Penultimate chapter! (bar the epilogue)
Can't believe first book is almost finished, the second is coming along at a slightly slower pace unfortunately. Hope last chapter wasn't too confusing. Enjoy!
"What do you think?" mused Lyanna, her eyes flickering over the many assorted hair dyes lining the seafront. Each a different colour and each more vibrant than the next. "It is Myrish tradition."
"Yes, but then we are leaving to fight a battle in Westeros, where blue hair will stand out slightly." She shrugged.
"I was thinking green actually." He rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Stealth operation Lya, stealth. You'd be a 'hit me' target in a battle for any semi-competent archer. Hells, Tommo could hit you with that in your hair." She giggled and tossed her hair over her shoulders.
"Yes, but how alluring would this make me lover" she bashed her eyes at him seductively, making Jagare growl softly and pull her towards him by the waist.
"Depends, will you be dying all of your hair." Her cheeks turned pink at the implication and she kissed him softly on the cheek.
"Wouldn't you like to know." Jagare smirked and kissed her softly on the lips.
"Later, my love. I wish to be rid of this city." She nodded silently and breathed out slowly.
"Very well. So, what are we waiting for then?" Jagare sighed and tapped his fingers against his axe.
"Wendel, Lemnos and Tommo are making sure the last of that Myrish Glass is on board, packaged up securely. I have threatened them with removing the sheets from their beds and tossing them overboard if so much as one pane cracks during our voyage."
"Bit harsh don't you think." He shook his head darkly.
"Not even slightly, I know what Tommo is like with his laziness. And Lemnos's ginormous hands aren't exactly made for a thin rope. I sent Wendel with them for a reason." The glass was one of many Myrish trade goods they had received, along with tapestries, silk, and lace. In every port, Jagare made sure to trade enough to keep the ship running self-sufficiently, as well as having a personal and a backup store for all of the goods for him and Lyanna to enjoy themselves. So far with the extra gold they had encountered, it was going very well. "Apart from that…well, we wait until Rhys finds us." Lyanna shuddered slightly.
"Putting it into perspective, I much preferred Romanus over Rhys. Rhys is just so much more…"
"Intense" Jagare answered. "Creepy. Downright terrifying." She nodded and gave a small shudder.
"Just his presence makes my hair stand on end." Jagare sighed in agreement.
"Well, he is their leader. I think he has to be that bit more intimidating. Come's with the job." Lyanna nodded.
"Speaking of intimidating, Wendel and I consulted with a Myrish healer who reckoned the twins must be over one year by now." She chuckled. "He was very confused by the question but good to know the rate at which they are growing." Jagare laughed but shook his head.
"I don't reckon that potion has a set acceleration time. Alaric looked around one before Alys did and now she has caught up and more, and he hasn't changed."
"Who can tell" she muttered. Jagare smiled and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.
"We can. We are their parents. We will know Doesn't matter what Rhys sprouts about that potion." She smiled back at him, and they met for a sweet kiss. It only lasted for a few moments however before the blonde shadow appeared in front of them. Everyone on the ship had taken to calling Faythe that, and for good reason. Even with her shining blonde hair, she could creep around the ship like an assassin without anyone noticing.
"Jagare, Lyanna, there's something that you should um…well, I think you should just come and see." She started to scurry off before Jagare stopped her.
"Whoa whoa, hold on there. What's the problem before we go rushing off somewhere." She looked nervous for a moment before taking a short breath.
"Eyme has disappeared. I went into her cabin to ask if she wanted a meal from the cook, but all I found was a letter with Aeron's name on it…and then he came in behind me and saw me holding it, and well..." As if by cue there came a howl from the ship, Jagare whipping around, instantly realising what was happening.
"Ah" was all he was able to say.
"Yeah" Faythe winced. Then there was a loud crash and Aeron came storming onto the deck. Striding along the length of the ship he leapt over the gangplank and landed on the quay, his face a mask of fury. He was making a beeline for Jagare but before he could reach him the broad and strong arm of Brik reached out to halt him in his path.
"Easy Aeron" Brik muttered. "Calm yourself before you do something you regret." Jagare looked at Aeron intently until the Ironborn prince snarled and thrust the letter he had grasped in his hand towards Jagare.
"You couldn't have just given her the army, could you? She would have stayed then. I know she would have!" Jagare slowly read the letter, glancing at Aeron once in a while.
"The army was not hers to use Aeron" Lyanna spoke calmly as he read. "They would not have marched to Dorne with her unless Jagare came to." The letter talked of needing to fulfil her duty to her people and finding the army she so desperately needed to overthrow the Martells. She would reside in Myr for a while with secret contacts, working on finding a suitable company. She spoke of deep love to Aeron, but clearly her honour had come before it. He could only respect her for her decision, though he knew he would give up everything he owned if it meant being with Lyanna and the twins.
"You should have gone and helped her" hissed Aeron, causing Jagare's temper to rise. "We should have just used to the army to help her take Sunspear!"
"And why should I? I owed nothing more to Eyme than her safe passage to Myr. And the state of Dorne is none of my concern, I was not part of their little alliance."
"But you choose Maximus" he growled lowly. "You choose Dragonstone. Why his venture over Eyme's?. Why!"
"Because clearing Dorne of the Martells would not benefit me or the crew. You know that." He spoke softly, but Aeron did not calm, instead spitting on the tiles.
"And taking Dragonstone will? Your even stupider than you look!" Jagare snarled as he grabbed Aeron by the coat, meeting his glare.
"When we take Dragonstone" he hissed in Aeron's ear. "Camerlron and I will convince King Durrandon to give us control of the port town under the belief that we will bring trade to the island for him with our small fleet of ships. Then, we have a secure base in the centre of Westeros to return to should we ever need it. We shall place spies and guards in the castle so that if needed we can launch a coup and take the entire island." He calmed his voice for a moment. "That will benefit everyone on the ship Aeron. All our men." He knew it as well, but it wasn't Dorne that he cared about. Or the Martells. It was Eyme. "I'm sorry. I know you loved her." Aeron's breathing slowed slightly, and the anger left his eyes.
"She's gone Jagare" he muttered. "She was clear in the letter that she couldn't come with us." Jagare nodded solemnly and let go of Aeron. Lyanna then stepped in to wrap her arms around him.
"She has a duty Aeron. Duty to her people and to her home." He nodded softly, returning the hug fiercely.
"The same as you have a duty to this ship, my friend" Jagare spoke softly. "She wrote of your duty as well, to the islands, and to your men. One day it will be your duty to kill Terran Greyjoy, and take back the Isles. And you will know why she left." Aeron sniffed, disengaging from Lyanna and letting his face fall into his hand.
"I just thought that…maybe we could share our burdens. Together. Face them as one."
"I have a feeling that you will see her again" Jagare muttered. "And if you need time to grieve, then you have it." He placed his hands on Aeron's shoulders and turned his head towards him. "But for now, how about we go kill some people."
"I quite like that idea" came a rusty, oily voice from behind them. They all turned around to see Rhys standing in front of them, fully garbed in his Hades Tears robes and his skull mask in place. "The more disloyal souls we send to Pluto, the more he shall reward us when we too return to the pits of Hades."
"What the fuck" murmured Aeron under his breath. "Jagare, are we seeing the same thing." Jagare nodded grimly.
"I'm afraid we are Aeron. But believe me when I say it's better if he's on your side…and it's much fucking better than him being your enemy." Rhys studied Aeron for a few moments before pulling out his flask and taking a sip, the smell of mushrooms wafting across the docks to them.
"Oh, fuck" muttered Lyanna as Rhys closed his eyes and breathed in deeper.
"Aeron Harlaw…" he murmured, his eyes twitching beneath their eyelids. "Your father and grandfather have been gone too long…but your brothers speak. They want you to…" Rhys's face twitched. "Shove a spear so far up Terran Greyjoy's arse that he will taste the steel in his mouth. And to tell you that a Harlaw may forgive, but he never forgets." Aeron's jaw dropped as Rhys came back from his hallucinogenic state. "Interesting request, can't say I disagree, however."
"How…h-how did y-you…what j-just happened" he stuttered slack-jawed at Jagare, who shrugged and tapped his head.
"Magic my friend, good old magic," Rhys grunted appreciatively. "This name is Rhys. You must be Aeron Harlaw." Aeron nodded, still dumbstruck from the message beyond the grave. "A pleasure, I sense a great amount of strength in you. And a good deal of Neptune's blessing too." Turning away from Aeron's bemused looks, he faced Jagare. "Now, captain. I believe I promised you an army."
"That you did" Jagare spoke softly. "I have consulted my council and we have decided to accept your full help." Rhys did what seemed as close as he could get to a smirk before gesturing towards a road leading out of the city. It was only then that he noticed the increasing thumping echoing from the buildings. He gazed down the road and saw a truly magnificent sight. Around three hundred men, armoured lightly in the Rhoynish fashion, wielding long glaives, a sort of cross between sword and spear.
"My god" murmured Lyanna. "They're so…"
"Lightly armoured" Jagare grunted, turning his head to Rhys who looked back darkly.
"Armour does not make a warrior Jagare Snowstorm. A true fighter will find chinks within armour whilst blocking or evading every attack that comes their way. That is how one should truly fight. A wound is but an incentive to fight harder. A dent…is expensive." Lyanna snorted in laughter and Jagare looked at Rhys in shock. Did the leader of a bloody death cult have a sense of humour?
"Whatever next" he muttered to himself, looking back to the army. At its head marched two men in different attire. Both were dressed in turquoise and blue sea robes, with a trident brooch clasped to their breast. Rhys saluted them as they approached, which they returned instantly, along with a bowing of the head to Rhys's position.
"May I introduce Triton and Agenor, captain-priests of Neptune. They are sworn to the great god of the sea and are the only ones whom we honour with the command of our fleets. They have volunteered their vessels to transport the troops." Jagare moved forwards to shake their hands, but instead, they bowed low in front of him, surprising him. They then turned to Lyanna and did the same.
"A true honour to meet with the Snowstorms" spoke the first, Triton, in a smooth soft voice. "When Rhys told us of your need for our help, we began preparing our vessels immediately. Our ships and crews are yours to command, we shall sail wherever you require, and fight till death upon your command." The second nodded, placing his hand over his heart.
"Be it transport or trade, be it battle or distraction. Whatever you need from us, only ask and it shall be done." Jagare nodded, slightly taken aback by their king-like treatment of him.
"May I ask the design of your ships, my good captains?"
"Most certainly" responded Triton. "We both possess Volantis-made War Galleys, swift and strong, with large quarters for the men. We can transport two hundred fighters each with small space left for either horses or cargo, whatever you wish." Lyanna thanked them politely as Jagare looked at Rhys in surprise, who shrugged.
"You're popular amongst our followers, what can I say."
"I'm gonna need a little bit more than that" chuckled Jagare. Rhys spat and rolled his eyes.
"You'll get it eventually. Now, are we going or not." Jagare nodded and spoke directly to the captains.
"Load the men aboard your ships and set a course for Dragonstone. You shall be tailing my vessel, I shall ensure we are in view of the far eye at all times and ready to turn and assist you should we have to. We will be meeting another ship at sea and then proceeding to the far western side of the island. Keep behind me at all times and do not yourself come into sight of the island until I give the word of command." The two men bowed once more.
"At once, Captain" spoke Agenor, in a low Pentosi drawl. "One more thing, the ah, the men wish to salute you as they walk past. It would bring them great morale for the voyage." Jagare slowly turned to look at Aeron who rolled his eyes and scoffed. Jagare grinned and coughed.
"Of course, they may salute me, if it truly means that much to them."
"Oh, it does Captain" muttered Triton quickly, a small smile on his face. "Gets them all excited." Lyanna giggled slightly and Agenor looked at his fellow captain distastefully. But Jagare was glad for the humour. It was a welcome change.
"Mentyr, ondoso se geptot, adere memēbagon!" barked Rhys loudly, and all the men turned and marched forward in perfect synchronisation.
"Wow" mumbled Lyanna, Jagare nodding silently.
"Mentyr, laesi GEPTOT" Rhys bellowed, and all of the men swivelled their eyes to Jagare, lifting their glaives into the air at him. A warrior's salute. He held his open palm out to Aeron.
"Sword, now." Looking slightly reluctant, Aeron drew his blade and handed it to Jagare, who lifted it up in a return salute to the soldiers. The Valyrian Steel glinted in the Essosi sun and although it didn't show much, he thought he saw the men lift their glaives that little bit higher.
"This is fun" he murmured to Lyanna, who rolled her eyes alongside Aeron, only causing him to grin more. After the men had been loaded onto the ships, he invited the two captains into his cabin for a drink.
"I do not wish to distance myself from those sworn to me" he spoke while pouring them some of the finest Arbour Gold they had picked up in Oldtown. "I wish to know your history. How did you come by Hades Tears?" Whilst Agenor leant back to taste the wine, Triton leaned forward to answer with a smile on his face. Clearly the more talkative one.
"Well, you see captain, we are not strictly Hades Tears. That rank can only be granted to a follower of Pluto who is personally chosen by Rhys himself." Jagare's eyes widened.
"So, all of those men…"
"Every single one" Triton grinned. "And don't forget there's a little less than two thousand more, and a great many still in training. He approves all of them as fit to serve the gods in such matters."
"I should say" muttered Agenor. "Hades Tears do not purely fight our wars. They are simply our more fanatical force. We could use them for disaster relief, building projects, teaching, and preaching our religion. They are not Unsullied, simply silent and bound to fight for the rest of their days. They shall do whatever the High Priest commands of them." Jagare frowned.
"So you suggest there are more that would fight?" The two captains exchanged glances, then nodded together.
"Our religion may be dying, captain, but make no mistake there are many out there that will answer the call to arms."
"We are spread from the cities of Westeros to the Bone Mountains of Essos" added Triton. "The true number is known only to the High Priest, but in theory, yes, there are many more who will take up arms to fight for our cause."
"Not as well trained as those of the Hades Tears, mind you" grumbled Agenor. "But all are blessed by the gods, and loyal to a fault."
"I see," Jagare remarked. "So, you two are…priests of Neptune?"
"Captain-priests" Triton corrected. "The highest rank a follower of Neptune can achieve. Other followers will start as oarsmen and sailors, or fishermen sent across the world to use their connection with Neptune to feed the villages, hopefully converting some of them to the truth."
"And is that how you two joined?"
"I was born into it" Agenor rumbled. "I was born on the sea, and my father had me tying knots at three. I knew I wanted to serve Neptune before I could read the sacred texts." Jagare nodded, awed by their stories.
"And you, Triton?" Both of them shifted uncomfortably and Jagare could tell he had struck a sensitive topic. "You don't have to tell me if you don't wish-"
"No captain, it is all right" murmured Triton. "It just…I was a child, and taken as a prisoner from a village that had attacked one of our priests. I tried to escape the ship but found the only way to go was up." He smiled softly to himself. "I scaled that rigging so quickly I gave them no choice but to take me on." Jagare nodded, returning the smile. It was clear that although they were sworn to him, Rhys and his followers were not the most morally sound men. He would have to be careful.
"Well, by any means, it has been good to talk with the both of you. I look forward to braving the seas with your ships at my stern." He clasped both their arms and let them leave, sitting for a few minutes to consider how many other boys abducted from villages had not been as lucky. By late afternoon they had left Myr for good. According to Cam, Eyme had allies around the city as well as gold to buy protection. He assured them she would be fine. Jagare was surprised that Cam had stayed with them instead of joining Eyme, but he had told them he was loyal to the idea and not the person. According to him, Jaime Durrandon as king was more of a problem than the Martells as princes of Dorne, and so he had prioritized their voyage, much to Eyme's annoyance. Triton and Agenor had sacrificed a bull to the sea before they left and drenched their ships in the blood. Although Jagare didn't want to admit it, the winds had a sudden change to directly behind them and the water was as smooth as a lake, with barely a wave in sight. There was more excitement aboard the ship now as everyone knew they were going into a battle. Jagare had told them about the attack on Dragonstone the night after they had left, a speech received by many roars of approval from the men. They were hungry for a fight. They were prepared for it as well, Jagare especially. He had been training hard ever since his duel with Maximus. Even though everyone had believed him to be holding back, which he was, Maximus had in fact forced his strength out of him faster than he expected. Every morning he would be taking on two, three and even four opponents at once. Once he had been fighting against Tommo, Wendel, Cam and Angie for ten minutes until they had finally overwhelmed him by literally grabbing his axe and pinning him down.
"Not sure how well that would work in a battle" he grumbled, stretching off his aching arms.
"It wouldn't" laughed Aeron from the helm, who had been watching it all. "But they still beat you, captain." He made a rude gesture at Aeron and turned to Tommo who was panting especially hard.
"You look a bit out of shape there Tommo. Too many pork pies?" Tommo shook his wordlessly and leaned against the rail.
"Had a spar against Rhys earlier" he panted, eyes growing wide at the memory. "Fuck me, that bastard can fight.
"Yes well, he is the leader of a group of highly trained warriors" spoke Wendel softly as he washed the sweat off his mace handle. "I would expect him to have some semblance of fighting ability."
"Still" muttered Tommo. "He battered me around the deck like I was a green boy. He can wield that sword like it's an extension of his arm, and there's his magic of course." Jagare frowned as he was unstrapping his gauntlets to let his arms breathe.
"He used magic on you?" he asked. Tommo shook his head.
"Not really, not like properly. But just his aura…" Tommo's eyes slid out of focus. "It was like fighting a demon, truly."
"Well, I am honoured" came a dry voice. Rhys himself stepped out from a shadow of the deck, making them all jump.
"Seven hells" blurted Cam, jolting backwards. "Warn someone before you do that."
"I heard you were supposed to know all bard." Cam's mouth, for once, said nothing. "Well, why didn't you know I was there?" Tommo's laugh broke the silence and Jagare chuckled softly as well, seeing Cam's face turn pink.
"You might need some milk of the poppy after that one" Wendel smirked.
"Captain, a word" Rhys spoke as the group started to argue louder and louder.
"Gladly" Jagare replied, wiping his brow and leading Rhys up to a foredeck. The sun was setting to the west of them, the coast of the Stormlands not yet visible over the horizon of the narrow sea. The light was dazzling over the water, and with the soft waves and calm yet strong wind, they were gliding through the waves with a majestic air. That ox had certainly done its job
"What do you wish to discuss," Jagare asked as they both leaned against the rails, watching the two ships behind them. He had been informed they were named Thanatos's Will and Queen Amphitrite.
"Your children" he spoke softly. "I wish to know how far along they are, if you are yet truly aware of its powers yet." Jagare winced slightly.
"A Myrish healer guessed them to be around one year of age. Lyanna told me that Ale spoke of safe and healthy birth, which was certainly the case. She never spoke of the aging though. " Rhys nodded slowly.
"I see. She must have her reasons for not telling you much, but I swear to keep you informed of all its effects." Jagare listened closely as Rhys took a swig from his flask, breathing deeply. "It was a potion that cannot ever be brewed again. At least not for a few thousand years. We entrusted Alyeth with the potion as we have done several other alchemists, but the others will have turned to foul-tasting water by now."
"The ingredients you spoke of, all from Valyria?" Rhys nodded his head with a chuckle.
"Valyria is no problem for us. Whatever we need, the gods shall provide from its remnants. The High Priest collected them, then at their yearly journey to Volantis to great the masses of our followers, deposited the potion at the same time."
"Masses?" Jagare asked with a small smirk.
"Very funny" Rhys grunted back in annoyance. "But we are getting side-tracked. The potion was brewed under auspicious stars that shall not shine for many a year. Now I must truly understand how much you know."
"How much I know?" Jagare asked nervously, hoping that Rhys would not ask the question he thought he might.
"The cycle of time" Rhys growled. "You are, familiar?" Jagare gulped down some nausea and nodded feverously.
"Archmaester Brandon made the original theory. He was a Stark, so it made sense." Rhys nodded, his eyes flickering over the horizon as if he was seeing things that weren't there.
"But what you may not have known is that his uncle, Rickard, was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Jagare's eyes widened. He had not known that. "When his time in Oldtown was done, Brandon travelled to the wall to become the maester of the Nightfort. Brandon couldn't have formulated his theory without his brother's input, and so together they discovered the true secret of the Long Night."
"That it's a loop" Jagare spoke immediately, feeling hot and sweaty even in the cool evening air. "An endless loop of…them…covering the world in darkness, and then a hero saving the world from its darkness. Over and over." He paused to take in a painful breath. "The legend is its own history, and it shall be forever repeated. Archmaester Rigney wrote that history was a wheel, and the mistakes of man shall always be repeated as our nature does not change. Since our nature will never change…the others will keep coming back."
"And that is the way of the world" growled Rhys. "But it is better to fight now for the next five thousand years so our descendants may live in peace for a time. We owe it to them, as we owe it to our ancestors who fought for us. And one day our legacy shall pass down, and we shall be avenged all over again. The nature of men does not change, and while man is always doomed to fail, we succeed along the way. Who knows, maybe one day we will break the cycle...though I doubt it." Jagare breathed out slowly, his fingers drumming against the rail.
"You really believe that the cycle is coming again? In our lifetime?" Rhys shook his head.
"Sure? No, never. We can never be sure. But we do know that you and your children are important." Jagare looked at him quizzically, for it was truly hard to believe.
"That makes no sense, why us?" Rhys chuckled darkly and muttered something in High Valyrian.
"I do not know, and I do not expect you to know. Maybe your future line is important, your descendant's thousands of years later. Maybe you yourself will face them. Or your children." Jagare went cold at the thought.
"I would rather the former." Rhys sighed deeply, even longingly.
"No man truly knows what the Gods have planned for us. But I do know this." He turned his back to the ocean and clenched his fists in the railings. "The gods saved me once, showed me their strength. And know I will give my life to defend their cause, whatever that may be."
"You would die for gods that won't even tell you what you're fighting for?" Jagare asked curiously. It seemed absurd to him, but Rhys turned and with a face of hardened steel, and nodded.
"I would. And no man can convince me otherwise. We do not fight for promises of riches, or rewards, or even proof of their commands. We fight for our faith."
"So do those that follow the seven, and we both know they fight for false gods." Rhys sighed wearily, his tone turning mournful.
"They are admirable in their faith...if only they knew the truth."
"You would think the magic of our faiths would convince them, but they see us merely as demons." Rhys nodded, his fist clenching.
"Let it be a lesson, captain. The power of confident words and time. No faith could strip Westeros of their beliefs, not ever. Not after the amount of time the seven were allowed to root themselves in your culture."
"Southerners culture" Jagare replied firmly. "We are not like them. We hold dear the values of the First Men."
"The ones who sacrificed men to trees and fought countless petty wars for their useless kingdoms?" Jagare frowned.
"And what of your religions abduction of children from their homes, forcing them to convert or I'm guessing be sold into slavery." Rhys bowed his head shamefully.
"Men are men Jagare, even the gods could not change the nature of some." They were silent for a few moments before Rhys stood up straight and brushed off his robes. "One more thing. When your children turn the appropriate age for training, whenever that may be, I ask that you give them to me, so I may teach them the art of war, as well as tutor them in other matters." Jagare grew tense and glanced at him.
"Education you may teach, alongside the others should they wish. But Lyanna and I will teach our children to fight, as will as our close friends." Rhys tilted his head.
"I've watched you fight. You're good. Very good. But you fight in one specific style, with one specific weapon. And your friends are not as skilled as you think. I defeated the japing one within a minute because he was too busy talking. Your quartermaster fights with anger and is easily tired out from aggression. The big one swings wildly and can be outmanoeuvred, and the rest simply do not possess my level of skill." He ran his hands along the hilt of his sword absentmindedly. "I also am trained in every type of weaponry imaginable, every style. A Westerosi knight, a Norvoshi priest, a Dothraki screamer. From the Iron Islands to Ashaii; you would be a fool not to let me train them." Jagare was stunned for a few moments for chuckling softly. Rhys humoured him. The disconnected style of his words was…refreshing.
"I will teach my children to wield an axe, as Lyanna will teach them to shoot a bow…everything else you may train them in." Rhys smiled softly.
"Thank you, captain, I feel better knowing their martial fate is-"
"If" Jagare interrupted with a smirk. "If, you prove yourself in the coming battle." Rhys laughed a slow, shakingly cold laugh.
"Very well Snowstorm. I shall show you my prowess, but I warn you, it's not pretty." Jagare grinned at him and patted him on the back.
"Good, I wouldn't expect it to be." He met with Wendel later in the chart room to discuss their course. They reckoned that they were little more than a few days away from the agreed meeting place with Camerlron's contact. A little off Massey's Hook peninsula, near Sharp Point, a castle under Durrandon rule. Several times Cam had released his strange bird, that he had told Jagare was named Macaw. When Jagare asked about the name a few days later, he simply shrugged.
"No idea. I bought him from a Sothoryi tradesmen when visiting the Summer Islands for its…culture" he coughed, turning slightly red.
"I'm sure" Jagare rolled his eyes.
"Anyway, couldn't understand a word the man was saying, but he just kept shouting 'Macaw! Macaw!' so that's what I named him." Jagare nodded slowly as the brightly coloured bird screeched into the horizon.
"Impressive. So, who is this contact of yours?" Cam's smile faded, and he looked down at the deck slightly, causing Jagare to frown. "For a master of secrets, your tells are awful. That bad?" Cam shook his head.
"This guy is a nasty piece of work. Makes Stannis look somewhat friendly. He's the kings right hand man. The Lord of Griffins Roost."
"A Connington then. So why the fear, what's special about him?" Cam shuddered and looked up at the helm, where Tommo was humming away at the wheel.
"Think about Tommo's jubilance for danger, Aeron's sadistic side, Eyme's charm and charisma, Wendel's calculating nature, Lyanna's reading of people, Lemnos's intimidating glare, the…priests carelessness for human life, and my skill for information. Then add a brilliant mind and a mastery of battle tactics." Jagare frowned, then chuckled.
"But not my incredible skill as a warrior. Not a fighter is what I'm taking from all that." Cam glared at him.
"What he doesn't have is your naivety, a naivety that believes strength of arms is what gives one power." Jagare felt his cheeks go slightly hot and nodded glumly.
"Fair enough…so Durrandon has a smart right hand to counter his fiery temper. That can be dealt with."
"Not easily" Cam muttered. "He operates within the gutters of cities as much as the courts of high lords. His contacts flow far and wide and he holds blackmail over many knights and lords across Westeros. Alone, he could possibly raise almost twenty thousand men out of fear." Jagare thought for a moment, then nodded.
"So he must be dealt with."
"What must be dealt with" came a quiet voice from behind them. They both rocketed into the air and Cam swore loudly.
"What is it with people sneaking up on me!" the bard cried. Jagare frowned at the innocent looking Faythe, who was barely hiding a smirk.
"Someone powerful who could figure out our plan, might need to have him eliminated." Faythe thought for a moment and then her eyes lit up.
"What about Rhys? You said that he has magic, maybe he could use it somehow." Cam had recovered from the shock and started nodding appreciatively.
"The blonde shadow might have an idea captain, the priests of R'hllor and the Warlocks of Qarth have been known to use blood magic to kill. Maybe our friend could do the same."
"Maybe" Jagare replied, feelings a nervous crawl up his neck. "But magic is not something to be trifled with lightly. It's like grasping a double-edged sword by the blade and swinging it while blind."
"Bit dramatic" muttered Cam. "Old poacher once told me to work smart not hard, so let's use the demon summoning magician and send this guy down to the seven hells." But Jagare was staring at something on the horizon. He took out his far eye and gazed to the west.
"Is that…" As if they had heard him, a shout came from the crow's nest.
"Ship ahoy! Flying the colours of House Durrandon!" the sailor looked down the mast and shouted down one last thing. "There be a great many soldiers on board, easily a hundred!" Jagare looked up as Aeron darted out from the hold, his face wroth with anger.
"Bloody trap you've led us into bard" he snarled, rushing to the helm. "Cragg, get the troops on deck!"
"NO, belay that order!" Jagare bellowed. "We don't know they will attack us."
"With all due respect captain" growled Cragg, having appeared from the reardeck with a far eye. "No ship that large would keep that many soldiers on deck unless they meant to attack, or they are at maximum troop capacity down below!"
"For all they know we are three ships coming to fuck them up with a trap of our own" argued Cam. "We have near seven hundred men combined; we could slaughter them."
"Good" murmured Rhys who had appeared from the shadows, cleaning his jagged sword with a cloth. "More sacrifices to the Lord of the Dead. The sky shall run red with the souls of disbelievers before the sun rises on the morrow." There was silence for a moment from the entire crew until Jagare flinched himself back to the present.
"Look, for all they know we are here to infiltrate their camp on the orders of Lord Dondarrion."
"Gods well we would NEVER think of doing that now would we" exclaimed Tommo loudly from the rigging, his voice dripping with irony.
"Shut up" growled Jagare. "Luckily, we are not stupid enough to get caught easily. The plan is what we discussed." He turned to Aeron. "Steer us closer to shore, and I guarantee they will mirror our action. When we are anchored, myself, Cam, Aeron, Cragg…and Rhys shall proceed ashore."
"I thought I was coming" whined Tommo, and Rhys answered softly before Jagare had a chance to speak.
"It is clear Captain Snowstorm is choosing by martial ability, and seeing as I beat you extremely quickly earlier, I am the clearer choice." He looked at Jagare questioningly. "Correct?" Struggling to hold in a laugh when Wendel, Aeron and Faythe were choking with laughter, Jagare nodded.
"Correct. Then, when we meet them on the shore, we negotiate them a deal."
"HIM" Tommo wailed, pointing at Cam furiously. "I'm better at him at least!"
"Aye, but I want him for diplomacy. And from what I can tell your flamboyant negotiations are more suited to a tavern than a lord." Tommo shrugged.
"Fair enough, can't argue with that."
"Captain" spoke Cragg. "Can I at least suggest that we have the ship ready to go full power and the men ready to fight…just in case something goes wrong."
"Good idea Craggo" Tommo spoke, trying to regain his humour, but Cragg's glare made him gulp loudly. "Just…saying it's a good idea." Jagare shook his head, but he did agree.
"It is a good idea, so have far eyes on our meeting at all times. It may not be obvious, so if we need assistance-"
"I'll play us a song" mused Cam, unslinging his lute and strumming a few notes. "You see me playing, send a rescue party for shore and then go full power towards their ship.
"That's more like it" rumbled Lemnos.
"I will inform the other captains of the plan" spoke Rhys softly. "I shall then be at prayer until I am needed." He left the deck swiftly and he saw everyone look much more comfortable when he was gone.
"Look. I know he makes you all nervous- no Tommo don't deny it, I know he does…but he is most likely here to stay. So, let's get use to him, okay?" Wendel shuddered, but nodded. Cragg and Lemnos both exchanged worried glasses, but agreed too.
"Sure" muttered Tommo. "Let's get use to the madman priest who want to 'bathe the sun red with the blood of oolala'." They all chuckled together and watched Cam's bird flutter back towards the ship and he perched on Cam's arms with a note attached to the foot. He read it and then tossed it over the side.
"The meeting is confirmed, let's get to that shoreline." The boat ride over was slow and silent. None of them spoke much as they approached the shore, all of them nervous for the encounter to come. Jagare had made sure that when he told them his plan to attack Dragonstone, he left no room for dissent or challenge to his authority. It had to go exactly as he wanted it to go. When he was sparring with Maximus, a thought had occurred to him. An idea, that could satisfy the Lord of Blackhaven as well as benefiting his own needs…and doing a good deed. Something that he had done before. And the last time, it had worked very well for him. He glanced over at Aeron, who's green eye scanned the horizon for signs of danger and other ships. Armed with his bow and cutlass, he looked a true Ironborn king.
"He is a strange one, your quartermaster" muttered Rhys softly. He had passed his oar to Cam and joined Jagare at the front of the rowing boat.
"How so" Jagare questioned, drawing his dagger and a whetstone to sharpen it.
"He commands large power yet is reluctant to use it. The power to take full control of the ship is well within his grasp…but he fails to take it."
"He's loyal to me. We share a bond of hardship." Rhys looked at Jagare strangely.
"Whatever you did too him-"
"For him" Jagare interrupted. "It's what I did for him that bought him to my side. I gave him vengeance, and a promise. In return, I gained his loyalty. Soon enough, we became friends" Rhys shrugged.
"Vengeance I understand, but a promise?" Rhys chuckled slightly and stroked the white streak in his hair, almost affectionately. "Vengeance is not an option this time, so how far do you think a promise will get you?" Jagare slowly turned his head to the man, who was smirking ever so slightly. How the fuck did he know about his plan, he hadn't even told Lyanna yet…
"I'm starting to think taking you aboard was a bad idea." He turned his head back to the shore. "Some things are best to be kept as a secret."
"Well, it's safe with me, don't you worry."
"Do I even ask how you found out" Jagare muttered quietly. "Or is it a secret."
"Ah, yes, many secrets we in the Hades Tears have. It's what separates us from the rest."
"Then keep it." Jagare had begun concocting a plan since they left Myr, something he had shared with no one. Yet somehow the priest knew...
"I do not read minds Snowstorm, but I see things. And your insistence that this venture would be in our favour led me straight to your idea." Jagare was quiet for a moment before speaking again.
"One of my inner circle…she suggested that you may be able to perform an assassination, similar to that of the Red Priests." Rhys eyes grew wide with surprise, but then settled into a smile of interest.
"Did they now…well, they raise a very good question." He shrugged and gazed intently at his hand, turning it over to inspect the skin. "I…could attempt, an assassination. But the target would have to be very important. Extremely important. You see, I'm not exactly…discreet." Jagare raised an eyebrow. "Well, while those of R'hllor manipulate the shadows to do their silent bidding, Pluto lends his power with less…subtlety. Make no mistake, if I were to attempt anything, it would be clear mysterious forces were at work. And with the crew you keep on that ship of yours... questions may be asked." Rhys grinned nastily and Jagare rolled his eyes, standing to take the oar from Aeron.
"I'll keep that in mind." They reached the shore a few minutes after their opposing party, which Jagare saw consisted of four armoured men in dark, smoky plate, and a tall, thin figure in robes of red, white, black, and gold. The sun had just touched the horizon when the two parties met. Lord Connington's guard seemed to be men carved from stone. Tall, silent, and broad, they stood with hands on their swords without movement. Lord Connington was a middle-aged man at around thirty namedays. His red hair and faded to a faint orange and was thinned across his head. His robes were cut from exquisite silks and fabrics, with a small, stiletto like sword hanging from his hip. All was neat and orderly. In comparison, Jagare's party must have looked a shambles. One of the soldiers stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice.
"You stand before Petyr Connington, Lord of Griffins Roost, Castellan of Storms End and Defender of the Kings Justice." He paused for a moment before speaking expectantly. "It is customary to kneel before such a man." Jagare was glad that Tommo was not here in reality, as he would have broken out in laughter already. Instead, Cragg stood vigilant, Aeron stood wary, Cam stood nervous and Jagare stood defiant. He would not kneel. Rhys just looked bored.
"I am honoured to make his lordships acquaintance, but he must forgive me…for I do not kneel." All of the soldiers heads turned to him, and they drew their swords an inch all at once.
"You dare!" Aeron snarled. But before they all drew weapons Camerlron stepped in front of them all with a nervous laugh, his hands outstretched.
"Ahhh, come on lads, no need to draw swords now." His head whipped to Jagare expectantly. "I am sure that we can all come to a peaceful solution!" he spoke through gritted teeth. But Jagare shook his head and crossed his arms.
"You truly won't kneel" spoke Lord Connington softly. His voice was velvety, like warm butter. Sweet, yet deceiving.
"I am afraid not, my lord" Jagare spoke, his insides pounding. "All men must have a code, and we should stick to our morals." There was silence for a few moments before Lord Connington smiled, and laughed darkly.
"Good to finally meet a man with some spine!" he roared. Making a hand gesture, the knights sheathed their swords and stood at ease. "Most cave at the sight of those statues. Now, the rest of your party. Hmmm let's see now." He pointed at Cam.
"Ah, an easy one. It is good to see you again young Camerlron, do you have a tune for us." Cam smiled sheepishly.
"M-maybe a bit later my lord." Connington smiled politely and turned to Cragg.
"Ah, I know a warrior when I see one. You are Captain Snow's Captain of Guard, correct?" If Cragg was surprised, he didn't show it.
"Aye, that be my role."
"Brilliant! Love that accent" he chuckled and turned to Aeron. "Ahhh, the exiled prince. My condolences Lord Harlaw, I know your family fought well to the end." Aeron shifted uncomfortably but rested his hand on his blade and sighed.
"That we did, and one day I shall reclaim my lands."
"I'm sure you will" he replied, before turning to Rhys, who still looked bored.
"I don't know you" he asked curiously.
"And you never will" replied Rhys bluntly.
"Shall we get down to business" Jagare asked quickly and firmly as he saw the man's smile fade at Rhys's comment.
"Yes…yes, we should." He turned to Jagare and tilted his head. "Tell me, why do you want to fight for my King." Jagare had an answer prepared
"My crew needs work, can't go sailing around Westeros forever without picking up a few jobs now can I?" But Lord Connington's stare was harsh and cold, it saw right through him. "And…the Targaryens need to go. They tried to take our lands and failed. Only fair we should take theirs."
"No…that's not it" he muttered. "You may not be lying but you aren't telling the truth. Shame, I quite liked you. Such an interesting past." He turned to leave but Jagare responded rashly.
"I have been wronged by Lord Dondarrion" he blurted out, instantly freezing the mood in both parties. Clearly Lord Connington had not been expecting that.
"You…what?" he replied slowly whilst turning round. Jagare swallowed heavily, avoiding the looks from his friends.
"He played me for a fool. Chased me away from fortunes in the Reach and then gave me nothing after I'd completed his task." He forced himself to grow angry. "He took someone dear to me, someone I thought of as a sister. I couldn't defeat him on my own, but I can assist his King, and get justice." The wind whipped slowly through tall grass, blowing pollen towards them. Cam sneezed. Connington eyed him, curiously.
"Might we have a word, alone." It was not a question. Jagare glanced behind him at the others, and nodded slightly.
"Very well." He followed Connington up the beach to a vantage point, looking over the coast as the setting sun cast shadows on them in the lee of a great sand dune.
"You keep a strange company about you Snowstorm" the man spoke finally.
"I am an outcast by birth. Seems I prefer their company too." Connington was unmoving, his face set in stone and he posture rigid.
"You are clearly aware of the feud brewing in the Stormlands. Upon the mention of a mere distaste for that up-jumped bastard my king would have enlisted you here and now." Jagare smiled slightly.
"Then let us finalise our dea-"
"But I am not my king" Connington replied harshly. "And I shall need more than a supposed animosity between you and Lord Dondarrion." Jagare breathed out slowly, flexing his fingers.
"I come from humble beginnings, my lord."
"I know" he replied. "Hated by the North, cursed by your father. Starks want your head lad, no question about it." Jagare raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Connington barked a laugh.
"Gods no, I have no love for the wolves of the North. Many think that the Stark's weakness lies in their refusal to play our games, but in truth if they ever did come south, they would beat us all. Down here plotting and scheming come naturally, not just proof in a trial. But in the North..."
"It's a dishonor, makes a man guilty" Jagare replied. Connington nodded.
"Oh we would beat them eventually, but not before Westeros became a shell of its former self. Open to attacks from the east." He shook his head. "No, captain, I have no wish to hand you over to Winterfell. But that does not mean I trust you."
"I wouldn't expect you too" remarked Jagare, casually. "But down here, trust is hard to come by." Jagare sighed and took a step forwards. "We both know that upon even a hint of betrayal you could have us strung up before the birds started singing. And you may not believe it, but Lord Dondarrion wronged me greatly. Made me look a simpleton in front of my crew, nearly caused a mutiny." Connington's eyes searched him for lies, but he had told none.
"You have not told me all, captain." Jagare snorted.
"Would you?" He shook his head silently.
"Like it or not Snowstorm, you are playing our game now. I hope you are prepared." Jagare thought of all the years his father had stowed away in his solar, plotting with other lords against the Starks. He thought of Maximus's ploy, and all he had learnt in those moments of anger upon reveal. He thought of Rhys. The fire that erupted from his hands, the way he emerged from the shadows, and his glassy eyes when talking to the dead.
"What game?" Jagare replied. For just a moment, Jagare saw a flicker of a smirk on his face.
"Your men are well trained fighters" Lord Connington asked bluntly.
"Yes."
"You will breach Dragonstone's walls and let us into the castle."
"Yes."
"You swear, that even though you will not bend the knee, all spoils and prisoners you take goes to the King before he gives you a reward."
"Yes, I swear." Lord Connington drew his stiletto blade and sliced his left-hand palm.
"Then make deal not out of loyalty, but blood." Jagare paused for a moment, then unsheathed his dagger and drew it across his left palm. The two men clasped hands.
"It is done?" he asked simply.
"Yes" responded the Griffin Lord, without a trace of a smile. "Welcome to the ranks of King Jaime Durrandon, First of His Name, Ruler of the Stormlands and Lord of Storms End." He pulled his hand away and wiped the blood off on a white cloth, staining it red. "You betray us, Captain, and my King won't even be able to blink before I have you headless at his feet." Jagare glared back at him.
"I honour my oaths. I swear by the gods…I am loyal to the true King of the Stormlands."
Playing the game's a little easier with a magic wielding priest at your back, but cheating is not exactly uncommon.
Hope you all enjoyed!