Casterly Rock: 284 AC: 1 Moon Later:
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the imposing walls of Casterly Rock. As the evening sun began its descent, its rays filtered through the narrow windows of Tywin Lannister's solar, transforming the room into a mosaic of light and shadow. Tywin sat behind his desk, his stern features softened slightly by the gentle evening light. His presence commanded respect, his sharp mind always at work, calculating and strategizing. The warmth of the sun's embrace seemed almost at odds with the cold, calculating nature of the man it touched.
The sounds of the bustle of guards and his family were heard outside the doorway. He had just ordered his son to be found and brought back home, regardless of what Robert thinks of Jaime. His siblings' reaction was not what he would've expected, as they would rather bow to the whims of the Stag King, the same King that Tywin had allowed to marry his only daughter and the same King Tywin helped install on the throne. All except Gerion, who had offered to go find Jaime himself.
Tywin had considered it before Genna and Kevan quickly disagreed, citing false notions of rebellion against the crown for looking for him. Tywin had them all thrown out of his solar while pondering what to do. Most of all, Sending Gerion would be noticed by the crown and the Spider, yet he didn't care. He was a lion after all, and a lion does not care for the opinions of sheep. Taking a deep breath and a sip of his wine, Tywin called for his family to enter again.
Genna was the first to burst through the door. Her broad face seemed red with anger as she sat down with a heavy thud. Following closely behind her were her brothers Kevan and Gerion, who were both locked in an audible disagreement. They all sat down as Tywin looked over all of them, his pale hands gripping the back of his chair tightly as he stood behind it.
"Tywin, as I said, I do not think it is wise to send Gerion on a fool's mission to find Jaime, who for all we know, could be dead or worse," Genna exclaimed, as she folded her arms across her enormous bosom.
Tywin said nothing to her in reply but rather looked to Kevan who opened his mouth to speak before Gerion cut him off. "You think that boy is dead, Genna? He's the best swordsman that this house has ever seen, and no man could simply kill him." Gerion rebuked, as Genna gave him a disapproving look.
"I want nothing more than Jaime to be brought back to us where he belongs, yet we must be smart, we cannot have you running off to Essos to find him lest the King finds out and comes for us all," Genna explained.
Tywin threw his glass against the wall, the glass shattering into a million pieces which stunned his siblings into silence. Taking another deep breath, he turned to them all with a fury in his place green eyes that none of them had seen since he wiped the Reynes from existence. "My son is missing." He simply stated as he leaned into the back of his chair.
"Tywin we-" Genna was cut off but Tywin raised a dominant hand which silenced her protests.
"Gerion, I'm giving you half of our fleet, which is nearly 15 ships and all the men that come with it. I want you to sail to Essos and bring my errant son home, regardless of what Robert says." Tywin ordered as he stared into the soul of his brother.
"I will do as you command, brother, but when I do find him, what of the Targaryens he has taken up with? Not to mention the Sword of the Morning who is most certainly with them?" Gerion asked, attempting to hide the fear of Arthur Dayne in his voice.
"What of them?"
"You don't think they would oppose me, knowing what our family has done to theirs?"
"Tywin, we cannot do it, the risks are too great," Genna interjected, as a seething Tywin rubbed his eyes, pondering why anything couldn't be simple.
"Perhaps a more discreet approach is needed, Tywin," Kevan suggested, breaking his long silence. "We could send Gerion, but on a single ship, nothing grand or flamboyant, and once we find him, we bring him back here, discreetly."
"Kevan, Jaime is an outlaw, if Robert found out-" Genna attempted to explain before being interrupted by Gerion this time.
"I will do it, with your leave, Tywin."
Tywin looked at his youngest brother, still seemingly a boy so full of adventure. Tywin knew that there were none better suited than him to undertake this challenge as he knew Essos and the free cities. Plus, his relationship with Jaime was a strong one, as Jaime often referred to Gerion as his favorite uncle, much to the griping of Kevan.
"Very well, leave for Essos as soon as you are able." Tywin sighed, as he slumped down into his chair, receiving stares from his siblings.
"Just one thing, Tywin. Where in Essos is he exactly?" Gerion asked, a half smile appearing on his face.
Tywin sat forward in his chair and clasped his hands together as his fingers intertwined. "I have heard tales from reliable sources that he is Pentos. That senile Hand of the King kept it from me when I was last in King's Landing." He spat. Tywin had only recently received this information from one of his many spies in the Red Keep, which for some unbeknownst reason had taken so long to find this out for him. He imagined that Jon Arryn had placed his own spies in the Red Keep which had made it difficult for his agents to operate.
"Pentos? Nice place if I remember," Gerion groaned, as he stood up and stretched his arms out. "I will leave at once, Tywin. I promise I'll bring him home." He smiled, as he left the solar to make his preparations for leaving Casterly Rock.
The three remaining siblings sat in silence for a moment before Genna spoke up once more. "You're not at all worried about Robert? About his wrath should he find out?" She asked, her concern showing in her soft voice.
"Why would I be worried about Robert, Genna?" Tywin sighed as he slumped back into his chair. "I gave him a Queen after all."
"Yes, but he will come down on us like that hammer he wields, should he discover us going under his nose."
"I care not for him, Genna. Besides, even if he did find out, he could do nothing. His rule is too weak and unsoldified at this moment."
"Well, it may not be anymore since Cersei is with child," Kevan added.
"Yes...I am happy for her, as I have said the last one hundred times." Tywin sighed.
"How do you know his rule is weak, Tywin?" Genna asked, as her eyes looked her older brother up and down.
"It is no secret that Jon Arryn had to visit Dorne to quell any sense of rebellion against Robert. Also, Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne have both taken up against him, including my juvenile son. Do you think the greatest knights of the Realm would willingly support his enemies if they thought that Robert was a strong King?"
"No, I do not, but I must ask, what if the Targaryens gain enough support? What if they return and reclaim their throne?" Genna asked, her voice now full of worry.
"Then I will crush them," Tywin stated with firm intention.
Genna recoiled at the grim determination that was present in Tywin's face as he turned toward Kevan, who sat silently still. "Kevan, send word to Gregor Clegane. I want to see him."
"At once, brother." Kevan nodded dutifully, as he quickly made his way from his brother's solar, leaving Genna and Tywin alone.
The silence between both of them was deafening. Both siblings refused to break off their stares, despite not seeing eye to eye on anything that had just been spoken of between them all. Finally, Tywin relented and sighed heavily as he offered the smallest smile possible to his sister.
"What is it, Genna?" Tywin asked.
"I just wish you would be careful, Tywin. I don't want you getting us all killed through your callous disregard for the power of other men." Genna sighed.
Tywin's cold gaze pierced Genna like a sword, as Tywin's mouth began to lose its almost human appearance. "You forget me, sister, I do not bow to the whims of lesser men or propped-up kings. Especially when those kings have named my son an outlaw and called for his head." Tywin seethed.
"I understand, Tywin, I just wish you were not so rash sometimes."
"Nothing I do is rash."
At Tywin's words, Genna seemed to relent to her brother's indomitable will as she grew into another silence where she turned her gaze to one of the many windows present in Tywin's solar. She looked over the waves as they crashed against the shoreline that lay beneath their mighty keep, as the sun shone gracefully over her fair features. Tywin watched on as his sister seemed to be lost in thought, as he sipped his wine, thankful that the situation had finally calmed down.
"What of Ser Gregor?" She asked, as her pale green eyes still gazed upon the shoreline.
"What of him?" Tywin replied, being caught off guard by his sister's inquiry.
"What do you plan to do with him?"
"If you must know, I plan to have him recruit more men into the army. I foresee a great war coming, Genna. Much greater than the rebellion, but I do not know who will be fighting, just that it is coming."
"How do you know?"
"Look around us. The Targaryens gain more support each day, Dorne is as restless as always and the North is now headed by a Stark who is hardly old enough to walk. The state of affairs is a cause for concern, no?"
Genna couldn't help but agree with her brother's assessment. Tywin was right in these cases and despite his cold nature and stern attitude, he did have the Lannister's best interest at heart, which was something Genna couldn't fault him for. Alas, Tywin would always be here to protect them, for better or for worse.
Pyke: 284 AC: 4 Days Later:
The island fortress of Pyke loomed over the churning sea, its ancient stone towers jutting out precariously from the rocky cliffs. The Iron Islands were known for their harsh, unforgiving climate, and today was no exception. A fierce storm had rolled in from the west, bringing with it a tempest that battered the stronghold with relentless fury.
Dark, ominous clouds blanketed the sky, swallowing the last traces of daylight and casting the entire island in a foreboding twilight. The wind howled like a banshee, whipping through the narrow corridors and open walkways with an eerie, almost supernatural force. The cold, salty spray from the crashing waves lashed against the walls, mingling with the driving rain to create a chaotic symphony of sound.
Balon sat in the Seastone chair in the great hall of Pyke with his sons and brothers surrounding him. They had feasted and drank, as Ironmen should whilst they japed and jested with one another, all except Victarion, who mistrusted laughter and so refused to partake in it with his family, much to the anger of Euron. As things began to wind down and the wine and ale began to extract its toll on its weary consumers, Balon stood up from his grand chair and walked to stand before the long wooden table where his family sat.
"I imagine that you wonder why I have summoned you all here this evening" Balon began, as Victarion and Euron turned their hazy attention toward their eldest brother, whereas Balons two elder sons, Rodrik and Maron, looked to their father with barely hidden anticipation.
"Tell us, brother, why have you convened us all in this great hall," Euron asked, his one pale blue eye glinting in the candlelight, which barely concealed the madness within him, as his family murmured the same question around him.
Balon raised a hand to silence them all. "A good question, Euron. I have brought you all here to lay out my plans for the future of our great house and name, now that I have become Lord of the Iron Islands." Balon announced, as his hard black eyes scanned the faces of his family as if they were looking for any signs of weakness or hesitation. "I plan to bring back the Old Way when Ironborn would rule the seas and reave at their heart's pleasure. My father was a good man, but he was a fool to deny us our traditions for so long, and a fool to try and make peace with the Greenlanders. Ironborn do not make peace, they take what is theirs by way of the Iron Price!"
Enthusiastic cheers met Balon's proclamation and the banging on tables by his family as he stood proudly before them all with his head held high in the air. He raised his hand once more to silence them all as he spoke again. "Robert's rule is weak. We have all seen it and heard the stories of his Kingsguard abandoning him and the other houses growing discontent under his newly found crown. I imagine that the other houses would not rise for him should we break away from his Seven Kingdoms, and claim independence for ourselves, as it was before the Conqueror."
The cheers around the table before him were rabid from his family. Balon couldn't have asked the Drowned God himself for a more enthusiastic rapport, as he raised his hand once more, which silenced the eager listeners before him. "When the time is right, brothers and sons, we will strike out against this weak King and take our independence with steel and blood."
Euron looked at his brother with his one good eye as he stood up from his chair. "What of the rest of the Realm, would they not rise for Robert?" He asked, a wicked smile appearing on his handsome face as he did so.
"I sincerely doubt it, Euron. Some still call him a usurper and as we've seen, some would still flock to the banner of the dragons. He doesn't have the support of the nobility and the other houses have suffered greatly in his rebellion. It could take them years to recover, whereas we have suffered minuscule losses. He won't be able to raise a host against us, and even if he should, we will crush him at sea, like we always do to soft Greenlanders like him." Balon explained.
Victarion sat pondering whilst his siblings were in their conversation before he too spoke up. "When do we strike?" He asked, his voice hoarse and calculating.
"We will need to build our fleet up and make it much more grand than any ever before in our history. It will take some time, years perhaps, but when it is finished, I will declare myself an independent King of the Iron Islands and take what is ours." Balon said proudly, as his dark eyes were set upon his brother.
"Very well, brother, I will begin on the morrow." Victarion grinned.
"What of the other Lords, father? Should we not tell them?" Rodrik asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"They will find out soon enough, son. We will need all of the Iron Islands with us, should we wish to succeed." Balon replied.
At that moment, Vicatrion recognized the genius and greatness of his brother as he stood proudly before them, looking like everything a King except for a crown which he would soon gain. Victarion sat quietly as Euron and Balon's sons began to return to their japes and jests. He had a difficult time denying the brewing feeling of excitement that began to rage in his belly, as he mused on what they could gain from becoming independent. How many riches he could plunder from the likes of the Lannisters and Tyrells? How many salt wives could he take from high-born Lords, too weak to do a thing about it? The possibilities were endless, but all that remained was claiming their independence.
That night, Victarion prayed alone to the Drowned God in his chambers. He offered up his silent prayers in the hopes that his mighty God would come to them and aid in their righteous and pious crusade against those who would scorn them and label them savages that live on rocks and drink seawater. He heard nothing as he prayed, not that he ever did. Yet, he couldn't help but shake at the uneasy feeling that crawled up the back of his neck like a spider does a web, as a cold sweat began to appear on his back, dampening the inside of his sealskin undershirt. Perhaps his God was listening to him after all, and perhaps he was giving the Ironborn a warning.
The Disputed Lands: 284 AC: 2 Weeks Later:
The battlefield was a vast expanse of arid land, where the sun's relentless glare beat down from a cloudless sky. The ground was hard and cracked, the kind of terrain that had seen many such confrontations before. The air was dry, sucking the moisture from every breath, yet it was not overly dusty, providing a clear, unobstructed view of the armies arrayed against each other. The clear sky allowed for an unbroken view of the battlefield, the horizon shimmering with heat waves. The distant chirping of insects and the occasional call of a hawk were the only sounds that broke the heavy silence. The arid conditions meant that the soldiers could see every movement of their adversaries, every shift in the lines, every glint of steel.
The Golden Company, famed for their unyielding discipline and golden armor, stood in perfect formation. Their banners, emblazoned with the golden skull fluttered lazily in the hot breeze. Their ranks were tight, shields interlocked and spears gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting their readiness for the coming clash. Behind them, in their reserves, were the famed elephants of Harry Strickland. The exotic and formidable beasts were enough to drive any man into a panic, lest he was the Dragonknight come again.
Opposite them, the Second Sons, a formidable and diverse band of mercenaries, stood equally prepared. Their armor and weapons varied, a testament to their eclectic nature, but their resolve was just as steely. They knew the reputation of their opponents, and they were determined to prove their mettle. The commanders of both sides rode along their lines, issuing final orders and rallying their troops. The heat was intense, and sweat trickled down their brows, but they showed no sign of discomfort. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent anticipation of the violence to come.
The Golden Company had been bought and brought here in service of the free city of Myr. They were happy to fight and even happier to be paid the vast sum that the Myrish had promised them in their contract. Though the Golden Company commanders couldn't care less for a scrap of desert they were about to bleed for, they had trouble figuring out why the Myrish cared so much for the barren land. Myles Toyne guessed it was all for vanity and pride, as the free cities had been fighting over the lands for years.
Jon Connington and Harry Strickland sat atop their horses on the edge of the battlefield, on a small hill. Both men could see the large frame of Myles Toyne charging up and down the line atop his horse, as he barked orders at his men. Myles was not a handsome man by any means, with his large nose and crooked jaw, yet he was an imposing figure nonetheless. Despite this, Jon had found a dear friend in the man which is why Myles forbade him from taking part in the coming battle, as he did not wish to risk his life for something Myles had considered an 'insignificant scrap'.
At the time, Jon was frustrated, as he wished to demonstrate his commanding abilities in battle as he had done many times before for Myles, yet still, he forbade him and made him sit on the side as if he was punishing him much like a father would a child. Now, he had to sit and suffer Harry Strikland's bleatings about his elephants and his very limited knowledge of battlefield tactics.
"You know, I would've been down there," Harry mumbled through a mouth full of half-eaten apple. "But he keeps me up here because I'm the paymaster, you see," Harry stated, a smug smile appearing on his face as he did so.
Jon had a hard time liking the smug man who cared more for his elephants than the men that he fought with. "I know you're the paymaster, Harry. You don't need to keep on reminding me." Jon huffed, his eyes never leaving Myles who was preparing his men for a charge against the lesser force presented by the Second Sons.
"I'm just saying, Jon. I bet you'd like to be down there right now." Myles chuckled, taking another bite of his apple.
Jon looked at the man beside him with narrowed eyes and a harsh frown on his face. "Of course, I'd like to be down there right now. There's nothing more thrilling than the heat of battle, I tell you."
"If you say so." Harry sighed. "I myself am much happier with my numbers and elephants. Speaking of which, I do hope that Myles doesn't put them in harm's way." He softly smiled, as his eyes were drawn to the line of elephants that composed Myles' backline of reserves, which is where Harry was adamant they should be placed.
Jon gave nothing in reply to the man and instead turned his attention back towards the battle that was about to erupt. He looked over to the Second Sons who were more clever than most sellsword companies yet here they were vastly outnumbered. Jon guessed that they had around two thousand men at their command which was significantly less than the Golden Company's assembled might of nearly seven thousand men at arms, heavy cavalry, and least of all, their elephants.
However, the sight gave Jon some pause, as he looked on at the battlefield. Myles had just given the order for his men to move and charge the Second Sons, who stood braced and motionless. Surely, they were smarter than this, Jon mused. It was then he saw it appear over a hill, on the flank of the Golden Company's charge. The four crows emblazoned the banner of the Stormcrows, as nearly a thousand cavalry lined the hill, ready and waiting to spill the golden blood of Jon's friend.
Jon could only look on in horror as another banner appeared on the hill. The yellow and white banner of the Long Lances appeared alongside the StormCrows' own as another thousand cavalry lined up. Jon looked desperately at the battlefield before him as the Second Sons launched their countercharge to the Golden Company's own. He saw the front lines of both sides clash in a brutal crash, and even from his relatively safe position, he could hear the screams of men dying and steel clashing.
Jon realized too late as did the Golden Company itself that they had been lured into a very well-laid trap as it appeared that the opposing cities of Lys and Tyrosh had made some sort of agreement to deal with the more dangerous Golden Company together before they continued their own petty rivalry. The product of such an agreement stared Jon in the face as he watched the Golden Company be pinned by the rugged Second Sons.
It was then that they charged down the hill. Nearly two thousand riders came down onto the left flank of the Golden Company, a massive dust cloud trailing behind them as they did so. Their attack was felt immediately, as even before they hit the proud men of the Golden Company, some of Myles' men had already begun to retreat in fear of being trampled and slain. When they hit the flank, they cut through the Golden Company like a knife through hot butter.
"By the Gods..." Harry whispered, dropping his apple on the floor in shock. "My elephants...I must get to them." He stuttered as he hastily grabbed the reigns of his horse.
Jon grabbed Harry by the shoulder, as he shook his head in disbelief at the man's cavalierness to rush to the aid of his animals. "Don't be such a fucking fool, Harry. You want to go down there and die?" He asked, his blue eyes piercing the trembling man beside him.
"But...but...my elephants." Harry stuttered once more.
Jon ignored the quivering man he had restrained and looked once more to the now-concluded battle. He could hear the sounds of trumpets that signified the retreat of the Golden Company, as thousands of men ran away in disgrace and fear but to live and fight another day. Jon looked to see Harry's beloved elephants pull back as well, which brought a huge sense of relief to the man beside him. Jon was disgusted by Harry's reaction as he knew he didn't care about the men who were just slaughtered before them both. However, his disgust turned to anger as he thought of his dear friend, Myles, who may very well be dead.
"For fuck sake, Harry! Do you only care about your elephants?" Jon yelled at the stunned man beside him, before letting out a heavy sigh and turning away from Harry. "Come. We must regroup with the men and see to our losses." Jon knew what they had suffered as the losses were etched across the arid landscape before them
As they rode from the hill, Jon continuously looked to the battlefield and saw the Second Sons and their newly found allies not attempt to chase down the shattered remains of the Golden Company. Perhaps they were already being very well paid and saw no need to chase down a defeated foe across an almost barren landscape and risk their own men in doing so. The sight angered Jon even more and before he knew it, he and Harry had arrived at the Golden Company's camp.
Both men rode through the tents and the wounded that lined the outside of them. The smell of death was everywhere and the metallic taste of blood danced on the tip of Jon's tongue, as he rode past blooded and dying men. The sights made Jon even more determined to reach the tent of the Captain General, where he hoped he would find Myles alive and well.
Jon arrived after mere moments of hard riding through the camp at the tent. He saw the golden skulls of the former Captain Generals pitched up on either side of the tent flap. The exiled Lord feared that Myles' own may soon be added to it. Entering the tent, he saw the grim sight of Myles' broken body laid out on the bed before him, as he was surrounded by healers and other commanders of the Golden Company. Beside Myles on the floor, lay the shattered armor he wore on his chest, a hole the size of a Direwolf's head had appeared there.
Jon looked to Myles who lay unconscious on the bed, his breathing heavy and lumbered. Jon could see where a fatal blow had struck him as the same hole from his breastplate was now present on his chest. Jon slowly moved to his side and sat down, his hands instinctively reaching for his head in sorrow and shame. As he did so, he heard Myles breathe his last and his hand dropped suddenly to his side. Jon looked up to see his friend and Captain General dead in front of him, his eyes closed and his blackheart forever stopped.
Jon could hardly believe it, as he stood up from his chair in anger and walked outside of the tent. He looked to Harry who stood expectantly before him, his eyes and expression suggesting that he was eager for the news of the fate of the Captain General. Jon looked at him with sunken eyes, as he tried his best not to let the tears fall in front of a man he considered to be less than he was.
"He is dead, Harry. A lance it seemed did the work." Jon sighed, turning away from Harry.
"By the Gods, I do not know what to say..." Harry stammered and for the first time, Jon could hear genuine remorse in the voice of Harry Strickland. "I suppose I will become the new Captain General now."
"I suppose you will, Harry, and by the Gods man, you best be ready," Jon said through gritted teeth, as he turned back towards Harry. "But first, we must honor Myles and the great man he was."
The rest of that day Jon and Harry as well as the remaining Golden Company commanders recounted the losses that they had earned from their crushing defeat in the morning. Around two thousand men they had lost in total, some cavalry but most importantly, they had lost their Captain General. That night they moved their camp further away from the place where the battle took place, and they set up somewhere further away.
They had spent the next day feasting and honoring the memory of Myles Toyne and his fearsome reputation. Jon watched as his skull was dipped in gold and added to the rest of the golden skulls that now surrounded Harry Strickland's tent. Jon had a hard time accepting that the skull was all that remained of his famous friend, as Myles had been so full of life and vigor yet when he looked at his skull, he swore he could see a wicked grin looking back at him.
Turning his thoughts to the new Captain General, Jon could only hope that Harry had the stones to lead them to further glory and not cower away like he usually did. Regardless of Harry's actions, Jon hoped he could steer the new Captain General in the way that Jon wanted them to go which was in the service of the Targaryens. Jon meant it seriously when he told Harry he should be ready as nothing would stop the Griffin Lord from avenging Rhaegar and seeing his son on the throne.
A/N: Thanks for reading and thank you so much for over 100 follows. Did not think this would be popular at all but thank you regardless. I hope to have another chapter before the new year, but I need to work on some ideas for this story to progress it. Anyway, I hope you all have a good Christmas, and thank you again.