I'm very glad to get this chapter out of the way. It was originally going to be the Battle of Greenstone, but I also wanted to give a bit of an insight into Patrek Estermont at the start, and in writing that insight grew and grew until it became its very own chapter. So this chapter is a small break from the action as we delve back into the history of our antagonist, seeing why he became the way he did.

I own nothing of the world of Westeros or the recognisable characters within it (there are a few, even here). Those belong to George R R Martin and/or HBO.

This chapter has a lot of new names, so I'm going to include the Estermont Family Tree as of 326 AC (the main story timeline) here for you all to have a frame of reference.

House Estermont

Eldon Estermont (228 AC – 301 AC) – Sharra Fell (229 AC – 272 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ Cassana Estermont (245 AC – 278 AC) – Lord Steffon Baratheon (246 AC – 278 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ House Baratheon

_ _ _ _ _ Aemon Estermont (247 AC – 307 AC) – Lucinda Rogers (255 AC – 219 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Lord Alyn Estermont (269 AC – 319 AC) – Bethany Trant (274 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Ser Robert Estermont (298 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Ser Alaric Estermont (304 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ Lomas Estermont (251 AC – 283 AC) – Wylla Wylde (249 AC – 283 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Maris Estermont (266 AC) – Boremund Bolling (262 AC – 283 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Elena Estermont (267 AC) – Richard Lonmouth (264 AC-307 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Eliana Lonmouth (287 AC) – Alan Mertyns (286 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ House Lonmouth

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Andrew Estermont (268 AC – 301 AC) – Died at Dragonstone – Tyanna Tudbury (276 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Patrek Estermont (300 AC – 26) – The Knight of Shells – Bella Mertyns (302 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Ormund Estermont (303 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Alynne Estermont (304 AC – 319 AC) – Mychel Mertyns (301 AC – 319 AC)

House Mertyns

Mary Mertyns (227 AC – 319 AC) – Alaric Tudbury (220 AC – 260 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ Rickard Mertyns (253 AC – 307 AC) – Branda Musgood (256 AC – 322 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Donnel Mertyns (274 AC – 326 AC) – Kira Lonmouth (276 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Mychel Mertyns (301 AC – 319 AC) – Alynne Estermont (304 AC – 319 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Hugor Mertyns (280 AC – 307 AC) – Ryella Rogers (284 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Bella Mertyns (302 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ Manfred Mertyns (259 AC – 307 AC) – Helena Rogers (263 AC – 325 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Roger Mertyns (284 AC – 326 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Alan Mertyns (286 AC – 319 AC) – Eliana Lonmouth (287 AC)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ House Lonmouth

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Gregor Mertyns (286 AC) – Samantha Tudbury (289 AC)

307 AC

"They're back! They're back!"

Patrek Estermont looked up from his book on The Last Storm to see his cousin and future Lord of Greenstone, Robert, had barged open the door to the Maester's chambers in sheer excitement. Maester Jasper sighed at the intrusion, looking over at the 9-year-old exasperatedly. "What have we said about knocking during lessons?"

"Not to do it." Patrek answered for his cousin, who simply stuck his tongue out in childish response.

"Mother said to get both you and Patrek, Maester." He retorted, both formally and sarcastically. "The boats are back."

The red-headed Maester snapped his own book shut briskly. "Then I shall attend to Lady Bethany at once." The Valeman stated determinedly. "Patrek, when we next meet I want you to tell me all about The Last Storm and it's impact on House Estermont."

"Yes Maester." The 7-year-old nodded, closing his own book and running after his second cousin to their favourite spot in the castle, the highest tower that overlooked the waters separating The Islands of Estermont from Cape Wrath. His brother Ormund, a boy of 4, was already there as they arrived with Patrek's Mother, Tyanna Tudbury holding his sister Alynne in her arms, and Robert's young brother, 3-year-old Alaric.

"Aunt Tyanna." Robert bowed politely before messing up the hair of his brother.

It was Ormund that gave Patrek more information however, the young boy looking up at Patrek and saying. "There are 2 boats."

Patrek frowned. "But… they left with a dozen?" He muttered, hoping beyond anything that there were more boats in the far distance, though as he reached up onto his tiptoes he failed to see anything in the horizon other than the grey of the clouds and the light snowfall of Winter.

"War is brutal, and Kings care not who pays the price for their victories." His Mother said mournfully. "Your Great-Grandfather and Father died fighting for Stannis Baratheon against King Lucerys, your Grandfather for King Robert on the Trident." She looked to the lead boat, and Patrek saw that the Estermont banner was at half-mast. "Now it seems another has been taken in service of King Lucerys."

They watched on as the boats reached the dockyard of the island and a small party of dishevelled men walked unceremoniously up towards the entrance to Greenstone, with a wagon behind them carrying what looked to be a coffin. It wasn't until they had all been invited down for dinner that evening that they discovered the truth. Lord Aemon was dead, and now his son and Robert's father, Alyn, was the new Lord of Greenstone.

"Lord Aemon was unwavering in his strength." Alyn told them all, a goblet of Arbor Gold in his hands. "He stood proudly and fought the King of the Other's himself, winning the Kingslayer and Stark bastard enough time to rally and destroy him once and for all!" He held his goblet out. "Tomorrow at Dawn, we shall all gather on the shoreline and set my Father out to sea, sending him off to the Father's Golden Halls for eternity. To Lord Aemon, the Unwavering!"

"Aemon the Unwavering!" Patrek called out louder than most, that story of his Great-Uncle inspiring the boy that even a man of House Estermont could be revered as a true hero, and from that day on in the training yard he no longer played at being the Demon of the Trident or the Dragonknight, but instead always wanted to be Aemon the Unwavering, the Lord of Estermont that helped defeat the White Walkers and won the living the Long Night.

311 AC

Patrek was 11 when he was sent away from Greenstone. With his branch of House Estermont not being close to inheriting and the lengthy winter not really showing any signs of abating it had been decided that Patrek would be the first of his generation to foster better relations with a nearby house in the Rainwood, and so the boy had been forced to say goodbye to his Mother and siblings before sailing over to the mainland, eventually reaching the forest castle of Mistwood, home of House Mertyns. There to welcome him he spotted the pure white hair of the Lady of Mistwood, Mary Mertyns, an elder woman well into her 9th decade who had lost both of her sons in the Great War. She required a stick to walk but she still held herself strongly as Patrek rode into the castle courtyard and dismounted, bowing his head politely towards her and her younger, male companion that Patrek presumed was one of her Grandsons. "My Lady."

"Welcome to Mistwood, lad." Mary Mertyns said. "Lord Alyn has requested that you squire here and learn the art of knighthood in the same castle as the White Owl, Ser Martyn, himself."

Patrek nodded. "I am eager to settle in and learn, My Lady."

Mary Mertyns grinned. "Such a polite boy. Do not break him too much, Gregor."

Patrek turned to the man stood beside her and bowed his head again. "My Lord."

Gregor scoffed. "No Lord, boy, just the knight that will be teaching you to ride, fight, and learn your own mind." He gestured for Patrek to follow him. "Come along now, I'll take you to your rooms before we see what a mess of a squire I've been given." Patrek scowled, but followed Ser Gregor Mertyns closely, trying to remember the route to his room immediately. On the way he noticed that he had become the centre of attention of everybody in the castle, from the servants all the way to a pair of children that looked similar enough in age to him.. "Ah." Gregor stopped them in front of the two. "Patrek, allow me to introduce Mychel Mertyns, the future Lord of Mistwood, and his cousin, Bella."

Bella curtseyed politely before her face went red and she hid behind the Maester's robes, but Mychel proved himself to be the confident Mertyns child and stepped forwards, shaking Patrek's hand fiercely. "Hello." The Mertyns boy said.

"Nice to meet you." Patrek said.

"You will love it here. The Rainwood is the best!" Mychel grinned. "We can go riding there tomorrow if you like… do you like riding?"

"Enough, Mychel." Gregor rolled his eyes. "Let the lad settle in, you can get to know him more at dinner tonight."

"Sorry, cousin." Mychel lowered his head, abashed.

The Maester cleared his throat. "Come along Bella, Mychel, allow us to continue our lessons and give Patrek here a chance to settle in. This is a strange time for him, coming to a new castle to live." Patrek appreciated that, but he waved at both children as they departed, happy that it looked like he would have one friend to fill the void of his family.

316 AC

The thud that sounded from behind him as Patrek raced away on his horse caused the newly knighted Estermont to grin. As he reached the end of the tilt he wheeled his horse around and saw Ser Mychel Mertyns rise to his feet slowly, signalling that he had won the joust.

"Victory for Ser Patrek!" Gregor Mertyns called out as Patrek dismounted, going over to help his friend back to his feet, clapping on the back once he had done so.

"Again." Mychel grimaced, circling his shoulder to try and relieve some pain. "That one hurt."

Patrek grinned. "If you are to marry my sister, I need to make sure you are worthy of her." He told Mychel, who simply groaned and walked over to the side to grab himself a drink.

The fostering at Mistwood had been a terrific success for Patrek. Not only had he grown extremely fond of his foster family but the relations between House Estermont and House Mertyns were rumoured to grow stronger as talks of a betrothal between Mychel and Patrek's sister, the 12-year-old Alynne, was in the process of being negotiated. Patrek had also grown fond of Mychel's cousin Bella, though knew that he needed to win renown before even contemplating that match being a landless knight from the minor branch of his family. He was off to a decent enough start, winning the squire's melee in the tourney at Highgarden to celebrate the 10th year of marriage between King Lucerys and Queen Margaery when he was 13. He looked over to the castle and saw Bella watching from the ramparts and gave her a quick wave, to which he knew she giggled at and moved away. Grinning, Patrek walked over to the drinks table also, grabbing himself a small glass of Arbor Red, taking a sip before being met with the stares of both Mychel and Gregor Mertyns.

"Yes?" He asked them.

Mychel tutted, shaking his head. "You're playing with fire there, Patrek."

"Donnel won't allow it." Gregor added, speaking of the Lord of Mistwood and Mychel's father who had succeeded the late Lady Mary two years earlier. "Not when there's already a match with your House in the works." Patrek sighed at the words he hated yet so often heard, roughly unfastening his pauldrons.

He felt an arm on his shoulder and shoved it away. "Don't be like that." Mychel said. "It's just the way of life…"

"I'm going to Essos." Patrek said abruptly, and the silence that followed was deafening. Turning back to his mentor and his best friend, Patrek looked them both in the eyes. "You're right, I'm a lowly knight with nought to my name. I must win glory and I won't be doing that through tourneys. Summer has barely begun; I'll go to Essos and fight as a Sellsword while the weather remains."

Mychel saw through that, frowning at him. "Pat…" He trailed. "Are they really that deep?"

Patrek looked back up at the castle to where Bella had been standing. His mind was taken back to a wedding in the second year of his fostering at nearby Tudbury, where he had danced with Bella for the first time, to more dances and stolen conversations that followed... "They are." He said shortly, not wishing to elaborate any further.

Gregor sighed audibly. "Sam will be pissed." He muttered, with Patrek confused as to why his mentor mentioned his wife. "Well of course I'm coming with you, you dolt. You're not going to Essos alone."

"And me." Mychel said firmly, causing laughs from the other two. "What's so funny?"

"You're the heir to Mistwood." Patrek shook his head, though appreciating the support. "Your life is here, mine… I'm a knight now, and not bound to one castle any longer."

There was a moment of pause between the two, before they came together in a warm embrace, each patting the other on the back more ferociously. "You are my brother." Mychel said firmly. "No matter what, remember that. You are always welcome here."

Patrek thought of home, of Robert Estermont, soon to be marrying a daughter of House Baratheon. Of Ormund, his brother by blood. He loved them both deeply, but Mychel was different… "Aye, you are my brother." He nodded. "And I'll be back, you best believe it."

Keeping an arm around Patrek's shoulder, Mychel began to lead him away to the castle. "Then tonight we plan, and soon we feast your farewell." He stated boldly. "And you best bring back chests of gold from your travels, Patrek, and when you do, I'll convince Father to give you Bella's hand myself."

It had taken months for the finer planning, but finally after getting the agreement from Lord Alyn and all of his supplies in place Patrek was ready to cross the Narrow Sea. With Ser Gregor going too Lord Donnel had decided to through a farewell feast, one in which Patrek was getting honoured as well. The Lord of Mistwood had gone all out, with musicians and singers filling the hall with a cheerful atmosphere. It was just one that Patrek couldn't bring himself to be a part of.

He watched as Gregor twirled his wife and Patrek's own cousin on his mother's side, Samantha Tudbury, around on the dancefloor. Other members of House Mertyns were also up on the floor. Lord Donnel and his wife Kira Lonmouth, Ser Alan and his wife Eliana Lonmouth, Lady Kira's own niece. Even Ser Roger was there, spinning his widowed mother around. Patrek almost laughed at Mychel with the young children of Ser Alan racing around him, but the one person he couldn't see was the only person he wanted to.

He must have drunk 4 or 5 cups as the songs changed from romantic to almost bawdy, and by the time the youngest children had gone to bed Patrek was tempted to follow them up to his own chambers, when Lord Donnel himself sat beside the Estermont, sighing loudly. "I know your feelings lad, and I truly am sorry."

Patrek wanted to scoff, but Donnel Mertyns had been good to him and deserved more respect than that. Instead he took another sip and nodded. "I understand. I am sorry too… I do not mean to be so miserable…"

"I loved a girl once too." Donnel admitted, causing Patrek to look up at him in surprise. "She lived in a nearby village, the tavern owner's daughter. I used to sneak out of here with Bella's father, my brother, and we would spend all the money we had there just so she would visit our table." The Lord of Mistwood laughed reminiscently. "A long time ago."

"What happened to her?" Patrek asked. Donnel's eyes went dark as he stared into the distance, silence stopping the conversation in its tracks. Patrek began to apologise when Donnel held his hand up.

"You are leaving on the morrow." The Lord said. "On your way you will pass that tavern. Stop in for a drink and you will see what happened, and tell nobody, not even Gregor." Immediately Patrek knew to stop talking there and then. The woman that owned the tavern was a woman not too much older than Mychel called Maris who had inherited it from her maternal Grandfather, with no Father of her own to speak of. The pair fell into silence for a time, watching as Gregor grew more drunk by the minute, laughing loudly as he held his wife on his lap telling stories to Mychel. "You will do well in Essos." Donnel added after a long break in conversation. "Your lance is the finest I have seen since Ser Barristan the Bold himself."

The mention of the recently departed Lord Commander was more than enough to peak Patrek's enthusiasm. "You saw him joust? He claimed he was too old during the King's celebrations."

Donnel grinned. "I was young then, but I was at Harrenhal. Ser Barristan was the true champion that day and never forget that. Even I saw he threw the match for Rhaegar…" He trailed off. "Would that he hadn't, perhaps you would have known your Grandfather."

Patrek had heard stories of the Usurper's Rebellion and his Grandfather Lomas, but all questions he had flew completely out of his mind when the doors to the hall swung open and the herald announced loudly. "Lady Bella Mertyns!"

Patrek's eyes swivelled quickly and his jaw dropped open completely. Bella had dressed in the white of her house though her dress was far more elegant and detailed than her usual style. Her hair was also done up exquisitely, braided and wrapped up in a bun, with a bright green hair pin sticking out almost like… Patrek chuckled, shaking his head, seeing the turtle imagery plain as day.

"You wilful…" Donnel whispered beside him. "Excuse me, Ser Patrek."

Without waiting for a response the Lord of Mistwood rose to his feet and briskly walked over towards Bella, grabbing her arm as the pair exchanged harsh words. Patrek rose slowly to his feet, stopping himself from wobbling as his wine addled head adjusted to the new height before he walked slowly towards the Lord and his niece, only to be stopped by another arm. "You don't want to do that." Mychel Mertyns whispered.

"I'm not going to see her again after tonight." Patrek argued, but in his head the story of the tavern was being whispered to him again and again. "I just want to talk; her virtue is safe."

Mychel seemed confused. "Her… what are you talking about Pat?"

Patrek shrugged, but his attention was completely on the girl in white walking over towards him. Now she was closer he could see that her ears had green gems in the lobe, whilst her necklace was the sigil of his house, the green turtle of House Estermont. His eyes raked over her and he could only gulp.

"Mychel, give me a moment." Bella stated firmly to her cousin.

"I don't think…"

"Now." She said firmly. Patrek wasn't looking at him but he heard low grumblings and footsteps walking. He was painfully aware of all eyes being on him at that moment, but all that he could focus on was the girl in front of him. "Ask me to dance." She said softly.

Patrek took a breath and held out a hand. "My Lady?" With a smile, she took it, as the two moved over to the open floor and began to move with the music. It took a while for him to think clearly enough for a conversation, but he eventually managed it. "I think you may have killed your uncle."

"Good." Bella said unhappily before sighing. "I had to do this, Pat. He's…" She trailed off nervously, the shy girl from their childhood briefly returning. Patrek squeezed her hand comfortingly. "He's betrothed me to a Frey."

He stopped in his tracks, his face contorting into surprise. "A…" He couldn't get the words out. "I don't understand. A Frey?"

"They paid him." She scoffed. "They are to send one of them here and we are to marry and remain in Mistwood. Something about Lord Stevron wanting to improve his family's image. Uncle Donnel told me about it yesterday."

Suddenly the conversation from before made complete sense. The truth about the tavern owner Maris was a warning. Patrek wanted to throttle the Lord of Mistwood in his halls, but the feel of Bella's arms in his stopped him in his tracks. "I can stay, if you want me to." He said quietly. "I can protect you."

Bella chuckled. "You would not be happy." She said softly. "Essos calls to you, Pat, and I can wait until your return."

Her words were sweet, but false. They both knew as they looked into one another's eyes that tonight would be the only night they could ever have and the wine in Patrek's system was convincing him to take it. His heart however, was stronger. "We both know that you will do your duty to your House, Bella." He told her. "So let us enjoy tonight, dancing with one another like we did when we were children."

Bella's initial look was shock. "If you want me…" She said, barely in a whisper.

"Not like this." Patrek insisted sharply. "I will not ruin your life out of selfish desire, no matter how much I wish to be with you. Our paths lie elsewhere for now."

Bella smiled, though it was a sad one as the music came to an end. "But the road ahead is long and winding." She replied.

They broke apart, still staring into one another's eyes as they moved away from the dancefloor and sat down, talking away long into the night once most of the castle had retired to bed. When it was their own time to say goodnight, Patrek knew that he would remember their parting kiss for as long as he lived.

After all of his years on the mainland in Mistwood the smell of the sea and petrichor was a welcome sight as he stepped off of the boat that had brought him back to Estermont. Patrek took a moment to close his eyes and breathe in through his nose as he relished the homely smell, though he was brought back down to earth when Gregor muttered beside him. "It's shit."

"It's home." Patrek countered, looking up at the castle of Greenstone in the distance. He could see the candles in the tower room where he and his family would play so regularly as children and a grin appeared on his face. "Come along, Gregor, time for you to meet my family."

He led his mentor up the path through the village and through the gates of the castle, where he was overwhelmed to see his family gathered to meet him. Lord Alyn in the middle, his brown cloak surrounding his green clothing like a shell. Beside him stood both Lady Bethany and Robert, now a strapping and bearded young man of 18, with his younger brother Alaric beside the heir to Greenstone. Then came Patrek's own family, his mother Tyanna, brother Ormund and sister Alynne all beaming and eager to see him. Firstly, Patrek moved and bowed his head politely to his Lord. "Lord Estermont. Lady Estermont." He then bowed to Lady Bethany.

"Ser Patrek." Lord Alyn said, his voice gruff but with a cheerful tone. "Welcome home, son."

Alyn, Robert and Alaric had been over to the mainland to visit him on rare occasion in the past few years, but none of Patrek's immediate family had seen him since he had departed, and so Patrek stepped back and gestured to Gregor. "This is Ser Gregor Mertyns, Lord Donnel's cousin. He raised me to knighthood and taught me all there was." Patrek then pointed out his family for the benefit of the Mertyns one by one.

With formality soon out of the way however, Tyanna rushed forwards and swooped the 16-year-old into a firm hug. "My boy, I have missed you."

"Hello Mother." Patrek said softly, wrapping his own arms around her.

He gave his little sister a hug and his brother a ruffle on the head before he was set upon by Robert. "Come, tell me everything!" The heir to Greenstone exclaimed. "We have so much to catch up on."

"You know I am only here for a few nights…" Patrek began, but he was waved away by Robert.

"Then we must start early!" Robert stated as he was led towards the main hall, where Patrek saw that there were decanters and plates already set out for a small welcoming feast, and as the stories flowed and wine drunk, it was almost enough to want the Estermont to stay home, though in the back of his mind the drive to prove himself for her remained.

"Where are you starting?" Ormund asked, dragging Patrek back into the room and conversation. "I've been doing some research on the sellsword companies…"

"We will start in Tyrosh." Gregor stated, having prepared most of the planning. "If there is nought to be found in the Disputed Lands close to home, then we shall try further afield, Volon Therys is always after new recruits…"

"Can you stay for the wedding?" Robert asked. Frowning, Patrek's mind went immediately to Androw Frey. "Princess Visenya and Ser Cristian Celtigar are to be wed in three months' time and all the Lords of the Realm have been invited."

Patrek knew Cristian Celtigar from the tourney circuit, and from what he knew of the Claw Isle heir a Princess with Visenya's beauty would be wasted on him. To answer the question, Patrek shook his head. "Our passage is booked; we leave in four days." He explained.

There was a small silence as the reality of the short visit seemed to settle over everybody. Thankfully Lord Alyn took the initiative and raised his goblet. "Then we shall spend those days in celebration over Ser Patrek's achievements! A Squire's melee champion at 13, and soon to be a veteran of whichever company you choose. Afterwards, I am sure the tourney circuit will tremble at your very name! To Ser Patrek!"

"Ser Patrek!" His family all toasted, causing his cheeks to warm up and shine red, the young knight completely enjoying the warmth of his family before his adventures began.

317 AC

A year of fighting. That was what it had been as Patrek tore into a chunk of stale bread as he sat beside the one remaining wall of what he presumed was once a house. The Disputed Lands were in chaos as both Myr and Tyrosh had joined forces against Lys, with the island state making a new play to extend their lands within the region with the Golden Company in their employ striking fear into the hearts of the Archon's of the two allies.

As he had arrived in Tyrosh, it had been less than a day before both himself and Gregor had signed up for the Second Sons company, commanded by a man known to all as the Titan's Bastard. From there he had integrated with a small group of men from all over Essos. Aresso Adarys from Tyrosh, Kem from Fleabottom, Bokkoko from Qohor and surprisingly one of the company's higher ups, Ben Plumm who claimed to hail from everywhere. And it was Ben who was trying to keep spirits up as they rested in the once village before marching further, as the Second Sons tried to flank the Golden Company by marching along the Great Lake.

"Did I ever tell you that I could be the King of your lands, Westerosi?" Ben stated boldly, causing Patrek to almost choke on his mouthful and begin to cough, trying to recover. "You think I jest?"

Patrek went to swallow the bread and nodded. "I know you do."

"Pah." Brown Ben waved away. "I have dragon blood in me boy, some old Plumm married himself a dragon Princess back in King Aegon's day." Patrek wished that Ormund was here to fact check the man. "A famous fellow, with a 6 foot cock as my grandmama used to say."

Patrek snorted along with the others in the party, though it was Adarys that retorted. "He will look down and be sad at what his ancestors have become." He said in broken Common Tongue, causing the main group to laugh.

"My manhood is big enough to take you all." Plumm boasted. "Come, Bokkoko, tell these fools…"

The Qohorik scowled and threw a stone at the elder man, with all others laughing. Patrek noticed that Gregor was staring up at the sky quizzically however. "Gregor?"

The man shook his head as he looked back at Patrek. "Sorry, I thought I saw something. It must be the light."

"The sun makes you see things." Adarys noted. "Out on the waves for days, you see demons and monsters beyond imagination that are not there."

"We are too used to rain and storms." Patrek countered. "The Stormlands are beautiful, but not for the fair weathered."

"Pah, storms." Adarys scoffed. "I sailed through hundreds; they no not frighten me. When I buy my ship…"

He was halted in his words as a loud call came from further into the village. "Zaldrīzes!"

Patrek noticed the Essosi in the group's eyes widen in horror. "What is that?" He asked, not knowing his Valyrian as well as he should despite his year here.

"Dragon." Plumm scowled. "A fucking dragon."

"I knew it." Gregor whispered, as all of them rose to their feet and rejoined the Company, spotting what was coming for them in the distance. A streak of red was angling towards them from the direction of the sun.

"DAKON!" The next call went, and Patrek knew what that meant. He grabbed his sword and helmet and made a run for it, heading over towards where he new the lake was nearby. He looked back and up and saw the creature was growing larger, its red scales familiar from Patrek's brief time in King's Landing.

"Bloodwing!" He exclaimed. "It's Princess Visenya!"

He stopped running for a moment to turn and face his King's eldest daughter, though his awe turned to horror the moment that flames bellowed out of the dragon's mouth and engulfed dozens of fleeing Company members. He felt an arm grab him and yank him away, with everybody now sprinting in various directions. "COME ON!" Gregor roared, having the same idea as Patrek and heading towards the lake.

Unfortunately for them, the Princess had the same idea, and a gust of wind followed the dragon racing overhead, soaring up as it spun around in the air and then angled towards them, letting out a burst of flames that incinerated Bokkoko and Ben Plumm within seconds, along with dozens of others that happened to be in its way. Patrek skidded to a halt as he ran to the side, trying to escape the searing heat that was causing him to sweat profusely beneath his armour.

A look back towards the village showed that there were three or four other areas of fire, but the dragon had had enough and was flying southwards getting smaller and smaller until it was a mere dot in the sky. Feeling relieved to be alive, that feeling suddenly turned to anger as Patrek looked around at the devastation a few minutes had caused. "How do we beat that?" He whispered to himself.

"By preparing." Gregor muttered angrily; his own armour singed. He turned around and shouted to any nearby company member. "FORM UP QUICKLY! SOMEBODY FIND MERO OR WHOEVER THE FUCK IS IN COMMAND NOW!" He then turned back to Patrek. "If the Rogare's have called in the Princess then Westeros could follow… we need to fall back, regroup, and figure out what the fuck is going on. This war just got a lot more complicated."

319 AC

Gregor had been surprisingly right. Whilst King Lucerys had not gotten involved in the Essosi dispute, the inclusion of Princess Visenya and Bloodwing had completely turned the tide of the war and together with the Golden Company, pushed the combined forces of Tyrosh and Myr back to the western coast of Essos and split them between their two cities before peace talks had been started between the three city states, that would end up in Lys' favour given one of the negotiators was to be Princess Visenya.

Patrek found himself in Tyrosh with the Second Sons waiting for their final payment before departing for pastures new and as he sat down waiting for Gregor to return, he began thinking of his experiences, realising he was in two minds. On the one hand, the battle experience he had gained and the tactical thinking he had mustered when having to factor in a dragon had caused him to rise up the ranks of the Company quickly to become a searjant, and he had found that he was good at leading men into conflict. But they had ultimately lost the war, a stinging feeling that kept needling him.

When Gregor returned with a pouchful of golden coins and the agreement of their contract coming to an end, the first thing they did was head to the nearest tavern and order two large pear brandy's. Once they had sat down, they began to discuss their next options.

"Norvos is gathering swords." Gregor said after a sip. "The Pirate's in the Rhoyne are growing bolder and the Bearded Priests have vowed to put an end to them." The thought of traipsing further into Essos for a war that they had no connection too wasn't the most appealing thing to Patrek, though as he thought on his home, and of Bella… "Or we could travel to Pentos, we have enough coin to last us a year or so if we are frugal, we could see the sights." Gregor suggested.

He was a warrior, not a scholar. There was another option however, one that might have been unpopular… "Or there is the Golden Company." Patrek suggested. "A stable home, a fierce company… we've proved our valour now, they will accept us."

Gregor glared. "We lost friends to their swords. Brothers in arms."

"The life of a sellsword." Patrek countered. "They pay well and Volon Therys is a fortress. We could be happy there."

Gregor stared through him, and Patrek knew that the Mertyns knight had understood. "And as far away from Mistwood as possible."

Sighing, Patrek took a large gulp of his drink, finishing it. "We agreed not to speak of it."

Gregor scowled. "I left my wife behind, Pat, to follow you and make sure you didn't do something foolish like getting yourself killed fawning over my cousin's niece. Three years I've been away now and not once have I complained to you, not once have I mentioned it. Well now I am. She is married, with children likely following. Forget Bella, and move on. There are hundreds of girls who would make fine matches now."

"None I want." Patrek muttered.

Gregor huffed. "Enough of this. I suggested Norvos or Pentos because I care about your happiness and your survival, but if you are determined to brood yourself to death… then I will have no part of it." He stood up. "I'll find a boat for home on the morrow, you do as you wish."

The Mertyns knight rose to his feet and skulked away to pay for a room, leaving Patrek alone at the table. He grabbed the elder man's glass and finished that drink too before getting up for another… and another… until 4 more had passed his lips and the room seemed like it was spinning.

When he awoke the next morning his head was pounding, but his mind had been made up. As he rose out of the gutter and brushed himself down, Patrek slowly made his way to the harbour of Tyrosh, scoping out to see if any of the ships were going to pass by Volantis. It took a while, but after an hour of conversations he found a record that one would be leaving in three days. Signing himself up, he then went to a different tavern to grab himself a warm meal, and as he was eating a man sat himself down opposite at the table. Without looking up, Patrek retorted in Tyroshi Valyrian. "I have no money for you, friend."

"But maybe an ear to lend." The voice sounded, and it was a familiar one. Looking up, Patrek was delighted to see an older Ser Roger Mertyns, Gregor's elder brother. "I've been trying to find you and Gregor for weeks. Is he…" Roger trailed off.

"We've just returned to Tyrosh." Patrek explained. "Gregor will be looking for passage back home. We… argued."

Roger sighed in relief. "Thank the Gods." He whispered. "You need to come back too, Patrek."

Scoffing, Patrek lapped up the remains of his broth. "Not likely." He muttered. "I'm off to Volon Therys and the Golden Company."

"There was a war." Roger stated quickly. "It all happened so fast I know not if you have heard." Patrek hadn't and shook his head. "Lady Jocelyn broke her betrothal to your cousin Robert and wed Prince Aegon instead. 5 months later, a babe was born to her."

Patrek scowled. "So the whore was pregnant before her wedding?"

"Yes. And Lord Alyn took great offence to that." Roger explained. "He gathered his allies and demanded satisfaction from both Lady Shireen and King Lucerys. They refused."

Patrek's fear grew. "He didn't…" He whispered.

Roger simply nodded. "The battles went well initially, Alyn crushed Lord Lyonel Selmy beneath Griffin's Roost and was gathering allies in the Stormlands, those that still hate King Lucerys for his treatment of us. But the dragons…"

Patrek had dealt with Bloodwing enough over the last two years to understand. Gulping, he whispered. "What happened?"

And Roger explained. "Ser Rolly Duckworth halted the advance and forced Alyn into a retreat, but the King… he descended on Mistwood himself."

"Bella?" Patrek asked, horrified.

"Alive." Roger told him quickly. "Though her husband perished." Patrek went to breathe in relief then, but the next names broke his heart. "Alan was killed, as was Mychel…"

Alan Mertyns was Roger and Gregor's brother and well liked by the pair of them, but it was the latter that sent Patrek into sheer anger, clenching his fists up as he wanted to pound everything. "Alynne?" He asked after his sister. Roger's shake of the head broke the Estermont, as tears began to flow freely. "I'll make them pay." He muttered.

"Alyn made a stand on Cape Wrath." Roger continued. "He was captured. Robert… Robert was killed by Prince Aegon. Then they crossed the water and assaulted Estermont." Roger said softly. "Patrek… Lucerys Targaryen left nothing…"

The tears had turned angry then. "Mother? Ormund?" He whispered.

"Gone." Roger whispered back sadly. "Alyn had been captured, and Alaric was told to surrender the castle or Alyn would die. The boy knew that Alyn was dead either way so tried to rush them in a sortie…" The Mertyns trailing off made Patrek understand that his younger cousin had died too. "He was brave, Prince Aegon knighted him himself after they fought."

"Well that is fine then." Patrek muttered darkly. "At least the gracious Prince knighted my cousin after killing him."

Roger nodded with a sigh. "Then the black dread come again burned the castle with everybody still inside… I saw the flames on my ship still raging as I came here."

His heart was broken completely. He thought he had more time, time to win himself some glory before returning home triumphantly, Robert bellowing his successes, Alynne and Mychel now with children that he could dote on, his Mother proud of her son and glad of him to be home… all those dreams had been dashed in an instant.

His scowl grew and was cold, as Patrek vowed something to himself. "They will pay." He warned. "Lucerys Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen…" He thought of the friends he had lost in the Disputed Lands to dragon flames. "Visenya Targaryen, any and all who share that cursed blood. I will make them pay myself."

"How are you to do that?" Roger asked incredulously. "We are broken, Patrek, there is no Greenstone to return home to. Even the villages burned. Donnel is broken, I came here of my own accord, he sits there in mourning."

He had some ideas, and his time out here in Essos had given him a starting platform. "We find Gregor and tell him all. Then, we head to Pentos. I have heard a tale of a Magister there who hates the Targaryen's more than anybody in the world." Though he noted to himself that he would likely come close now. "We need funds, Roger, but we will see that the dragons are brought down low again, I swear it."

So there we have it, a blood feud was born and the reasoning for the entire story from the eyes of our antagonist… I hope this gave you an insight into the Knight of Shells' mind and gives him a little bit more of an understandable reason for it all. There are a lot of OC's here I know, even more than usual despite the type of story this is, but I hope you followed along too and enjoyed it.

Next Time: We'll actually get the Battle of Greenstone!

Reviews:

Darbiboi: Just that he is the legitimised son of Lyanna Stark by Rhaegar Targaryen kept secret for his own safety. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. Jon doesn't want to be used by those that dislike Luke so having his trueborn status still not public knowledge is the best thing for him.

C.E.W: Visenya would have been disappointed in both Luke and Saella. Luke for forcing an unwanted marriage on yet another daughter after hers went disastrously and of course Aegon's caused a war, but also in Saella for being as stubborn as she was and abandoning her family while not seeing the political benefits of a match with Ned Dayne.