Game of Kingdoms

by USSExplorer

A former UK special operator is reborn in Westeros, causing ripples to the timeline, and having to manage his way through what he knows is to come thanks to some unique gifts. Though first, he has to handle how he's reborn and the issues it will cause (This will feature a lite system more akin to an RPG than Gamer with very limited extra powers. Starts during Robert's Rebellion) AU

37. The Water Runs Red 2

My thanks to MandTeKad who serves as a sounding board and beta for this and my other stories.

This story was released around three weeks ago to those on the Discord server for the story, and anywhere from 1 to 4 months ago to those who support my writing.

All links are at the end of the chapter.

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37: The Water Runs Red 2

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(Circa 297AC)

(Jon Arryn's POV)

Looking down at the various reports from around King's Landing and beyond that had been collected for him to examine this morning, Jon Arryn had to fight back a sigh. At seven and seventy, and four and ten years as Hand of the King to Robert Baratheon, he was growing tired of having to hold the realm together. That wasn't to say he wished he'd never defied Aerys when he had demanded the heads of his wards, just that managing the realm was a role for a younger man.

It had been over ten years since he had last held court in the Eyrie, and it was past time that his son, Robert, grew up away from King's Landing. If not in the Eyrie with Jon and his lady wife at his side, then at least as a ward of one of the Vale Lords. While none had directly asked about taking Jon's heir as their ward, Jon was learnt enough to be able to read between the lines of ravens sent from Lords Gerold, Lyonel, and Yohn to know they along with others wished for Robyn to grow up in the Vale and not King's Landing. The issue rested with Lysa.

Jon's wife was overly protective of their son, almost to the level of Queen Cersei with her eldest Joffrey, and whenever Jon attempted to discuss Robyn leaving to serve as a ward of another lord, she had grown loud and aggressive. If he were half his age, Jon would not have withdrawn the topic, but when combined with the daily task of keeping the Seven Kingdoms and King's Landing running, he no longer wished to face the fury of Lysa Tully when the day ended. Still, he continued to wonder how he might arrange for the boy to ward, and how to arrange it without Lysa learning of it until after the fact.

That matter though, for all it continued to rattle around his aged but still sharp mind, was minor when compared to all but ruling the Seven Kingdoms in King Robert's Name. Robert had been a great wartime leader, but in peace he was ill-suited to lordship, to say nothing of kingship. The one saving grace was that Robert understood this and allowed Jon, along with the other members of the Small Council, to rule the Kingdoms in his name.

That task had grown more arduous in recent years. Not only was the influence of House Lannister at court and in the city growing stronger, but piracy in the Narrow Sea had increased to the point that trade vessels had to sail in fleets to ensure their safety. The only upside of the latter issue was that, in the last year, Robert had returned to the yard. While Jon believed the King knew he would not be leading an army to smash the pirates in the Stepstones or beyond, the fact he had pulled himself – at least partially – from drink and whoring was a relief. At least in the sense of him siring any more bastards.

Jon knew of at least five within the city walls, though unlike Mya Stone and Edric Storm, none had been claimed by Robert as his baseborn children. That was a good thing for them as Queen Cersei was, among other things, fiercely protective of her children, and considered Robert's various bastards threats to her children. Or at least to Prince Joffrey.

While the Queen loved all her children, she spoiled the heir to the Iron Throne so much that no matter the actions the boy took, she never scolded him. Not even after he had presented a pregnant cat that he'd butchered to Robert. Robert's response to that, of striking the young Prince, had been warranted if light, but it paled in comparison to the complete lack of concern over Joffrey's actions that the Queen displayed.

In the last few moons, whenever Jon's thoughts strayed to Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella—the latter two as sweet and kind as children could be—they would invariably drift toward the thorny issue of their legitimacy. Lord Stannis had, in the strictest confidence, expressed his concerns about the conspicuous absence of Baratheon features in the royal children. Jon had sought to reassure him, outwardly confident that the children were indeed of true Baratheon blood. Yet, in his heart, doubts festered. Mya Stone and Edric Storm bore the unmistakable markers of their lineage, with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes. The royal children, however, were undeniably Lannister: fair-haired, green-eyed. Myrcella, in particular, brought to mind a young Queen Cersei, while of much higher concern both boys had the look of Jaime about them, rather than Robert.

As he did each time they came to mind, Jon pushed those thoughts aside. The matter was one he would look into, but only after he had examined the missives that had arrived during the night, and then met with the rest of the Small Council after midday meal. However, before he could resume examining the letters that covered his desk, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," He called, pleased to be granted distraction from the missives. Though what little hope for a gentle discussion with whoever had arrived slipped away as he caught the hint of lavender. A moment later the one most known for such a scent in the Red Keep, Varys, moved around the door.

"I do hope that I am not disturbing you this morning, Lord Hand," the Essosi in a voice that, to those unaware, sounded entirely unthreatening. Jon knew well that for all his plump look, the Spider was anything but unthreatening.

Varys carried himself with a grace that few men half his bulk could achieve, and though a man of little physical threat, his network of contacts, spies – little birds, as he called them – and probable assassins in his hire made him one of the most dangerous men in Westeros.

"Not at all, Lord Varys," Jon replied with a friendly smile, though the emotions behind the smile were anything but jovial. "How might I be of assistance this morning?" Jon detested the Essosi, and not just because of his ability to seemingly know everything before anyone else. Varys had arrived in Westeros a few years before Robert's Rebellion and had served as Aerys' Master of Whispers. Robert, once he assumed the throne, had allowed Varys to remain in the position, and while Jon could not deny that the reports Varys brought to the Small Council had helped snuff out most threats before they became anything but a bushfire – the Greyjoy being the one instance where that wasn't the case – Jon had grown to detest the eunuch. An opinion shared by Lord Stannis and Ser Barristan, though none would speak such words in the presence of any but the other.

"My little birds have recently brought something to my attention that I feel the Small Council needs to be made aware of," Varys intoned as he slipped into Jon's chamber. The plump man moved with surprising swiftness and a near-silent grace across the tiled floor. "It concerns the matters we face in the Narrow Sea."

Jon's brow rose slightly, wondering what Varys' birds – children really – had learnt. He wondered often where Varys found the children he used for spying, as every census of King's Landing's orphanages year-on-year reported roughly the same number of children in their care. Wherever they came from, Jon knew to be wary of any child he saw around the Red Keep or while out in King's Landing for concern they might be of the Spider's little birds.

Jon indicated the seats on the other side of his desk, and Varys offered a nod of thanks as he moved to sit. "And what, pray tell, is of such importance that it could not wait until we meet this afternoon?" Varys slipped into the chair, seemingly collapsing into the seat as if glad to be off his feet. The routine was well practised, and many would miss the grace of Varys gliding around the edge of the chair without catching it. "Might I offer you a drink?" Jon added, playing along with Varys' little routine as the large man exhaled in joy to finally be off his feet.

"Thank you," Varys replied with another lowering of his head. "The climb to your chamber is an arduous one for even the most capable persons within the Red Keep. Never mind one of my girth."

Jon bit back a snort, aware that the Spider knew of passages and shortcuts that ran through the walls of the Red Keep. While there was likely not a quicker way to the Hand's chamber in this tower than the staircase that ran up its centre, Jon knew Varys was quicker on his feet than most would ever realise. "I find the effort needed to climb them ensures that nought but the most important issues are brought to my attention by those championing the cause." As he spoke, Jon poured some wine into a goblet.

"Indeed, and that is why I am bringing this matter to you before the Council meets later today." After speaking, Varys took the goblet Jon offered and took a long sip. Then, he passed a slip of parchment—the size of something a raven might carry—to Jon.

Opening the small scroll, Jon read the contents. A frown formed on his brow, and he read it again, then once more before looking back at Varys. "This is slightly troubling," he said slowly, placing the parchment on his desk, "and yet, given the closeness of Dorne to the Stepstones, along with the increases in trade between Sunspear and the North, it is not unexpected. Though Prince Doran risks angering the Free Cities with such actions."

"I do not believe the Prince intends to take all of the islands, my Lord Hand. Instead, I suspect he merely wishes to drive back the piracy that has hampered Dorne's eastern coast for generations." Varys took another sip of his wine, which allowed Jon to add a thought.

"Perhaps that is so, but with the new Dornish fleet he has purchased from Braavos, and the trading fleets that sail between Sunspear and White Harbour, I would have expected most pirates to curtail their actions."

"As would I." Varys placed his goblet down, careful to not place it on any of the missives that littered Jon's desk, though Jon did see Varys' eyes drift to a handful of them. Those he would look at once this unexpected meeting ended. "It seems, however, that the pirate who controlled Dustspear simply saw the larger forces as a greater potential reward." Varys paused there and looked around. If they were outside, Jon might suspect he was looking for spies belonging to others, but as this chamber was pressed against the wall of the Tower of the Hand – bar the door that led to the staircase – it was doubtful that any could spy upon them. "This self-styled Grim Prince even managed to target ships that carried members of the Martell household." Jon's brow rose in surprise at that, as such a move would draw the ire of Prince Doran. To not strike back would be seen as a sign of weakness among the other Lords of Westeros. "However, it is here that the matter turns interesting. Both times that a member of the Martell household was threatened, Cregan Sand was present."

Jon blinked, taken aback by the mention of that name. He had encountered the bastard during the Greyjoy Rebellion when he was but a boy. The tale of how a child of seven had slain Lord Dunstan and his son, and claimed the Valyrian steel blade Red Rain, had been the talk of Casterly Rock when His Grace and the hosts of Lord Tywin and Lord Eddard had gathered there. Indeed, Robert had boldly proclaimed that the young Cregan was the bastard of Brandon Stark. Had Eddard and Robert not been brothers in all but name, such a claim might have stirred the ire of the Warden of the North. Instead, Eddard had been pleased to see his nephew's deeds celebrated by others.

Jon recalled that Cregan's name had been a subject of conversation again, though this time within the walls of the Red Keep. News of Cregan and Robb Stark discovering and raising direwolf pups had set many tongues wagging among the nobles and gossip mongers of the city. While most had dismissed the notion that the Starks might have a direwolf for their heir, Eddard had confirmed by raven that the rumours were true. When Robert had learned of this, he had expressed a desire to see the beasts, though the matter had soon slipped from His Grace's attention after several flagons of wine.

"I hope that you are not suggesting that the bastard son of Brandon Stark, and one whose actions draw His Grace's attention, has turned to piracy?"

"No, Lord Hand, he has not. Indeed, after the first time he was assaulted by pirates, Oberyn Martell knighted Cregan when he was but a moon shy of turning five and ten, upon their return from the North with the direwolf in tow."

That voyage returning to Dorne was one Jon had known of for some time. Hearing that Eddard's second son, his bastard daughter, and Wylla Manderly would foster in Sunspear was a matter that Varys had brought to his attention around the time the fleet would have been passing Blackwater Bay. That Cregan Sand had been knighted on that voyage though was fresh news to Jon.

The growing bonds between Dorne and the North were indeed encouraging. The North, remote from King's Landing and seldom embroiled in the politics of the southern kingdoms, maintained a close connection to the Throne through Eddard and Robert. Dorne, while acknowledging Robert's claim to the Iron Throne, had remained aloof. Even after Jon had journeyed to Sunspear to ensure that Prince Doran harboured no ill will towards Robert for the grievous acts that had led to the death of Doran's sister and her children during the sacking of King's Landing.

"Impressive," Jon remarked, noting the knighting of Cregan Sand so that he might mention it to Robert. Though His Grace might not be swayed by many things, he had shown interest in the boy he had dubbed the Bloody Wolf. Perhaps the news of the boy's knighthood and his current campaign in the Stepstones might serve to keep kindled Robert's enthusiasm in the yard. "I recall hearing from my nephew about Ser Cregan's triumph in a squire tourney in Gulltown a few years past." Young Harrold Hardyng, the spare for House Arryn, was a source of such tidings, relayed to Jon via ravens sent by Lady Anya Waynwood. "He spoke highly of Cregan's prowess, and the two seemed to have remained close. Yet I remain unclear as to why you have raised the matter of Ser Cregan."

"I do so because it was he that Prince Doran tasked with taking the island," Varys responded. "The young knight did so ably and returned to Sunspear with bountiful treasure. Prince Doran publicly thanked him for his service though it seems that while Prince Doran is fond of the young wolf, the wolf's loyalty belongs to Doran's firstborn."

Jon felt one of his eyebrows rise. "Princess Arianne has taken him as her paramour?"

"Yes, though from what I am told, she is merely one of several who share his bed. Including, and this was a shock to me, Asha Greyjoy."

Jon coughed, taken aback by this revelation. "That… is unexpected. I would have thought the Greyjoy girl would resent Ser Cregan due to his father."

"As would I," Varys conceded, "but it seems that much like his father and Prince Oberyn, Ser Cregan possesses a certain way of finding himself in beds best left alone."

"But were we so fortunate," Jon muttered, reminded how thankful he was that it was Eddard who had fostered with him instead of Brandon. "Still, the closeness of Ser Cregan to Princess Arianne might explain why Prince Doran assigned him the task of defeating this pirate and clearing Dustspear."

"Holding Dustspear, my Lord Hand. While it is true that Ser Cregan emerged victorious, the most recent message I received stated he was sailing back to the island with a small force. Two, perhaps three hundred men with the intent of both developing the island and striking against other pirates in the Stepstones."

Jon sighed deeply. "This complicates matters," He said slowly, even past seventy his mind still sharp. "As a bastard, Ser Cregan taking Dustspear is of minor importance, but with his closeness to Prince Doran and his heir, and his plans to strike at more pirates in the islands, this could risk the Seven Kingdoms being drawn into war with some or most of the Free Cities." Tyrosh and Myr would never stand for the Iron Throne controlling the Stepstones. Nor likely would Lys or Volantis, but if assurances could be given to the Lyseni Magisters and Triarchs – possibly ones paid for in coin – they might allow the cleansing of piracy in the Stepstones by forces from Westeros.

If they did not, or Tyrosh and Myr acted before Jon could open communication with the Archon and the Myrish Magisters, then the Seven Kingdoms might find themselves drawn into another war. Jon knew that Robert would fully approve of that, but Jon feared the cost. Already the crown was deeply in debt to the Iron Bank and Lord Tywin to the tune of five million Dragons. War in the Stepstones would only hasten the growth of that debt, though at least it would stop Robert from being so generous with coin the Throne didn't have for tourneys and other matters.

"Indeed, which is why I felt the matter must be brought to you this morning," Varys' comment drew Jon out of his mental rummaging.

"And for that, you have my thanks, Lord Varys." The man might not be a Lord but because of his position referred to him as such. Those who understood the power the eunuch wielded were doubly careful to not end up angering a man who, according to rumour, knew of assassins from the Wall to the Ruins of Valyria. "I will ensure that the matter is discussed at council this afternoon and then brought to His Grace. While I doubt Prince Doran intends to conquer the Steps or drag Westeros into war with Essos, it is something we cannot allow to continue unabated."

"I would agree that Prince Doran's intentions are not so grandiose, but one can never be too careful with the Dornish." Jon nodded in agreement, and with that, Varys stood.

The man slipped easily from his chair, far more so than one would expect from someone of his bulk, and Jon watched the Master of Whispers exit his chamber. He stayed still even once the door was closed, listening for any hint of sound that might suggest that one of Varys' little birds – or someone in the employ of others – was listening. Once as sure as he could be that he was alone, he sighed deeply, and his head fell into his hands.

Doran's move against Dustspear, and even attempting to hold it, was of little concern to the Iron Throne. But the potential for war was there, and it would take considerable effort to assure the Free Cities – save perhaps Braavos who would back any action taken against slavers, which most of the powerful pirates in the Stepstones were – that this was not a move to expand the Iron Throne's borders. Attempts to take and hold the Stepstones had occurred often even after the Targaryens united Westeros. None had succeeded, and those that had come close had often failed because the Free Cities, the Iron Throne, or a combination of both, didn't want anyone but them controlling the islands.

If Ser Cregan was working alone and lacked a strong connection to one of the Great Houses of Westeros, then there would not be an issue. However, Ser Cregan had been raised in Dorne and according to Varys, was the paramour of the future ruler of the land. The chances that any in the Free Cities wouldn't, once they learnt of Ser Cregan's history, assume it was an invasion sanctioned by the Iron Throne were small. Hells, even knowing it wasn't currently an attempt to take the entirety of the islands, Jon feared that Robert might support the move, even going so far as to join the fighting himself if he could.

Wanting to clear his thoughts of possible war, Jon stood and moved to the main window of his chamber. The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed off the walls of the Red Keep and carried up to him, making Jon wonder if Robert was in the yard today and if so if he was sparring with Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime, or a combination of the two. While it was good to see, after over ten long years, the Robert of old re-emerge, Jon now just feared it might lead the crown to ruin.

Though perhaps, he realised as the sound of training continued to reach his ears, he could use this to have Robert train his children. Joffrey, unless withdrawn from the Queen's clutches, was perhaps a lost cause. Tommen, however, had the potential to be shaped into a man worthy of the Throne. If – Jon knew the chances of it were slim at best – Jon could convince Robert to have Joffrey and Tommen foster away from King's Landing, then he could resume discussion with Lysa regarding their son fostering with a Lord in the Vale.

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(Cregan's POV)

I took in the sight of more than a hundred men on their knees. These were the pirates who had surrendered to his forces, whether after the pursuit of the three galleys or those left behind in the port. Some aboard the galleys had chosen to fight, but a few well-placed arrows and bolts had persuaded the majority to yield. Those left in the port had hoped to flee to Vaegon's other harbour, only to fall into the hands of Bronn, Daemon, and their men. The sight of such numbers, coupled with a snarling Ymir, had compelled them all to surrender without further bloodshed among his forces.

It had taken longer than I'd have liked to get the galleys back to port, as by the time they yielded all had lost their main sail. The upside of that was that by the time they reached the port, the group were as tired as most of my men were after all that hard rowing. That wasn't to say any man on either side was unable to fight, just that anyone who'd manned the oars wasn't in perfect condition for battle when the combined fleet reached the port.

Any remaining fight the pirates might've had was destroyed when they saw Daemon and those men standing around the docks, the handful of pirates left behind already secured and kneeling on the beach. The rest had joined them soon after, which was why I was here now with about half my men. The rest were with Daemon and Jaeronos searching the port for supplies, treasure, and slaves that needed freeing.

Shifting my gaze, I looked down at the man who had led the pirates before my capture of the port. This was the port's captain and the man who'd commanded the lead galley. Rather impressively, he had determined my intent with the gulls and burning tar-covered rope after my first attempt failed and by the time I returned with another gull – the other two galleys having their mail sails ablaze, I'd had to slip from the mind of the gull before it crashed to the deck.

Experiencing an arrow slice through my wing was far from comfortable, and even now I felt phantom pains in the corresponding arm. A fifth gull had been used, and while the main sail hadn't caught ablaze, the kamikaze attack I'd made the gull do had taken out the sail.

"I must say, I am impressed by your ingenuity," I remarked to the former commander of the port as I strode before him. One hand rested on the hilt of Red Rain, the other at my waist. Kaa was coiled around that arm, his head nestled on my shoulder, adding a hiss to my words. "Knowing what I planned and preparing a counter is precisely the sort of thinking I need among my men."

The commander spat at my feet, eliciting a loud growl from Ymir. I withdrew my hand from the blade's hilt to calm the direwolf as the kneeling, beaten pirate glared up at me with seething rage. "I will never serve a gods-damned warlock!"

Behind him, both from the prisoners and some of my men, murmurs could be heard. That was something I'd have to keep an eye on as while it was common knowledge now that I could ignite Red Rain, many might have issues with following someone they thought was a demon worshipper. Especially if religion was important to any of them. That was, admittedly, unlikely given their occupation, but it paid to distrust everyone around you when they fought for you because of coin, fear, or a combination of both.

Still, of those already under my command, there were whispers that I was either the chosen of R'hllor – simply because I could igniteRed Rain – or that, because of Ymir, the Old Gods sent me to punish the false believers. Neither of which was true, but it was something I could use as men such as those before me often followed another out of fear as much as the promise of coin. I'd also have to remain wary for when word of my actions in the Stepstones reached corridors of power in Westeros and Essos, as the wrong rumour to the wrong person could see me facing a threat I was currently ill-equipped to handle.

I leaned down, giving the commander a wide smile. "Are my lips and teeth stained blue like those from Qarth?" I asked with a chuckle. It was impressive that he had deduced that I had used magic, but not enough to automatically guarantee his survival. "No, they are not."

The commander shook his arms as if trying to slip his bindings. "Fuck where you came from, demon, not serving you."

I stood fully and sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "I cannot say that I am not disappointed. Not least because I now find myself in a bind. I cannot release you to run to Vaegon, nor can I permit anyone in this port to remain loyal to the Firetouched." My hand returned to the hilt of my blade even as Kaa shifted, climbing up my arm. "Given how your men speak of you, it is a pity you will not accept a position in my company. Still, I respect a man with conviction, and the courage to maintain it in the face of death." I stepped back, putting some distance between myself and the former commander of the port. "Might I ask if you worship any gods?"

The commander's head lifted, and his eyes met mine, searching for something in my gaze. The change in tack had been sudden, but that had been my intention as was the slightly flamboyant approach I was making as I stood before the commander and those who'd formerly served him.

These men expected I was but another pirate, one who they could betray if the chance came to do so. That made me reluctant to take any into my service, but I needed the manpower to either take or failing that, raze this island. If those before me died during the battles for Redwater then none would mourn their passing, but I needed to make it clear the punishments for not bending the knee; be that from one such as the commander showing backbone, or those who'd think to betray me and break their word.

Once more, I sighed loudly when the commander failed to answer. "I would think that was an easy question," I said, my hand easing Red Rain from its sheath. "Do you worship any gods?"

"None," the commander responded, his sight shifting from me to the distinctive red Valyrian blade I was preparing.

"That is unfortunate for you," I said as I moved to his side, both hands now gripping the blade. "Still, whichever gods greet your soul, I hope they grant you everything you deserve for the choices that have led you to this point." Red Rain ascended swiftly, the blade rising into the sky before cleaving the air as it fell, my second hand firmly resting on the pommel to guide the strike.

The blade sliced cleanly through the commander's neck, and his head and body crashed to the ground, soaking the sand with his blood. "Let me be clear," I said, turning to the other pirates, blood dripping from the edge of my blade. "Piracy is something I will not accept. Pillaging, raping, and other such behaviour deserves only death. That said, I respect a man who will stand by his convictions. Your former commander upheld his and chose not to swear himself to me. For that, I grant him the mercy of a clean death."

"Death is what awaits any who will not serve." I used my blade to point at Ymir, who rather luckily had seen the commander's head roll toward him and stopped it with one of his massive paws. "However, after you sign my charter and give me your fealty, you will live. However, know that if you then break that oath to me, your death shall be far less civil." Ymir growled, exposing teeth as long as my fingers. "The choice of a clean death or service to me is now yours to decide. Be quick about it as if your mark has not joined the charter, and your words not given to me, by the time the sun sets, then your fate is sealed."

I turned, taking a cloth that Trystane brought to me. As I used that to clean my blade, I nodded at Bronn. "You heard him," he began, stepping forward and taking my place before the captured pirates, the book that contained the charter of those in my service in his hand. "Sign your mark or become fucking direwolf food." To help drive home the point, Ymir moved to Bronn's side. He would stay there for a while before venturing out to explore the woods to the east. It was unlikely any pirates had slipped away through them, but if they had the direwolf would enjoy his hunt.

While the men following me weren't a sellsword company, I'd decided to adopt the idea of a charter book after Oberyn had mentioned them the last time I was in Sunspear. The rules I'd laid forth covered the first few pages, and they were to be read – or read to those unable to understand Common – and then on the rest of the pages, the name of the person and a mark made by their hand was added. That was their contract to serve me, and so far none had broken their vow, though I knew that wouldn't last forever. When that day came, I already had ideas for how to remind the others of what breaking the vows they gave me meant. Some might well consider those ideas harsh, if not downright cruel, but until the Stepstones were taken I wasn't willing to be anything but deadly to those unable to keep their word.

Trying to stave off that moment was why I'd been a touch dramatic with these pirates as by the time I left Redwater, I suspected that at least eight of every ten of the men under my banner would be former pirates. The only way to retain control of such individuals, or even the sellswords that had joined for coin, was through a mix of good pay and fear. Specifically fear of me being greater than fear of whomever I was fighting.

As I moved away from the docks, I caught sight of Daemon approaching, and behind him, the crude wall that encircled the port. That would need repairing and strengthening, but such actions would only take place after Vaegon was defeated and the northern port was under my control as well. And for attacking there, I was already on the clock.

While waiting to assault the port from the forest, Daemon's men had intercepted four pirates acting as runners between the two ports. Those men had been persuaded to reveal that runners travelled between the two places once a day. When those men, who were bound on the beach with the others, failed to return by the end of the day tomorrow, Vaegon would know something was amiss.

Since Vaegon was likely not a fool, he'd not march some or most of his men toward this port to see what had happened. Instead, he'd likely send a smaller force – at a guess around ten men – to scout the port. My men were already deployed into the forest, with Ymir soon to join them, to watch and intercept any scouts.

Regardless of if those scouts came forth and some made it back, or if Vaegon didn't send men out, I felt he had three real choices to make. Either he bunkered down in the northern port and prepared for an assault, he sallied forth with all his men to attack, or he'd abandon the northern port entirely.

I discounted the last choice as the logic behind it wouldn't fit with the small snippets of intelligence I had on Vaegon. And sallying forth would leave the port weak to an attack by sea. Vaegon would, I hoped, believe that it had been Rakakz that had taken the port I now controlled, so he would be wary of a strike from Redwater Bay, or perhaps even one overland from Rakakz's holdings toward the middle of the island.

That meant the odds were that he'd bunker down and wait, which was fine with me. With Rian and the gulls available to provide aerial recon of the port, I'd know what forces were gathered there, and know how best to divide my forces to assault the port. Vaegon was living on borrowed time, he just didn't know it yet, and I wanted to make sure that Rakakz and Allerion remained unaware of that fact as well; at least until I'd taken some of their ports.

"How goes the search?" I asked Daemon once we were close enough, pushing thoughts on the coming battle to one side and focusing on the need to secure my new port.

Daemon sighed lightly, an unsettling sign, and gestured toward the building that stood centrally in the port. This had been the former commander's residence and had been repurposed as the command centre during the transfer of ownership. "We have cleared about half the buildings," Daemon reported as we made our way toward the structure, "and so far the haul is solid. All the coin is being moved to the warehouse, and it appears we have anywhere from half a moon to a moon's worth of food and drink. At least, if we limit the revelry."

"Not bad," I remarked. I'd not been sure what we'd gain from this port, and Redwater in general, as while it was a larger location, there was less traffic past the islands. The discovery of food was a useful thing though as it would supplement what we'd brought aboard the Pride.

"Yes. However, as expected there were slaves within the settlement and well," He paused as we reached the door to the building. "I do not know how long they have been here, but it is clear their minds are gone. Hells," he continued as he pushed the door open, "most seem to not realise the port has fallen to us."

I pushed aside a need to correct him – the port had fallen to me – and stepped into the room. It wasn't as well decorated as the solar in Northpoint; not even before I'd had that cleaned when I had returned from Sunspear after celebrating my taking of the island. The table was decent, as were the chairs, and light came in through windows in the stone that had their wooden covers open. However, my focus wasn't on the new office, but on the trio who stood in the centre of the room.

The trio wore little more than rags around their waists. The rest of them, regardless of gender, were exposed. All three had bruising on their bodies; from either beatings or being fucked.

"Master," the middle of the trio – the older of the two men – said as they saw my shadow. A moment later, all three were on their knees, their heads lowered to the ground.

A growl, one Ymir would've been proud of, slipped from my lips. It died as the trio dropped lower and the girl started to shake. I turned to Dameon, curious if he knew anything about the behaviour. His only reaction was to shrug.

Turning back, I ground my teeth, trying to settle my anger. Kaa shifted around on my shoulders, sensing my rage. I lifted a hand, gently caressing him under his jaw to ease his concern. I used that action, and turned my gaze away from the slaves, to calm myself.

When I looked back at the kowtowing trio, I sighed loudly. "Bloody hell." They hadn't moved, nor did they shift as I approached. The girl, however, tensed once I was right in front of them. Pushing aside another surge of rage, I knelt and placed my hands, palms up, where they could see them. "Stand. Please." My words were as soft as I could make them in the situation, though none of them moved. "Stand," I said again, this time with more force.

The trio lifted their heads, but when they saw I was kneeling before them, they stayed on the ground. Understanding that they'd not go further while I was kneeling, I rose and gestured for them to do so as well. The trio did, letting me see them up close.

The bruises and marks I'd seen when I'd first entered the room were but the tip of the iceberg. Few places upon their bodies didn't have some form of discolouration. That, however, might just be a feature of them not being fed well instead of being abused constantly. Age was impossible to determine, and their hair was in desperate need of cleaning, or more likely, removal as all of it looked matted with dirt worn into it. When my gaze met that of the girls, she tensed again, and I knew she wanted to look away; fearful of what I might do.

"Do you understand me?" I asked slowly. One of the trio nodded, though the other two only nodded after seeing the younger man do so. That was about what I'd expected as while those on Dustspear and in The Whores had mostly spoken Common or some form of Trade Talk, Redwater was about halfway to Essos, it made sense if most spoke some form of bastardised Valyrian. "What about now?" I asked, changing to Valyrian. "Do you understand me?"

All three nodded, which solved the issue of having to explain everything twice in two tongues. "Yes, Master," the older man added.

"I…" I sighed again and ran a hand down my face. "I am not your master. You are…" I paused, wondering if a speech to them about being free would sink in. "I need you to go with this man," I pointed at Daemon, and he took a step forward. "He will not hurt you. You have my word. What I ask is that you help him gather all those like you. All those forced to serve the pirates. Once that is done, bring them to this building so that I might speak to all."

"Yes, Master," the older man replied, and I ground my teeth to avoid letting my anger escape. It was clear he didn't understand, and blaming him for doing what he'd done for moons, if not years, was wrong.

I turned to Daemon, seeing discomfort mixed with rage in his eyes that no doubt echoed my expression. "If you would."

He nodded and moved back, placing a hand on the door's handle. "Please, follow me."

The two men did so, shifting wide around me as if scared I might strike them for amusement. The girl, however, didn't move and when I turned back she had fallen to her knees, her hands rising toward my groin. "NO!" I snapped, grasping her wrists. She recoiled in fright at my action, while the two men fell to their knees. "Those…" I bit back the curse that was forming on my tongue. The rage I needed to expel shouldn't, and wouldn't, be directed at the slaves.

"Please," I said gently using my hand to pull the girl upward, "Stand." Once she was up, I used a hand to lift her head so I could look into her eyes. She didn't resist my actions, indicating any fight had been beaten out of her, and the gaze that met mine was vacant. As if her mind had retreated inward in an attempt to survive what she'd endured. "You do not have to do that," I said slowly in Valyrian. "Not ever again if you do not want to. You are free."

Something shifted in her eyes, perhaps my words were getting through to whatever remained of her that she'd buried deep inside. Understanding what I was seeing, I nodded and removed my hands from her wrists. "You. Are. Free." I repeated the words even slower, focusing on each one in turn. It was unlikely that she truly understood or believed me, but the smallest glimmer of hope was enough to ease much of the maelstrom that was raging inside me. "Go on," I added, shifting to not block her way and indicating the door.

She stayed still for a moment, though I did note that the two men had risen because Daemon had eased them to their feet, before walking. Her eyes flickered to me as if expecting this all to be a trick, though once she was away from me and near the other two, her pace quickened fractionally.

Daemon led them out of the room, giving me a final look of shared concern before the door closed.

I grasped the table, and Kaa, understanding my mood, slithered down my arm, settling on the desk. Once he was there, my hands moved, and the nearest chair exploded against a wall. "Damn them all!" I snarled, keeping my voice down lest I scare the slaves outside. Or at least scare them more than the sound of the chair shattering would've.

I stood there, rage boiling off me, flames rising from my palms. The urge to head outside and butcher every pirate that had surrendered was strong, but I knew I couldn't. I needed the bodies for the battles to come. However, because of this, those men would be the vanguard of any assault. I wanted none of them to survive my conquest of this island.

A moment later, a smile came to my face. Some, if not many of the men outside, even after accepting my terms of service, would break their oaths. When that happened, the anger that swirled around within would be released, and all would understand that they should not enrage me.

… …

---

… …

As the evening drew upon us two days after taking the port, I was once more leading my men toward battle. Or at least most of them. Bronn was remaining behind in the southern port along with a hundred and fifty men to hold it, keep the coin, trade goods, and slaves that were aboard the Pride save and watch over the pirates who'd bent the knee and signed my charter.

In the end, around a dozen men chose to follow their commander and were executed. That was a higher proportion than had failed to follow when I'd taken Dustspear or raided The Whores, but given the men of Redwater likely spent more time skirmishing and less being true pirates, it made sense more would be willing to die over serving another. Of the rest, bar thirty who were serving as scouts for my forces as we moved north, the rest remained behind. None of them were armed, as they had yet to prove their loyalty, and were helping with repairs and securing the port.

Arming those men, and any that bent the knee once Vaegon was defeated, was going to be an issue. All told I could be looking about one pirate from Redwater to every two of the men I'd brought with me. Given that about sixty per cent of my forces were already former pirates, it was something I would have to monitor. Still, so long as I kept them well-paid and won battles I felt I could count on them for now. Later, once Redwater was taken or razed, then an issue might arise but that was a matter for further into the future.

All the men not with Bronn were moving toward the northern port, however, we weren't moving as a single force. The majority were with Daemon moving westward before they'd swing up toward the western walls of the port. That force would be the main assault as the western walls of the port were the weakest; both in how they were manned and their condition.

Around a hundred men, including my squires, were approaching the hill that marked roughly the middle distance between the two ports at the southern end of Redwater. Once there, we'd wait for some time before moving forward, though to avoid being spotted we'd be travelling through the forest on either side of the track.

Daemon and I were both in full armour for this assault, though to help hide that we'd covered it and our shields in dirt and tar. I was also wearing a makeshift shawl over my shoulders. When I'd asked them to dirty up my armour, neither Trystane nor Edric had argued, but I suspect both weren't looking forward to having to clean it later.

For a time, I had considered leaving the pair behind with Bronn, given the potential chaos of the battle. However, I dismissed that notion. Though young, they were trained in combat, equipped with decent armour—at least for now, as I feared they might outgrow it before we returned to Sunspear—and needed to learn how to fight beyond the confines of a training yard. After all, what was the point of their squireship otherwise? Jekar was with Daemon, though his page, Morsh, had remained behind. The street urchin had only received the most rudimentary training, and despite his spirit, his lack of experience, armour, and youth had led Daemon to decide that Morsh would be safer with Bronn.

The last element of my forces for this attack was a group of about fifty men. that was being led by Jaeronos and had headed east from my newly acquired port. They weren't meant to attack Vaegon's remaining port so much as sweep the forest to the east of it. The runners that had come from there and those that we'd spoken to after they'd bent the knee had told of Vaegon keeping scouts deployed in the forests to the east in case Rakakz attempted a raid over the land. I wanted those scouts taken out without damaging any watchtowers they might have or alerting Rakakz to what was happening. The locations would be useful for protecting my forces from assault, and the longer it took for Rakakz to learn Vaegon had been replaced – especially by a force from elsewhere – the easier it should be for me to take him out.

As we reached the hill, I looked upward, just above to make out Rian as he flew high above us. While I had two gulls – caged and their beaks tied to keep them silent – for scouting the port before we assaulted it tomorrow morning, having Rian back was a relief. Unlike the gulls, he could be airborne before I shifted into his mind, meaning I had something akin to an early warning system. Yes, the forests, at least a hundred metres or so beyond the ports and track, were dense, but Rian's eyesight was sharp enough that he could detect movement through the slightest of gaps in the canopy.

From scouting yesterday with Rian and a mind-broken gull, and those that had bent the knee, I'd confirmed that Vaegon had between two and three hundred men in the northern port. The number varied depending on how many longboats were at sea. Generally, it was two who acted as an advanced watch, but if Vaegon launched another raid, more than half the port might be absent. That was unlikely to be the case as Vaegon had launched a successful raid before we'd taken the southern port, and with the messenger team not reporting back from the port, Vaegon was likely being cautious with his men.

Due to the forces that I was sending against him, and the recon I'd provided Daemon, Jaeronos, and my Lieutenants, it was unlikely we'd not carry the day tomorrow. Still, I wasn't taking chances and even while Daemon's forces assaulted the western wall, my team would attack the main gate. Said gate wasn't anything impressive, being just two larger watchtowers with a solid wooden gate between them, but it would be harder to assault than the weakened western wall.

To help with taking the men on the wall and gate out, Edric was carrying my weirwood bow. As the sun rose, I'd begin targeting the men around the gate, though I doubted we'd be able to breach it easily. The main assault would begin on Daemon's, or more accurately, Ymir's signal. The direwolf was with him and would howl once the lead elements of Daemon's force were at and through the wall.

From there, it would be chaos, though the battle would continue until Vaegon lay dead or beaten at my feet, and his men surrendered.

… …

---

… …

(Daemon's POV)

He moved forward slowly, cautious of any pirate that might have been missed by the archers when they'd taken out the men at the wall. Calling it a wall was perhaps a mistake, as this port had an earthen mound surrounding it like Northpoint did, though it was half the height of that, and the wooden palisades atop the mound were either damaged or missing entirely. The only sections that were in decent condition were the main gate that protected the track leading to the southern port and the three watchtowers facing toward the western forest. The men there, along with another half dozen gathered at the various gaps in the mound or wall, had fallen silently in a hail of arrows. Now, with them taken out, Daemon led his men forward.

He knew that once they slipped through the earthen wall, battle was only a few heartbeats away, and he found himself looking forward to it. A few years ago, when appointed as Arianne's sworn shield, he had been content with his life, but since the taking of Dustspear he had found that bar one reason, Sunspear held far less appeal than it once had. The call of battle, of testing his steel against others – even if they were but pirates – brought forth a fire he had never fully realised he had, nor that he had been missing until Arianne had assigned him to protect her paramour.

Reaching the wall, Daemon readied himself. A glance back confirmed that Jekar, equipped in armour that like Daemon's had been darkened for this battle, was ready. The boy was understandably nervous, but Daemon knew he would be safe. Two of the more skilled sellswords were assigned to stay near him, and the hulking presence of Ymir added another layer to the boy's protection. There was always a chance that Jekar – or either of Cregan's squires – might die in this battle, but Daemon and Cregan had done what they could to ensure that didn't happen.

After taking a moment, offering a small prayer to the gods – old and new – that he had survive this battle and others to return to see the one he yearned for, Daemon moved through the gap in the wall and looked around, and as he moved forward quickly, his sword thrust forward.

The man he had just skewered through the chest grunted at the unexpected attack, and as Daemon withdrew the blade, his shield came around. The metal-covered object slammed into the side of the pirate's head. While that generated some sound, it was far less than the pirate would have made if able to call out about Daemon's presence.

The body collapsed to the ground, the last flickers of life fading, and Daemon moved forward. Behind him, men poured through the gap he had taken and other sections of the wall. Daemon stood his ground, watching for any new threats as the men formed up with him. The port was laid out as Cregan had explained, and while many of the new Lieutenants would likely remain confused about how the information had been discovered, Daemon was glad for Cregan's ability. Knowing the battlefield before combat took away a weakness that any competent enemy could exploit.

Once one of the men tapped their weapon against the back of his cuirass, Daemon advanced; the men moving with him. Others would spread out, heading toward the other breaches in the wall and then pushing inward toward the docks. The plan was remarkably similar to that used against the Grim Prince before his defeat, which made sense as this was another port under assault. The difference this time, at least for Daemon, was that he knew the lay of the land.

Reaching the first intersection of buildings, a place that opened into a small square, Daemon tensed. This was, according to Cregan, where men were often gathered. Given the time – with the sun not having yet risen over the mountains to the east – it was likely that any men there would be relaxing before a day of labour, but all would be armed.

Stepping out into the intersection, Dameon saw a dozen men. Most were gathered around a fire in the centre, no doubt having their morning meal. The few that were not saw him and those with him. "We are undagh!" The pained call died as an axe impacted the pirate's chest. Daemon was not sure how far that attempted warning carried, but it had those in the intersection reacting.

Daemon surged forward, his blade flashing out, and the first pirate to die by his hand fell. At the same time, a howl echoed around them. Some of the pirates paused, confused by the sound of a predator so close by. Daemon, and those with him, did not and rushed forward.

The first battle of the port was over before he even had to use his shield to defend himself, but Daemon knew it would not be the last. Ymir's howl would rouse those in the port, alerting them that something was amiss. With Cregan assaulting the main gate, the pirates' focus should be there, which would allow Daemon and his men to get deeper into the port before Vaegon understood the true threat. To help with that, a group of those who'd come through the wall with him would break off and assault the gate from the inside. Thoughts about other parts of the battle slid from Daemon's mind as he and the men around him resumed their advance.

Movement flashed before his eyes as he neared the far side of the intersection, and Daemon raised his shield. It vibrated twice, as two arrows struck it. Looking over the edge, he saw a dozen pirates. Three had bows and had hung back but the rest were rushing forward.

"Charge!"

Even as the word left his mouth, Daemon was moving, intent on getting past the oncoming pirates and taking down the archers behind them. His shield shifted, pushing the axe of one pirate away. That left the man exposed and his blade sunk deep into the pirate's guts.

Even as the pirate gawked in shock, Daemon kept moving forward, the blade sinking through flesh with ease. A moment later, he crashed into the pirate shield-first, driving them back. At the same time, he withdrew his blade. As the pirate fell back, hands going to the fatal wound, a quick shift of his elbow had the point of his sword swinging around, adding another wound to the man's chest.

Stepping over the dying man, Daemon advanced on the archers. Seeing them nocking new arrows, his head dropped low, using the shield to cover his approach. His steps became smaller just before the first of four arrows slammed into his shield; all harmlessly impacting, unable to pierce the treated wood.

Three steps after that, Daemon was at the archers. Like the first pirate he had killed, none were armed in much beyond clothing and his blade made quick work of two of them before the rest of his men joined him to finish off the rest.

Glancing around, Daemon checked, ensuring that his men were still in the fight. Pleased that none seemed to have fallen, he resumed his advance; shield forward ready for the next attack, the men falling into step at his sides.

The track at the other side of the intersection, one that led to the docks, was narrower than those through which they had so far passed. He took the centre point of the line as others moved closer or fell back. "Watch the flanks!" He said firmly. He did not shout, both because the men were at his shoulders and because it might alert any at the next junction.

That did not seem to matter as a dozen pirates rushed toward them, flowing from both sides of the upcoming junction. Daemon had just enough time to see that, like the pirates they had just killed, this group was generally unarmoured.

The lead pirate – one of the few to have any armour on, though it was only gambeson – came at him. The pirate's crude blade slashed for his face.

Slowing, Daemon watched the short blade do nothing more than clip the top edge of his shield. A turn of his shield arm pushed the blade away faster, causing the pirate to move with the blade. A look of panic flashed in the pirate's eyes as he realised who he was fighting was in full armour, though it faded as Daemon's blade thrust up as he stepped in, piercing the pirate's skin below the armpit.

The blade sunk it, clipping a rib before going deeper. The pirate gasped, as Daemon withdrew his blade. Before this fatally wounded fool could try anything, Daemon pushed forward with his shield, driving the metal into the pirate's face.

Even as the pirate fell to the ground, Daemon advanced, seeking his next opponent. His blood sang with delight, enjoying the chaos as an axe clattered against his shield, and then chorused as his blade once more found flesh; leaving a deep gash in the leg of another pirate.

Another, then another pirate fell to the ground, wounded, but Daemon paid them little heed. He continued to push forward, and those around him did likewise. The men behind would finish off any that were struggling to survive the initial assault as they followed along behind.

The narrow confines of the alley ensured that against Daemon and those at his side who were armoured – though not to the extent he was – the pirates had little chance. As a sixth one fell to the ground, his leg collapsing as Daemon's sword cut it to the bone, Daemon felt the shift in the air and saw those pirates at the rear of the pirate's ranks step back.

Once the first turned and ran, the rest began to follow. Those at the front were doomed because of it. Either they stood and fought, and thus lost against better-armed and armoured opponents, or they turned and exposed their backs to Daemon's men.

The next few seconds were chaos as this group of pirates routed, and Daemon was left disappointed. He was heartened though as, as they passed through the junction from where the pirate attack had come, the next row of buildings was the last before they reached the sand and pebbles of the beach. Beyond that, he could see the bow of one of the longboats, moored against the docks.

"Flank and forward!" He called out, moving toward the docks. The men fell into step at his sides while others would shift down each path at the junction, sweeping the paths clear and then, after joining up with others, pushing toward the docks from other directions.

Wary of what might await at the docks, Daemon's pace was slow. As more of the docks and the beach where it joined the island came into view, he saw men waiting, bows, and most worryingly, crossbows, at the ready. His shield came up, ready to block any arrow or bolt that came toward him. However just before he braced, movement on the docks caught his attention.

His eyes widened as he saw men on the bows of two longboats, readying the scorpions that rested there. "Down!" Even as the order left his lips, he was dropping low. One of the scorpions fired its bolt, and Daemon watched as he sailed toward them.

He offered a quick prayer to the Gods when the bolt sailed high; slamming into the building to his right, though any reprieve was short as the other longboat was almost ready to fire its scorpion.

"Charge and scatter!" he called, pushing himself forward into the open dock area. The archers and crossbowmen aimed, and Daemon turned his shield toward them, hoping any bolt bound for him struck the shield and not him.

Several objects clipped or clattered into his shield and armour, but nothing punctured, and he made his way toward a cart. It lay between him and the longboats, and while the cart might not survive the bolt of a scorpion, it was the only cover available to him.

Around him, grunts and squeaks of pain came from his men; their weaker armour not saving them from arrows and bolts. As he reached the cart, he glanced back, seeing one pirate take a scorpion bolt to the chest. The man, or at least what was left of him as the impact crushed his chest, was lifted from his feet, and he and the bolt embedded through him crashed to the ground a few yards back. The man took out several others as he fell, but Daemon was heartened to see those further back loosing arrows in retaliation.

Seeing the pirate archers scatter as they came under fire, and praying those on the longboats were doing so as well, Daemon rushed from the cart, bearing down on the nearest pirate. The man turned, roaring in defiance, two axes in hand.

Daemon's shield deflected the first attack, then his other arm shifted, turning his blade so that the other axe could not catch it. Pulling that arm back, the edge of his sword cut the man's forearm to the bone. While the pirate did not drop the axe in that hand, he jerked back the arm. That was the opening Daemon was seeking.

His blade surged forward, and while the pirate was able to raise his arm, and push the blade away from his chest, the edge of the weapon cut a deep gasp across the pirate's chest. Daemon turned as he pulled back the blade, deepening the wound.

The pirate turned with the attack, trying to keep the cut shallow, but in the process, he lost track of Daemon's shield, and the metal came around, slamming into him.

One of the axes was knocked from his hand, but before the pirate could recover he jerked; Daemon's blade thrusting deep into his gut.

Giving the now-dying pirate one last look, Daemon pulled his sword free, more blood flowing forth to colour the sands.

Turning, Daemon sought his next target, though four were already bearing toward him. All four, unlike most of the pirates, wore armour. While it was but chainmail, it would force Daemon to alter his attacks. However, it was the man leading the group who drew Daemon's attention.

That man, who was easily Daemon's height even when considering the armour Dameon wore, held a massive two-handed great axe in his grasp. The head matched Cregan's description as it circled around like a plate of metal from one side to the other. This was likely Vaegon, and as Daemon readied himself to engage the Pirate Lord and his men, Daemon felt a rush of excitement flow through him. Finally, he had an opponent worth fighting.

As the trio came closer, Daemon saw the face of the lead man. While he wore a helm, it was open enough that, where the metal stopped, scarred skin could be seen. Daemon smiled, moving to greet Vaegon Firetouched, looking forward to ending his reign of terror.

More pirates gathered behind Vaegon, seeking strength in their leader. "Take them down!" Daemon called, pointing his sword toward the growing group. If Vaegon fell, his men would break, and while Daemon would happily send every pirate present to the Seven Hells, he knew it was better if they bent the knee to Cregan.

Men, be they former pirates or sellswords, rushed to Daemon's side as he moved to engage Vaegon. Off to one side, he saw Jekar fighting, his sword finding the flesh of a pirate. Once the battle was ended, Daemon would enjoy celebrating his squire's first kill and sharing a drink to Vaegon's death.

A pirate rushed past Vaegon, seeking the glory of taking Daemon down. Daemon stepped to one side, avoiding the rushed swing of the pirate's falchion, and then stepped toward the man, driving the shield into him.

The pirate fell away, and Daemon continued toward Vaegon, sword and shield at the ready. Armoured they might be, and working as a group they probably would, but they had never crossed blades with a knight of Dorne. Still, Daemon wasn't going to underestimate the group, because Vaegon had ruled his ports for going on ten years and his men should be experienced in combat.

Daemon's advance was stopped as Vaegon's great axe swung around. The wide, circular blade cut a swathe through the air between them briskly, though it failed to strike sword, shield, or armour. The weapon was large, and it seemed Vaegon knew how to wield it, and those with him how to use those attacks to their advantage.

Daemon shifted to his right, moving to the single man on that side while the other two came from his left. This one was armed with a pair of short swords; the slight curve on the blades was uncommon in Westeros but thanks to Oberyn, Daemon had trained against such weapons.

The pirate attacked with well-timed strikes, each blow coming from different angles, yet every strike met Daemon's shield. He managed to block one attack and swung his shield to intercept the other, trapping both blades.

With a twist and a turn of his arm, Daemon pushed aside the two pirate blades. However, before he could press forward, he was forced back as two more pirates surged into the fray.

An axe struck his shield, Daemon moving his arm to guide the attack away from the edge of the shield. A blade slid around the edge, seeking to use his move to strike. One foot moving back had the blade slide along the front of his armour. Moving his shield arm closer had the edge crash into the hand holding the attacking blade.

The weapon fell to the ground, though before Daemon could bring his blade around and wound or maim the pirate, he was forced to shift back. Vaegon was attacking again.

The great axe swooped in from the left, speeding toward him. Daemon believed he could push the attack away with his shield, but doing so might leave him exposed, so he chose to shift back, avoiding the attack entirely.

An axe caught the top of the shield before he could reset his feet. Instead of fighting the pull, Daemon went with it, turned his body, and then thrust his sword over the top of the shield. He felt the point strike flesh, which was followed by the pull on his shield ending and a gargled sound.

He moved forward, leading with his shield, and he was rewarded by it striking the pirate. Without looking, Daemon turned, ready to face another pirate.

His eyes widened as he saw a glint of metal rushing toward his head. He turned slightly and the blade grazed his helm. Another blade then clipped the armour on his arm without doing any damage.

Daemon was then forced back as Vaegon's axe came around again, swooping in from above his shield. He turned, shifting his feet around on the uneven ground, and angled his shield. The axe clattered against it, jarring Daemon's bones, but the attack was deflected away.

From the position he was in, he saw the pirate with a single blade thrusting forward. Daemon lifted his arm and shifted his chest, letting the point of the pirate's blade crash and then bounce away from his pauldron.

With the pirate's movement altered by his shifting, Daemon thrust his sword upward, driving it toward the pirate's chest. The blade struck true, and the pirate stumbled, his hold on his weapon slipping. It then fell from his grasp when Daemon pulled his sword free.

Daemon's focus shifted to the remaining pirate with Vaegon. The one with dual short blades.

The man came forward, blades at the ready. Daemon had the advantage in reach and protection, but the shorter blades might allow the pirate faster movement and allow the pirate to slip a blade through a joint in Daemon's armour. Yet, for all the need to be wary of the blades, the great axe of Vaegon was a far more pressing threat.

The short blades came forward, moving fast and seeking a gap. Daemon used first sword and then shield to deflect strikes, shifting back to keep the pirate and Vaegon in sight.

The great axe swung around. Daemon saw he had no chance to avoid it without exposing himself to the other pirate. Knowing this, he tilted his shield, angling it so the axe did not just glance off.

The axe struck his shield, and Daemon felt his arm be driven into him. Instead of trying to fight the movement, he went with it, stepping back.

His sword came around, angling for Vaegon's wrist. The pirate reacted by turning his arm and stepping away. As his blade clattered against a steel vambrace, Daemon saw the other pirate moving in.

His feet danced on the ground, taking him around. That exposed his back for but a moment, but with Vaegon's axe diverted, and the distance to the other pirate great enough, no strike landed against his armour.

As he returned to face his foes, Daemon's shield arm turned and lifted. As the second pirate came into sight, the man advancing with blades ready to strike, Dameon shifted his arm once again.

The hard lower edge of the shield slammed into the pirate, knocking him aside. Finishing his pivot, Daemon ducked low and extended his sword arm. His blade moved upward, cutting a deep gash across the pirate's back.

As the pirate fell like a sack to the ground, Daemon found himself facing Vaegon, the great axe already sweeping back in. Angling his shield, Daemon braced as the great axe impacted, and then swung clear.

Stepping forward, he thrust his sword toward Vaegon. The pirate leader batted the sword away with the haft of his axe though it left them both off line. Daemon reset his stance, his blood pumping as he faced Vaegon Firetouched in single combat.

Vaegon stood for a second, his axe shifting to rest by his shoulder, watching Daemon. The slightest drooping of his head was matched by Daemon, and then he came at the knight.

Daemon moved back, watching Vaegon's axe as it swooped and twirled around the gap between them. Vaegon was moving the weapon in smaller arcs now, not leaving himself as exposed as he had been when men had been ready to protect those gaps.

He stepped forward, only to slide back, the possible gap removed by the speed Vaegon swung his massive axe around. The pirate knew how to use the weapon and control the distance.

Behind Vaegon, Daemon saw men rushing near longboats, but he could not tell for whom those men fought. Taking his gaze from Vaegon for any more than a split second was dangerous. It would not matter if the bit of the axe were sharp or not, the speed it was moving would drive Daemon away and may break bones.

Three more minor openings came and went without Daemon being able to exploit them. Vaegon's axe moved fast enough, and at angles that prevented Daemon's blade from getting through without risking it being smashed away. Knowing this could not continue, and feeling he had the patterns Vaegon was using down, Daemon shifted.

Instead of attempting to take the small opening when it appeared, he stepped to his left and angled his shield. Vaegon's axe came around, the pirate altering the path of the bit. However, Daemon tracked it well enough that when it struck his shield, it bounced clear.

The deflection forced Vaegon to shuffle to one side, and in the process expose himself.

Daemon's sword slipped low. Vaegon grunted even as the blade was pulled back. The wound it caused wasn't deep, but already blood was flowing down the pirate's leg.

Leaning back, Daemon watched the axe flash through his vision. He was unable to take advantage of the next opening in Vaegon's form, but that was fine. Taking a few steps back, he forced the pirate to follow him.

Once Vaegon had taken the bait, Daemon rushed forward even as Vaegon's axe came crashing down from upon high. Daemon lifted his shield, angling it so that it and his armour could deflect the hit. At the same time, he thrust his blade forward, driving it deep into the pirate's thigh.

The axe connected with his shield, but Daemon was able to hold his ground. At the same time, Vaegon stumbled to one side, the new wound and Daemon blocking the attack, destroying his balance.

Vaegon's axe dug into the ground, sending pebbles and stones flying. Daemon barely noticed as some bounced against his armour. His focus was on Vaegon, and his blade was already moving again.

The swept up into Vaegon's arm, and the pirate's grip on his weapon slipped. Daemon's shield then thrust forward, smashing into the pirate's face.

Vaegon stumbled back, his leg giving way, and he fell to the ground. Not wanting to grant him the chance to stand, Daemon was upon him.

"Agh!" Vaegon grunted, his hands going to his chest as Daemon's sword crashed into the mail of Vaegon's armour. The mail held even as Daemon pushed forward, but it was enough to keep Vaegon on the ground.

The pirate grasped the blade, blood flowing from his palms, and twisted the sword to one side. To avoid falling, Daemon released his grip.

Vaegon turned with the sword, rolling over it. As he did, Daemon stepped forward and drove the base down. The point crashed into Vaegon's back, drawing a loud grunt from the pirate.

Daemon lifted the shield and drove it down again, aiming to shatter the pirate's back. A third strike was delivered, drawing a third grunt, before Daemon stepped back. As he did, he pulled a short blade from his belt. The secondary weapon was already moving down as Vaegon rolled over.

"Yield," Daemon roared as he placed the short blade against Vaegon's throat; one leg crashing onto the pirate's arm as it grasped Daemon's sword. Daemon did not mind if this pirate did not wish to yield, he understood that taking the man alive might be useful for information about the other pirates who ruled Redwater.

Vaegon glared at Daemon, and for a moment the knight felt he would have to kill the pirate. However, Vaegon's gaze shifted to Daemon's right, and from there, a deep, spine-rattling growl echoed through Daemon's armour. While Vaegon couldn't see it, Daemon grinned, knowing the source of that sound. "Yield, or die."

The pirate's focus returned to Daemon, panic beginning to blossom in his eyes. "I…" Vaegon began, his voice hoarse, and the movement drawing a sliver of blood as he pressed against Daemon's blade. "Yield."

Daemon grunted in satisfaction and pulled his blade back from the pirate's neck. Before standing he slammed his shield down, crashing it into Vaegon's arm and forcing the pirate to release the grip on his sword. "Unless you wish to become direwolf chow, stay very fucking still," He added as he resecured the short blade against his belt.

After grasping his sword, glad to have it back in his hand, Daemon stood, though throughout the entire movement, his eyes never left the pirate at his feet. Taking a step back, the large form of Ymir came into sight. "If he moves, remove a limb," the direwolf growled, happy at the offer, "though leave the head for now."

As Ymir moved closer, one massive paw pressing down on Vaegon's chest, Daemon realised that around them men were cheering. The sights and sound of the battle had all but vanished as he focused on taking down the so-called pirate lord that now lay at his feet.

Looking around, he saw that the pirates had knelt, blades dropped while those who fought under his command were cheering, celebrating the battle. Daemon thrust his sword skyward, roaring in delight at his victory. That set off another round of cheers.

As the moment passed, Daemon turned, and as he sheathed his sword, he looked around. Bodies lay everywhere, though far fewer than he had have expected, and most appeared to be pirates under Vaegon's command. His eyes quickly caught sight of Jekar, and he moved toward his squire.

"Jekar," he said once closer, the boy snapping around to face him. He still held his blade tightly, blood dripping from it and from his armour. Daemon's eyes scanned the armour, and he sighed in relief at understanding the blood was not from his squire. "You fought well," he said, placing his no-free sword hand on the boy's shoulder. "And claimed your first kill."

"I… I…" Jekar turned slowly to look at Daemon. His face was pale, and Daemon knew well the reason.

"You did what needed to be done," He said gently, as he squeezed the boy's shoulder. "The men that die by your sword deserve their fate. Their actions were unworthy of a knight of Dorne." Jekar nodded, though Daemon was unsure if the words were sinking in. "Come, let us see if we can find Edric and Trystane. Let us show them that you are worthy of being my squire, and one day becoming a knight."

Daemon had to give the boy a gentle push, but Jekar started walking with him. Daemon understood how he felt, remembering the first time he had killed while squiring for Oberyn Martell. The bandit had been one of several dozen that had attacked them on the road to Hellholt. At the time, Daemon had been much like Jekar; uncertain of what he had done and feeling sick to his stomach. Yet, with time, experience and patience, Daemon knew that the bandit deserved his fate. As did whichever pirates Jekar had killed this day.

As they moved, Daemon saw Cregan heading toward him. Edric Dayne and Trystane were a few steps behind. The two squires seemed as shocked as Jekar, though neither appeared to have tasted battle. No doubt seeing the aftermath of the chaos of battle was a shock to them as it was to Jekar. They would have known that war brought death, and had seen animals butchered before – Cregan and he had taken the squires and young Morsh to the butchers to see animals killed mere days after the group had sworn themselves to their service – but seeing the bodies of men in such state was always an experience the first time it occurred. The boys would get stronger, they had little choice in the matter if they wished to be knights and with the battles still to come on Redwater and beyond.

Thinking on the future, Daemon wondered what Cregan's plans for Redwater would be once it was cleansed of pirates. Building up Dustspear was the clear intent for now, but Redwater was thrice the size of Dustspear, and perhaps more importantly twice as far from Sunspear. Cregan would not want his seat to be that far from Arianne, which would leave an island – according to the maps – the size of Estermont needing a lord to rule it.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Daemon wondered, that might become him with Alysanne ruling at his side.

… …

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(Cregan's POV)

I leaned against the central building of the port, watching as the last of Vaegon's men were frogmarched along the pier. They were the crew of the two longboats that had been further out when we'd take the port. Since neither had been watching the port, nor close enough to see what was happening this morning, the ships had sailed back into port none-the-wiser that Vaegon no longer ruled here.

Vaegon had, as expected, rejected my offer to bend the knee, and Daemon had removed his head not long after. Normally I'd have done so, as I had passed the sentence, but Daemon had been the one to defeat Vaegon and take the port, and thus I felt the honour was his. After that, eight men of the nearly one hundred and fifty who survived the assault had chosen to not bend the knee. They had joined Vaegon in death.

Of those who signed my charter and bent the knee, two had been former lieutenants of Vaegon's, and they were the ones who'd help ensure the longboats that were now docked had sailed into the port unaware of the trap they'd entered until it was too late. Neither of those former lieutenants, nor the roughly three hundred in total – assuming the crews of these two longboats all bent the knee – that now served me were trustworthy, but I needed the manpower to take out Rakakz and Allerion.

Rakakz would be first as he controlled the central area of the island, and when it became time to attack his ports, the men who'd bent the knee since my landing on Redwater would be in the vanguard. Not all of them, mind you, and not without others I felt were at least partially trustworthy, but the majority would be Vaegon's former men.

While that was a dangerous option as they might well turn and fight my forces alongside Rakakz's men, after discovering the state of the two dozen slaves in the northern port matched those in the southern port – perhaps they were even worse – if I didn't need the manpower, I'd have executed everyone here.

To ease my mind on the matter, and ensure that no one tried to take advantage of those poor, mind-broken souls, they along with everything of worth that wasn't food, drink, or weaponry was being gathered and would be sent to the southern port. They'd then be transported by the Pride to Northpoint. It would take the cog and her escort at least half a moon to get there and back. By then I'd ideally have two if not all of Rakakz's ports under my control.

The initial intelligence had suggested Rakakz and Allerion had just a pair of ports; much like Vaegon before his demise. From speaking with men who'd bent the knees, including Vaegon's two former lieutenants – Marraro and Jaqur – I'd discovered that Rakakz had three while Allerion was believed to have four. That, assuming similar numbers of men at these new ports, suggested even with Vaegon's men now under my banner, at best I'd be able to match Allerion's forces. If he allied with Rakakz, then I'd be fighting from an inferior position in almost every regard.

The recently discovered Rakakz port sat on Redwater's east coast, about halfway between his other port there and the one I now control to the south. It, along with the port further north, suggested he used them to raid any trade vessels moving through the Steps, against forces from the Lotus Prince and Salladhor Saan, and to defend from attacks by Allerion from the north. In theory, the new port was a small one, but its mere existence altered my plans for taking out the Gilded Hand before facing off against Allerion.

It was good that, as far as I could tell, no one had escaped my attacks on Vaegon's ports as it granted me time to re-evaluate my next move. Rakakz's bay port was the obvious target, but it could be supported easily by one of the east-coast ports. I'd also have to be cautious of Allerion moving from his bay port to either attack my rear while I took Rakakz's port or sail south to attack the port where I now stood.

To grant me a larger force in the bay, when the Pride sailed out, two other galleys would go with it, though when the small force reached the southern tip of Redwater, those galleys would turn north and head toward this port. While the bay was better suited to longboats than galleys, the extra ships – and the increased firepower of their scorpions – would help ensure this port wasn't exposed to a counterassault when I moved against Rakakz.

The rest of my fleet would stay in the other port, with the sails of the three capture…

My thoughts ground to a halt as I felt a pull against my mind. Knowing it was coming from Rian, who was, as usual, flying high above the island, I headed into the building I'd been leaning against. Once inside, I found Vaegon's former command chair and sat down in it before closing my eyes.

The next sight I saw, as it did each time I experienced it, took my breath away. Soaring above the clouds, having sight of not just Redwater but other islands in the Stepstones, was a view that continued to amaze me. However, I wasn't here to enjoy a sightseeing tour. Rian had something to show me, and I let him remain in control of his body, settling in as a passenger.

The massive eagle – his wingspan was half again as wide as I was tall, which was far beyond what his species was generally capable of – understood my intent, and as I enjoyed the sensation of the wind sweeping over his feathers, he turned northward.

The ports I'd just been thinking about came into sight, and I confirmed that the port I'd only just learnt of was smaller than either of Vaegon's. Still, even if it occupied less ground, its naval force was an issue. Two ships – galleys by the look of them – sat at the docks while eastward, about two leagues eastward, two other galleys were closing fast on a single vessel.

While I was curious about the vessel, as it appeared to be more akin to a carrack than a cog, it wasn't that Rian wanted to show me. Nor was it the layout of the port the galleys had likely emerged from. Instead, he swooped around and dove, bringing us back to what I was treating as the rough border between territory controlled by Vaegon and Rakakz.

That was marked by the narrowest point in the land between the ports each had controlled, though it was closer to Rakakz's ports than either of Vaegon's former ones. Into the bay, a small river flowed, supposedly starring in the hills and mountains that ran through the middle of Rakakz's territory. Another river flowed toward the eastern shore from the same area, though this one was narrower and shallower.

The presence of freshwater – or at least more as streams ran near each of Vaegon's former ports – along with mountains and forests suggested Redwater held an equal density of natural resources as Dustspear. They would, though, likely be less developed as the island lay further from Westeros than Dustspear. Hells, based on the maps, the closest point of Redwater to Westeros was roughly an equal distance from the Disputed Lands of Essos.

Rian finished his circling descent, and though we'd not dropped low enough that we were clearing the tops of the forest, the individual trees in the forest that covered most of the island were visible, as were the gaps between them. It was in one of those that I saw movement.

At first, I thought perhaps it was a beast akin to a bear that roamed the forest. If so, Ymir would enjoy the challenge to his position as the alpha predator of the island. However, as another shadow moved through a gap in the canopy, I understood it wasn't a bear but a man.

As Rian continued to soar high above the forest, through his eyes I saw more men moving below. All were heading south, and given we were close to Rakakz's south-eastern port, it was obvious these men were his, and that they were launching a raid on Vaegon. It wasn't certain which port they'd be attacking, as they still had a day's – or perhaps two – trek to reach either, but that was something Rian or I could monitor as the day progressed.

I offered a thought of thanks to Rian for alerting me to the movement and then slid from his mind. Once back in my body, I looked around, blinking as I re-adapted to my surroundings. While the aftereffects of skinchanging were far less now than they'd once been, I was still disoriented for a few moments.

"Edric!" I called once I felt comfortable again. The door opened, and the heir to Starfall – and if I trained him well, the next Sword of the Morning – opened the door. "Summon Daemon and Jaeronos," I ordered, "and bring my map of the Steps." He gave a small nod and then left, closing the door behind him.

Once alone, I stood and cleared the table that Vaegon had used. Rakakz launching a raid was a smart move, as the forest would cover much of his approach, and he'd probably done so before. The difference this time was that Vaegon was gone and because of Rian I was aware of the impending raid.

The lay of the land might not be certain, but it shouldn't be too difficult to ensure the raid not only failed, but that none of the Gilded Hand's men returned to tell Rakakz that he no longer faced Vaegon, but instead found himself opposed by the Bloody Wolf.

… …

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A/N: Well, as much as Cregan might be hoping his actions aren't drawing attention, it seems they are. We'll have to see over the next few years (in-story) if this might change the timeline in ways that could be both beneficial and harmful to Cregan and others.

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This story is cross-posted on Questionable Questing, Archive of our Own and Royal Road.

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