Tyrion

Tyrion spent much of his time on the walls watching Stannis' van loiter on the the southern bank of the Blackwater. This time, punctuated by the thump of the three trebuchets called the Three Whores, was exceptionally boring, save for one aspect.

Tyrion focused his gaze through the Myrish Eye on where a few hundred of Stannis' troops had stripped to the waist and were now digging trenches, cutting wood, and piling it all into low palisades on the slope of the bank, between the river and the Kingswood. What are they doing there?

Tyrion spoke to a gold cloaks sergeant. "Have the Whores loose at those trenches."

Tyrion returned his focus to the workers. One man, still in his surcoat, caught his attention or rather the surcoat did. It was grey and black with a small patch of white. The black ship and onion of Seaworth. What is Stannis' Onion Knight doing here instead of on his ship?

Despite the efforts of the Three Whores the trenches and palisades were quickly completed by Stannis' men. Or are they Seaworth's men? Tyrion wondered as he saw men coming to and from the Onion Knight.

Ser Jacelyn came to him one morn to ask of him. "Why are you so concerned by the efforts of a smuggler?"

"Smuggler he may be but he has Stannis' trust. Whatever the Onion Knight is doing it was likely ordered by Stannis himself. Though to be true I don't know what the Onion Knight is up too."

Tyrion would get his answer the next day.

Stannis' army began to trickle in around midday. Thousands of cavalry and infantry marching in great columns beneath the banners of half a hundred houses and above them all the crowned black stag of Baratheon. From where he was on the wall Tyrion could hear the muttering of the gold cloaks as rank upon endless rank exited the Kingswood. They're frightened, they think the city will fall the moment Stannis attacks. Best not let them know they're right.

Tyrion raised his voice. "My father the great lord Tywin once said that a man on the walls is worth ten beneath them! I disagree for the folk of King's Landing are worth ten men anyway! Stannis would need fifty times more men to have even a chance!"

That roused a hearty cheer from the gold cloaks, though it was smaller than Tyrion had hoped it would be.

Movement at the trenches again drew Tyrion's gaze. A few thousand men had peeled off from the bulk of Stannis host and had gathered behind the trenches. As Tyrion watched the men pulled a dozen odd pieces of metal. They seemed vaguely cylindrical and varied greatly in length and breadth. Some kind of ram perhaps, but why of metal?

From his place on the Mud Gate Tyrion continued to watch as the rams were placed into the trenches, barrels were rolled up after them along with canvas bags and wagon loads of what looked like dull grey stones. Some kind of catapult mayhaps. As Tyrion watched he saw a rider with a cloak of gold flanked by two others with white cloaks approach the trenches. Stannis. Oh and he's made his own Kingsguard how fascinating.

Stannis spent some time speaking with his Onion Knight, the two of them gesturing towards King's Landing a few times, before returning to the bulk of his host. A flash of yellow and orange caught his eye. He quickly looked at the front of the trenches where they were now shrouded in smoke, a low rumble like thunder echoed across the river.

Tyrion put the Myrish Eye down. "What in Seven Hells was that?"

Tyrion just barely saw something flew through the air faster than his eyes could follow disappearing behind the eastern tower that flanked the Mud Gate. Immediately after the walls shook like a fence someone had kicked.

Tyrion grabbed the crenellations to steady himself. "Fuck me! What the fu-"

He was cut off as more flames flashed on the southern bank, more thunder followed and then the world shook as the walls rattled like the toy blocks of a child. Tyrion fell to his knees trying not to piss himself in fear.

Of all the times for Varys to be wrong it had to be about this.

When the shaking finally stopped Tyrion rose his head to see Ser Jacelyn Bywater approaching. "What in the Seven Hells was that?" The larger man roughly pulled Tyrion to his feet and whispered in his ear. "You said wildfire not whatever the hells that was!"

Tyrion pushed himself away from the ironhanded knight and whispered back. "I don't know. Some kind of catapult I think."

"What kind of catapult does this," Ironhand pulled Tyrion off the gatehouse and into the eastern tower. He kept pushing Tyrion until he was damn near forcing him out of a window. From his position Tyrion could see the walls were pockmarked by craters and holes that had caused part of the parapet to collapse.

"Oh fuck me." Tyrion glanced at Ser Jacelyn and then stared across the river. He shook his head. "I doubt this is going to bet much better. Have your men try and dig out whatever they're throwing at us. I want to know what we're dealing with."

Without a reason to risk his neck on the walls Tyrion retreated to the safety of his chambers. Within the comforts of the Red Keep Tyrion watched the rapid disintegration of the walls of King's Landing. Ensconced within his solar in the Tower of the Hand Tyrion drank wine by the goblet as he listened to the destruction of King's Landing.

By nightfall a wide breach had been made in the wall east of the Mud Gate, the rubble formed a wide fanning ramp leading into the city.

Ser Jacelyn came an hour after the thunder of Stannis' weapons finally went silent, he was accompanied by pair of gold cloaks who together were carrying an iron ball the size of a man's head.

His mind hazed by wine, Tyrion still managed to focus long enough to ask. "What's this."

Ironhand gave a perfunctory bow as the two gold cloaks put the ball on Tyrion's desk with a loud thump. "Mi'lord Hand, you asked for what Lord Stannis was throwing at us," he gestured at the ball.

Tyrion leaned forward to grasp the ball. "Uh that's heavy."

"About twenty pounds."

"By the Seven Hells now wonder the walls are getting destroyed," Tyrion shook his head and muttered. "How are they throwing these?"

Apparently Ironhand took this as an actual question. "They're coming from the those metal rams Ser Davos put in the trenches."

"Less like rams and more like dragons." Tyrion muttered as he rubbed his temples. "Gods!" He sighed. "Gather as much debris as you can make a barricade behind the breach. Tear down houses if you have too we'll need it as tall and wide as possible." Tyrion looked out his window. "I have a feeling there'll be more breaches before Stannis attacks."

Ser Jacelyn Bywater nodded and bowed as he left. "Yes, mi'lord Hand."

Tyrion drank deep into the night before falling into bed and Shae's arms.

Wine pounding on his brain and iron balls pounding on the walls woke him at an ungodly hour in the morning. He struggled out of the tangle of sheets and limbs and staggered his way to the window. Stannis' dragons were pounding the walls west of the Mud Gate now ripping out great chunks of stone and sending dust near fifty feet into the air. But that was not what piqued Tyrion's interest, and his fears. There was the sound of shouting and steel from within King's Landing.

"Pod!" Tyrion roared causing Shae to wake with a jump. Tyrion stomped his way out of his solar, "Pod!"

The boy in question stumbled his way through the door. "Y-yes mi'lord?"

"Get me dressed!"

"Wh-which doublet mi'lord?"

"Does it look like I give a fuck, just pick one! And get me some wine!"

Dressed and and refreshed Tyrion made his way out of Maegor's Holdfast and into the Red Keep proper gathering red cloaks and clansmen as he went. He caught Lancel peeking out of the Royal Chambers guarded by Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Meryn Trant.

Tyrion turned swiftly and spoke to his cousin "Get in your armour and fetch the crown. The king needs to make an appearance. Meet me at the gatehouse."

Without giving the false king and his kingsguard a chance to respond Tyrion continued his march to the gatehouse. Shagga and his band of Stone Crows met Tyrion at the gatehouse. "Where's Ser Jacelyn?" He asked of a gold cloak sergeant.

"In the city m'lord putting down the riot."

"Riot? Seven Hells another one? What sparked this one."

"A septon in Flea Bottom. He claimed the gods were making the walls fall, that the Father had judged house Lannister, and that the Warrior himself had come to fight for Stannis. He said that all godly men should take arms and seize the city in the name of the true king."

"Fuck! Shit! Godsdamn! Seven Hells!" Tyrion took a breath and, from the corner of his eye, saw Shagga nodding in approval at his stream of curses. "How big is the riot?"

"Not as large as the last one," answered the gold cloak. "The worst of the troublemakers are either dead or in the dungeons already. Flea Bottom had been upended again but Ironhand is beating them down again."

"And the septon?"

"Lost in the madness, mayhaps dead, mayhaps hiding."

"Find him and put his head on a spike," commanded Tyrion. He turned to one of his few remaining red cloaks. "Tell the High Septon to arrange some preaching in our favour."

"Yes, m'lord," the red cloak ran off to follow Tyrion's command.

Within minutes Lancel, in his full royal regalia and flanked by the two remaining Kingsguard, joined Tyrion on the walls. The red cloaks formed ranks around them, ostensibly for protection, in truth to prevent anyone getting too close a look at Lancel.

"What's happening," asked the breathless false king.

"A septon raised Flea Bottom for Stannis, but they've been put down for the naught at least."

"Is the septon dead?"

"Either that or in hiding so long as he stops his preaching it doesn't matter."

Lancel nodded. "And what do you want me to do?"

"Be seen nephew be seen. Let the gold cloaks see that their king is here and will be beside them when the fighting starts. Walk the walls of the Red Keep mayhaps venture onto the city walls if Stannis' bombardment eases. But remember-"

"Yes. Yes. crown and helmet on at all times. I'm not stupid uncle."

"Forgive me for being cautious. Go, I have work to do and I don't need your honour guard hanging over my shoulders."

Lancel snorted but left with his kingsguard and red cloaks, leaving Tyrion alone with his clansmen.

The next two days passed in a blur as Tyrion struggled to keep the city in line. A dozen gold cloaks had been killed in the riot, but the effect on morale was even worse. Ser Jacelyn reported that men were openly talking about how the gods had cursed House Lannister. Those men whose muttering grew to loud were hanged from the walls of the Red Keep. But it didn't stop the muttering among the gold cloaks. And despite Ironhand's efforts the septon had not been caught. And in the ruins of Flea Bottom and the nearby districts rebellious smallfolk still lurked in the shadows. Half a dozen more gold cloaks were killed in the night, they were found in alleys with slit throats and their own balls shoved in the wounds.

On the other hand at least work on the barricades went well, the gold cloaks used rubble from the walls and from the buildings of Flea Bottom, a punishment for their rebellion, a broad arc of palisade was formed around the breach, and once it was made, the second breach as well. Crossbows, and spears and rocks for throwing were readied to rain hell on anyone who entered the breaches or assaulted the walls.

Tyrion developed a habit of flinching whenever he heard the thunder from across the Blackwater. All too often the thunder was followed by the crash of collapsing stonework as walls and towers that had stood for centuries fell in hours. Three days of endless bombardment did much to devastate the walls of King's Landing. And in the early morning mists five days after the dragons first roared the bells of the Red Keep tolled as a vast fleet was sighted at sea.

Hurriedly armoured Tyrion gathered his clansmen and red cloaks behind the Mud Gate in Fishmonger's Square. Lancel was there already mounted and flanked by the kingsguard, while fully armoured even Tyrion couldn't tell that Lancel wasn't Joffrey. From there the last Lannisters in King's Landing moved atop the Mud Gate itself flanked by destroyed towers and a pair of breaches as it was the gate was still a formidable defence and would form the keystone of their attempt to bleed Stannis dry.

From there they watched their own small fleet assemble against Stannis' vast horde of ships. The center of their line was made of smaller and older galleys, and barges, including Cersei's rarely used gilt and marble monstrosity, which had been loaded with wildfire. To distract the Stannis' new weapons Tyrion had the larger and more dangerous galleys form up closest to them. All the better to present an exciting target. With the weapons focusing on the galleys the barges could sail into Stannis' fleet and burn it.

Tyrion gripped the ramparts in nervous anticipation.

Davos

Davos arrived three days before the bulk of King Stannis' army in company with the rest of the van. Accompanied by only a small guard of dragonmen and Beikango under his direct command, Davos set out to prepare the ground for the arrival of the dragons.

Despite his lofty title of Lord Commander of Dragons it was truly the red haired Beikango, Ichiro, who did most of the work. On the first day Davos and Ichiro had paced up and down the southern bank of the Blackwater. Stopping every few dozen feet to peer through their glass eyes and examine the city walls. Ichiro peppered Davos with questions in his poorly accented Common Tongue about King's Landing, the outline of the city streets, the thickness and height of the walls, and where the barracks of the garrison were in the city.

"What way is close to the castle?" The foreigner asked after nearly an hour of such questions.

Davos paused a moment to puzzle the meaning behind the words. "Behind the Mud Gate is a road called the Hook which leads to the Red Keep."

"Good. Good. Make breach there." Ichiro pointed at the wall just west of the Mud Gate. The foreigner stepped down to the river bank then took a score of long paces up the slope and jumped up and down. "Put tahio here. The dragons here."

Davos joined the strange man. "We'll dig trenches to ward against the trebuchets." Since their arrival the Lannisters had been launching errant stones from great trebuchets behind the Mud Gate.

With a plan in place Davos quickly gathered his commanders, mostly knights raised from low birth or the third sons of third sons. Men who had no authority to their name but what King Stannis granted them.

Together with Ichiro, his commanders, and a dozen other Beikango, Davos marked out the length and width of the trenches, and the position of the dragons. Once complete men of the van were brought in to work on the digging the series of deep trenches and slots guarded with piled earth and wooden palisades. Not long after the work began in earnest stones of the trebuchets began to fall on his men. But the stones were few and they fell with no accuracy so long as one was cautious and kept their eyes open they could do little harm.

Three days of work put together a formidable assembly of trenches and palisades to greet whatever the Lannisters had to throw at them. The first elements of King Stannis' great host arrived early in the afternoon of the third day since Davos' arrival. Like a vast serpent the greater part of thirty thousand men slowly gathered themselves on the Blackwater ready to strike at King Stannis' command. The dragonmen encamped themselves not far from the trenchworks that now spanned a hundred yards east and west along the Blackwater aiding in the finishing touches of the trenches, while the dragons themselves were dragged into place.

The King came to Davos' late in the afternoon riding towards the dragonmen flanked by his small Kingsguard. "Lord Seaworth. I see you have been busy."

Davos bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

"When will you be able to begin firing?"

"As soon as the dragons are in place. Are we attacking immediately?"

"No," answered the king. "Not until Ser Imry and the fleet arrive. Storms and foul winds delayed the them in Blackwater Bay, but they should be here in a few days at most." Stannis directed his attention to the city. "In the meantime I want the dragons to make as many breaches as possible for the assault."

"Yes, Your Grace. Master Ichiro says that the walls are poorly prepared to defend against dragonfire and that it will take a few hours at most to make a breach in the walls and another few more for the breach to be properly prepared for an assault."

King Stannis nodded. "I'll trust in his experience and your good judgement. Where will you breach first?"

"East and west of the Mud Gate, where the Lannisters have been kind enough to clear the ground for us. After the wall are breached I aim to ruin the towers as much as possible to stop the garrison from raining arrows upon us."

Stannis nodded again. "Continue your business then my lord."

Davos nodded. "Yes, Your Grace," he turned to his men. "Alright lads let's get to business."

The men knew their work and went about it quickly pushing and dragging the great bronze and iron tubes into place where they would be guarded from the stone's of the trebuchets. The better part of an hour later the dragons were in place and loaded.

Davos watched a small black speck rise from behind the walls of King's Landing. It flew higher and higher and slowly grew larger and larger. The speck, the stone, began to quickly grow in size as it began it's descent. The stone crashed into the shallows of the Blackwater, bounced up and up the bank hitting the palisade with a dull thump doing no damage at all. He turned to his captains and gave his command. "Fire." The dragons roared fire and smoke towards King's Landing.

Davos' view of impact of the dragonfire was quickly obscured by the clouds of dust. When the clouds cleared he could see that a small part of the wall had collapsed bringing down a piece of the parapet with it. Without ceremony the dragonmen began to reload.

Davos stared at the walls and whispered to himself. "Gods. All this after just one volley."

As Ichiro had predicted the first breach was made before nightfall. It created a narrow canyon in the walls and Davos watched with fascination as the dragonfire continued throw up great gouts of stone and dust as that the efforts of the dragonmen and their Beikango advisors gradually widened and deepened the breach until it was suitable for a ground assault.

At dawn the barrage began again, this time striking a section of wall just east of the Mud Gate. Three hours of dragonfire and another breach was made followed by again widening and deepening it. That took the rest of the second day.

As the third day dawned the dragons turned their attention to the towers which flanked the Mud Gate. The pair of towers lasted longer than the walls, their round faces sometimes deflecting the dragonfire, but inevitably they fell as well. The towers collapsed on themselves turning from bastions of the defence into massive ramps that would give the attackers a clear path onto the walls.

During the fourth day the dragons made their way up the walls toward the Red Keep. With these towers Davos was content to merely damage the towers instead of fully collapsing them. The harder things were for the Lannisters the happier Davos was.

On the morn of the fifth day Davos first heard bells toll from the Red Keep, minutes later the bells were followed by war horns and trumpets from the camp arrayed on the southern bank of the Blackwater. The great fleet of King Stannis arrived.

Ser Imry's fleet appeared out of the morning mist in ten lines of twenty ships. The great galleys were moving slowly relying on their sails and letting the rowers rest for when the calls of "battle speed" came.

To the west was the enemy fleet the absence of King Robert's Hammer raised an eyebrow from Davos. Without that great galley of four hundred oars the three hundred oar Fury would be unmatched in the battle.

Davos watched the vastly outnumbered enemy fleet ride the Blackwater Rush to meet King Stannis' Royal Fleet, which, led by Fury, was now entering the river. The enemy formation was becoming clearer now, their larger ships were taking position on the right flank where they would be closest to Davos and the dragons, while the smaller and more fragile galleys and cogs and even barges were in the middle or left of the formation.

Davos was about to command the dragons to fire upon the larger and closer galleys when he heard something behind him and turned to see the king watching the fleets and grinding his teeth.

Davos gave a quick bow. "Your Grace."

"My lord," Stannis responded then continued to grind his teeth. The king turned his head westwards and Davos followed his gaze into the midst of the host crowded on the banks of the Blackwater awaiting the ships that would carry them to battle. Amidst the host, standing next to a large bonfire was Melisandre the Red Woman. It was on her that King Stannis' gaze had settled.

As if she had sensed their twin stare she turned to stare back at them. Davos turned away returning his focus to the river and the two fleets, though King Stannis continued to stare at the priestess of R'hllor.

Without turning to face him Stannis said. "Ignore the enemy galleys shoot Cersei's pleasure barge."

"Your Grace?"

"You have your command my lord see it done."

Davos bowed his head in submission. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Come to me when Lord Captain Imry reaches the shore. I have a particular task for you."

Stannis rode off to the rest of the host without a word. Davos shook his head, madness to waste dragonfire on a pleasure barge. What did the Red Woman say to the King?

Davos approached one of his commanders, Ser Eddgar Mertyns who commanded three of the dragons, who looked expectantly at him. "What are the king's commands mi'lord?"

Davos gritted his teeth as he searched the enemy swing their ships into position. There she was near the middle of the line a great marble and golds monstrosity that lumbered behind the faster galleys. "Shoot the barge," he commanded at last. At Ser Eddgar's questioning look Davos shrugged. "King Stannis commands and we obey."

Ser Eddgar shook his head. "Aye mi'lord, I'll see it done."

After several painful minutes the three dragons roared. Davos was standing far enough that he could see clearly what happened. The barge was struck and mere seconds later another roar, this one louder and longer and more terrible than any dragon, filled the ears of all men by the Blackwater. As Queen Cersei's pleasure barge was consumed by an explosion of green flames that left more than half of Joffrey's fleet aflame.

Imry

Ser Imry Florent watched as the Boy's Toys were consumed by green fire. He glanced at the dragons on the bank of the Blackwater, I never thought I'd say this but… "Seven Blessings for Lord Seaworth," he shouted. "For making our work so much easier." A cheer rose from the decks of Fury.

And likely saving our lives. He added privately.

"Back oars," he commanded. "Let the wreckage pass."

"Aye mi'lord," answered Maric Seaworth the Oarmaster of Fury.

A good lad for all that he's lowborn, but he know's his business and does it well.

To his Flagmaster, Ser Durran Wensington he commanded. "Order the fleet to do likewise, I don't want so much as a spark on an oar."

"Ay mi'lord."

Flags were raised and drums were beat as the men of Fury and all the rest of the Royal Fleet did as they were bid, pulling out of the mouth of the Blackwater Rush and into Blackwater Bay. Imry watched the burning mass of Joffrey's ships flee from the flames without any order whatsoever. He saw White Hart and Prince Aemon tangle their oars while trying to escape ensuring only that they both caught fire. Godsgrace fled north and rammed itself onto the shore, while Horned Honour did the same but, either in desperation or intent, landed on the southern bank where it was quickly overrun by King Stannis' troops.

As he waited for the spread of burning ships and green flame to pass Imry pulled out his Myrish Eye and took aim at the walls of King's Landing. What he saw shocked him to his core. Two breaches and no less than a dozen broken towers where once had been some of the strongest fortifications in the Seven Kingdoms. Imry rested a hand on the dragon that knelt beside him on the forecastle of Fury. If they can do that to the stone walls of a city what can they do to the wooden walls of a ship?

At last the mass of burning ships and green flame began to exit the Blackwater Rush passing the Royal Fleet and being carried out into Blackwater Bay by the currents.

Ser Erren Claw, the boatmaster of Fury, approached him. "Shall we put out boats?"

"For what?"

"The sailors, mi'lord."

The thought had not crossed Imry's mind until now. "No," he answered turning to look at the burning remnants of the Boy's Toys. "I shan't risk the lives of my men to save traitors. Let the gods decide their fate." He returned his focus to Maric Seaworth and Durran Wensington. "Beat to quarters, we'll stop at the southern bank first to take on the troops then turn, as one, and hit King's Landing with everything we've got." He put a hand on the great bronze dragon on the deck beside him. "And see how the Lannisters like fire of our own."

"Aye, mi'lord," answered the two men. The boom boom boom of the drumbeats from the lower decks echoed through the boards like a great heart beat making Fury seem alive. Imry let a foxish grin play over his face as he watched the Boy's Toys, outnumbered and demoralized by wildfire, flee upriver rather than face the Royal Fleet in battle.

Warships flooded the Blackwater and made their way to the southern bank. Imry stretched his neck as he tried to pick out King Stannis from the mass of men. There! Nearby the Red Woman who was preaching at one of her great bonfires as she always did. Though Selyse had converted Imry personally didn't see the appeal in her Red Faith, with all it's talk of darkness and cold and burning the heathen. Still it seemed to have brought his sister some measure of peace that the Seven had never managed.

Fury was brought alongside the bank and quickly had it's boats loosed to gather soldiers for the assault. Imry gave a polite bow to his uncle Lord Alester and goodbrother King Stannis, both of whom were waiting higher on the bank speaking with various commanders, amongst them several of Imry's cousins from various houses and the Onion Lord. If they saw him they gave no sign.

The boats brought back more than just the men-at-arms Imry had expected, in addition to Ser Bonnifer Hasty's Holy Hundred there came several hundred of the dragonmen commanded by Ser Justin Massey and the newly minted brute of a knight Ser Aemon Thunder.

The two made quite a pair Ser Justin ever smiling and always talking and Ser Aemon perpetually glowering and silent. The smiling knight greeted Imry with a grin and a note. "From the king," he said.

"My thanks Ser," Imry took the note and quickly read it. He nodded. "Take your positions on the main deck Sers." To Maric Seaworth he added. "Up to speed! Make haste for the eastern breach!"

"Aye mi'lord!" Answered the oarmaster.

Again the drums made Fury come alive with the promise of violence.

"Master Hiro," called Imry summoning the attention of the foreign sellsword. "Ready the dragons with grapeshot."

The foreigner gave one of the low bows typical of his people and went to work with his aids. The four dragons on the forecastle of Fury were loaded and ready by the time Fury was half way across the Blackwater.

The Royal Fleet, now loaded down by thousands of armed and armoured men, as it turned away from the southern bank and headed towards the ruined walls King's Landing. Imry smiled again as he watched as the walls and the breach slowly grew larger and larger.

Fury ran itself onto the northern bank of the Blackwater only fifty yards from the breach. The remaining lengths of wall were crowded with gold cloaks who let loose with crossbows and spitfires from the walls.

"Keep their heads down!" Imry shouted over the growing din of battle. "Dragons and ballista aim for the walls!"

The ballista which lined the top deck of Fury let loose sending yard long bolts flying into the enemy. Imry saw a man fly back after being struck in the chest. But the ballistas paled in comparison to the dragons. The dragons moved into their proper positions with terrible slowness. five men were needed to push and shove their great bronze bulk into place.

As slowly as that was what happened next took place with incredible speed and violence. With the touch of a smoking brand the dragons roared and turned to gold cloaks lined atop the walls into nothing more than chunks of meat and metal.

After that the gold cloaks seemed rather more circumspect about where they put their heads. With a roar the Holy Hundred began their charge into the breach carrying the boats of Fury above their heads as makeshift mantlets. They were followed by Ser Justin's and Ser Aemon's dragonmen who took shelter behind their more heavily armed compatriots.

Imry drew his own sword and marched down to the deck and boarded a boat of his own. "Seaworth! You have the ship," he called to the young oarmaster.

Imry took a spot at the bow of the boat as his men rowed ashore. He took part with them as they flipped the boat and raised to over. Protection against the arrows and bolts that still flew from the city walls. Imry and the crew of sweating and grunting men pushed forward, stumbling and climbing over the rubble and into the breach.

At the crest of the breach Imry's men threw down the boat and rushed down the slope, while Imry himself remained on the crest, to better command the assault of course.

"Damn them," he said as he surveyed the field. The Lannisters had turned the breach into a killing field with a ten foot high barricade of stone and wood creating a courtyard that was being rapidly filled with the living and dead of the Royal Host. The dragonmen had remained on the slopes of the breach and were now letting fire against the enemy picking them off one by one.

From the flanks of the breach gold cloaks on the walls were throwing spears and stones against the struggling mass. Imry gritted his teeth and took hold of a knight of House Errol by the arm.

"Start scaling the towers! Bring up the ladders we need men on the walls!"

The knight nodded and ran back out to the ships. Within what seemed to be moments the second wave of attackers was running into the breach and climbing up the rough ramps formed from the collapsed towers. Ladders, originally brought to scale the walls, were instead turned against the barricades inside the city. The dragonmen continued to reap a dreadful harvest from the gold cloaks atop the barricade. The walls above the breach were now filled with grunting and shoving gold cloaks and attackers, and the gold cloaks, little more than a pretentious city watch at the best of times, were falling back in the face of King Stannis' better trained and better armed knights.

Victory is all but inevitable but until more ladders came forward it's a stalemate.

Or so Imry thought before with a sudden roar the Fishmonger's Square was filled with a screaming mob of rag wearing smallfolk who fell upon the the gold cloaks manning the barricades leading to a quick disintegration of the defences.

Imry sat for a moment before slowly standing up and stretching. "Well then," he said to no one in particular. "That's that then."

The Royal Host poured over the barricades slaughtering the fleeing gold cloaks.

Together the two groups cut their way through screaming smallfolk and isolated bands of southrons, avoiding the larger or more disciplined bands. The farther from the Mud Gate they went the easier their journey became as Stannis' men became bogged down looting the shops and houses of the Street of Steel, Muddy Way, River Row, and the Hook. Most of them at least for here and there bands of southrons moving with purpose towards towers, barracks, gates, the Street of Steel, and the Red Keep.

"Quickly," Tyrion roared. "Before they cut us off."

With Shagga in the lead they charged out of Fishmonger's Square and up the Muddy Way, before turning onto the Hook, which would lead them to the Red Keep.

Despite their hurry a band of men armed with those new weapons Tyrion had seen in the breach came erupted from an alley, at their head was the Onion Knight. Without wasting a moment Shagga roared and charged the enemy with an axe in each hand. A sharp crack and a plume of fire and smoke later and Shagga was lying on the ground with a massive hole in his back.

The other clansmen and the red cloaks, and Tyrion himself for that matter, stopped still for a few crucial moments. The men of the Onion Knight's company finished running out of the alley, forming a thin line across the Hook.

"Joffrey Waters. Lord Tyrion," called the Onion Knight. "In the name of King Stannis I ask for your surrender, by my honour and King Stannis' you will be treated as due to your station."

As one the the first rank of the line knelt and aimed their weapons at Tyrion's band, the second rank aimed over the heads of their companions.

Of all of them it was Lancel who acted first throwing down his sword and his helmet while announcing. "I will not die for Joffrey."

Unarmed, Tyrion's young cousin strode towards the enemy line. The red cloaks looked towards each other and then to Tyrion. He shrugged. "You heard him." He dropped his axe and walked to join Lancel. As he passed Shagga he stopped for a moment and knelt to pay his respects to the dead clanman. Up close the wound looked even more horrific Shagga's back was a mass of blood, broken bones, and shattered mail.

Tyrion heard a clatter of steel on stone as the rest of the red cloaks and clansmen dropped their weapons in surrender leaving only Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Meryn Trant. The line of soldier parted to allow Ser Davos' new prisoners to pass through.

Tyrion nodded to the Onion Knight. "Ser Davos."

The lowborn knight's face reddened. "It's lord now, actually." The Lord of Onions turned and spoke to the Kingsguard. "Will you not surrender Sers?"

Sers Meryn and Preston looked at each other in silence until Ser Meryn stepped forward. "We have you word Ser Davos, that we will not be mistreated?"

"Mine and King Stannis'."

It was Ser Preston who moved first dropping his sword, and tearing off his gauntlets. Ser Meryn followed suit only a few second later.

With that done Lord Davos turned to Tyrion. "Where is Joffrey?"

Tyrion replied with a grin. "By now? Goldengrove for certain, possibly even Highgarden."