"And Jesus asked him, 'What is your name?' He replied, 'My name is Legion, for we are many.'" Mark 5:9 ESV
Farwynd & Fire
By Spectre4hire
26: Narrow Sea III
Renly didn't know if it had been a few minutes or hours since his world had gone black.
I had been coming down to my cabin. He slowly tried to piece it back together. The crew had been showering him with cheers, still chanting his name as he went below deck. There were wet footprints across my cabin floor, he remembered, and there was someone in my seat.
"I was told you were looking for me."
The rest of the memory came as an unbidden mess. The closing door, the masked intruders, the pain, it was a jarring wave that crashed over him. The shouting and screaming that erupted on Fury, drowning out his own. He blinked it away not wanting to be reminded of the pain and darkness. His first few glances were a blurry haze, but he could tell he was still in his cabin.
He was bound to a seat. He raised his head to see he wasn't alone. In the dimly lit room, the shadow was slow to come into focus, tall and man shaped. The first bit of color Renly saw were the eyes, an eerie blue. "You've reached the edge of the map, Lord Renly," the shadow's voice was as unnatural as he remembered, "And here be monsters."
Renly ignored the striking chill that went down his spine. "Farwynd."
The ironborn smiled. "And so much more."
"How?" He asked. "How did you get here?"
"I ferried my men over."
"No," he shook his head, "the crew would've seen the ships."
"Who said anything about using ships?"
A sudden blood-curdling shout above their heads made him forget about the ironborn's confusing words and his likely lies. "The crew?"
Farwynd's expression hadn't changed by the intrusion. He nodded.
"All of them?" Renly's stomach twisted when his question was only met with silence. "What about the other ships?"
"Sunk." There was a strange shine in Farwynd's eyes.
"I presume you will be ransoming me back to my brother." He said, projecting a confidence he couldn't muster. He wanted to plant and then secure the idea between them. The expected accord between noblemen who fought on opposing sides. No different than me ransoming back what I lost in a tourney joust.
A glimmer of amusement flickered over his features. "And why would I do that?"
"I'm the king's brother," he answered, but Farwynd's eyes were unblinking, unimpressed. "There will be lots of gold."
"I already have more gold than your brother could offer," the intruder leaned back in his seat. It irked Renly at how comfortably he looked in Renly's chair. "Besides last I heard the Iron Throne was millions in debt," he had also helped himself to Renly's wines. "The Spider keeps me well informed."
"Varys?" Renly gaped, "that snake!" A flare of anger spat up inside him, a hot burst that kept the creeping cold fear momentarily at bay. Stannis had been right. The court should've been purged after Robert took the throne. But instead, he thought miserably, the rot remained and the old allegiances to the dragon appeared remembered. And I'm the one paying for it.
Farwynd chuckled. "He must not be too fond of you, Master of laws." There was no mirth in those everchanging eyes. "Since he sent you to me instead of your brother." He rose from his seat, and that was when Renly noticed the blood splashed across his shirt. It looked black in the near darkness. "If it brings you comfort, Stannis will fare no better against me." There was no comfort to be found, only the icy, gnarled fingers of fear that wrapped themselves around his heart.
"My brother already smashed the ironborn once," Renly found a strange sort of amusement in his newfound admiration in his older brother. To make it better it had gotten an unexpected rise out of the ironborn. Good.
"I'm no Greyjoy," Farwynd's eyes flashed dangerously, "Your brothers should be grateful that it was a Greyjoy leading the rebellion, because if I led one," his voice was deep and brimming with old hatreds. "They never would survive the crossing. Your brothers, Lords Stark and Lannister, Arryn and Tully, all would sink and be claimed as worthy sacrifices for Him, but tonight, Fury is my altar."
"If you kill me," Renly could barely hear his own words over the hard pounding of his frantic heart, "there will be no chance for peace."
"Good," Farwynd said bluntly, "because I want war."
"You don't think to topple my brother with this beggar king?" He laughed at the absurdity, but the sound was raw and weak. The noise smothered by the growing dread.
The ironborn didn't take offense to Renly's outburst. "I wondered the same thing when they approached me." He moved around the desk as he spoke. "For nearly twenty years the Targaryens have been gone, but they still have families loyal to them throughout the kingdoms. Some simply longing for their return, others actively plotting for it, but in the end, the greatest boon to their cause turned out to be the Queen herself."
Renly frowned. "Cersei?"
Farwynd didn't respond, instead he looked behind Renly, and that was when he heard movement. Guards coming for him. The gloved hands that gripped his shoulder felt like claws, digging into his flesh. Bound, he still struggled, but they handled him with the ease of a sulking child. They hurled him out of his seat, and all but dragged him across the cabin. Despite his size and strength, he proved useless against them.
"Do not worry, Lord Renly," Farwynd's haunting voice chased after him. "I shall return you to your brother."
Renly heaved over the side of Fury.
The sweet wine he had drunk to celebrate his victory over the ironborn now burned up his throat as bitter bile.
"Someone has a delicate tummy," one of the ironborn said to jeering laughter.
They were unaffected by the horrors they had committed. The sickening sights that had led to Renly stumbling to the side and purging his stomach. He sagged against the railing as best he could. His stomach was reeling, strained from the exertion. His eyes were watery, and he felt drips of vomit dribbling down his chin, but he couldn't move to wipe himself. He knew he must look like such a wretched thing.
Seven Hells, he shuddered, what he had seen seemed seared into the back of his eyelids. He couldn't escape it. The very sea air reminded him of it, blowing over him with its coppery and brine scents mixed together.
The lucky were already dead. Died in the fighting, Renly figured, but many still lay where they fell. He had looked away when he saw one of those corpses. How could they have so much blood in them?
He saw ironborn dicing over the contents of seized chests that lay opened or smashed. The crew's contents of home and family were openly violated and roughly sorted by greedy strangers who appraised every piece with a cold calculation of its worth as plunder. There were bodies that had been stripped of their clothes and dignity. Their belongings were put into messy piles that were selfishly eyed by impatient ironborn who were eager for their cut.
Those who had been defiant against the ironborn attackers faced the brunt of their ire. Some were forced to line up, stand, and then watch as they were killed one after another. The ironborn sang while they slit their prisoner's throats, rough voices bellowing jaunty songs. Others joined in, some played drums while another fingered a lute, all of them singing as they watched the hideous killings unfold. The bodies were then tossed over the side. A sacrifice for their blood-thirsty god?
The cool night air was also rent with the sound of dying screams and pleas for mercy, such words were met with mocking derision by the ironborn. A squealing pig was likely to find more succor from a butcher. They were dragged forward, forced to their knees while men in soaked green, gray, and blue robes of sea and blood, presided over them with zealous voices over a crowd of devoted onlookers. Some sort of savage rites before they too were killed. Heads rolled while necks gushed red like grotesque fountains, bathing the priests and killers in a crimson mist. And they all cheered.
No more, he begged, before opening his eyes and hoping a new sight could shake loose the hold these horrors had over him. Renly looked down into the sea, and instantly regretted it. Down below he saw only more horrors in the red surf. Severed limbs, and bloodied torsos rolled along the sea's crimson surface, all of it floating in the chop. There were shark fins and tails cutting through the blooms of red foam, ravaging and attacking everything they could reach.
Their mouths filled with rows of sharp teeth easily tore through human flesh. They pulled and picked apart both the dead, and those still living. Biting into one such survivor, who screamed and thrashed, trying to scare the creature away, but the actions seemed to only draw more sharks to him. Like moths to a flame, and then he was shrieking and struggling in the frenzied whitewash that blossomed red from the hungry flurry of so many sharks.
"Mercy!"
A man's haggard shout made Renly turn to see that someone was dangling above the water. The man was bound to a pair of planks that made a crude x. He was suspended by a rope, only a few feet above the shark infested water.
And then he was plummeting and screaming. He dropped into the sea with a loud splash, coughing and spitting up water as the initial waves rolled over him. He was then raised just slightly so he wouldn't drown, but he was far from safe. Helplessly, he watched approaching shark fins which served as terrifying heralds of gruesome creatures and grisly deaths.
The man was lifted up, but a few sharks surfaced, snapping their jaws, but they met only air before falling back into the sea. Renly heard laughter and looked further up the deck to see a handful of ironborn were the ones responsible. They were being led by a man with pale eyes and dark curly hair. They were treating this torture as nothing more than an amusing game. Pulling him up before letting him drop, again and again. They played it for so long the bound sailor's throat was a raspy ruin that had turned his hoarse screams into a harsh barking sound.
"My spymaster loves his games," Farwynd was standing near him. He was looking below as the man was being reeled up, a shark surged out of the water with tremendous speed, snapping its jaws, just missing the dangled man by inches before it fell back into the sea with a loud smacking crash. "It's the anticipation that heightens the pleasure, he'd say."
It was only now that Renly got his first clear look at his ironborn captor. He noticed that he was a few inches taller than Farwynd, who had a warrior's build with broad shoulders and strong arms. He hadn't changed out of his tunic so the bloodstains darkened his orange silk shirt and now he could see there had been even more bloodstains on his dark pants and cloak. His midnight black hair and strong jaw would've made for a handsome visage, but it was marred by his eyes. Compelling, but uncanny, they made for an unsettling gaze.
"What do you think, Lord Renly?" He asked, "which is sweeter: the anticipation or the act?"
Renly turned away and was cuffed for it with a sharp clout by one of his guards. He grimaced, as the burst of pain passed through him. Farwynd must have given the order because the rope was cut. The man plunged into the water where the sharks were waiting. But this time there was no rope to pull him back.
She was waiting for him.
There was no softness in her pretty features. She regarded him with cold purple eyes. She wasn't dressed like a princess. She wore an exotic orange silk tunic peppered with opals and rubies, and black trousers. Does she know I argued for her death? It had been the topic of many small council sessions, and Varys had been there for all of them. Farwynd said he'd return me to my brother.
He looked ahead for a further distraction to see there was a small crowd ahead, all huddled around something that he couldn't see, but it was where the guards were leading him. When the group parted to let them pass, he saw what it was, and fear seized his muscles.
There sprawled out on the ground was a large Targaryen banner. And it was waiting for him.
It came to him with sickening clarity. The guards shoved him towards it. He fought both the guards and the rising panic within him, but he was losing both battles. "You-" He shouted, frantically searching for the ironborn liar, but when he couldn't find him, he turned his attention back towards the princess.
"I was a boy!" Desperation sawing through his voice. "In the war, I was besieged at Storm's End," He raised his bound hands in a clumsy gesture towards her, "And you weren't even born."
"Your brother returned," her voice was soft and angry, "And mine didn't."
Renly was forced to his knees in the middle of the Targaryen banner. That's when he saw him. "You said-"
"And that's what I'm doing." Farwynd was carrying a weapon Renly had never seen before. It looked to be some sort of mace or cudgel with a driftwood hilt, but instead of metal spikes, it was crowned by serrated shark teeth. Very large shark teeth. "I'm returning you to your brother."
Renly felt his throat knot and he tried to swallow down the choking fear. And then-
Daenerys didn't look away when the deathblow was struck.
Before she had wondered, would he beg? Her good sister had once begged for mercy, but that didn't stop them from killing her daughter. That didn't stop them from bashing her baby son's skull into a bloody ruin. And it didn't stop them from raping her, while their clothes and hands were still wet with her son's blood. Begging hadn't saved her family, so why should it save him?
A spiteful part of her had wanted him to. Let him beg, she thought when he was being escorted. Let him beg like the dog he is. She bristled angrily when he had gotten closer. He was just another one of the Usurper's dogs. She saw that plainly.
Before, he would have startled her with his towering frame and his supposed striking resemblance to his older brother, the Usurper. Even though that was a face she had never looked on, it still lingered over her like a great shadow. A shadow that has been hounding me since the hour of my birth, but she was no longer afraid of it. Dagon has seen to that, she thought warmly of her husband, he who vowed to protect her, to keep her safe from the Usurper and his dogs. And he has.
She watched him crumple before her. A brother for a brother. She stayed when they wrapped him in her family's banner. The first blow in the war to come. Daenerys saw the black cloth was dripping. When the body was carried away, blood drops splattered the floor with each step like red rain.
Our first victory. And that made her smile.
Dagon Farwynd waited for the prisoner to be brought to him.
'Behind a curtain of steam, I saw them, Dagon,' she had told him. 'There were two of them,' her eyes were glimmering. 'And they were waiting for us.'
'Sea dragons,' they had whispered together in the darkness. She had then kissed him warmly and firmly, and then sea dragons parted from his mind and all he could think of was his lovely wife.
It had been the Drowned God who gave her that dream. Dagon knew it. She didn't know where they were, but she was certain of what she saw, and he believed her. His gift. His generosity. His reward for our bloody offerings.
The waters were still muddled dark red in places with bloated bodies both whole and in pieces floating all around. It was a kingly feast for the fishes and the gulls. He watched a small shark rise from a bloody cloud to sink its teeth into a half-eaten torso, with a wet rip, the animal was able to pry off a leg. It didn't linger. It hurriedly dipped back under, still chewing on the leg like a dog does a bone as it disappeared into deeper waters.
The reason for the shark's hasty exit revealed itself when massive jaws broke through the sea's surface. She propelled her massive body out of the water, with her large mouth grasping what was left of the sailor's corpse. She seemed to levitate in the air for several long seconds. Her grey and white skin dappled with sunlight before she fell back into the sea with a mighty splash.
Dagon smiled. It was a rare moment of peace. His companions were all content which left the glass doors in his mind, calm and quiet. He'd not soon forget Renly's terror-stricken face when we spoke to him. Neither could he forget that the original plan called for it to be Stannis who made this trip, not his younger brother. Despite being allies, it seemed Varys still kept some things from him. He frowned, more annoyed by not being told than the actual plan itself changing. Stannis still being alive didn't concern him. He can bring all the Royal Fleet, Dagon didn't care. His ship will still sink. It didn't matter if he was surrounded by a handful of ships or a hundred. There is no shield for what I am.
"Captain."
He turned to see his men had brought the prisoner to him. Dagon promptly dismissed them, leaving him alone with Ser Davos Seaworth. He had never met the famous former smuggler, but his reputation preceded him. One that he admired, Davos was a canny smuggler, an experienced seaman, and a capable captain, but none of that mattered because he was loyal to the wrong man.
"Is Lord Renly dead?"
"He is."
Davos didn't look surprised. "Did you sacrifice him to your god?"
"No." Dagon would send the Lord of Storm's End back to his brother wrapped in the Targaryen banner. When the Lannisters used their house cloaks to present their loyalty, it was to hide the blood of the slain princess and her children, but he wasn't trying to hide. Let him see, Dagon thought, not just what had happened, but to see what was coming.
"Am I to be sacrificed to your god?"
"No," Dagon saw the man's shoulders slump in relief.
Mary circled above them, and her movement caught Davos's attention. Dagon quietly watched his prisoner and the varying expressions that crossed his weathered face in the ensuing silence. Recognition which turned contemplative before briefly lighting up into understanding when it finally clicked in his mind. He shook his head and chuckled at a jape that went unspoken. "No better spy to have among sailors," he said, pointing to her, "Than that bird."
Dagon smiled but said nothing. He had been right to be wary of Davos Seaworth.
There were bound to be survivors and other stragglers from the battle, but those didn't concern him. Even if they found the means to return to the Seven Kingdoms, once they spoke of attacking krakens and giant leviathans, men would laugh and dismiss them. Like all the other stories, he thought, but not Davos.
He'd tell of what he saw, and suspected, or worse what he learned. And perhaps most would dismiss him too, but Stannis may listen to his trusted man, may consider his warnings, his advice, and Dagon wouldn't risk that. However, there was no love between Stannis and Renly. The Master of Ships was far more likely to fault his younger brother's glory chasing and impatience over Dagon's mastery of the sea.
"If I hadn't said anything," He asked with a wan smile, "Would you have-"
"Still killed you?" Davos nodded. "Yes," he answered, "I knew you'd figure it out."
The former smuggler gave a wry chuckle while his hand went to that pouch around his neck, but there was no lightness in his expression. There was only acceptance colored by a touch of fear. "That's the first time I've been accused of being clever."
Dagon asked the question even though he knew the answer. "If I offer-"
"No," Davos cut in brusquely. "You killed my son."
He didn't deny it. Black Betha had been attacked days ago by Scylla. What was left of the surviving crew had been put to the sword and their bodies loaded onto the decoy ships. His son could very well still be out there, he observed, floating fodder, one of many that were still waiting to be eaten. "But if I didn't, would you have considered it?"
"No, I swore my loyalty to Stannis Baratheon," he said proudly. "And once such loyalty begins, it shouldn't have an end. Otherwise, can you really be called loyal?"
If the Royal Court had been filled with more men as loyal and as true as Ser Davos than we'd have no chance in the war to come, he observed quietly.
"For your death, Ser Davos," he noticed the smuggler's flinch. "Poison or steel?" He could offer him that much.
"Steel," Davos didn't consider it for long, "and make it quick."
Dagon obliged him.
Dagon was right, Daenerys was standing beside her husband. The Iron Price makes it better. He had paid the iron price for the handful of ships that he was now giving out, rewarding loyal men and women within his fleet, but it went beyond that.
The wine was sweeter, the food more succulent, even their fucking felt different. This innate thrill that burned through her with volcanic intensity in how they slaked their lusts and carnal pleasures within the enemy's own room, his own bed, and countless other places that were once his, but now theirs. While those thoughts drifted through her mind, she had been watching the new captains who had been raised, and assigned their new ships, which needed new names now that they were no longer with the Royal Fleet.
The first captain renamed his ship, Black Swan. He was once a castle blacksmith until he ran away with Lord Swann's niece. The second to be named captain was a dusky woman with the silvery gold hair of Old Valyria. She named her ship, the Last Princess. A stocky and scarred man known as Quint gruffly grumbled the new name he'd give his ship, The Spotted Whale. Fuzzy Frank was a bear of a man, an ironborn reaver, who decided to honor his late wife by changing his ship's name from Lady of Silk to Lady Pig.
And then there was Fury.
The moment it was taken, the warship became the most impressive and most powerful ship in her husband's fleet. She was a triple deck war galley equipped with scorpions and catapults. The ship's golden sails with the Baratheon crowned stag had already been removed and replaced with sails that now bore her husband's personal standard. Taking in the size of her, Dany wasn't sure they'd have enough men to manage her, but her husband said they did. He also added more men can always be brought in when they make port.
"Will we now be staying on Fury?" she had asked her husband after he had given her a tour of the new ship. They were back in the captain's cabins. She eyed a carved stag in mute distaste. She had tried to sound indifferent with her question, and at the idea of now living on Fury, but truthfully, she hoped they didn't change ships. She knew Fury was now their most fearsome ship, but she had grown attached to Inevitable and her crew. It's become my home.
He was still and his back was to her. For a few seconds, she thought he was elsewhere, slipping inside one of his many seaskins. "What do you want?"
An instinctive and pensive frown nearly formed before she stopped it. She knew it was a simple question, but not to her. Old memories churned, of her brother never asking her, always telling, always demanding. A face pinched in rage hovered before her, his threat whispered in her ear. 'Don't wake the dragon.' Her head would then have filled with the smoke from her smothered heart. For so long, that smoke would cloud her mind, blinding her, leaving her to stumble in the darkness, but not anymore, because of him. And because of me. She had been drowned and been made anew; her old life washed away from the cleansing waves. From His Blessings, she returned harder and stronger, better, and braver. Despite her earlier hesitation, when she answered, her voice was clear and true. "I wish to stay on Inevitable."
That made him turn. His eyes were grey then blue, as changeable as the seas. He nodded. "Then we will stay on Inevitable."
"I consider Fury a generous wedding gift from the Usurper and his brothers," Dagon japed to the crowd, earning a raucous round of laughter and cheers. "But for the time being, I will not be her captain, but I trust her new captain to serve me well," He gestured to said captain, who stepped forward as his name was called. "Anson Pyke."
He had been the captain of Star Gazer, Inevitable 's twin and decoy. It had served its purpose well having been sunk by the enemy's bombardment, making him a captain without a ship. However, it was her husband who had owned Star Gazer not Pyke. He was also the man who had talked against her husband's plans, advising they avoid instead of attack. Now, he's in command of the most powerful ship because they followed my husband's plans instead of his.
This change of fortune wasn't lost on him. His eyes shone with gratitude at the honor. "Lord Dagon, with your permission, I have a new name for Fury."
"And what do you wish to call her?"
Pyke turned to her; she met his gaze with a stoic look. She hadn't forgotten the insinuations he had made about her, that she was a distraction or worse a danger to her husband. He dipped his head to her while she remembered her husband's words from before the ceremony. He'll now be the most scrutinized captain in the fleet with his new appointment and he knows not even Fury can stand against me.
He dipped his head. "To honor your wife and your great victory," the ironborn weren't ones for empty flattery or bandy false words. They meant what they said. So, she took them as such. "The Dragon's Fury."
It wasn't just an apology, but a show of respect which she accepted with a nod. "A toast," she suggested, knowing her ironborn's fondness for toasts and drinking, they received her suggestion with a boisterous cheer. She smiled, before raising her own glass, "to The Dragon's Fury."
"THE DRAGON'S FURY!" they toasted, drinking on the deck of the warship that had once been the flagship of the Usurper's fleet. Wine had never tasted better.
RIP Renly and Davos.
In case there's any confusion, the ships taken that were mentioned save for Fury were done so off-screen, but there have been hints on page of missing ships. Dagon now owns them, so he gets to decide who to captain them. If he wanted to captain Fury, and make it his flagship, he'd do it and there would be no pushback, but for the time being, he's perfectly content with Inevitable.
I didn't kill Davos for shock value. He died because that's what Dagon would do. Even though this is an AU with OOC, I just couldn't realistically see Seaworth surviving this encounter. He's not gonna abandon his sons, his wife, and his duty to Stannis to join Dagon. And Dagon went with the more cautious approach of removing Davos now instead of having to worry about him later.
Just a reminder that this story uses the unreliable narrator and biased povs. So just b/c Daenerys thinks something is right, doesn't mean she's right. When writing this I try to stay true to the characters in how they'd think and act, but also their prejudices and biases and how that would shape their perceptions of both events and characters.
If you enjoyed the chapter it would mean a lot if you took the time to review. To those who have shown their support through reviews, I greatly appreciate them, and know that they serve as great motivation to keep this story going through writer's block, real life stuff, and an uncooperative muse.
Until next time,
-Spectre4hire
P.S: Just a reminder after the recent problems with this website, that both this story and most of my other works are also on AO3 under the same penname.
