A/N: The first two parts of this chapter happen well before chapter 14 with the rest happening after the events of chapter 14.l Like with all my stories suspension of disbelief is required. And last but not least, please be merciful to the mistakes I likely made in this chapter when it comes to the sea and ships.

"Behold, let that night be barren; let no joyful cry enter it. Let those curse it who curse the day, who are ready to rouse up Leviathan."- Job 3:7-8 ESV

Farwynd & Fire

By Spectre4hire

21: The Third Interlude: The Captain of Queen Cersei

Lord Renly couldn't sail his way out of a puddle let alone lead them across the Narrow Sea.

Jason Lannister did however, have to admit that the Lord of Storm's End did possess some talents. He was seeing them on full display tonight at the feast the king's brother was holding for them. He had invited the captains from all the ships who would be accompanying him. It was a sumptuous gathering and many of the captains who came from lesser standings were easily and happily swayed by the charming Lord Renly.

He wasn't won over. Jason had no love for Stannis, who had never been particularly warm to him, since his commission had come from the Queen instead of at his recommendation as Master of Ships. He thought my appointment was entirely without merit. Jason had been happy to prove that wasn't the case. I wasn't an oarsman on some pleasure barge. He had been the captain of Lady Joanna, a sturdy warship, one of many from the rebuilt Lannister fleet.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Ser Jason?"

He smelt more than a hint of Arbor Gold on Renly's breath. "I am, my lord," He hadn't joined the other guests who had left the tables for the fine couches. "I'll be thinking of this food when we're a week out at sea, eating hard bread and cold beef."

Renly chuckled, a rich, infectious sound that made his own lips twitch. "This feast will look like a beggar's banquet, Ser Jason," he said in a strong, convincing tone. "When we return with the Targaryen princess and the ironborn traitor."

"I'll hold you to that, my lord." He'd be a liar if he didn't say Lord Renly hadn't made him smile or to feel important in a conversation that lasted all of a minute. But what did that matter? You can't hope to charm your way out of a storm.

Renly smiled, clapping him on the back, before excusing himself and making his way over to one of the couches, where three different captains jumped up to offer him their seat. Three men who called him a spoiled ponce a night ago in some dingy tavern. Now, they sought an opportunity. He wasn't one of them. Jason may have been a Lannister of Lannisport, but they too paid their debts. He owed the Queen for his rise. And he would not turn his back on her.

She had plucked him from Lannisport and had given him the honor to captain a ship that bore her name. The generous queen hadn't stopped there, she offered his daughter, his sweet Rosamund a place in her court to serve as a handmaid for the Princess Myrcella.

"Ser Jason."

He turned to see the familiar Ser Davos, and he nodded towards the former smuggler. And took his hand when it was offered. Jason thought better of the Onion Knight than most. He isn't one to flaunt his new station. He was glad to note. He remained humble and knew his place was still below them. Jason thought there was nothing worse than up jumped merchants who thought themselves their equals because they had heavier purses. Blood cannot be bought, he thought proudly of his own heritage.

"I heard you'll be coming with us, Davos." He was pleased to hear that Lord Renly would have him on-board Fury with him.

"I am," Davos looked a bit surprised by the appointment. "My son will be captain of Black Betha."

Jason raised his wineglass in honor of Matthos Seaworth's promotion. "Are any of your other sons coming with you?" He couldn't keep track of all the Seaworths. There were so many and were scattered throughout the capital.

"No, ser," Davos answered, "Wrath, and Lady Marya are staying. Maric was the oarmaster for Fury, but he's not coming with us."

"Oh?" He asked more out of politeness than genuine interest. He saw the onion knight hesitate to answer, but he couldn't stop his smile, nor hide that look in his eyes. I'm no different, knowing he looked the same when thinking on his Rosamund.

"Lord Stannis is making him his squire while I'm away," Davos said. "Maric wants to be a knight more than a captain. It's a rare opportunity," he admitted, humbly aware of how fortunate he was, and wise enough to know what he wasn't. Equals.

"My congratulations," Jason was a knight himself. A title earned not given. He didn't know Maric Seaworth well enough to know if he was worthy of such a distinction. Regardless, he'll never be my equal.

Davos' response was lost in a drunken commotion. Jason saw it as it happened. Renly had risen from one couch and when he attempted to move to the one across from it, he stumbled. Lord Renly played it off as a jape that got the captain's laughing, and then when he ordered more wine, cheering, but not him.

Look men, he wanted to say, here's our leader who's preparing to cross the Narrow Sea from King's Landing to Pentos, and he's upset in trying to cross from couch to couch.

The day his daughter saw him off she was wearing an expensive red dress, but he hadn't hesitated to commission it. Rosamund was in the company of royalty now, and she couldn't look out of place.

Princess Myrcella had come too, curious and excited to see it. She had just recently celebrated her name-day, having turned ten and six. She was the mirror image of her queen mother, and seemed the very model of a royal princess. Rose had often gushed about Myrcella's kindness and generosity, giving her a beautiful golden bracelet for Rosamund's last name day. The princess wished him well and said he'd be in her prayers for a safe return home before excusing herself so her handmaid could have a private parting.

Rosamund ran into his arms before the princess could make her exit. "Be safe, Father." The top of her head was now past his chin.

When had that happened? He couldn't remember. His little girl had blossomed into a lovely woman. She deserves to be a wife of a respectable lord, a lady to a great castle. Jason hoped that if he did well on this mission, he could secure that great marriage. She was already friends with the princess, and he was sure Queen Cersei would reward him for seeing these traitors dealt with.

He kissed his daughter's yellow hair, so like her mother's. "I will, Rose." He promised, "We're bringing the might of the Royal Fleet to bear." He looked her in the eye, to see she wasn't swayed. She knows more about sailing than Lord Renly. "Perhaps, not all her ships," he amended, earning a small smile from her, "But these are ships of war and are worth more than any ship this ironborn has to offer."

Her smile remained frail and slim. "You sound so confident."

"Because I am," he placed his hands on her arms. "You don't think a few dirty ironborn can bring down this lion, do you?" His fingers then slipped beneath her arms where he knew she had been ticklish as a girl, and within seconds, he proved she still was.

"Father!" She protested, in between peals of her own laughter. She looked back as if afraid the princess had returned. She hadn't, but when she looked back at him, there was a shift in her demeanor. Her eyes shone with concern. "In court, we've heard some of the stories about him," she said softly, and shuddered, "I just want you to be safe."

Touched by her concern, he nearly smiled at her naivety at falling for court gossip. He didn't even want to know what outlandish stories spread through the Royal Court like a sickness about this Dagon Farwynd. "I will, Rose."

Four deaths, Jason Lannister wrote in his captain's log.

The latest had been a young man, Ham, who had been a good lad for smallfolk stock. His father had named him after his trade, a butcher who worked in the capital. And according to Ham, his father had given all of Ham's siblings names that involved their father's work.

Death was no stranger to a man of the sea. Jason had seen many men die in his years across different ships. Men who were swept away by rough waters, brushed over the side as if they were weightless. It was how their first death happened. Martyn, a hoary sailor with a sore hip, but still had enough strength and wits about him to keep a position on ship. He claimed to have fought against Dagon Greyjoy, the Last Reaver. And he seemed tickled that he'd be there to see justice to another Dagon, who had flaunted the authority of the Iron Throne.

After the fourth, he retired to his cabin wanting to think over these past few days and deaths. Roland, his first had suggested they send word to Renly, but Jason refused. I'll not be blamed for this. It was why he was looking through his log. To ensure that the evidence would point to poor circumstances and not a poor captain. Besides, the last thing he needed was a lord who couldn't tell starboard from port to mark him as a poor captain. A bad report could sink his aspirations. It could tarnish Rose's marriage prospects especially if he lost the Queen's favor. And he couldn't allow that to happen.

He had started at the beginning, three days ago, when a rough swell had swept Martyn overboard. If I told Lord Renly about swells would he even know what I was talking about? Jason doubted it. No one had seen poor Martyn go over. It was at night, but he had been talking with Blackbob, telling him stories about his travels and his exotic women, and then silence. There wasn't even a shout. Blackbob raised the alarm, and squinted in the darkness, but Martyn's head never emerged from the whitecaps. That hadn't surprised him; he's watched younger, stronger men be dragged down by the sea. A man of Martyn's age, had no chance especially in such choppy waters.

There had been a bright spot for them when the next morning, they were greeted to an albatross, a presence that delighted the crew. They fed the bird well, thinking it was Martyn returning to them, to give them all one final blessing. And the bird's stayed since.

He poured himself one of his favorite Dornish Red vintages knowing this was going to take a while. He gulped down only a little, the sour taste bubbled in his mouth and down his throat, but he welcomed the change in feeling. It was in his reread when he realized something that hadn't stood out to him as it had been happening. It was about the sea.

They've been traveling through rough waters since Martyn's death. The skies were clear, and they were getting good winds, but they were enduring hard waves as if coming from a storm. But there's no storm. Looking back on the last couple days, he couldn't recall such a bad turn of luck when it came to poor sailing especially when the weather had been so good. It wasn't just the odd change in the sea that got his attention. It was a passage after Martyn's death detailing a conversation between him and his first.

"A scratching?" Jason had just overseen Martyn's rites when his first had come to him while the rest of the crew dispersed.

Ser Roland Hill was a Lannet bastard, who seemed more pleased with how his mustache had been coming in on their voyage than over anything else. To Jason, it looked more like a yellow smear, but he kept that to himself.

"Yes, Captain," He replied earnestly, "He said he heard scratching along the underside of the hull, before the rough swell took Martyn."

The he was one of their crewmen, Dale. A twitchy man of questionable reputation, who was thin as a reed with shrewd eyes, who shielded his bald head beneath a bright bandana . "Dale," Jason repeated Roland's 'reputable' source. "He thinks Dagon Farwynd consorts with mermaids and is working with the Deep Ones!"

Roland frowned. "Is he?"

"Get back to your station, Roland."

Scratching, he thought over the word before sighing. I'm considering the ramblings of a sailor who jumps at his own shadow. But he was desperate, he'd have to inform Lord Renly about the deaths eventually, but he wanted everything in order before he did, to show that he was blameless. And he was. The other three were tragic, he thought, but they still had reasonable explanations. Not Ham's. He pushed down the cold dread that swirled inside him, and drained his cup, hoping the dornish red would smother it. It didn't.

"Gone?"

The morning skies were bleeding brightly as night gave way to morning. He was greeted by a chill in the air, and an even chillier report. Roland had woken him with a sudden knocking, hours before he was expected to rise. Loudly blurting out the news that had gotten Jason to scramble out of his bed and onto the deck. Dressed more like a drunk sailor than a respected captain who carried the vaunted Lannister name.

"He's gone, Captain."

The words bluntly pushed through the fog of sleep that made his thoughts hazy and partly formed. Ham was gone. "Did you check the cabins?"

"Yes, Captain. I checked everywhere. Ham's not on the ship."

"That's impossible," Jason mumbled. "He was on the lookout." He looked up to where Ham was supposed to be, high up in the crow's nest. He couldn't just disappear, lookouts had been lost before but that was usually in bad storms. Or in tragic accidents, where they'd crash back onto the deck. There hadn't been a storm last night, just more rough swells. And there was no sign of where he could've fallen on the deck.

"He was, Captain," the crewmen said, "I came up to relieve him. I shouted his name, first thinking he was asleep, but when he didn't answer. I climbed up and he wasn't there." He shrugged. "Nothing was there."

"Go back to lookout," Jason ordered, before turning to Roland. "Wake up everyone. I want this entire ship looked over, top to bottom."

They found no trace of him.

With more time, he was sure they'd find something that would prove Ham's death was another accident in line with the others. Renly's hardly an expert on sailing. He'd likely believe anything I'd say. Jason wasn't ready to do that quite yet. He flipped the pages of his log until he reached the next two deaths, which had happened the night after Martyn's.

They were the brothers, John and Blackbob. They hailed from King's Landing, Bob earning his name Blackbob because he was apparently born in the Blackwater Rush, or so he claimed. Jason suspected it had more to do with his shaggy black hair. Unlike Martyn, the brothers were young, and had great futures ahead of them. He was certain both could be captains one day, but instead, he had to see to their final rites. A pity, he had thought afterwards, about the good dying young. However, he didn't have the luxury to lament about futures that would never come to pass now. It was their deaths he had to focus on now. And only after a few lines he found something- Scratching. He couldn't believe it, but the word had returned. He reread the passage in which it came up again.

"John said he couldn't sleep," the surgeon-barber Bill had said, after their deaths. "He complained he kept hearing some scratching." The plump barber shrugged, "But I didn't hear nothing."

"That's because you snore!" Jason hadn't written which of the crew pointed that out.

"He said he was going to get some air."

"And you didn't see him again?"

Bill shook his head. He gave a sheepish chuckle, "I was already out again before he reached the deck."

"And what about Blackbob?" Jason had asked after the younger brother, who disappeared after John.

Someone else answered. "He was getting worried, Captain."

"Probably because he's listening to your nonsense, Dale."

"Unlikely," Dale's teeth were a bloodred due to his sourleaf habit. "I was just telling him about how I saw lights in the water-"

"It's called a reflection," Someone quipped as others chuckled.

Jason ignored them. "And you didn't see him again after he left?"

Dale considered the question before answering. "I did not."

Jason closed his captain's log. What did I find? He stood from his seat, and was about to answer with nothing, but he didn't. Scratching. He thought that might have actually been worse than nothing. What did scratching prove? If they had actually heard it, and if they did, so what, ships made odd noises, it didn't mean anything. If I asked Dale, he'd claim that the scratching was coming from merling tridents. It was hard to put any weight into Dale's words. For gods sake, the sailor thought the albatross was spying on him. The truth as inconvenient as it was, was that no one had seen anything, and a few could recall some vague scratching. Gods, he called on all of them, make sense of this madness for me. Frustrated, Jason left his cabin, and hoped the cool evening air would improve his mood.

The crew as expected respectfully greeted him when he came on deck, and he gave them a nod, and was about to go further along by himself before spotting Rusty, the ship's carpenter, who had been working last night, he waved him over.

"Captain, something ya need?"

"Last night before you went to sleep," He couldn't believe he was asking this. "Did you hear anything? Like scratching?"

"Scratching, Captain?" It was impressive how respectful Rusty was able to keep his tone over such an absurd question. At Jason's resigned nod, he shook his head. "Can't say, I did."

Jason thanked him and sent him back to his duties. He wandered the deck, wondering what he should do next, and if he did need to send word to Renly. Thankfully, the crew had handled these accidents relatively well save for Dale and his companions. The fallen were mourned, but the crew understood how cruel the sea could be, and how close they were to death when they chose to sail. Still, he needed to be seen to take action. He couldn't coast on their experience forever. Lord Renly would accept any suggestion I were to give for the causes, he reasoned, and he suspected the Lord of Storm's End wouldn't throw much of a fuss over a few dead sailors.

The gentle squawk of the albatross perched above him stirred him from his musings to realize that he had walked over to the main mast where the crow's nest was. His own spirits buoyed at knowing he'd not be blamed for these accidents; he couldn't help but smile when he greeted the sea bird. "Hello, there."

The albatross returned his greeting with another squawk.

Jason chuckled and was about to turn back when he spotted it. His smile dipped in an instant. He walked closer to make sure it wasn't a trick, but it wasn't. There on the mast further up than any man could reach were scratch marks.

The flapping wings of the albatross got him to turn to watch the bird take flight. He expected it to fly away, but it didn't. It merely circled them, high above their heads. I'll speak to Rusty, he decided, mayhaps, he or one of his apprentices were doing some work. And they had just forgotten to inform him.

Sure-footed once again, Jason took in the sky, to see there was still some light, a soft violet that heralded the night. Somewhere ahead of them was Renly's Fury. Queen Cersei was the last of the fleet. Lionstar and Horned Honor were both ahead of them, but at this distance and with the dwindling of the light, he couldn't see either ship. And behind them, was nothing but open seas.

He further appreciated the sky's beauty by taking in its reflection which was painted along the sea's moving surface. That was when he saw the light. The sky's reflection, he was about to dismiss until the lights flickered and the colors changed. And that's how he saw it. Its glowing aspect that displayed its unfathomable outline which showed that it was quickly rising up. He stumbled backwards, bile burned up his throat, as did the word, and he wasn't sure what would slip past his lips first until he opened his mouth: "KRAKEN!"

Queen Cersei lurched to a sudden halt, causing some to stumble while others fell. In the kraken's grip, it could shatter their hull with just a bit of force, but it didn't. We're completely at its mercy. A chill slithered up his spine. Jason looked down into the sea below, to see the waters around the ship were churning and frothing.

The sea bulged, lifted, and sprayed straight up to reveal tentacles that shot up around the ship like the teeth of the sea itself. He was doused by the seawater that fell down on him like rain. Jason craned his neck, looking in equal parts horror and fascination to see they seemed to keep going, higher and higher. On some of the tentacles he saw they had retractable barbs that reminded him of dothraki arakhs. And then the thought came to him: Were these what made the scratch marks? They could've easily reached the crow's nest. Had the fourth deaths not actually been accidents, but something worse? These questions only sprung up more questions, but the truth hardly mattered in this bleak moment.

Before his death, Martyn had claimed to see a kraken in his youth. Had claimed to have watched its suction cups rip his mate's face off. Jason considered it nonsense, but now he couldn't be so sure. The suction cups on these seemed more than capable of such a feat. He stopped counting the twisting tentacles after ten, when more seemed to be rising up all around Queen Cersei, completely entangling the ship. Their blood red skin shone and rippled, thicker and wider than the ship's mast. The tentacles undulated, writhing in a savage rhythm each their own.

The seconds after the kraken revealed itself moved slowly for Jason Lannister. He looked around to see his crew was just as slow to respond. Taking in their living, moving prison with ashen faces. I need to rally them. He spied the scorpions, but the orders stopped in his throat because the kraken was faster. And it knew.

In a blur of movement and wrath several of its angry arms attacked, smashing the scorpions into splinters. It wasn't just the scorpions they hit, he heard the sounds of men shouting and crying out as they were caught in the ferocious beating. He was hurled backwards by the force of their blows, landing on his back. The hull buckled beneath him, groaning like a dying animal. For a second, he thought it might come apart, but it stayed afloat.

It was the kraken. This was a creature of sinister intellect. It wouldn't let them sink because it wasn't done with them. We're its playthings. A knife seemed to pierce through him, driving a wedge to let the thick fear slip into him. The kraken lifted its many arms and tentacles, each of them moving with their own savage awareness. And then like snakes they struck in all different directions.

Queen Cersei made for a stage before his eyes. She was a proud war galley, and by now, he was certain none of her crew was below deck. Those who had been sleeping were startled awake only to come up, to see their ship caught in a forest of squirming tentacles that clutched and crushed their crewmen.

Jason watched one try to attack a nearby tentacle with an ax, but the blade was unable to cut into the creature's skin. "Behind you!" he shouted, seeing a separate tentacle slithering around the deck to grab the axe men from behind. He had just enough time to scream before he was hurled overboard. His body made a sickening crunch when it hit the rail before it fell into the water below.

All around him, lives were being brutally cut short. He pushed himself to sit up, but he couldn't find the strength to do anything more. His body was paralyzed in terror of the prowling tentacles that spread along the ship like rapidly expanding roots. Not even the thought of his Rosamund could get his legs to work.

The survivors of the initial attack stopped trying to fight, and fled by jumping overboard, but the tentacles were too cruel and gave chase. Some did crash into the sea since they all couldn't be grabbed at once, but their freedom was short-lived. Their desperate splashing and swimming only alerted the tentacles to their presence, and they too were taken. The kraken's many arms rose from the sea, clutching their bloodied and shredded prizes. Some were still alive, moaning in agony, pierced by barbs, but just as many came up dead.

Dead or alive, it didn't matter. The kraken would consume them all.

Jason felt his own body shutting down. Thought and reason abandoned him, his mind overwhelmed by an ancient fear, and it held him enthralled. There's nowhere to go. They weren't near enough to any other ship, and even if they were, what could they do? He felt the tears on his cheeks and accepted his end. I'm sorry, he thought of his daughter and then she was gone by the terror swept through him. Broken and weeping, he tried to cover his ears, but he still heard the bone-chilling shrieks as men all around him were being hunted and killed.

He saw the surgeon-barber, Bill, snapped up by a tentacle. He tried to cut at it with a dagger, but that only made the tentacle squeeze tighter. Jason couldn't look away. It kept squeezing and squeezing, and Bill kept screaming and screaming, and then POP!

His head disappeared in a red, fleshy mist. His body was a pulpy mess, but the tentacle slipped away with what it could carry.

Somewhere above him, the albatross squawked. It was flying low, weaving around the tentacles who seemed totally uninterested in the sea bird.

"Captain!" Roland was running towards him, carrying a spear.

A slithering tentacle cut him off. The knight tried to stab at it with his spear, but the tentacle wiggled out of its way, as if it had eyes to see. My poor first, Jason thought, watching the young knight fight on. You can't beat the sea. But Roland tried, this time he feigned left, but went right. The tentacle wasn't fooled, acting like it could think, it caught the feint, slapping the spear away before it pounced.

Roland was lifted high up into the air. His arms and legs dangled and thrashed uselessly until the tentacle fully wrapped itself around him like a constricting snake. Its barb ended the knight's misery, by going right through his skull, stilling him in an instant.

We are specks in the face of a god. A dreamlike calm came over him then. No more tears, and no more fears. The kraken reigned over them in all its malignant magnificence. That was when understanding dawned, warm and bright inside his mind. And it's our duty to serve it. He saw it so clearly. It was our purpose. That acceptance made him feel free, made him feel as if he was floating. Until he blinked and realized, he actually was. A tentacle had wrapped itself around him so gently he hadn't even noticed. He giggled.

High up in the air, Jason felt like he was soaring. Look at me! He wanted to shout to the albatross that was flying calmly through the carnage. He looked down to see Queen Cersei be completely crushed in a massive tangle of writhing tentacles, sinking in seconds. The waters around the ship were a crimson whirlpool choked with bodies and flotsam.

Lightheaded, he saw movement beneath the sea of blood. This was the ascension. He welcomed it, a chance to see it in all its glory. He wondered why he ever thought to fear it.

Rising from the rumbling sea was an impossibly large mouth that made him think of a red lake inside a blue ocean. It was filled with rows beyond counting of bristling teeth that glittered in the moonlight, except at its center where its sharp beak rose up like a great curved mountain. Around the beak were smaller tentacles. Or were they tongues? He watched, transfixed as they roiled and licked the immediate space around the beak, picking up pieces of half-chewed men to swallow.

Sacrifices, a giddiness passed through him. We're to be sacrifices. There was a small part, a selfish part, an irritation inside him that tried to fight, that tried to return, to remember, but it was too late. To return would bring back the fear, the pain, the loss, and Jason wouldn't let it.

We're on the road to awe.

He smelt the breath of a thousand corpses. He spotted more fleshy remnants of his crew, impaled on the teeth. And then he saw one of them move. He was happy to know that they would witness him. But unlike him, they hadn't accepted the great fate that awaited them. They were twisting and crying with their ripped faces and mangled bodies. One of the larger tentacles came down to get them, delicately peeling them off before flinging them screaming into the open maw.

And then it was his turn. He smiled all the way down.

A/N:

Jason Lannister is an Oc. Rosamund Lannister's parents aren't named in the books, so I made her his daughter. And I made him a good dad, bc ASOIAF needs more good parents. If it wasn't clear, I apologize, but Jason basically cracked. I was trying to go Lovecraftian with it, but probably came up short. All that being said RIP Jason, sorry to create you only to kill you. It be like that sometimes.

The kraken is made up of a bunch of different traits I liked and took from across fandoms because it's my story and that's how I wanted it. Sorry to those who were looking forward to seeing an ASOIAF kraken instead of this OP abomination.

Renly stumbling between couches was inspired by a part in Plutarch's "The Life of Alexander the Great," where it's King Philip of Macedon who stumbled, and Alexander, his son who made the quip. That being said, King Philip is way cooler and more accomplished than Renly, so I'm sorry king for doing you dirty.

I just wanted to thank all those who took the time to review this story since my last update. It really meant a lot to me, and I can't stress enough how much it helped me l b/c I went back to read your support several times while I struggled through this chapter wanting to deliver something good for you all.

Until next time,

Spectre4hire

P.S: With this chapter complete every one of Dagon's companions has now been 'seen' on page.

Rhaenys, a shark: chapters 2, 4, 16, 18

Sam, a sea eagle: chapters 2, 9, 11, 16

Alyn, a raptor: chapter 11

Mary, an albatross: chapters 14, 21

Grond, a leviathan: chapters 16

A spotted whale: chapter 12

A kraken: chapter 21