By the time the dawn arrived, the surviving Ironborn had been driven back to their longships, with their fleet sailing out of view of the sentries placed at the highest points of Lannisport. It had been a long night, the Ironborn had caught them off guard, and the City Watch barely managed to turn the fighting into a stalemate under the command of Lord Commander Tytos, until he took an axe to the neck. Dramen would have to find a replacement soon enough. Still, at least they had been able to turn the tide once reinforcements from Casterly Rock arrived, driving the Ironborn raiders out of the city.
Yet, even with that victory, the loss of the Lannister Fleet stung, the pride of Dramen's Father and his father before him. Without the fleet, any form of a counterattack would be delayed by years, if not decades without help from the Reach or King's Landing. Rebuilding the fleet would be a princely endeavor, one that would likely come from Dramen's pocket. And with the docks in desperate need of repairs, the coffers of House Lannister of Lannisport were likely going to be much emptier for the next year or so. That was fine, Lannisters always rebuilt, stronger and better than before. The districts closest to the docks had been hit the hardest, with the fire that engulfed the fleet spreading quickly despite the best efforts of the City Watch.
All those buildings and ships were expensive and would take time to rebuild. With the docks in desperate need of repair, it would take months if not a year to start building new ships, and even longer to regain the trust of the merchants that had lost merchandise and coin in the attack. At least some of the ships could be refloated from where they had sunk in port.
Those thoughts did little to stop a frown from forming on Dramen's face as he rode to the Gold Keep, with Ser Larys, Ser Tygett, and Ser Kevan by his side. A collection of other knights, mounted men-at-arms and squires followed behind them. Dramen and Ser Lary's armor were the dirtiest of the four, caked in blood and dirt, they smelled awful.
"I am very appreciative." Dramen drawled, doing his best to hide his lack of sleep in his voice. "Had Casterly Rock not answered our call, I fear driving the raiders out would have taken much longer."
Ser Tygett's lips curled upwards. "Casterly Rock always remains poised to defend its bannermen, especially family." They were distant cousins, since Dramen's grandmother had been their aunt. Still, family was family, even if the bonds could be somewhat distant at times.
"There's no greater bond than blood." Ser Kevan added. Both brothers had removed their helmets, leaving them only in their Lannister plate armor decorated with images of a golden lion on red. Ser Kevan's wife, a daughter of House Swyft had a mansion in Lannisport, she was lucky she had been visiting Casterly Rock when the attack had occurred. He shuddered to imagine what would happen if she had been targeted. As it was, he was going to have to act very carefully to keep his head.
"On that I can agree." Dramen nodded. Ser Larys remained silent, holding the banner of House Lannister of Lannisport with an aching swordhand. He had refused to allow a squire to hold it. The Lantell had been in the thickest part of the fighting, never leaving Dramen's side. Such loyalty would have to be rewarded.
The rest of the trot to the Gold Keep was in silence, with the fighting long over the smallfolk had slowly started to come out of hiding, emerging from their homes with wide and confused eyes. None stood in their way, out of fear of being trampled by their destriers and war horses, or out of sheer shyness. Under the rule of Lord Tywin, the Lannister name had become more respected and feared than loved. That didn't stop some from cheering.
"Lions of Lannisters!" A little girl in a ragged old dress shrieked.
"Lannister!" An older man in a fine doublet boomed, raising his fist in the air. Others began to join in with their own cries.
"Casterly Rock!" A whore wearing a revealing dress shouted from the balcony of her brothel.
"Lannisport!" A bruised and battered member of the City Watch walking the streets raised his spear high in the air.
"Lannister!"
"Lannister!"
Dramen pressed his lips together, remaining silent even as the knights, soldiers and squires cheered along with the crowd. He just wanted to get home and see his family. Under the care of Ser Tylan, they should've been safe and sound, far away from any fighting. Weiss should still be asleep at this hour even if the news somehow had somehow awoken her.
It took longer than he had expected, due to the streets suddenly becoming full of cheers and shouts, but in the end the Gold Keep soon came into view, with its high walls and moat. The drawbridge was lowered, with at least a dozen mounted men-at-arms guarding the entrance, and about double that in foot. Scores more patrolled the walls, crossbows and short swords in hand.
Urging his mount into a faster trot, Dramen and his companions soon reached the drawbridge. A massive knight on a dark destrier was waiting for them, his heavy steel plate armor covered by a surcoat with the image of a boar. The Crakehall had his helm by his side, revealing his dark and bushy mustache that was connected to his side whiskers. His long black hair fell to just below his shoulders.
"Ser Lyle! A pleasure to see you again, though I wish it had been under better circumstances." Dramen spoke first, approaching the large man. The Strongboar was a regular visitor to Lannisport and Casterly Rock, often visiting for tourneys or to visit the brothels.
"Lord Dramen." Ser Lyle Crakehall bowed his head slightly. "Ser Kevan, Ser Tygett." He didn't give Ser Larys a glance. The Strongboar looked serious for once. That was not a good sign.
"Is Lord Tywin present?" Dramen inquired. Kevan Lannister was rarely far from Lord Tywin's presence. Where one was spotted, the other was sure to be nearby.
"Aye, Lord Tywin requested that you be escorted to the Great Hall as soon as you arrive." Ser Lyle answered, his voice deep and low.
Dramen frowned. "Allow me to wash up and I shall meet him as soon as possible."
Ser Lyle shook his head side to side. "Lord Tywin specifically commanded to escort you the moment you arrived."
This was not good. Family they may be, but Lord Tywin was still a hard man, exterminating the Reynes to the last child when they opposed him. And as the Lannister in charge of presiding over the single largest defeat in recent memory, Dramen's position was fragile.
He wrinkled his nose and gave the Strongboar a single nod. "Very well, lead onward Ser Lyle." He wouldn't shirk his responsibility, or the consequences therein. He had failed, and it was time to pay the Stranger.
As Lord Tywin often said, a Lannister always paid their debts.
The halls and corridors of the Gold Keep were lined with soldiers, each clad in the finest armor available, and armed with short swords and spears. Dramen didn't recognize many of them. Evidently they were some of Lord Tywin's foot, which did not bode well for his own forces. Their armor was cleaned and polished, while the Lord of Lannisport looked like he had just emerged from the battlefield.
Ser Lyle led him to the foyer of the Great Hall, where dozens of knights and lordlings were already breaking their fast. Dramen could feel some of their stares, he looked out of place with his battered armor, blood stained beard and greasy hair. He felt another pair of eyes trained on him, green with flecks of gold in them. Lord Tywin sat at the high table, in Dramen's seat. Taking a sharp breath, the younger Lord approached.
"Lord Tywin." Dramen paused before the high table to bow, an embarrassing thing to do in one's home. Under the circumstances though, it couldn't be helped. And if it was all the price he had to pay, he'd do so gladly. "I must thank you for your assistance, Lannisport owes you greatly."
Lord Tywin stared at him for a few seconds with cold eyes, before turning to the parchment beside his plate of grapes, imported from the Reach. "The Westerlands are now the laughing stock of all Seven Kingdoms."
Dramen remained silent, hardening his eyes and doing his best to keep his composure. This was not a time to speak. Not unless he had a sudden desire to travel North and wear black for the rest of his life.
"Our fleet sits at the bottom of the bay, and Lannisport is half burnt to the ground." Lord Tywin continued speaking. He was exaggerating about the second point, the majority of Lannisport remained untouched. "Do you know how this makes us look?"
Dramen licked his lips and bowed his head, avoiding Lord Tywin's accusing glare. "Weak, my Lord."
"Weak." Lord Tywin scoffed. "We look like fools allowing my fleet to burn, we look like buffoons who will now have to rely on King Robert's strength just to muster a reprisal. We can match the Greyjoys on land on our own, but without a fleet my armies are useless. The Sunset Sea is their fortress, and without our battering rams our superior numbers are useless."
Dramen clenched his fist. It was well known that Lord Tywin only cared about his reputation.
"I have already sent a raven to King's Landing, requesting help from the Royal Fleet." Lord Tywin's jaw was tight. "I have no doubt that Robert will send his younger brother, Stannis, to take command as Master-of-Ships."
Stannis Baratheon, the Iron Stag who had held Storms End for over a year while the Tyrells and Redwynes did their best to starve him out during Robert's Rebellion. The man had held onto the ancient castle until the end of the war, when Eddard Stark marched south to relieve him. He seemed to be a fine commander, but he was unblooded at sea, untested and raw. King Robert naming him Master-of-Ships had caused quite an uproar in all the houses with any sort of naval tradition. That soon turned into whispers in between cups once it was made known that Stannis was stripped of Storms End and given Dragonstone instead.
Why was Lord Tywin saying all of this in a room full of other men, instead of in his solar? Was this his way of punishing and embarrassing Dramen in front of his bannermen? He was already embarrassed as it was, his port was burned to the ground and he had to beg for help from his liege lord.
"And you, you couldn't even protect your family correctly." Lord Tywin's voice level dropped, sounding more like a growl than a whisper. Dramen felt his heartbeat skip, his hands released from his fist.
"M-My Lord?" Dramen nearly croaked, his lips dry. Was that supposed to be a threat? He resisted the urge to try to strangle his cousin. If he'd pulled another repeat of what had happened to Lady Martell and her child as an abject lesson to him, he would kill the man, kinslaying be damned.
Lord Tywin's cold eyes seemed amused. "It appeared that this attack coincided with a raid on the Gold Keep. The Ironborn had managed to pierce your defenses, and had attempted to make off with your wife, daughter and their companions."
Ceria and Weiss were nearly taken as saltwives? Where was Ser Tylan? Their safety had been his responsibility!
"Fortunately, my forces arrived before they could escape with their ill-gotten gains." Lord Tywin reached for the pitcher of wine, serving himself a small glass. "Your wife and daughter are safe, the Maester should be seeing to any injuries they have about now."
Lord Tywin raised the cup of Myrish glass to his lips and took a small sip. "Go and see how they fare. We will have much to discuss with war on our horizon, and wash up. You reek of death."
Dramen bowed his head deeply once more, anxious to see his wife and daughter. He would find Ser Tylan once he was done and get an explanation from the old knight.
"Yes, my Lord."
The Maester's Tower was located at the far end of the Gold Keep, towards the east away from the coast. Maester Harmune had been in the service of the Lannister of Lannisport for decades, and had helped Ceria when she had given birth to Weiss all those years ago. The old Maester was one of Dramen's closest advisors, alongside Ser Larys, Ser Tylan and Joff the steward of the Gold Keep.
Not bothering to strip off his armor, Dramen sped towards the Maester's Tower, with servants and guards doing their best to stay out of his way. It worried him somewhat that there seemed to be far less of the later than the former, at least, in his house's colors. It took longer than he would've liked to arrive at the Tower, or at least it appeared to take longer. Catching sight of the door to Maester Harmune's room, Dramen shoved the door open without a word, wiping his armor as best as he could with a wool cloth he had grabbed from a cleaning maid.
Ceria was sitting on a cot, her already pale skin lighter than usual, with one of her hands covering her mouth as she shook softly. She was crying, and Maester Harmune was nowhere to be found.
"My Lady!" Dramen ran to his wife's side, and got on one knee, stripping his hands of the gloves and gauntlets that he wore. He took her free hand into his own hands, seeking to comfort her. "Are you injured?"
Ceria shook her head, her silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders. She smelled of lavender-berries, and wore a simple red dress. Her blue eyes were puffy, red and swollen from her tears. "I am fine, husband. Maester Harmune assured me that I suffered no injuries."
That was good, excellent even. Dramen pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hands, doing his best to avoid touching her with his dirty armor. She didn't seem to mind though, her cheeks reddening.
"Maester Harmune is currently examining our daughter." Ceria croaked. That only made her tears seem to fall even more, though she whispered prayers under her breath. Strange, his Lady Wife had never been a particular devout follower of the Seven.
"Weiss? How is she?" Dramen's heart dropped. "W-Was she-"
Ceria shook her head once more. "She was not touched by those men, n-not in the way you may think she was."
That only made him more anxious. Then what had happened to cause his wife to be in such a state? "What do you mean, my Lady?"
His Wife started to speak.
A/N
Another quick update though it's not as long as the previous two. We'll be jumping back to Weiss' POV next chapter to see how she's holding up.
I hope everyone has been enjoying these constant updates.