming undone. "But that will not stop us, we will simply have to be dependent on the Greyjoy's for the time being. We will need them for repairs, resources, and extra men. They want us there for our skill of fighting on land, and our strategy." He looked at Wendall, who was trying to hide a smirk. "You don't need to cover it up Wendall, I know this is where you can thrive. What do you have for us." Wendel nodded and spoke without a single stutter.
"The Iron Isles have many a rocky hill and thin valley, and with them comes many opportunities we could take." Jagare nodded and smiled at him.
"Good. The more useful we are, the more they will trust us. Any questions?"
"Just one" came the slowly rising form of Tommo. He shook himself off and flattened his hair. "Were Northern. The Ironborn hate us almost as much as we hate them. You may have made a deal with Lord Greyjoy and his legions of zealots, but there are other Ironborn who are to set in their ways to simply let us be." Lyanna nodded in agreement.
"Aye, we will be a target for them for sure. We best stick close to the Greyjoy's. But my worry is the crew." She looked down at them and scowled. "Bloody save them from an Ironborn slaughter and how do they repay us."
"Another mutiny most likely" Jagare replied dryly. "Well let's just hold out until we get wherever it is we are going…did they really give us no direction," he asked Wendel curiously.
"None. Simply to follow them and that they would make sure they wouldn't sail out of sight." Jagare sighed and gripped the wheel a little tighter. Then he exhaled and gazed hard at the ship in the distance.
"Let's do what they fucking say then. But rest assured the moment we can throw off their noose, we're off the horizon." They sailed for what must have been another day or two. Jagare never let anyone but himself, Lyanna, Lemnos, Wendel or Tommo take the wheel. It had become clear that while Lemnos's loyalty had soared, gaining him a place in their inner circle, the crew's grew more and more distasteful. Northerners were simple minded, and saw them allying with the Ironborn as nothing less than treason. When Angie had come and told them about talk of another mutiny, Tommo had to hold back Lyanna from going and slitting their throats then and there. Wendel and Lemnos were sympathetic with their reasons but believed mutiny was too far and Jagare was the same. He was angry, and Lyanna fueled that while talking to him at the wheel.
"They think they're so much better than us, just because they didn't swear themselves. They would have died…I understand that you understood. But they don't, and now they've put us in danger because of it." Jagare had to agree, he tried to talk to some of the crew, but they simply shook their heads and would not talk back. He knew that they needed a plan when they came to land. But land came too soon. In the distance, the faint darkness of land started to come into focus, ahead of the Dark Voyager, Terran's flagship. According to Wendall, it was indeed the island of Harlaw itself. As they approached, he saw more and more ships docked at the ports and transporting supplies round the coast. A full scale attack was surely being prepared.
As they came closer to port, Jagare had gathered everyone but the crew at the helm. Everyone had taken to calling the five sellswords 'the lads', and they seemed loyal enough for Jagare to trust them to protect him. Lemnos, Lyanna, Tommo and Wendel were all standing with him as well when they cruised into port. As they had guessed, eyes followed them as the walked along the docks of the town. Crowds of Ironborn warriors moved in groups. Large men with ugly faces, sharp weapons, and rusting armour. Muttering and scowling followed them, and although they left the crew aboard, Jagare felt for certain someone near him wanted to plunge a dagger into his back. Luckily for them, a clear loud voice swept through the air towards their party, and immediately the chatter stopped, and a path was cleared.
"Captain Jagare Snow! My own special recruitment and loyal soldier. Come, join me. We have much to discuss." He looked at their party for a moment. "Your...friends may join as well." Although there was grumbling from the Ironborn, Jagare had the sense that all would Terran's wishes, through fear or respect he did not know . As they walked along the quay, it was clear that this was the result of a long war. Even close to victory, the men looked tired and worn down. Many were injured with no healers tending to their wounds. The meagre food being passed around looked like vomit. Terran was right, this war needed to end.
"What's that smell" Lyanna remarked whilst wrinkling her nose.
"It's the smell of death" rumbled Lemnos, his eyes warily scanning the Ironborn, even though now they were with Terran no one paid that much attention.
"Yeah, strong isn't it" grunted Terran, who drew in a long breath. "You see why everyone wants it to be over. Best get used to it though, they'll be more to come." He led them to what looked like a small timber keep at the edge of the docks. He guessed it was some petty lords hall, but whoever had owned it before was long gone. Inside were higher ranking Ironborn captains, drinking, eating, and discussing in low tones. There were around seven of them, and they all stopped their convocations and bowed to him. One over by a table filled with bread and stew raised his goblet and called out to Terran.
"My prince, how fared your trip." Terran smirked and drew a dagger, expertly throwing it at one of the many maps littering the room. It stuck dead in the centre of Blacktyde Island. A cheer went up from the room. There was nothing more to be said.
"I also picked up some new friends." The chatter died as the captains looked back towards them, their smiles morphing into scowls. "This here is captain Jagare Snow and his…crew." Jagare locked eyes with one of them, who spat on the floor.
"Fuckin Greenlanders. We don't need them."
"Oh, I don't know, after twenty years it seems like you could use some help, don't you think?" scoffed Tommo. Lyanna hit him. Hard.
"Shut up boy," remarked Terran casually, holding his hand up to stop the captain decapitating Tommo with an axe. Jagare shot him a death stare, his heart pounding once more. His loose mouth was going to get him into serious trouble. Jagare cleared his throat and addressed the captains.
"Our people may not be the best of friends-" One of the captains laughed.
"You can say that again, that one's a fucking Mormont. We're not that stupid that we don't recognise a sigil." Eyes turned to Wendall, who had donned his green and black tabard, depicting a roaring bear. To his credit, he kept his composure and stared the captain back down.
"Aye, and I'm a Snow," remarked Jagare. "And I'd warrant at least a couple of you are Ironborn bastards as well." It was a long shot, but luckily it paid off. One of the captains barked a laugh.
"Rodrik Pyke. You got me there." He grinned a toothless grin at Jagare. "Bastards are alike no matter what realm they from." Jagare nodded, his face flat.
"We have sworn ourselves to your prince and will obey his command. We are here to kill some Harlaws, surely that makes us allies." Terran was watching him carefully, leaning against a table with his hand rested against his blade, his blue eyes twinkling.
"I should mention any who disagree with my decision are well in their right to take it up with my sister, the queen." After a moments silence, almost all of the captains were nodding their heads and stating their agreement. Looked like the Queen of the Isles was a terror even to her own men. "Good, now that's done we can begin." He turned to Jagare. "Just you." Jagare glanced behind him at the rest of his friends with a pleading look. Lyanna seemed ready to protest but Wendel laid a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. She glared at both of them and turned her back. Terran gave Jagare a look and laughed.
"Good luck with that one my friend, she must be bloody worth it." Jagare ground his teeth, his anger simmering, but nodded.
"Indeed…she is most definitely worth it. Keeps me ready for battle." The captains chuckled at the leud joke, Terran most of all.
"That's what we like! Now come, let us discuss war." He steered Jagare into another room and the other captains followed. Inside was a map of the Island, labelling the castles, the ports, and the topography. Jagare ran his hand along the edge of the parchment and traced his finger to the castle. Ten Towers, fortress of Harlaw. Terran took his place at the head of the table and started speaking.
"It's pretty simple my lords, the Harlaws are on the run. This is their last island and their last castle, and we've already taken half of it. We take Ten Towers and the war…will be finally won." His voice swum with reverent and relief. Jagare could understand why. Being at war your whole life, must feel good to finally get some rest.
"So, what are we waiting for" one of the captains growled. "Let's just attack them. We scale the walls with ladders and overrun them. We can handle it."
"No, our men are tired and near dead" spoke the bastard captain, Rodrik. "They will see the first few waves taken out by the defenders and lose hope" Seemed not all Ironborn were stupid, and bastards were craftier than most. "Despite their losses, the castle is well garrisoned and well-fortified. They have supplies for a siege and plenty of arrows. There are too many men in that castle for us to attack outright. We need to either find a better way to attack or-"
"Draw them out" spoke Terran. "If we draw them out and slaughter them here, they'll be defenseless."
"They won't come out unless they are assured of their victory" grunted another captain.
"He's right" muttered Rodrik. "Most of the smart ones are dead, but that Aeron…" There was a low hiss around the room at that name, but Jagare thought better not to ask.
"Greenlander" barked one of the lords. "This is what you're here for, what say you." Jagare thought for a moment then spoke.
"We must try and trick them" he muttered. "Draw them out with an assurance of victory. We trap them and a second force hits them from the flanks. When their dead, we turn and start the attack." There was a low grumbling and one of the captains spat on the floor.
"We are Ironborn. We fight with-"
"Honour? Jagare interrupted. "Integrity? Any sense of a moral code?" Jagare interrupted. "I don't think so, pillaging and reaving isn't very honourable."
"We take what we will through strength and power" one of them growled. "There is nothing strong about a sneaky trick."
"Well, where has brute strength gotten us?" spoke Rodrik. "We have been fighting this war for years and only now we may finally win. Sounds like a new tactic might be what we need to finish it." The other captains started muttering again, growing louder. But Terran cleared his throat and they quietened.
"Yes…I agree. I think that it is what we need." The room was silent. Terran glared at them, then looked at Jagare.
"Speak your piece Snow, let's hear it." Jagare nodded.
"The path towards Ten Towers falls into this valley. It's steep and rocky, good cover and perfect for an ambush. If we send a small force through that pass with full banners, they will see the numbers and believe we miscalculated their forces. They will give chase, try an assert a victory. On the back foot or not, they are still Ironborn. The distraction force will retreat back further into the valley. Our men hide in the rocks and jump down onto their forces, springing the ambush. While that's happening, men in rowing boats climb the cliffs here" he pointed to the map at one of the less steep cliffs. "We can't count on them to open the gate, but they can take out a single wall's defences, which is all we need to get our forces into the castle; ladders should do the job. After that, our superior numbers can overwhelm them tower by tower." The captains were silent, their mouths open in surprise, all but the bastard who was smirking slightly. Terran was full on grinning, his eyes sparkling again.
"It's a good plan Jagare" remarked Terran, who was stroking his chin. "But there is one snag. This distraction force you talk about is surely dead. If we spring the ambush too early they will simply retreat in good order to the castle, and I expect they'll be mounted. The distraction will have to be slaughtered to give us enough time. I think you will struggle to convince us to let our men run towards an inevitable death." Jagare bowed his head in thought.
"I might have a way to avoid that." Something that solved both his problems. "What if you didn't use Ironborn…what if you used us instead? My forces." Rodrik spoke up in a low gravelly voice.
"You would sacrifice yourself and your friends? How bloody loyal are you to this cunt?" He inclined his head to Terran who snorted in laughter.
"He's right Jagare. And I wouldn't ask that of you." Jagare shook his head.
"It won't be me and my friends…my crew can do the job just fine I think." There was silence for a few seconds. "They um, were planning a mutiny earlier anyway. If they want to be in command…" he shrugged, a tiny smirk appearing. One of the captains barked a laugh.
"Well fuck me sideways. Them Greenlanders are as brutal as us" he grinned. "You'd make a fine Ironborn, lad." Jagare squared his shoulders up at this remark, his smirk dropping. He was not Ironborn.
"The punishment for mutiny is death."
"So might as well put them to good use then?" smirked the bastard captain. "I like you're mind Snow. My prince?" Terran was silent for a moment, before, just slightly, inclining his head. One of the other captains clapped his hands together and grinned.
"Well, no time to waste. We move the men tonight and set up the trap in the early morning. We'll have the castle by tomorrow." Jagare frowned. Those men were tired. They needed more than just a day's rest.
"Should we not wait, until they have rested more, given time to heal?"
"No" spoke Terran forcefully. "No, we attack tomorrow. If plans get out, or they shore up the valley's defence…I want this war done with. I want the Isles at peace again." He looked at all the captains.
"Go, get as much rest as you can. But we finish this tomorrow." He walked out without another word. The other captains left one after the other, mostly ignoring him, some giving him a small nod of appreciation. Rodrik clapped his shoulders giving him a smile. Jagare felt conflicted but sitting with his own mind wouldn't help anyone. They were waiting outside for him looking wary and quiet.
"Well," Lyanna imminently asked. "What's the plan?" Her voice was rushed, and everyone else was looking at him expectantly. Quietly, he told them what he had suggested to them. There was a pause as he looked at their faces. Cragg and the sellswords looked blank and nonchalant, Lyanna and Lemnos contemplative, Wendel and Tommo defiant.
"You want to sacrifice our crew, because of mutterings?" Tommo asked, frowning.
"Mutterings that could develop into something more if we leave them unchecked" rumbled Lemnos, folding his arms.
"Doesn't mean we have to bloody kill them" Tommo replied.
"I agree, they only want to live their life" Wendel added, but he looked slightly unsure.
"Bullshit" remarked Lyanna. "If they wanted to live, they should have followed Jagare like we have. They chose their path."
"If we put them in this trap, they might very well rethink their choice" Tommo argued back. Lyanna shrugged.
"They either die there, or they attack us later, and we kill them then. But if we do the latter, which one of us is gonna die with them?" That stilled the argument. Jagare couldn't help but smiling to himself. She truly was smarter and bolder than most. He took her hand and squeezed it before addressing the rest of them.
"We'll take a vote. All those in favour for not using them as a distraction force?" Tommo's hand shot into the air, and Wendall's raised slowly a second later. "And all those for using them as the bait?" Lyanna and Lemnos's hand went into the air. Jagare turned to the sellswords, but they shook their heads.
"We follow you, captain. But our vote should note count. Thinking's not our job." Jagare nodded slightly and breathed out. He caught Lyanna's gaze, she was pleading. He slowly raised his hand. Tommo scoffed and looked down, but Jagare continued forcefully.
"We rid ourselves of a mutinous crew that wants us all dead, and if the plan succeeds, we get into the good books of the Greyjoy's. It's worth it. They chose to break the ships code when there was no reason to. Our mutiny was justified. Theirs is not This is on them." There was silence, so he carried on. "Lemnos, head back to the ship and gather the men. Tell them that they will act as a scouting party in the early morning and need to be in position soon. The rest of you, I would recommend getting some sleep. We attack the castle at after dawn." The group slowly broke off. Tommo gave Jagare a sad look and then left. Lyanna appeared at his side and looped her arm through his.
"Do you think he might…"
"No" Jagare replied. "He knows that this is no reckless cruel decision. And he would be happy to kill them if they betrayed us. I just think he doesn't believe in swinging the axe pre-emptively." Lyanna nodded.
"He's Northern. More than us for sure. He still clings to his honour." Jagare smirked slightly.
"Yes, I do believe that we left most of that behind in that accursed land." Lyanna nodded.
"Sometimes…I do wish that we could have stayed though. Maybe tried and break the system from inside the system. Help the North…" Jagare smiled sadly. He had wanted the same. The North was a beautiful place, strong and proud. Its people once were honourable and loyal to a fault, its lords caring for the smallfolk during the winter and the Stark's ruling them all just and kind. To see the North united and at peace would have been a gift insurmountable. But it was not to be, not in their lifetime.
"Honour is important in life, but not in battle, and not when family is at stake."
"The Tully's have it spot on" Lyanna mumbled. Family. Duty. Honour.
"Aye, they definitely do."
The rest of the night passed quickly and blurred. It was the calm before the storm. Ironborn soldiers drunk and laughed with each other, but there was death in the air. Jagare had tried to get some sleep, but even after he and Lyanna had finished their passionate nightly activities, he could not rest. He had ordered the sellswords point blank to get some rest before the next day. They were to act as his personal guard, and he wanted them ready and alert. Lemnos clearly had no trouble sleeping, as his snores could be heard across the entire island. Tommo and Wendel had dropped off eventually, leaving only Jagare, his mind only on battle. He had fought before. Now on the deck of a ship, and in the yard. He had killed men. But this…this was a battle. A siege. A small laugh escaped his lips as he thought how far he had already come. And this was only the beginning.
He never did get any sleep, but from what he guessed was a few hours before dawn, he rose and armoured himself. While asleep he had received a gift. A wooden chest rested on the deck. Inside was a suit of scale armour. black and grey, with hints of golden colouring. Chainmail gauntlets and furred pauldrons also accompanied the armour, as well as boots made of tough ox hide. A note inside read 'Can't have my new strategist killed by a stray arrow.' He had accepted the gift, through warily. Gifts never came without a price. If this plan failed, he would be food for the sharks before he could say a word. Slinging a small axe and a dagger through his belt, he slung his shield over his back, letting its weight get comfortable. He then picked up his new axe gripped it tight in his fist. Walking across the deck, he could see in the distance men starting to stir and preparing themselves for battle. Letting out a long sigh, he started to wake everyone up. On their way to the castle, he found himself next to Rodrik Pyke, the bastard captain from the council.
"This plan of yours better work Snow" he growled, though it was without threat, and more concern for its success.
"Don't worry, I know what happens if it fails. Terran's kindness is only conditional to my success."
"Kindness?" Rodrik snorted. "What you saw was his smiling eyes."
"His what?"
"Terran's greatest strength isn't his sword or his ships, its his charisma. His mask." Rodrik let out a low sigh. "I was loyal to his father, and so now I am loyal to him." Rodrik shuddered slightly, running his fingers through salt stained greying hair. "But Terran has always been mad, and when in battle his blood lust comes out. You'll see soon. Don't fail him." It was a warning, and Jagare had no inclination to not follow it.
A couple of hours later, the sun was beginning to rise in the east. Around three thousand Ironborn were gathered in the long valley that led directly east to Ten Towers. Another hundred had been sent to climb the cliffs and enter the castle while the defenders were distracted. The last two thousand men were hidden behind the ridgeline, waiting to attack the western wall when directed. The dawn shone, and the plan was put into action. Through the use of a spy on the inside, the information that an undefended pack of greenlanders were trying to attack the castle was spread. The bait was taken instantly. In the distance, Jagare could see a sally gate open, and around one hundred Ironborn pour out of the castle, war cries filling the air as hooves came thundering towards them. The sun shone bright from the east and would have blinded Jagare's men. They wouldn't see the threat till it was right in front of them. He expected to feel guilty…but only a firm steel filled him.
"How many men are left in the castle?" Tommo muttered. "That can't be all their forces."
"Father made me read up on the Ironborn" Wendel muttered. "Ten Towers is mostly backed against the sea, doesn't need many men to defend. I'd say well garrisoned…five hundred men could defend it."
"He's right" Jagare murmured, watching the horses draw closer from his elevated position. "It's more the shock we're taking advantage of." Eventually, the mutinous crew realised the danger they were in and started running back to the valley. Jagare wanted to close his eyes but couldn't. He had to watch. Everyone had the same reactions, grim and flat expressions. Then, when almost the last of them had been slaughtered, the warhorns sounded. A ghostly feeling entered him as the attack was called. Archers peppered the riders with arrows until they fell. Around five hundred men swarmed the small group of Harlaw men as they were celebrating unawares. They were led by Rodrik Pyke, who wielded a jagged broadsword like it was an extension of his arm. The second slaughter occurred. By the time Jagare had reached the fray, he only had to take care of one man before the ambush was done. A single swing and his hopeless opponent fell. His eyes immediately turned east to the castle. Several horses were still saddled and waiting, confused in the ambush. Jagare vaulted up onto one and raised his axe with a roar, cantering towards the castle.
The charge moved like a river, flowing and fluctuating. The roars of war cries mixed with the pounding of rock and dirt as the sea of Ironborn swarmed towards the castle. The defenders turned their bows towards them, raining down arrows, just as was expected. From merely a glance, Jagare saw the main bulk of their army charging from a rocky hill towards the castle. They pushed ladders against the western wall of the castle, taking advantage of the confusion. Within the charge, he saw a suit of golden black armour shimmering in the dawn light. Terran Greyjoy was leading the charge into the castle, and Jagare had better be there to make sure he survived. Wendel rode up beside him and pointed towards the eastern wall. Jagare nodded, understanding instantly. He slowed and found Rodrik Pyke in the fray, bellowing Wendel's idea. Rodrik grinned at him, raising his blade in the air.
"MEN OF HOUSE DRUMM, WITH ME!" Five hundred men turned, and with their captain ran towards the east wall. With all of the defenders rushing to support the west, there would be little left here. They would be attacking from all angles. Soon, he reached the ladders. Slinging his axe across his back, Jagare began to climb. The wood was hard and splintered, the ladders had been made quickly and rough. A Few arrows rained down on them, but the guards were too distracted too launch a real defence. Heavy breathing clouding his ears, Jagare unslung the smaller axe he had at his side and climbed the last few steps. Anticipating the swing of whoever was waiting for him, he parried the blade that swung down towards him and jumped over the turret, kicking the man back to the other side of the walkway. Wasting no time, Jagare swerved left and crouched slightly, sending the axe into the man's belly. Pulling it out, he heard the swish of steel behind him, and turned to see Tommo slicing through a man who had been about to swing at Jagare with a large mace. Nodding his thanks, he turned to find his next opponent. Launching his axe with a roar, it stuck hard in the Harlaw man's shield. Unslinging his longaxe and shield, he felt a surge of strength coursing through his veins. The next man who came at him barely had a second to think. He carried a short sword and didn't even bring it back all the way before Jagare had shield slammed him and sliced his axe into his hip, shattering the bone. The howl of pain was lost in the confusion of battle and the man fell to the floor. As Jagare moved on he could see the form of Lemnos coming over the side and finishing off the wounded soldier. An archer around five yards turned towards Jagare and loosed an arrow. He blocked it with his shield and felt the thud travel up his arm. Racing forward, he knocked the bow aside and slammed the axe head into his stomach. The man fell and Jagare bought the bottom point of the shield down onto his head. As he pulled it up, a dull thud slammed into his ribs, his breastplate taking the force of the blow. With a grunt, he turned and lashed out with his shield. It crashed into the man's nose, and he stumbled backwards. Jagare's heart burned when he saw the axe the man was holding. He glanced down and saw the small dent in his new set of armour. If he didn't have that…he would be dead. With a roar, he swung the axe in a large arc. The increased length allowed him a much more powerful swing, and the castle forged steel sliced through the man's neck like warm butter. A weight slammed into him a second later, and Jagare staggered as he went down and slipped on some blood. His mind was a blur, but he remembered someone grabbing his arm and pulling him up.
"Doing well captain" growled Merri, yanking him upright. "I'm at seven myself."
"Only seven?" Angie sent an arrow into a charging warrior with a smirk. "Nine for me!"
"Focus!" bellowed Cragg, who had just buried his sword in his opponents stomach. "Battles not done yet." He felt a warmth grow inside him, knowing he could count on the men around him.
"We've almost taken the wall" Jagare panted, looking around. "Best start moving inside the castle." Lyanna and Tommo appeared at their side.
"Lemnos and Wendel are with the rest of the troops going into the courtyard, their okay" spoke Lyanna breathlessly. She had a small cut on her cheek and was holding her arm tight. "Don't worry, I'm fine." she remarked at his gaze. "Now come on, we got a castle to storm."
"Ten towers to take, let's grab us one shall we" grinned Tommo. Jagare nodded, and they raced along the parapet. Cragg, Xavi and Merri followed, while the other two followed the rest into the castle's main keep. The tower in front of them was short and squat. There was little defence inside, a few servants, some cooks and two greenboys who lay down their weapons the moment they saw them.
"Younger than Ben" muttered Lyanna. Jagare nodded. They did not deserve to be fighting their father's war just yet. When they cleared the tower, they exited through a doorway that led into a small courtyard. The yells of battle were drowned out by the high stone walls surrounding them. Jagare gripped his shield tightly as they moved through it. Perfect place for an ambush. But no such attack came, perhaps they were simply too few to mount one. The next tower they entered was the largest by far, and they met much more resistance.
In the first room, they entered; five men came screaming at them. Xavi took one out straight away, and by the time he had nocked another arrow, Merri had buried an axe in a man's chest. Jagare dodged a wild strike with a long knife and slid his own from its sheath, dropping his axe and shield. Too close quarters for such large weapons. He palmed another blow away and sliced the man's throat as he passed, the warm blood splattering the floor. He looked up to see Tommo slicing the last man's leg open before Cragg stabbed him through the chest. They were silent for a while before a noise made them all turn. Two Greyjoy soldiers burst through the door blades raised. They lowered them when they saw Jagare, he supposed it was because of the armour.
"Milord…we were…scouting." Jagare frowned and picked up his weapons, taking note of their appearance. Neither was wearing armour, but both looked overly flustered and grinning. One was buckling up his trousers.
"Scouting…is that right?" They smirked at him.
"Well, had some fun along the way."
"Them Harlaw girls sure do look extra pretty after storming their castle!" He heard Lyanna breathing heavily, her knuckles white. Deciding to wait to kill them, he let out a sigh and beckoned them, pointing towards the next staircase.
"Go, we don't know how many men guard this tower. We'll be right behind you" They nodded and started towards the stairs. The tower was richly furnished. Rooms with polished oak tables and chairs, large fires, and bookshelves around.
"I think it's the Lord's tower," remarked Lyanna. Tommo nodded, breathlessly.
"Aye looks like it. Which would mean…" he gazed up.
"Lord Harlaw's personal chambers," Jagare stated blankly. They continued up the stairs until they came to an Ironwood door, reinforced with steel. Jagare motioned to the two Ironborn. They took out their axes and started getting to work, grunting softly with each swing. Tommo passed around his water skin, and they all took gracious gulps. Only then did Jagare check to see if he was injured. There was a throbbing pain in his ribs, bruised perhaps. His left arm ached from carrying the shield, so he slung it over his back and leant on the axe. A few minutes later, the Greyjoy men stopped, turning to Jagare.
"One good smash should do it now." Jagare nodded, hoisting his longaxe in both hands, he turned the hammer end towards the door.
"Breach." The door burst open with one swing of the axe. Immediately an arrow came flying out and buried itself in one of the Greyjoy men's heads. He fell back onto Tommo who stumbled into Lyanna. Seizing his chance, he crouched behind the other Greyjoy man and shoved him into the room. As expected, another arrow came flying, but Jagare used the man as a shield. The grunt of pain was followed by a collapse forward. Having less than a second to take in his surroundings, Jagare saw a dark-haired man standing on the other side of a desk, drawing another arrow. Dropping his axe, he rolled forward, coming up with a chair in his grasp. The arrowhead sprouted through the wood, mere inches from Jagare's face. With a yell, he threw the chair at the figure. It was off target but hit the bow, which was knocked away from aiming at Jagare. Vaulting over the table, Jagare was met by a fist to the face. Seeing stars, he felt a boot send him backwoods through the desk. He tried to rise but a weight landed on top of him and knocked the wind out of him. The sound of knife on leather sent his right arm to grab the man's wrist, which was forcing a dagger down towards Jagare's throat. It was inching closer, but Jagare was stronger. His left arm struck out at the man's chest, and he was knocked off balance enough for Jagare to throw him off. By this time, everyone else had entered the room. Lyanna and Xavi had arrows pointing at his head and Merri had an axe ready to throw. Tommo and Cragg helped Jagare up as he spat out a wad of spit and blood. It hit an expensive-looking rug. Shame
"Enough!" he coughed out at the lone warrior. "You're outnumbered. Surrender." His vision came into focus to see a brilliantly white smile and burning bright green eyes. He dropped the knife and raised his hands, panting heavily.
"Well, you got me I suppose. Congratulations. You captured Aeron Harlaw."
The intrigue deepens. Had a few people ask about the state of the North and Targaryens and such, I can promise you that everything gets explained, just might take quite a few chapters to get there.
Feel free to comment!