Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun.
Book 2
Chapter One-Hundred and Forty
Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to his Grace King Eddard, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, was not a young man. And he was not new to war.
The War of the Ninepenny Kings was his first, he had been so busy fighting that he hadn't stopped to realise how terrified he had been. They called him a hero, for cutting a bloody path through the golden company and slaying the last of the Blackfyre pretenders, and for that act he life was defined ever onwards as he was named to the Kingsguard, an honour he had never known he wanted until it was given to him.
And then there had been the rebellion, the maesters still dithered about what it should be called. Some said it should be called Renly's Rebellion, though the boy had not started it, had been hidden behind the walls of Storm's End, and died less than half a day after the siege of the castle had ended.
Others called it Eddard's rebellion, as he had been the one to decree that Renly should be king, more argued that it should have been called the rebellion of the Great Houses as it was the Lords of Stark, Arryn, Tully, Baratheon and Martell who had set the thing in motion.
What it was called didn't truly matter to Barristan, in the end war was war. The horrors were always the same.
In truth he hadn't seen much of it, he was a kingsguard and his duty was to protect the King and Aerys had barely left the Red Keep even before Duskendale, he was not the sort of man who would wage a war himself and so Barristan could do nothing but stand back and watch as younger men fought and died in his steed.
And when he finally was sent out, when Prince Rhaegar had returned and lead a glorious host into battle, he had failed. His prince had died, one of his sworn brothers died and the other one turned his cloak. And he lived only at the mercy of the men who had defeated him.
And now he served a new king, and this one he was following into war.
The Iron Islands were a grim place, and the mood aboard ship only made them seem the grimmer. They had more ships than the Lady of Lannisport was like to have but she had been building up her fleet for years with only one purpose, to bring vengeance on to those who had taken her family from her. Barristan could not blame her but he could not forgive her for it either, how many would die for her vengeance? How many would die to stop it?
The first skirmish was over quickly, three large ships that had been patrolling the waters near the isle of Saltcliffe, they had sailed out of sight of land and then sailed back towards them, it should have been a mostly bloodless fight. Some of the crew would no doubt put up a fight, honour demanded that they did not just yield to them, but once a bit blood was spilled the others would throw down their swords and yield to them.
They did not yield, not as many that should have. They fought on bitter, with bitter curses in their lips and hate in their eyes. And Barristan understood then, it was not just Lady Lilianna that wanted vengeance. She was not the only one who suffered, she was not the only one who lost her family when the Ironborn sacked Lannisport.
Three ships full of men, and only a dozen of them still lived when it was finally done. Out of ninety between all three ships
And it had not been bloodless on their side either, they had lost a hundred men. That hundred was split among more ships, the most any single ship had lost had been no more than five, but it was not a sign that Barristan liked. They might well win this war, but how much would it cost them?
Pyke was before them now, and this was where the main strength of the Lannisport fleet lay. It was an imposing sight even at a distance, no doubt it had already lost some of it's ships when it had attacked the islands, even with the element of surprise on their side, and it had already lost three more but it could still be no less than a hundred and fifty ships before them.
The horn went up and the ships were moving, as it began to rain Barristan sighed and prepared himself.
When both fleets clashed together Barristan was behind Prince Torrhen as he lead the boarding party on to the ship that came alongside them, King Eddard had charged him with keeping his son and heir safe and Barristan would not fail him.
"My son has nearly died once," The King had told him in his solar on the eve before they were due to depart from King's Landing. "I have lost one daughter, and another may yet be in danger. I did not wish to be king, I did not wish for a great many things that have happened to me. But I would never wish to not be a father, and Torrhen is the future of the realm. He will be King one day, and you are the greatest knight in the realm. Keep him safe, that is my only command Lord Commander."
And so, any man who came near Prince Torrhen died. Either by the prince's own skilled hand, or Barristan's.
Prince Mors would be with his father, the spare to the Iron Throne had always been better with a bow than with a sword and so he had been given command of a company of archers. Barristan could hear the sound of arrows flying through the air, and wondered how many men died from them.
A Lannister spearman lunged at him and Barristan flung himself backwards before slamming his shield into the man's back, sending him over the edge of the ship and into the dark sea to drown.
It was a long and gruelling battle, when it was done Barristan was certain that his arm was going to fall off and the seas were chocked with bodies and wreckage but they could finally make safe landing at Lordsport, only ten ships of Lady Lilianna's fleet remain afloat and those had been captured as prizes of war.
Lordsport had been burned, every house had been reduced to nothing more than a husk of what it was and Lord Botley's castle had been reduced to rubble, and gelded corpses were hanging from the walls.
"Sawane Botley was an old mean bastard, and that is coming from another old mean bastard," Quellon Greyjoy said as he stared up at the fattest of the bodies, the Lord of the Iron Islands and the Master of Ships should be back in King's Landing, abed with covers up to his chin as he waited to die but he had refused to be left behind until his islands were liberated.
Lord Quellon coughed, bloody phlegm coming up which he spat on to the ground, and spoke on. "Might be he deserves that, might be we all do. But he was my leal man, cut him and his kin down and give them to the sea."
From there it was the long march overland to the castle, the skies were a heavy grey and still spitting but the storm that threatened to bring down it's wrath never came.
They found Lancel Lannister waiting for them on horseback, dressed in crimson plate holding aloft a peace banner. "They call you an honourable man," was the first thing the young man said to the King as he rode up, Barristan holding the king's peace banner. "That may well be true, I hear that some in the realm have even taken to calling you Eddard the Just, my Lady would give you the chance to prove it."
The King was silent, Lord Greyjoy's grandson was not. "Are you making a jest!?" Maron Greyjoy spat, looking moments away from leaping from his horse tackle the younger man to the ground. "You and your bitch cousin have attacked my home, slaughtered hundreds of my people and squat in my Lord Grandfather's castle and you dare try to offer us terms!? I should cut your throat open and-
"Enough," the King said, not taking his eyes of Lancel. "Lady Lilianna's fleet has been destroyed, the only castle you hold is Pyke. You are surrounded by enemies and all of them are calling for your blood, tell your lady that if she yields the castle to us then I shall offer her a merciful death by beheading, which is better than what I imagine most of the Ironborn have planned for her, and I will allow the rest of those loyal to her to return to the mainland and take the black."
"If she does not accept this offer, then we shall have no choice but to take the castle. By siege, or by storm."
"If you besiege us then Lady Asha Greyjoy and Lord Theon Greyjoy will be the first to starve, if you storm us then they will be the first to die." Lancel responded, if he was afraid then he did not show it. "Lords Balon, Victarion and Rodrik all died fighting, Aeron Greyjoy was given to the god that he loves so much. Your brother and sister will join them, Lord Maron, if you do not consider carefully."
Maron cursed and his knuckles were white around the reins of his horse, and Lancel smiled before turning his attention back to the King. "The Ironborn burned my lady's home and killed her family, and they did it because your wife brought them into this war. If you truly are just, then you should demand repayment from the Ironborn. You never did, so my lady took it in blood. Your wife should have been punished, she wasn't. This was the only way, and all of us who followed her would do it all again."
"Send for your Queen and strike off her head, scour the Iron Islands clean of the scum who cling to it, my lady will surrender the castle to you then. And not before," the boy spoke madness and horror so calmly, as if it was as easy as breathing to him.
King Eddard did not explode, like Aerys would have. But the rage he felt was clear all the same. "Return to your lady, boy. And tell her that what happens next is her own doing."
The royal pavilion had been set up during the parley, and the war council had been gathered. Lord Quellon did not weep when told of the lose of so many of his sons, but he did seem older than he had a mere moment ago. It was Lord Rodrik Harlaw of Ten Towers who finally spoke. "We cannot risk Asha, nor Theon. Alannys will not forgive me if we do not save her children."
"Uncle," Maron began and looked like he was moments away from screaming. "Her terms were clear, the slaughter of the rest of the islands and Queen Elia's head on a spike. They aren't going to give us my brother and sister, they are dead already and given the madness that seems to be running in this Lannister bitch then they might well be glad of that."
Rodrik Harlaw looked devested for a moment, and then left the tent. When the silence was finally broken it was broken by Lord Quellon. "I have outlived all but one of my children now," he said softly. "And the one left to me is...not the one I would have chosen to be spared, more than any of them. And now, I have only three grandchildren left. If we could save Theon and Asha, by any means, I would. But we cannot, what we can do is storm my castle, take it back, and make the lion bitch scream. And I'll make her scream before I die, I promise you."
The King was silent as he stared at his master of ships, before he glanced over at his sons before nodding. "We shall storm the castle on the morrow, it will be bloody I do not doubt but the rest of the Realm has it demands that must be meet, rest well tonight my lords. I fear we shall all need it."
And with that Barristan left the tent and made his way to the all white pavilion that had been set up for the sworn brothers of the Kingsguard, leaving the protection of the King in the hands of his sworn brother Ser Brynden Tully, a good man and one he could feel comfortable seeing to the King's protection.
He was alone in the pavilion and sat down at the table, and poured himself a glass of wine. The king had the right of it, it would be a bloody thing on the morrow and good men would die. Barristan sipped his wine, and his mouth was filled with the taste of the fruit of summer. He wondered if he would ever taste them again.
Barristan placed his goblet back down on the table, he should get back up and see where the King wanted him on the morrow but for some reason he suddenly felt very tired. His eyes were heavy, and his breathing began to slow.
"I thought it was the kindest thing I could do," the voice was familiar and sent a surge of panic through Barristan's chest, he should have risen then, cried out, drew his blade and run the eunuch through but Barristan could not rise, he had never felt so tired. "A gentle death."
"Varys?" He asked, but his mouth was stone and his words were slurred.
The former master of whisperers strode in front of him, he had traded his favoured robes of silk and lace for boiled leather armour and cap, his plump shaved cheeks were now covered in stubble. To all the world, he looked like a thousand men-at-arms Barristan had known, a thousand he had killed. "I truly am sorry Ser Barristan, in a different world you might have been a friend. But you are a legend to the smallfolk, a sign of legitimacy to any king you rode with. I cannot have it."
The tent was growing dark, and cold.
"Yes, a true pity. But perhaps in some ways a kindness. The realm will be riven by war once again, Winterfell is in the hands of a bastard usurper due to Lady Lysa's foolish actions, a sweet surprise to my ears. Dorne is in chaos with Lady Ashara and her children waging war against House Martell, and that I did have a small hand in. And of course, we mustn't forget the dragons."
"Yes, four red dragons. The dragon in Casterly Rock, who is nothing but a pawn to his grandfather. the dragon at Sweetport Sound, who is nothing more than a figurehead for the angry faithful. The two dragons in Meereen who will bring fire and blood to Westeros when they come, spurred on by a spiteful Princess Cersei, a more perfect pawn I could never hope for."
"And when the realm is in chaos, when there are kings and queens in every corner, the people both high and low will look for a saviour. And they will find one, a true dragon." The last thing Barristan ever saw was Varys's smile. "A black dragon, with a golden army."
End of Chapter One-Hundred and Forty