Chapter 46: King's Landing
The wind whipped at his clothes causing him to shiver a little and prompting laughs from the Ironborn.
"Has Ser Eats a lot not gotten used to the cold?" One of them said.
"I doubt it, look at the fat on him. He probably eats the cold in the north." Another said.
Wendel kept silent. He knew what was going to happen and he knew not to give the game away. Instead he allowed the Ironborn to push him and to taunt him. He knew they'd get their just deserts in the end.
The Iron fleet had left Pyke a few days' ago, heading for certain destruction in the North. Wendel had overheard some of the conversations that the Ironborn were having and he knew they weren't happy that Theon was joining them. Indeed many of the Ironborn felt he should've been drowned alongside Wendel and Marq.
Marq, Wendel glanced to the side and saw his companion being dragged to the water. The young man had resisted at first, such that the Ironborn had had to beat him into unconsciousness. Wendel had tried to explain to the man that it was better not to resist, but the folly of youth had meant he hadn't listened. Wendel just hoped that the King was more mature.
The touch of the icy water prompted him to gasp.
"The fat man tastes water." One of the Ironborn remarked laughingly.
"Put the Riverlander into the water first." Came a harsh bark that belonged to Balon Greyjoy.
Wendel risked a look at the man, Balon Greyjoy looked frail. His hair was thin, his skin was sallow, and his eyes popped out. Was the man dying?
"You won't get the same satisfaction from drowning him." Wendel said.
Balon Greyjoy stared at him, something passed over his face then, something close to amusement. "Fine, the fat one can be drowned. Aeron get to it."
The two men who had hold of him forced him further into the water, where Aeron Greyjoy stood. The man, chief of the Drowned Priests looked mad. His hair was all over the place, his skin was pale and his eyes, his eyes were crazed.
He knows not what he meddles with.
"Wendel Manderly, you have failed in your obligation to the Grey King and the Drowned God and so you are to be drowned." The man gestured and the two men holding him plunged him into the water.
Salt came rushing into his body, through his nose and when his mouth opened involuntarily, through there. He had to fight to keep his calm. He reached out to the dark and the deep.
"I have come, as you asked." He said to the dark.
A voice answered, it was deep and echoed around his skull. "We have called you and you have come. Now, you must tell us, is the King worthy of our protection?"
"Yes." Wendel said, if there was ever anyone worthy of the protection of the dark and the deep, it was Robb Stark.
"And you know that once you have asked us for help, it cannot be withdrawn?" the voice asked.
"I do." Wendel answered. His father had told him it might come to this, and he had been prepared for it.
"Then we shall do as you ask." The voice answered, silence followed.
Wendel blinked, his lungs were filling with water, but he wasn't dying.
The darkness came suddenly, it rushed up to meet him, a figure, long in hair and hands and arms stared back at him, then it touched him. Wendel shivered as the cold and the dark filled him, the words of an unspoken promise echoed in his head. The memories of why his family had been expelled from the Mander echoed in his head.
Everyone thought it was because they had grown too powerful, but in reality it was because they had never abandoned the worship of The Deep. The Seven was a convenient excuse for a religion to follow. Only the Starks knew the truth. At least they had done until Lord Rickard had burned in King's Landing.
Now, it was time to use their gifts for the Starks, as once the Starks had used theirs to protect them from the Gardeners.
When the pressure became too much, Wendel pushed himself up out of the water.
He heard the gasps of the Ironborn, but he ignored them. Moving with a quickness he had never possessed before, he grabbed Aeron Greyjoy and squeezed the man's throat until the man's faced popped. He threw the body into the deep. He then turned and moved to the land.
He heard screams and turned and saw that the Deep was coming to assist him. He picked up Marq and placed him on the beach, before advancing. Balon Greyjoy's guards had fled when they'd seen him kill Aeron, that meant he was left alone with Balon.
The man stared at him, unable to speak. Wendel picked him up and squeezed, as the man choked, Wendel explained. "You abandoned the Deep, and they have not forgotten. You attacked a brother of the Deep and now you must die." With that he threw Balon to the ground. He turned to the water and yelled. "Reclaim what was yours." He moved to where he'd left Marq and picked the man up and walked away, when the Deep was done, there would be no more Pyke.
King's Landing emerged before them. Months of preparing, weeks of dreaming and here it was. The capital of the Seven Kingdoms, the city that had taken his father, his uncle and his grandfather. The city he would make his own. The city he would break and rebuild in his own image.
There was a force outside its walls preventing him from going right to the gates and demanding entry. Robb called his army to a halt, Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime and Ser Jon pulled up next to him, their white cloaks moving in the wind.
"It seems Joffrey has decided he doesn't want to make this easy." Robb said, after having spoken with both Myrcella and Jaime about the boy, Robb wasn't surprised.
Lord Tywin who had come ahead of him approached Robb then. The man bowed his head once then straightened. He wore gleaming armour the colour of night with red jewels within it. "Your Grace, it is my displeasure to say that Joffrey has decided he wants to try and fight you."
"Is he here?" Robb asked. He wouldn't mind getting the opportunity to kill Joffrey, indeed that might make his day.
"No, Your Grace. Instead, he has sent Ser Meryn Trant to discuss terms." Lord Tywin said.
"He sent the man who hurt my sister to discuss terms?" Robb asked, his anger growing. He would not forget what the man had done to Sansa. He also knew that this was a deliberate taunt from Joffrey. No doubt he hoped it would provoke Robb into taking some sort of rash action. He couldn't do that though.
"Well, let us see what the boy has to say." Robb said eventually. Lord Tywin nodded to a herald who rode off and returned a few moments later with a burly man who wore the Kingsguard white, but also held himself as if still recovering from an injury.
"You are Meryn Trant?" Robb asked.
"I am." The man replied. "And you are the pretender."
Robb ignored that and instead asked. "What does your boy master want?"
Ser Meryn grimaced at that but replied all the same. "He knows that offering you a chance to return to Winterfell as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North won't work, so instead, he says you can either fight the army he has gathered, or choose someone to fight me, in single combat. If you win, the gates of the city will open, if you lose, then you will be executed."
Robb looked at the man and frowned. This had to be a trap. Would Joffrey really make something this simple? Surely not. There had to be some sort of ploy at play here.
"What's the catch?" Robb asked.
Meryn Trant shook his head. "No catch, this is the offer. Take it or leave it."
Robb looked at the man and then looked at Lord Tywin, then looked at the three Kingsguard he had with him. He could always fight the man himself, but that would be degrading, a King did not fight a mere knight. No, he'd choose the man who could finish this quickly. "Ser Jaime will be my champion."
Meryn Trant swallowed before saying. "Very well, I will have the circle formed."
Jaime took a breath, the circle had been formed, the fight was about to begin. He'd looked at Ser Meryn and he knew the man was weak on his left side, whatever wound Ser Barristan had left him with meant he was also weak on his right. Jaime got the sense that the man had lied. It hadn't been Joffrey who had sent him out, it would've been Cersei. Which meant that there was some wider game going on here.
Whatever it was, it wasn't his job to worry about it. His job was to fight and to win. And he was quite confident he could do that. The only member of the Kingsguard-Robert's or the King's-who could beat him was the Lord Commander. And the man was not going to be fighting him any time soon.
Jaime stepped into the circle and drew his sword. He looked at Meryn. The man was barely holding himself up. This didn't seem fair. Jaime was tempted to offer to fight with one of his hands behind his back to make up for the power difference but decided against it. Better to send a message.
Ser Meryn moved quickly. He swung hard. Jaime turned his swing to the side. He knocked into the man, causing him to stagger. Jaime then brought his sword up and hit the man in a gap between his armour. The man flinched and stepped back. Jaime held himself back. He didn't want to fall into a potential trap.
Ser Meryn growled. He moved forward swinging wildly. Jaime moved to the left, then the right. Ser Meryn followed. He swung again, Jaime blocked his swing and pushed back. Ser Meryn stumbled backward. Jaime waited. Ser Meryn righted himself and moved forward to attack, however, Jaime had had enough of playing. Now he would dictate the terms of the game.
He moved forward quickly, blocked Trant's swing and then pushed, Trant stumbled, Jaime followed. He hit the man on the helmet and then on his arms, he then pushed, hammering away as Trant continued to stumble. The man didn't seem as if he'd gotten his balance back. Still Jaime didn't want to finish him off just yet. Instead, he wanted to humiliate him a bit.
Unfortunately, he didn't get that chance. Trant left himself exposed and Jaime struck. His sword ripped through a loose bit of armour-more leather than actual armour-and pierced skin. Jaime pressed in harder, then ripped his sword out. A jet of blood came pouring out. Trant stared at him then stumbled to the ground. He tried to say something but couldn't and instead he fell, dead.