A Song of Kingsdock

by Mr. Chaos

Our second Theon's Night story of 2023! Years before Robert took the throne his father Steffon tells his Master of Arms of his youthful quest to discover the origins of the Durrandons... and how it took him to an island almost no one has spoken of. An island that wasn't quite right. An island that, years later, still haunts his nightmares.

Ser Merrik shouldn't have been surprised. Honestly he shouldn't have been. The lands of his birth were called 'The Stormlands' after all. They didn't get their name ironically; he'd once been told, when he'd been a little boy that could barely left up a tree branch let alone a sword, that there was an island south of Dorne called Winter Island. It had never seen even a single flake of snow… the people called it that as a joke. Not so with the Stormlands. His brother Luwin had tried to explain it to him once… how the mountains of the Vale and the great rivers of the Riverlands fed into each other to create the fierce storms that seemed to be a forever constant… but Merrik had never really been one for such things and thus it had all gone right over his head.

All he knew was that when he'd left from the Leaky Barrel that morning the sky had been completely clear. A beautiful pale blue with the sun shining overhead. A bit cold, perhaps, but nothing a warm cloak couldn't guard against. A beautiful day.

That should have been his warning.

By the time he had reached the outer gate of Storm's End… well, it had been raining so hard he didn't even REALIZE he was at the outer gate until someone had shouted at him. The sky had been pitch black and it had only been the constant lightning that flashed above him that made him able to keep his horse from trotting right over the edge of a cliff. And that had been dangerous as well… he'd been forced to toss his helm away lest he be struck, which had been a good idea as moments later a bolt had sliced through a tree only 15 feet away from him, causing the trunk to explode violently and send wood shards all over.

"I can take care of that, Ser," one of the stableboys said with a yawn, ambling up to Merrik with mussed up hair.

"I know," he said, forcing himself to smile. He was cold, his body ached, and he was still thinking about how he needed to get a new helm to replace his old one… but he couldn't bring himself to snap at the poor boy. "A knight who doesn't care for his horse shouldn't be surprised when his horse isn't there for him."

"Big Jaime says something similar," the stableboy said.

"I was told by my-" He stopped, shaking his head. "I was told the same." He smiled at the boy. "Remember that. You will be asking your horse to do so many things and it will… but only if you show them respect. Same with a page, a squire, or a soldier. Always show them respect."

"I will, Ser," the boy said earnestly.

"Good lad." Giving his horse one final pat on the neck he grabbed a waterproof tarp and held it out over his head before making a mad dash out of the stables and towards the main castle of Storm's End. The way was wet and slippery, muck coating onto his pants and boots as his feet slipped on the stones that had been set into the ground to try and prevent that from happening. He made it to the doors and threw them open, the guards that were stationed just inside bringing their hands to their swords before they realized who he was.

"Ser Merrik," Arnuld said in surprise. "We thought you might choose to sleep in the stables tonight."

"I was already wet and cold," he said as he tossed the tarp down onto the ground with a wet 'thump'. "Might as well be a bit more wet and cold if it means I can at least sleep in my own bed, rather than on a pile of straw." He paused, looking at Arnuld and Henrik. "So… why are you two guarding the door out here?"

The two began to stammer and stumble over their words, trying to find excuses for not being at their posts. Merrik allowed them to do so for about a minute, knowing his silence was making them more panicked, before he finally decided to end their suffering, smiling and clapping each with a wet hand.

"That wasn't funny, ser," Henrik complained.

"When you are Master-At-Arms of Storm's End you can decide how you tease the guards." He made sure to leave his hand there so that he soaked their shirts before finally moving away from them. "Is any of the house still awake?"

"Most have gone to bed but Lord Steffon has not retired."

That startled Ser Merrik. "Lord Steffon is here?" For the last 8 months Lord Steffon had been in King's Landing, serving Kign Aerys II. "Is all well?"

"I do not know," Arnuld stated honestly. "He seemed… thoughtful… when I saw him. He greeted Robert and Stannis and made mention he wished to see little Renly but he seemed consumed by his thoughts." The man paused. "He's in the Small Dining Hall."

That… made Merrik frown. "You are sure?"

The two nodded and Merrik made his way to his room, brow furrowed in thought the entire way. The Small Dining Hall… the guards had to be mistaken. Even as he reached his chambers and dried his hair (he decided against a bath… while it would be nice to warm up he didn't want to be near any water for a year) he couldn't come up with a single reason why Lord Steffon would be found anywhere near the Small Dining Hall. So Arnuld must have been wrong. They spotted someone else in there.

He felt the castle shake as he remembered that there were standing orders for NO ONE to enter the Small Dining Hall.

"You are a grown man," he whispered to himself. "You are a grown man. The Master-At-Arms of Storm's End. A knight who earned his spurs at 16. You aren't a child trembling under the covers."

He focused on other things. Removing his sopping wet clothing and leaving them for one of the servants to gather up to dry… though honestly with how wet they were he had no idea if they could possibly be salvaged. He dried himself off completely, removing every droplet of water he could; he ended up having to go through every towel in his quarters in order to do so and even then he still felt damp. Still, he dressed in his pants, shirt, and vest, pulling on his boats and checking over his beard before finally making his way out of his room and heading towards the kitchens. Though the cooks would have long gone to bed he knew that they tended to leave out a few bits of food stuff for the night guards to nibble on. Bread, perhaps some cheese or dried and cured pork…

But rather than make his way towards the kitchen Merrik found his feet guiding him towards the main halls.

"Ser Merrik!" Krystyne exclaimed as he entered, letting out a gasp and pressing her hand to her chest. "You startled me."

"My apologizes," he said, dipping his head towards the serving girl. "I just arrived."

"In this storm?" she asked, shaking her head. "Not wise, good ser. You could have been the first to drown on dry land."

He laughed at that. "I suppose so, yes. But I made it all the same."

"It is too bad you weren't here hours earlier… we had quite a feast." She gestured at the platters and plates that she, along with several other serving girls, were cleaning up.

"And a rich one," he said, examining one platter that was half full of small maple cakes.

"Well, tis Theon's Night, after all."

Merrik blinked. "Is it… I lost track of the days." Theon's Night had begun to grow in popularity over the last decade or so; King Aegon V had loved the holiday and while he hadn't won many friends among the highborn they did look for any reason to celebrate and throw feasts. The Northern Holiday celebrated the day Theon Stark, the Hungry Wolf, decided to invade Essos… and the brutal and bloody campaign that followed. People were supposed to feast on sweets and tell scary stories to chase away the ghosts of the Andals that Theon had left behind in torment.

"It is… or was. Is nearly over," Krystyne stated with a slight smile. "Lady Cassana seemed to enjoy it well enough but I think Princess Rhaelle found it all too wasteful."

"I'm not surprised," Merrik commented. "Theon's Night grew in popularity because of her father and you know what she would make of that."

"Aye, I suppose so."

Merrik paused. "What of… Lord Steffon?" Krystyne at once became troubled. "Well?"

"He arrived but was in no mood for merriment. He begged everyone to enjoy themselves but said he wished to dine privately." She swallowed. "He said he'd eat in the Small Dining Hall."

Once was a mistake. Twice a confirmation.

Merrik nodded to her and exchanged a few more kind words, thanking her when she asked about his elder brother and how things went with his father. But soon he was making his way towards the Small Dining Hall, his mind troubled.

'All know the story,' he thought to himself. 'Young Lord Steffon, barely 3 years old, awoke in the middle of the night and left his chambers. He ended up in the Small Dining Room where he found Lord Lyonel Baratheon who placed him on his lap. Only the Lord died, his face twisted into a grin… yet the maesters say there was terror written in his features, not joy. Lord Steffon was trapped in his hold until morning… he didn't speak for half a year and was so traumatized by just the sight of the Small Dining Room that even now he will go out of his way to avoid walking past it.' He shook his head. 'He could not have gone in there. He could not!'

And yet when Ser Merrik came upon the door to the Small Dining Hall he found it not closed but open and light flickering from within. He made his footfalls a bit louder as he entered, daring not to scare Lord Steffon; the man was a powerful and brave but the Small Dining Hall was his Stranger, his Black Dread.

The Lord of Storm's End was not seated at the high table but rather at one of the common ones near a roaring firing, the light that flickered from the flames dancing along his features. He was dressed in fine garments but had the haggard features of an old hedge knight wondering if he could afford a bit of bread. He also seemed far smaller… the Baratheons were large men, with broad shoulders and mighty pillars for their legs. But Lord Steffon had curled in on himself, like he was trying to press his body as tightly as he could against his frame.

"Hello Merrik," Lord Steffon said, his booming voice filling the room and causing him to jump. "You made it safely back from Gray Mount?"

"I did," Ser Merrik said, not surprised that even though he had been in King's Landing Lord Steffon knew of his trip back home

"How is your father?" he asked.

"Recovering," Ser Merrik stated. "Honestly there was no reason to visit. I'd say he wanted to see me but he spent half of the visit scolding me for leaving home." He paused. "He never forgave me for coming to serve you."

"Family is like that," Lord Steffon said and while he tried to put a bit of moxie in his voice it fell utterly flat. "Family…" He finally turned to stare at Merrik, eyes drifting over him and, for the oddest reason, lingering on his legs and feet. But then the man grunted and motioned towards the fire. "Sit down. You must have come in this storm so you could use warming up. I have some Northern Ale and good venison."

Ser Merrik saw that and while he considered for a moment trying to beg off his Lord his stomach protested and soon he found himself seated by the fire, tearing into a chunk on cured venison with a bottle of White Harbor Ale sitting on the floor next to Lord Steffon's own.

"King Aerys has asked me to sail to Essos. He wishes me to find a bride for Prince Rhaegar. The queen lost another child during Duskendale and he worries that she will not be able to produce another." He paused. "I think, should I succeed, he will name me Hand of the King."

"A great honor," Merrik stated.

But rather than acknowledge that Lord Steffon instead stated, "Family. It always comes back to family." He rocked back and forth in his chair, reminding Merrik of old men that he had seen who did that, unable to remain still yet not strong enough to pace about a room. "Family…"

"…aye," Merrik said, not knowing what else to say.

"When I was a young man it bothered me that so much was known about my mother and her family and so little about my father's family. There are many who still don't know if I am Lord Lyonel's grandson or a cousin or a great nephew." His face twitched, trying to form a grin but failing. "So I sought to find out."

He paused once more.

"Damn me… I sought to find out."

~18 Years Earlier~

"What brings you to the island, boy?"

I forced myself not to react to that, as frustrating as it was to be called 'boy'. I was 13 years old and well on my way to being made a knight; if not for my decision to travel the Stormlands for a year I knew I would be knighted by 14. Now it would be 15, most likely before my wedding, ensuring that there would always be whispers that I had only achieved such a title because of my father and my marriage and not because of my skill.

'I look nothing like a boy,' I thought to myself. 'Those that are 13 look like babes compared to me!' Already I was 6 feet tall, towering over Prince Aerys and Tywin, and I hoped to have perhaps one more growth spurt before I finally settled into my frame. My chin was bare, yes, but I could feel a scratchiness upon it that spoke that soon I would have my beard. My arms were thicker than several of the polemen that were guiding or flatbottom boat through the maze of sharp rocks and I could easily see the top of the captain's bald head.

But still… I was 'the boy'. And I accepted that with silence. If they knew who I was they would never dare say a dark word to me but that wasn't what I desired. I had found over the last few months that while the name Baratheon opened doors it closed mouths.

"I have family that comes from there," I told him.

The captain gave me an odd look at that. He was a lean man in all senses of the word: a thin frame and long bony face and even spindly fingers. He was dressed in dark leathers and had on a well worn knitted cap which made him look more like a piece of driftwood than a person. When I'd asked his name he'd just shrugged and told me that most didn't bother with that and I could just call him captain; I figured that it was a case of him being wanted for some crime and seeking to hide from the King's Justice. That would have turned others off but I wasn't bothered, knowing that if the worst happened I'd be able to fight them all off. The Captain wore no sword and the polemen only had the long shafts of wood they jammed into the water, catching on the sea floor to help propel the boat forward.

"You sure? I know everyone on the island. The folks there… they don't like leaving Kingsdock."

"Oh, its been centuries," I stated, which was true in its own way.

Going by different names I had managed to visit with many people in the villages and towns all across the Stormlands, confirming Lord Lyonel's dying words to me: it all comes back to Kingsdock. Durran Godsgrief, his ancestor and mightiest of the Storm Kings, it was said had married the daughter of a Sea God and a Goddess of the Winds, Elenei. But on their wedding night his bride's divine parents had attacked the castle where the ceremony had taken place, killing all but Durran and Elenei… and only because the young woman had used her powers to save her new husband's life. For 20 years Durran had sought to build a keep that would stand against the might of the gods and it was only the 7th, Storm's End, that had survived, ushering in a 1000 year reign by King Durran.

What had bothered me ever since I had heard the story was the location of the wedding. All could answer where the other six castles had been. Maester Frum needed to do his research when I asked but he was always able to come up with the answer. But not where the gods had slaughtered Durran's family. It seemed to me that should be known… it was what had started his great quest, after all! And yet… no one knew.

Until now.

My tour had led me to the answer: Kingsdock.

"Ah, that makes more sense!" the captain said with a grin, accepting my answer. "And its good of you to come back here to visit, even if you won't know anyone. Everyone must return home, after all. That's what they say." The boat suddenly lurched and the captain turned to one of the heavy armed polemen, barking, "Watch it, you idiots! It's a long swim back!" He looked back at me and huffed. "Fools think this is a fishing trip… everyone believes that Shipbreaker Bay is the most dangerous part of Westeros' coast but The Maw beats it easily."

"Maybe because so few know about it," I suggested. "I only learned about it by asking around."

"Of course. Ain't no one foolish enough to make a town or a village near these waters." He gestured at the waves and, if I peered closely enough, I could just see the twisted stones that gave The Maw its name. They reminded me of the teeth of leeches, curved to lock onto ships foolish enough to sail into the Maw. They were just low enough below the surface to allow the flatbottom boat we were in to pass and even then it was a maze that we had to zig and zag through in order to get there safely, for some rose up so that, if the tide were suddenly to change, they would break free.

I nodded. "Yes… but I also noticed that there is some debate even about the name of the island. Most called it Mist Island or Misty Spot… some variation of Mist, you understand." The Captain nodded. "It was only by asking questions I learned it was the Kingsdock I was looking for."

"I can see that," the captain stated as the boat began to turn to the right, pulling us away from the rocky island that was our destination. "Folks of Kingsdock don't like much leaving, as I said, so people don't learn much about them. Don't get me wrong, they a very kind folks. Always treat me and my crew nice enough-" That earned some snickers and guffs from the polemen, "-so you don't need to worry about them wanting you gone. Hells, they'll probably beg you to stay! They just don't like leaving home, you know? And if they do then they… well, you know."

I didn't but I decided not to press. Instead I cast my eye out towards the sea and the island. It wasn't overly large, perhaps twice the size of Storm's End though most likely smaller than that. It had a small rise and with the dark trees that clung to it I was reminded of a mole I'd once seen on Lady Dondarrion's cheek that had more hairs growing from it than Lord Dondarrion had blooming from his head. I could spot a few buildings and a dock but even those were hard to see thanks to the fog that clung to the island. I at once understood why Mist was such a familiar word used in naming the place.

A deep, mournful sound suddenly filled the air, causing me to jump slightly. It reminded me of a musician I'd seen when I was just 5 years old who produced music by blowing on different jugs. A simple thing yet also so magically to my younger self. I glanced at the captain and the polemen, ready to find them snickering at my jumping nerves. But instead I saw them all staring towards the island, a look of forlorn wanting crossing their features.

"Most beautiful sound in the world," the captian said softly.

"What was that?" I asked.

The captain glanced at me and I could see that he had become entranced by the sound, lost in it, and only my speaking up broken him from its pull. "Ah, something rather special. The rocks of Kingsdock catch the wind, producing those sounds. They say it is the Goddess of the Winds blowing kisses to her sea god husband. The Song of Kingdock, that's what they call it. No matter where you sail, from here to Great Valyria, you will never hear a sound like that anyplace else. Sometimes me and my sweatheart just like to sit on the beach and listen, you know?"

I found myself nodding, staring out at the island as it grew closer. The air was still and calm, which made me thankful that we had the polemen as a boat with a sail would have been stuck motionless. Instead we were making good time. It would have been even better if not for the need to keep changing our course in order to avoid the rocks.

As we reached the final 100 yards the fog grew thicker, clinging to the sea, and I found myself peering through the mist, wondering what I would see if it finally parted. How close were we to the rocks that would tear our ship apart? The captain seemed to know which way to go but I was still rather terrified. In my mind I saw us suddenly lurching and pitching, the terrible sound of wood cracking and breaking filling my head as the flatbottom boat was torn apart, casting us into the waters. The fog sucking us in, confusing us so we had no idea which way to go, which caused the men to scream in terror as they dashed themselves against the sharp rocks. I remembered that Dragonstone was said to have been one a volcano and the Maester of Storm's End had told me that there were others all along the coast of Westeros. What if the rocks where obsidian? At a tournament I had been to three years prior there had been a juggler who used dragonglass daggers in his act and when some drunken lout had bumped into him the juggler had sent daggers flying, cutting several people rather badly. Would that happen to me if I went in the water? Was my fate to be hacked apart by the rocks as I tried to search for freedom?

As strange as it seemed that thought made me WANT to dive off the boat. To plunge into the water. Because while that would be a terrible way to die at least I would see it coming and be able to try and do something about it. To have the boat suddenly dashed against the rocks left me helpless, caught in the current like a bit of floatsam with no say in my fate. But if I were to dive in…

Before I could even step towards the edge of the boat the captain shouted out, "Tekeli-li!" and I realized we had come to rest at the pier.

"Sorry for the rough voyager," the captain said with a smile. I wasn't for sure if he was taunting me over my sudden fears or if he honestly thought the trip, which in that moment seemed rather peaceful much to my own embarrassment, had been a hard one.

"Perfectly fine," I found myself saying as I stepped onto the pier, carefully placing my foot on the timbers as they groaned in protest. They were spaced oddly, with far too many gaps than most would allow, but seemed stable enough and soon I was on my way towards the land, the fog quickly swirling upon the soles of my boots, then over the tops of them, and finally up to my ankles. I looked about, watching as the fish gutters went about their business and dock hands called out about the loads they were bringing in, none bothered at all by the thick fog. The captain himself seemed fine with it, having seemingly forgotten all about me and set about seeing to the cargo they were transporting.

Deciding that it would do no good to wander about the island with no idea where I might go I made my way towards a small winesink. It looked safe enough, with large windows and no one loitering nearby fingering a dagger or eyeing up those entering to determine the danger they might bring… or wealth. And even if they were well hidden, so I might not see then, I wasn't concerned. I had my sword on me, made of fine castle-forged steel, and that would break through any pigshit the island's blacksmith would craft. I also had two daggers hidden in my boots and, should I need to fight dirty, a leather glove whose knuckles had been studded with steel so that a punch from it would cripple a man.

The winesink had no name, or at least one I could determine. The sign had been so well worn by the seaspray that it might as well have been a blank slab of wood. The fog rolled in with me and the floorboards creaked as I walked on them; one loose one nearly sent me toppling. But it seemed cheerful enough and no one sneered at me as I entered.

"Welcome," a man behind the counter said, waving me over. "Newly arrived… you one of the captain's new polemen? A bit young…"

"No," I told him. "I'm here for different reasons. I wanted to know if there was anyone that could show me the sights, tell me of your history."

"You a maester?" the man said, glancing at me with a critical eye. Though there was nothing dark or mistrustful in his gaze.

"Not quite," I said, leaving it at that.

The counter man shrugged. "Well, to each his own I suppose. You'll want to talk to Elly. She knows all about the island." He nodded towards the back of the room, where a young woman was talking with who I could only assume was the winesink's cook. "She also owns the only inn on the island so you'll need to chat with her anyway if you're looking for a room."

"Thank you," I said, taking out three copper pennies and passing them over to the man. My first instinct was to give him a Stag but I wanted everyone to believe that I was a simple man and simple men did not hand out stags like they were blades of grass. He seemed thankful enough though, accepting the coin before going back to tending the bar.

As I approached Elly I saw she had what I was coming to call the 'Kingsdock Look' to her. Everyone I had spotted on the island since my arrival had a similar features, which wasn't too surprising; the Westerlands tended towards fairer hair, the Northsmen were long of face, and the Dornish had their exotic looks that could only be found in those lands, so that one knew they weren't truly Westerosi but also couldn't determine what other lands might have bred them. My own family tended towards great height and pitch black hair, after all.

But in Kingsdock was this taken to an extreme. I wondered if it was a result of their isolated life, that they had so avoided interacting with others that it prevented them from not looking any certain way than the Kingsdock Look. The result was that they all tended to look like family, so that I felt like I was an intruder upon some grand family gathering, where cousins and long separated siblings were meeting and I was the odd one who had stumbled in.

Elly was no different. Face worn by the winds and the rains and salt in the air so that even she, a girl just into the brightness of youth, had skin pulled too tight, shrunk against the bones. She was probably only 5 years older than me but she looked to be three times that thanks to life on the island. Her hair was thin and wispy, lacking the bounce that many of the highborn lasses I knew of took great pride in maintaining. She had a willowly body, arms a touch too long for her frame, and glancing at her wrists and the backs of her hands I could see her veins sticking out like dark blue roots. None would ever call her a beauty on the mainland but I got the sense that on Kingsdock she was the most beautiful lass any had ever seen.

"Oh, hello there," she said, turning to me fully and flashing a bright smile. "Do you need something?"

"I was told that you were the one to talk to if I was interested in learning more about Kingsdock."

She nodded quite quickly at that. "Yes! Yes I am! Why, its been my home for ages. I know all about it. Are you moving here?"

I shook my head. "no no… I merely wish to learn about its history. I found some references to it and it is rather a fascinating place, especially when one considers how little is known about it."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said before motioning for me to follow her. "Will you be staying long?"

"A day or two, I think," I told her as we headed out of the winesink, the man at the counter calling out a 'good day' to us. "Enough to learn as much as I wish to."

"Well, that all depends on how much you wish to learn," she said as we set out along the road. It too was made of wood, not that I could actually see that thanks to the fog. No… it was the creaks and groans that came from my footfalls that alerted me to that. Elly didn't seem troubled by it, moving briskly and quite gracefully, especially for one of her build. While she had the proportions of a new born colt she wasn't all limbs. No, she moved at ease through the mist, effortlessly leading me past several shops and simple homes. "There is much to learn here, of course. I would say that someone could spend their entire life here and never learn all. Their entire death too." She chuckled at that and I smiled at her awkward joke.

"You live here then," I finally ask, wanting to fill the silence that had suddenly descended upon us.

"Oh yes," she said quickly. "For a time I left… my mother and father were most displeased, you know. And eventually I came to see things as they did. Realize that my place was here." She paused, glancing back at me. "What is your name? It feels odd that I don't know it especially since I feel is if I know you."

"Steffon," I said. "And if we have met I apologize. I don't remember you."

"Oh, that is quite alright," she stated cheerfully. "It was a very long time ago, when I was married. I doubt that you and I ever had a chance to meet."

"I'm sorry."

"…for what?"

"Your husband," I stated.

Elly looked at me for a long moment before shaking her head once more. "Quite alright. He was very old. We had a good life together, not that my parents think that. They were most displeased with our marriage. It was traumatic at the time but I understand now… he wanted to take me from Kingsdock. This is my home… and we all must return home."

I nodded at that though I didn't truly understand what she was walking about. Most likely she had been a young girl who had been seduced by a much older, and very likely wealthier, suitor. It was a common thing that I had heard of a thousand times, happening to the poor to the nobles. Rare though was for the girl at the end to leave the splendor so she might return to her small village.

"Well, at least you are happy to be back here," I told her finally as he moved past an old woman, shriveled and hunchbacked, who was working to clean out clam shells. She didn't look so much like a person as a barnacle on the side of a ship, growing from the side of the building. I wondered if she ever left that spot… if the night would come and the winds would hollow and there she would be, still cleaning out her clams until the hand of god slowly brought a giant scrapper down, yanking her off of the building and tossing her away.

Elly bobbed her head rapidly. "Of course I am! There is no other place I would rather be! Kingsdock has everything I could ever desire… I feel safe here. Protected. I know that everyone that lives here would see to my happiness. It is why so few wish to leave and all return." She paused, glancing over at me. "Is that how you feel when it comes to your home?"

"I suppose," I said but the way she was looking at me I could tell she wasn't pleased with my answer. Not angered but… not pleased.

"Well, Kingsdock has a rich history, which is what you wish to know about. I can take you to the center of the island, so that you can truly feel its life and strength. Or there is the shoreline, which is rather lovely. I enjoy walking along it, feel the spray against my face when the waves are strong and the wind blows true. Like kisses from the god of the sea and the goddess of the winds."

"It is actually them I wish to discuss," I told her. "I am looking into the legends of the founding of House Durrandon." Elly's face fell at that and I hurriedly added, "If that is okay?"

"Yes, of course," she said quickly. "House Durrandon is merely… a sour subject for many on the island."

"I understand," I said. "Taking Elenei from her parents…"

That caused Elly to tilt her head. "You… do understand, don't you? It would have been different, had he come to her father proper, asking for her hand and obeying his demands and wishes. But instead he tried to sneak her away."

"What do you mean, sneak her away?" I asked. "I was led to believe they held their wedding on this island. It is why I am here, actually, to see the hall where they had their wedding feast."

"Oh, it was held here," Elly confirmed. "The story is well know… though I suppose not on the Mainland. Durran the Willful came to Kingsdock along with his parents, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, and many cousins. They were welcomed by the Sea God and his wife, allowed to feast in his hall and sleep under the Gods' roof. For two months they supped with them and in turn honored their hosts, learning of their lives and their ways. But Durran the Willful came to love the gods' only daughter, Elenei, and desired her to be his bride. This would have been fine… had he listened to her when she told him how they could be together. But Durran thought he knew better than his love and her parents and as such refused to heed her warnings.

"In the middle of the night Durran woke her, dragging her from her bed to one of the halls where he demanded her hand. She was confused and frightened, saying that of course she would wed him but why were they doing it so soon, under the cover of darkness. If Durran merely went to her father he would oversee such a ceremony that all the heavens would know of it. Every god and goddess would bless their union and together they would pledge they love before the physical embodiments of the great powers of the world. They would be showered with gifts that would make all the precious treasures of the worlds look like jetsom.

"But Durran was adamant that they marry right then. He told her that if she refused him then he would be leaving right there. That it would be the last time she would ever see him. She pleaded with him, got on her knees begging him to have patience but he was adamant. And her love for him drove her to give into his wishes, pledging herself to him and allowing Durran to sever her bond with her parents.

"The moment they felt it their wrath was terrible. They brought their full power against the island in an attempt to reclaim their child. Durran and her ran, leaving the island even as her parents slaughtered Durran's family. And they would fight to reclaim their child for decades, calling upon every favor and oath the other immortals had made to them in an attempt to reclaim Elenei. All because Durran thought he knew better than them." She shook her head before looking at me. "If you wish to see where the Sea God's Hall once stood, before Durran's Sin, I would be willing to show you about."

She pointed to her left and I saw just beyond the town, hidden by the few sad trees that managed to grow on the island, the crumbling remains of stone that could only have been the Hall in question. It was some distance off and I could tell the path would not be an easy one to travel.

As if sensing my thoughts Elly added, "But we will need to wait til morning… the trip will take too long."

I considered her words, never thinking of disputing them. I had always found it odd that the sea god had been so determined to attack Durran Godsgrief's many castles, despite the fact that his daughter had made it clear that she wanted to be with her husband. It had to be more than simply disapproving of her choice…

Except I also knew that so little was known about Elenei. The moment that she had saved Durran and the Godsgrief had declared war upon the gods her part in the story ended. Nothing was known of her other than she was apparently Durran the Second's mother… and even that the maesters couldn't confirm. It was why I wanted to know more about my family. To fill in that lost knowledge.

It was why, despite the growing uneasy I felt with every step I took on Kingsdock, I remained.

~SOK~SOK~SOK~

The Drenched Maiden, despite its rather risqué name, was a pleasant enough looking inn. Two stories tall much like many of the other inns I had encountered with a large communal dining area on the first floor, a fire already burning in the hearth when we arrived, and a tall narrow staircase that led to the second story. When we entered there was one sleepy figure half slouched in a chair in the corner, occasionally rocking but otherwise rather motionless. Elly moved towards the kitchen, leaving me to sit down at one of the tables, looking about the room but finding nothing that could truly hold my interest. With it so empty there wasn't any people to observe and there were no paintings or things of fabric that could draw one's attention. While the building was sturdy, needing to be so if it hoped to survive the storms that the Narrow Sea loved to cook up, it was horribly plain.

As such I took out my notebook and began to go over the notes I had made.

According to the records found at Rook's Rest Durran Godsgrief did live a longer than normal age but that was, at most, into his 90s. Unusual for its time but not unheard of now, as there are men that have reached 83. It is well documented what happened to his sons and their wives, though the records are written in the language of the First Men and thus why not well known to most. But almost nothing is written of Queen Elenei. She disappears from the records rather quickly after the birth of her first child. As for her people nothing is said and all who have discussed the matter state that she is the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the winds who, upon surrendering her maiden's head, was rendered mortal.

However, upon looking through writings of the Maester of Nightsong, her place of birth is Kingsdock. I have found little reference-

I let out a yawn and rose.

"Steffon?" Elly asked, looking suddenly up at me as I stood and stretched.

"The journey has left me tired," I said, looking down at my feet… or rather the damnable mist that covered them even in the inn. I glowered at it, even though it was doing no harm. Yet… even the fire didn't manage to drive away the fog! "I think I will simply retire, so I might be well rested in the morning."

"Of course," Elly said, motioning towards the stairs. "Take your pick of rooms… though I would suggest the second of the right, for that offers the best view." With that she turned back to the cook, speaking with her and I came to realize that she would not be following me upstairs to ensure I was properly settled. An oddity but I brushed it aside after a moment, choosing to focus on getting some much needed rest.

The room was small but lovely with the view that looked out upon the sea just as Elly had described: beautiful. The fog that clung to the land made me feel as if I were in some grand castle that had been built amongst the clouds just like in the tales of my childhood, and beyond that was the ocean which, thanks to the setting sun, gleamed like steel and hid the dangerous rocks that lay below its surface. It was a lovely town, I had to admit that, and I was coming to understand why the people remained despite its isolation.

I removed my boots and sat down on the bed, placing my journal beside me. I meant to begin writing in it but the weariness of the entire day, with the stress of going through the bay coming at the end of a long journey as well as a search for a ship that would take me to the island, had left me so tired that I at once found myself drifting to sleep.

But if the view had been beautiful the dreams that it brought to me were anything but.

The darkness of night slumber brought me dark and twisted visions. It began with me being the sole witness to Durran Godsgrief standing with his wife, Elenei. He was screaming at her though I could not understand the words he spoke, for overhead a storm raged, the clouds twisting into the shapes of his forefathers, their ranting mouths sending torrents of rain and thunderbolts down all around us. Durran gestured at her to return to his side but she merely looked at him with sadness before reaching up and tugging on her lips. First she merely made her teeth visible, then bits of chin and her nose. She stretched her mouth wider and wider, impossibly large, and like a man removing a glove pulled her face up and over her head to reveal hairless features with blue scales and bulbous eyes. Gills were revealed upon her neck. She was utterly deformed and wrong yet I was also struck by her beauty; her ugliness made her beautiful, much as how an imperfection can suddenly make a plain woman gain the attention of every suitor. She raised a webbed hand in Durran's direction and whether she was trying to get him to halt or to come to her I couldn't say. Durran remained where he was standing, still silently screaming at her. Elenei looked at him one last time before she leaned back, falling over the side of the cliff she was standing upon and into the ocean below.

And as she disappeared under the waves I found myself following into the sea, a great anchor chain wrapped around my ankle. And despite all I did to try and free myself I was pulled down farther and father. The waters went from churning white to blue to inky black and still I fell. The fact that I could breathe just fine brought no comfort, for it wasn't drowning that terrified me but the creatures that dwelled in the depths.

Monsters of scales and fins and tentacles and spines that did not belong amongst the creatures of the world, greeted me, watching with pale eyes that glowed like fireflies. Great leviathans that were half fish and half squid darted about me, moving far too quick for things of their great size. A school of fish revealed themselves to merely be the many parts of one great beast, far larger than any castle I had ever seen. Monstrous crabs and lobsters floated in the water, clicking and clanking their pincers as I continued down.

And finally I looked down and saw the greatest of terrors. Far below me, at the very bottom of that horrible abyss, there lay something utterly wrong. A mouth of many teeth, a face of many eyes, a body of many limbs. It was a twisting, shifting, undulating thing and I knew that if I came within its grasp I would never be able to escape it again. It would drag me down into its depths and keep me as a prize and forever would my home be its cold lair. I struggled harder, trying to swim up, even as the anchor and chain dragged me closer.

Closer.

Closer.

I awoke with a gasp, looking about wildly. For a moment I completely forgot what I was doing and where I was. My mind was utterly blank and I couldn't remember even my own name.

But slowly thoughts returned to me and I rose up from my bed, pressing my hands to my eyes in an attempt to dislodge the visions I had seen. They remained but were muddled, jumbled up flashes that filled me with dread but left me unable to truly understand what my nightmares had truly been about. Rising I saw that it was now late in the evening, perhaps around the time of the Hour of the Ghost. The moon was out though it fought with the clouds to make itself seen, what light it did provide shining down into my room and making the shadows larger and darker.

I saw the claws and the tendrils of those horrible sea creatures and at once I knew I couldn't remain in that room a second more.

Pulling on my boots and collecting my journal I quietly stepped out into the hall, watching my every step so I didn't awaken anyone. The downstairs was silent and cold, the fire long having gone out. The fog continued to roll across the floor and I now needed to walk slowly not just to ensure I didn't make a sound but also to keep my footing, as it was so dark that I could barely see anything towards the back of the inn. I only took a deep breath and relaxed when I made it outside, the moon lighting my way.

As I began to walk I realized I had no idea where I was going. I had no plan, no destination. I might very well have been the only person awake on the island. There were no taverns or ale shops or winesinks to go down and get a drink in. No guards to chat with as far as I could see. I didn't know what to do and so I began to just walk.

The beauty of Kingsdock had given way to a quietness that set me on edge. I felt tense, like a man walking through a kennel full of sleeping dogs who wished to try and make it to the door without alerting the pooches to his presence. I moved slowly, carefully, feeling like an intruder, and finally my nerves drove me off the road and onto a path that led into the thin woods. It was foolish of me, for I had no idea what dangers might lurk behind those trees, but my mind, plagued both with sleep and the need to stay awake lest the nightmares return again, pushed me onward.

It was only when I spotted the stone blocks that were stacked on top of each other that I realized I was moving towards the Great Hall where Durran Godsgrief had married Elenei. I let out a huff at that, not surprised that in my daze I had been guided there. It had been my focus, after all, my reason for coming to the island… why not look about? I could still have Elly give me a tour-

A scream rang out behind me, shrill and ear piercing. I whipped around and stared at the town only to hear another… and another. I began to run back, mind haunted with fear that pirates may have landed on the island and begun an attack. While it wasn't common in my time in the past islands all along the eastern coast of Westeros had been attacked by pirates looking to make off with gold and slaves. Lyseni brigadiers in their flashy vests and with gold teeth swinging swords and laughing as they raped innocent women and child. Great brutish thugs from the Summer Isles who hungered for flesh. Pentosi desperate to make up for lost funds and thus willing to enslave innocent people to work their fields or serve in their manses.

But what I found were no sea faring cutthroats looking to pillage. Rather it seemed like the entire island had awoken and gathered around the inn. Far more people than I had seen when I had arrived. And from the top window I saw the winesink owner, leaning out and shouting to the crowd.

"He's gone! Gone!" he roared and I am ashamed to admit that it took far too long for me to realize that he was talking about me.

"Does he know?" someone else called out.

"Who told?"

They cried out and shouted and soon there was a commotion near the right side of the crowd and I watched on, horrified, as the captain of the flatbottom boat was dragged to the doorway of the inn, several of the islanders holding him still. Clam Cleaner moved towards him, bent back and scowling yet moving through the fog far quicker than I would have ever thought. The captain trembled as she looked up at him, twisting her head in consideration.

"What did you tell him?" she snapped, voice like the breaking of timbers.

"Nothing," the man begged. "I told him nothing! I brought him here, I swear!"

"And you just found him?" the woman asked, reaching up with a knobby finger and stroking his cheek.

"He found me! I swear!" the captain pleaded in terror. I gripped my dagger, wanting to do nothing more than help him, but I knew that against a mob that size there would be no hope. Call it cowardice but I was forced to watch on as the clam woman tormented the poor soul without ever harming him.

"Liar!" someone spat. "Did you not look at his face? He looks just like him!"

Others chimed in and I forced myself to move closer, trying to understand what had caused the island to suddenly turn against me.

"Its him!"

"The hair! The hair!"

"Returned!"

"Durran!"

The captain sputtered even as he wept. "The Durrandons are all dead! The Baratheons rule now!"

The clam woman was silent, the crowd's calls fading away so that all I could hear, even with the distance between us, was the captain's whimpers.

"We'll find out, shall we?"

"Please!" the captain said as the men holding him gripped his shoulders even harder. "Please!"

"You were allowed your freedom," the winesink owner said in a warning tone. "But all must return home."

"And I will! I will! I promise. Just-"

And then something jerked him down into the fog, the captain letting out one final scream before he suddenly went silent.

I didn't think.

I ran.

I turned and began to rush through the forest, not even thinking about where I could go. I just needed to run. To run and never stop. To keep going, to put as much distance between me and the people of Kingsdock, who had suddenly decided that I must be captured and… I didn't know. I didn't know what they wanted but I knew that it wouldn't be good. So I kept running.

Yet even as I ran it felt as if the island itself was trying to stop me. The fog grew thicker and I stumbled as roots seemingly of their own will leapt out of the ground to trip me up. The trees leaned towards me, branches slashing at my face like cat claws. At one point I ended up crashing through a thorny bush and pulling myself free left half of my shirt torn and thin cuts along my arms.

I heard the cries of the islanders and pushed on, legs churning even as my lungs burned and my heart pounded in my chest. There was a sudden dip and I found myself plunging into the fog, it so thick I couldn't see anything. I stumbled about, feeling roots and vines grasping onto me, trying to drag me down, but I bullrushed onward and managed to find the other side of the ditch, scrambling up and slicing my palms. Blood ran down the tips of my fingers as I hurried up, twisting about wildly when I felt something pull. I looked down and saw that some purplish-blue root had ensnared my boot and I tugged, trying to free myself. But the damn thing wouldn't let go so I finally grabbed my knife and sliced at it.

I stared in horror as the root BLED.

It flopped about but my terror drove me to continue on, a bit of it still caught on my ankle. I wiggled my foot to try and dislodge it but saw that it had some kind of suckers on one side which allowed it to hold firm. Revulsion filled me at the sight of that and I paused to kick with my other leg, finally tearing the damn thing off and stomping it before I continued on. I heard behind me the islanders screaming and snarling and I vowed in that moment to never engage in another hunt again, for I now understood what a deer felt when pursed by hunting dogs.

There were points of light to my left and I raced towards them, climbing what I dimly realized were steps before finally coming to stand on a great stone floor. The fog could not rise above it and I let a sigh of relief at that small miracle. I looked over myself, stunned to see how much damage my frantic fleeing had caused. My clothing was in tatters and I was covered in gashes, some already clotting while others continued to weep blood. The light were torches and I grabbed one, my other hand holding my dagger tight as I looked about, trying to get my bearings.

"All must return home, Steffon."

I whipped around and stared at Elly as she climbed the steps I had just scaled.

"My parents warned me of that… I didn't listen." She smiled sadly as she continued to move towards me and only stopped when I jabbed my dagger in her direction. She raised a hand, silently asking me to be calm, but also wisely kept her distance. "Durran refused to understand… this is my home. It should have been his home. And our children's. And their childrens. On and on… to you, Steffon Durrandon."

"I am Steffon Baratheon," I snapped, setting my jaw. The terror was still there but now it burned to drive away everything other than battle rage. If the islanders thought sending Elly to talk with me would get me to surrender to their torture they had made a grave mistake.

"But the blood of Durran flows through your veins. Durran…" she touched her chest, "and mine." She looked up at me with a soft look, reminding me of my own mother and how she had smiled at me when I showed her some silly thing, treating it as the most important thing in existence because it was important to ME. "Durran refused to listen. And in my foolish youth I allowed him to convince me to leave my home. He severed my connection to my parents."

It was only then that I looked down, past her face, to her feet.

And the long purplish-blue tendril that was wrapped around her ankle.

"They love me so. They love all of us. Including you." She took a step forward and raised her hand and once more I looked at the veins that ran up and down the back of her hand and along her arm. Dark. Bulging. Slithering. "All must return home, Steffon. It's why you came here. We've been all waiting for so long. My goodfather. My goodmother. Goodsisters and brothers. All of us waiting, even if we thought our wait would never end. Change your family name, marry into the families of Westeros… it doesn't matter. You know that THIS is what you've been searching for." She took another step forward and I saw several more tendrils slither out of the mist. "You'll understand… you just need to-"

I threw the torch at her.

My aim was true and it struck her right in the face, causing her to stumble back. The thin hair on her head curled and hissed as it burnt away and her skin cracked as the flames ate away at it. I dove for another torch, whipping back around to face her lest she come at me again, but instead Elly just stood there, patting out the flames. And as she did saw bits of her skin began to come off, first a few flakes and then coin size bites, and finally great chunks. And as the outer layer fell away her entire appearance changed. Without the outer shell her features suddenly ballooned out. Her nose grew bulbous, falling down upon her fat puffy mouth, itself losing any sign of lips. Her cheeks expanded and then sagged while her hairless brow sloped down, making her eyes sink into her head. But what was most horrible of all was that she never screamed. Never cried out. Instead she merely stood there, staring at me with her dark kind eyes.

Forgiveness shone through them.

I turned and I ran.

Elly called my name, pleading for me to come back. It was much as how my mother called for me when I was young, telling me it was time to stop playing my games and return to the safety of Storm's End. But I didn't listen, pushing instead back through the forest and then, be it madness and genius, curving and heading back towards the town.

The fog now hid far greater terrors and I never let my feet remain more than a moment upon the soil. I dropped my journal and didn't dare go back for it, the work of nearly a year easily abandoned as I ran. Bursting out of the forest I found the town empty save for one: the captain of the flatbottom boat. He was leaning against the hotel and I took several steps towards him… only to stop as I saw a tendril slithering up his leg.

He looked at me and smiled, the veins around his neck pulsing, each beat of his heart seemingly making them grow. "All must return home, Steffon."

I threw my dagger, seeing it drive into his chest even as I ran back towards the docks.

The islanders screamed and cried out even as I dove into the water. The salt instantly caused my chest to burn and I screamed as I broke my head above the surface, nearly going under again for it felt like I had burned myself rather than Elly.

Still, I forced myself forward, paddling with all my strength, and my strokes became more frantic as I heard splashes behind me. I knew they were diving in to try and get to me, to pull me back and chancing a glance back I saw them rushing at me with a far greater speed than should have been possible. I kicked harder, churning up the waters as I movedtowards what would either be my salvation or my damnation.

The rocks.

The first one I struck cut into my shoulder and turned the waters a deep crimson. But I pushed on, squirming and wiggling amongst the sharp points of the obsidian. Behind me the screams of the islanders turned into wails of pain and a vicious grin formed on my lips as I drove onward. I took as many hits as they did but they also had the tendrils and those were becoming sliced up in their pursuit. I heard their splashes grow less numerous and as the fog lifted and I was able to see the waters I sucked in mouthfuls of air as I drove myself onward.

I will never know how I managed to make it to the beach. Despite living next to the Narrow Sea I had never been much of a swimmer, preferring the grass outside Storm's End over the waters. But I made it the entire way, pulling myself onto the sand, feeling the grit drive into my wounds. I hissed in pain but struggled to yank myself fully from the water, not feeling save when a single wave was touching me.

It was only when I was a good ways away that I looked back… and I will forever wish I hadn't. I will hold, til my dying moment, that I should have just continued on. Never turned to stare at Kingsdock.

For if I hadn't I wouldn't have seen that it wasn't an island at all.

All of Kingsdock had risen above the waters, resting on the top of a great bluish-purple monster. It's flesh flashed like the clouds hiding lightning and the waters churned as it waved its many tentacles. I knew in my heart that at the end of each one was one of the islanders, wiggling like a worm on the end of a hook. And though it should have been impossible to see I knew that upon the very top of that creature's head stood Elly, her gooey face still looking at me with pity and forgiveness.

The howling filled the air once more.

I began to laugh even as I sobbed. I did not know what the beast was trying to tell me but it called out all the same. And as I laughed my vision gerw blurry and I swore I saw the clouds shift and the winds swirl… and take the form of a giant woman, standing waist deep in the water, watching on as the creature turned away from me, the settlement of Kingsdock atop its head.

Like a crown.

~SOK~SOK~SOK~

Merrik stared at Steffon as he took a long pull from the bottle he was drinking from. He honestly wanted to do the same, followed by going down to the cellar and finding something far stronger and drinking until he blacked out. That would at least ensure his dreams wouldn't be haunted by the horrors that Steffon had spoken of.

"I was found half a day later by a boy who'd gone looking for crabs. I gave him a shock, though he tried to deny it. Claimed that it was fine and that he hadn't been scared. I knew he was lying though, Merrik… when one is terrified as I was over that night they know how to see such fear in others. The signs." He looked down at the bottle, swishing what liquor was still in it. "I was taken to a small coastal village, Green Rock, where they cared for me until a maester could be called from the closest castle." He gave a weak smile. "I gave him a fright as well but that was because he realized who I was.

"He worked on me for several days, with me breaking out of unconsciousness to babble like a madman. I don't know all of what I said… when I asked the maester just said that it didn't matter, that I was on the road to recovery." He reached up and rubbed his chest. "He did fine work, Merrik. Very fine work. Stitching so fine that one can't even see the scars. And he stayed with me the entire time, waiting to contact my father until I was strong enough to speak and tell him what I desired. He knew that I valued my privacy and helped me maintain that. A good man. It is why, when Maester Oswick passed, I requested he be moved here."

"Maester Cressen?" Merrik asked, though it was more of a murmur.

"Yes," Steffon said before shaking his head. "It is also why I have honored Green Rock. The boy, Bryan, now squires for Ser Pennington and when he is old enough and has earned his spurs I will be giving him the entire village to rule, and the funds to build a proper keep. I have already seen to aiding the village." His voice grew softer. "It is more than I could do… after what they did."

"…what else did they do?" Merrik asked.

Steffon was quiet for several long moments and Merrik was almost ready to stand up and leave, assuming he'd pushed too hard and the silence was a dismissal, only for Steffon to speak up once more. "They heard me mention Kingsdock… they hadn't had much interactions with the island… many thought there wasn't anyone living on it. But when I mentioned it and they realized who I was they gathered up what hedge knights they could find and sailed out to get answers. Do you know what they found?"

Merrik swallowed, not sure he wanted to know.

"Nothing," Steffon stated. "Nothing at all. The entire island… gone." His mouth quirked up at that. "Lifted up by the hand of god-" His face twitched. "Or at least that's what one of them told my father when he finally came to retrieve me. Oh, of course he thought they were all quite mad. He'd certainly never heard of Kingsdock nor had any of the men he brought with him."

"And… when you told him…" Merrik began only to shake his head. "No… no, you didn't tell him, did you? He would have thought you mad."

"A smart man, Merrik. You are a smart man." Steffon managed a truer smile at that, though it didn't last. "In the end it was said that there was a storm. The island was lost to the waves… it happens, especially to the West of Westeros, so why not on the Narrow Sea? I was caught in the storm and the boat I was on dashed. The rocks tore me apart… after all, nearly every injury I had could be attributed to the obsidian so it was an easy enough lie. I gave up my search for my family's history and returned to Storm's End. My father passed on just after my wedding, Robert was born and… well…" he gave a shrug. "Here we are."

"Here we are," Merrik echoed before draining the last bit of his own bottle. His head felt heavy and he knew that he would feel horrible in the morning but he needed the liquid. Longed to have it burn his throat and chase away the mad thoughts. "And that's the end of that."

"The end?" Steffon whispered, a hollow sound that shook Merrik to the core. "No… no I fear not. By the Seven I wish it was… but no, it is not."

"What do you mean?"

"They aren't dead, Merrik. They left. All of them. Including that…" He slammed his lips together and twisted his head away, refusing to say… whatever it was he was going to say. "I sometimes find myself wondering where they are. I wish that I didn't, of course. Try to chase the thoughts away. But I wonder all the same. Is there a Kingsdock farther north now, surrounded by ice rather than obsidian? Or perhaps South, where the clam woman can remove her heavy shawl and the winesink owner goes bare-chested in the sun while Elly walks the shore, watching the ships go by? Maybe they are near some great city where no one will notice that people go missing and are too busy with their lives to question an island that suddenly appeared. Or they have found some spot of ocean where they will never again be seen by human eyes, with the fog driving off all ships so they might know peace.

"The worst… the worst thought though… is they are under the waves. That whatever that… thing… did to them, to turn them into a part of itself… allows them to live beneath the Narrow Sea. I dream about them sometimes, Merrik. I see them going about their lives, just as they had when I walked the island, only they have tossed aside their humanity completely. Allowed the seaweed and the barnacles and the mussels to be their garments while their bodies twist into fleshy, scaly things that do not belong in the world of man. Twisted by the pressures of the deep… I once saw a crabber bring up a fish that at once deflated upon reaching the surface. The pressure lets some creatures keep their forms. The same… the same could happen to them. Making them soft and bulbous. And down in the depths they wait. That is my fear. If I looked from Storm's End I will see them just below the waves, looking back at me.

"I still hear it sometimes. I will be no where near the sea… going for a ride or perhaps visiting another keep… and I will hear that sound. The Song of Kingsdock. And what truly scares me Merrik… with even for how terrified I still am of that place… a part of me wants to go back. I want to talk to Elly again. I want to ask the winesink owner for a drink. Sit and enjoy a meal with the clam woman. See what happened to the captain, if he ever escaped or if he is now a resident there, sitting with his sweetheart on the beach beneath the waves, looking down below at the creatures that call the darkness home, same as him. The song… the song haunts me. It will always haunt me. I hear minstrels play and it is the Song of Kingsdock. I look down at Renly as he coos and I hear the Song of Kingsdock. And now his grace is sending me to Essos and I will travel HIS seas, pushed along by his bride's winds… and I wonder… I wonder…"

Merrik sat there for a long time and it was only when he heard a light snoring that he realized Steffon had fallen asleep. So he rose, staring at the man and wishing him a mental goodnight and a hope that his rest would be dreamless before he dragged himself to his room.

"Is all alright, Ser Merrik?" Krystyne asked from around a corner, smiling.

"It is," he lied. "All is well. His lordship has fallen asleep… I think it might be best to let the steward know he will not be in any mood to go over business in the morning.

"Perhaps that is best," Krystyne admitted. "I will tell him if I see him." She pulled back only to pop her head back around the corner once more. "I forgot to ask… how was your trip? Did you see your father?"

"I did," Merrik said, startled to realize that he had only just gotten back to Storm's End. After Steffon's tale… well, it felt like ages ago since he'd been in the stable seeing to his horse, and before that riding.

"Good. I'm glad you got to see him." She stared right at him. "We all must come home again."

Merrik at once rushed around the corner, grabbing her hand before she could move, forcing her to remain still as he searched her face before looking down at her feet.

"What… what is it?" Krystyne gasped, startled by his actions.

"Nothing," he got out when he saw her legs free of tendrils. "Nothing," he said.

But even as he said the words… he heard a deep whistling sound beyond the walls of the castle that stood against the Sea God's wrath.