Behold my arc finisher, many of you were unsatisfied with my minimum offering of Harwyn so get ready for a feast of the Hardhand!
Fifth Moon, 9AD (93 BC)
29 days since the Lion's Erring or the Battle Near the Cove
Floki "the Grim Reaper" Drumm POV
"How are our half giants progressing?", it always amazed him how Harwyn could sound so nonchalant when someone was being tortured in plain view. It was one thing to kill in battle or execute a sentence to or even to torture for information.
It was another thing altogether to watch a man get butchered slowly and methodically while breaking your fast and listening to the daily reports. It was these moments that reminded him that no matter how loving his friend appeared to them, there was something broken in his mind. The same could be said for Skurge, who was currently setting against the large stamp used to burn the Hoare sigil into the traitor's back.
"From our reports they are progressing just as we envisioned. They have shown to have typically features consistent with other half-breeds recorded beyond-", he flinched in sympathy when a loud scream echoed in the chamber as the prisoner's testicles was crushed with a mallet,"-the Wall. Given we only chose to use only those giants racing 14 feet in height, our estimates of the children being around 9 to 10 feet in height in the future remain possible."
"I would be correct to assume our hope of their features lying in between their human and giant parents without too much favour to either bloodlines came to fruition?" said Harwyn after a sip of Qartheen Sour Green, the bustier sister of Dornish Red according to thim.
"More or less, some have more in common with their fathers, but not to a damaging degree. The bone structure is exactly as we predicted, they far are less hairy than their fathers and have shown to retain their great sense of smell and we hope that their eyesight falls more in line with their mothers." he replied without the disgust he first felt at speaking of children like cattle.
"Tell the overseers to keep a sharp eye on my experiments, if it fails due to their negligence I will show no mercy. What are the views amongst the people?" asked Harwyn, who ate the last of his spicy beaten eggs with vegetables.
"Most are ambivalent, some are fascinated and a small minority are disgusted while being vocal despite your endorsement of our inter-breeding work. Those like our little spy here-", he gestured to the poor sod whose severed arm Skurge used to wave at them "-are mostly those in bed with the old guard."
"They will bark as they want to, but that is all they can do. My father does not support them, Harrold feigns sympathy towards and Harlan uses them again and again like a dirty whore. Regardless, so far the children have all shown to be healthy, and will prove to be great investments. There should be more volunteers coming with most of the mothers surviving childbirth without great injury.", Harwyn borough the bowl of chilled sliced mango towards.
With his favourite fruit in view, Floki was not prideful enough to deny that he was starting to feel peckish himself. He should finish this report quickly before the gluttonous dog in front of him ate his piece as well.
"I am not so certain of that, despite the coin we offer not many women enjoy the thought of giving birth to a giant's child. Besides, everyone from the wretched souls at the Nightfort to the whores of Planky Town heard that a Prince of the Iron Islands nearly became a giant's evening meal.", he tried to keep his buried anger from the incident under control. How hard was it not to run your damn mouth in front of fucking giants Harwyn!?
"Firstly, Giant's are vegetarians. Secondly, yes I must concede, next time we try to fool a clan of albino giants into impregnating sacred Ironborn wombs with only those ginormous albino seed we should be more crafty with our escape.", said Harwyn with a genial smile at odds with his absurd words.
"Ah, yes, that albino requirement you demanded. Kindly give me a reminder as to why did the giant's skin have any significance.", it looks like he would need to separate his own portion of fruit before Harwyn eats it all.
"Giants are more magically potent for sacrifices similarly to Albinos, hence I decided to have the best of both worlds.", no matter how many victories those rituals brought them, he would never lose the shudder of horror that passed through him at their mere mention.
"I assumed, since you used these same damn words, our intention was to create an elite guard for your family which will be separate from the nobility or even the peers. How does using lesser products in their inception benefit that goal", he went to sit on the chair on the other side to Harwyn's own. He took a fork and helped himself to some delicious mango. Truly the Morqai were wise to call it the "King of Fruits".
"I did not think our first tries would be so successful. If they were going to die in my service why not die in a more efficient manner by way of sacrificing themselves. Now, enough stalling, give me the news that has unnerved you so.", Harwyn lunges for the heart of the matter without any grace as usual.
He ate a few more small slices of the mango and had a taste of Harywn's wine before he gathered the courage to speak, "There have been reports that Salazar Saan has and his sellsail company, the Slithering Sons of Maedusa, has been pardoned by his home city of Lys. The Lovely Daughter of Valyria did so in exchange for her wayward child oath to battle against the First Daughter. His pardon has been accepted by the rest of the Free Cities as well, they believe they need all the support they could receive and more to remain free. It seems a majority of the squables of the Free Cities have been put to rest after Volantis finally declared their not so secret desire to remake the Freehold."
Floki gestured for Skurge to leave with the little piglet they would show to the delegates. There was a good chance Harwyn would tear the boar's mind to shreds if he was not removed from the angry warg's sight immediately. His First Mate was about in a less than a minute
Harwyn tried to appear calm, tried his best even, but sometimes the hate, rage and pain was too great to hold behind any shield. He saw the muscles in his jaw clench, he saw how he rubbed his wrists and neck where that son of a whore, Saan, had shackled him like a slave. He saw his eyes slowly turn more grey with Hawyn unconsciously slipping into his beasts.
Harwyn then suddenly slammed his fist on his ironwood deck and stood up. He looked in the Grim Reaper's direction with his now pitch black eyes that seemed to look through him, "I summoned Bruce ...I summoned him and had him lead a division of his sharks so that we could hunt. I did as I had done when I first started warging, slowly and steady, I first dominated Bruce's mind. He let me do it too, even after all these months of just mental messages, he did not challenge my rule."
Harwyn cut himself off and took a moment to simply smile to himself, Floki would admit such a display of loyalty from his friend's oldest beast was a cause for celebration, "Then I started to share his mind with his conscience. Then with extreme care and with one shark at a time I checked the other minds to see if the command of absolute obedience I engraved on their subconscious was still there. To my joy"
"You went back to warging, after all these months of drowned dreams and Weirwood sap? So you have found it? Ha-Have you found…them?", he asked the question that needed to be asked despite the dread in his bones.
"My third eye gazed deeper in both myself and the sea than ever before. In the heat of the volcanic vents I saw our ancient enemies, the Deep Ones, patiently awaiting the time they could reach the surface and feast on man's flesh once again. It may take many years until I truly understand the exact details of why the base of the Hightower is made of the black stone. The mysteries of Yeen's end are still lost to me. Yet I would dare not call this a success yet…this is just the beginning"
Floki heard the scraping of his fork on the plate where there should be the piercing of the sweet nectar of the gods. He looked down to find he had eaten the remaining mangos and not even realised it. How particularly Harwyn of him. Also, what a truly unfortunate time to be bereft of sweetness.
Harwyn then gave a loud clap and jumped back into his seat with a stupid looking grin, women (annoyingly his sisters as included) found it charming for some reason. At Least it was good at breaking the tension "Speaking of less gloomy topics, I am in the mood to look upon a pair of love birds and since you and Sibylla are so apart I will have to settle for the newer romance."
For the love of the Lord and His Holy Champions, he was not in love with Sibylla bloody Martell. He hated that arrogant bitch of a princess with every fibre of his being and he was damn proud to admit it. He hated how qualities he typically found attractive, such as sharp intelligence, great ambition, yes, the beauty of a Princess could be distorted by the sheer arrogance of the person they belonged to.
He nearly hated the questions his friend's asked more. Why do I find every excuse to stop at Plankytown? He was the reaver in charge of their investments in Dorne. Why do you seek her then? He swore himself to the momentous task of teaching her humility and he is no oathbreaker. Why did you stop sleeping with whores? He did not want to die riddled from disease stretching from his cock to his head? Why did you stop sleeping with other women? His tastes matured while women remained the same. Why did you start sleeping with her? He needed to prove he did to a particularly infuriating woman that he did in fact know the difference between a woman's cunt and her asshole.
Any idea of love between him and the second in line to the Sun Throne is simply phantasmagorical in nature. For the past eight years, Prince Nymor and after his death at Prince Edmund Ironside's hand, his successor after Princess Nymeria, has repeatedly requested for Ironborn support against their common enemy. Sybilla, on the other hand, had written that it would be in character for the Ironborn to die for another's war when it could prove disastrous for them.
He was certainly not disappointed that Tommen did not follow them to Dorne nor did want to feel the beating in his chest as though of meeting her after so long and definitely there was no desire in him to gaze on that crooked grin of hers for hours. Harwyn and the rest were simply mistaken. He would know if he was in love, he was not like Ralf who had a child older than the length of his romantic endeavors.
The twin ravens flew from their gold and gem encrusted cages to the opposite edges of the desk. The twins raised their heads alongside Harwyn with their eyes closed for a few dramatic seconds for this needless gesture. They lowered their heads and opened their eyes, revealing the colour to be white as milk.
"-you find far too much amusement in a green boy suffering.", spoke Muninn with the words of Princess Leila.
"Can you blame me? Did you see the page bolt out of the room? The poor lad was cherry red when he informed us that Harwyn had demanded our presence. Besides, I almost felt bad … almost.", replied Huginn with Ralf's words.
They did not sound exactly right given the fact the words are coming from the mouths of crows. However, the twins had matched the tone of the originals, it was appropriate the role of the mature Princess was filled by the more temperature Muninn and Ralf's bad attempts at flirting was matched by equally disaster prone Huginn
"Besides you were laughing as well. To add to my defense, it was his fault for not knocking before entering. Especially since I was "entering" a particularly beautiful chamber.", hearing a crow giggle perversely was a new experience for him.
The sound of merry giggles filled his ears. It seems the Lady of the Castle was not as harsh as him with their Walker. Munnin imitated cocking a brow in defiance "It is a crime to find joy in youthful innocence?".
Huginn (Ralf) chuckled and shook his head, "I still marvel at my tremendous luck. Harwyn has not even wrung your fellow miners dry for their "unprovoked aggression" and yet the greatest jewel of the Rock is mine."
"Truly, that tongue of yours is dangerous, my Giant. Though, I am somewhat saddened that our little game is at an end.", Muggin (Leila) replied
"Yes, as soon as we arrive in Great Wyk, I shall be a Salt no more. Neither you a lover to one.", came the boast from their soon to be legitimised friend.
"Pity. I am so used to Gylbert's cries of his Ser Salt. I on the other hand find myself partial to someone else crying of my name.", teased the Princess
"My, My, how bold, my Princess. Do you not know the fate of your namesake, Lelia Lannister whose heart was absconded by a reaver.", Floki raised his brow on that. They were closer than he realized if Ralf could use gallow humor around her.
"Then it is a fortuitous indeed. Soon I will not be Leila Lannister, but Leila Karlsefni.", replied back the princess without missing a sword slash despite the allusion to the gruesome fate of the only Lannister Queen of the Iron Islands.
Harwyn's eyes turned back along with the twins in the same second as there was a knock on the door. Harwyn piped up with a jolly tone, "Five out of ten on the flirting. What else can be expected from such low people? I denounce them as monogamists! Monogamists I say!." He banged his hand on the table, and used the term monogamist in a tone reserved for criminals.
Floki chose to ignore Harwyn's jests and focus on the first newly created House of the peerage system. He had to admit the Drowned Tongue phrase for "making of a man", Karlsefni, was a wonderful name for his friend and his descendants.
"Navarch Ralf Karlsefni and his soon to be bride, Princess Leila Lannister have arrived to answer the summons of His Royal Grace, Prince Harwyn Hoare of the Iron Islands.", croaked out the Farman page they had sent to fetch Ralf.
This should teach the boy not to barge in rooms without knocking, such lack of awareness can lead to unfortunate circumstances…he would know, his Lord Father was an attentive husband to his rock wife… and his vast quantity of salt wives.
The happy couple entered with an air of grand satisfaction on Ralf's side and muted anxiety on the princess's. Her eyes darted around the chamber-solar dubbed the Bloody X, towards one trinket to another and from one oddity to the next. From the crows in their golden cages to the bottles with ships inside them to the discarded clothes of the septas which Harwyn refused to clean up.
He could understand her caution. A page passed a message onto them less than hour ago to quickly present themselves before the arrival of the delegation. Why now? Why did the Prince change his mind? While he did ask (and tease) Ralf about Leila and Bertie he had shown no sign he wanted to meet them before the Yeilding ceremony.
Leila seemed to have put all the effort she could in dressing despite the small frame she had been given to look presentable. She wore a silken dress, dyed bloody pink that reminded him of the Bolton sigil and trimmed with pale gold myrish lace like the colour of the sun's rays. On her neck were the Farman pearls, her fingers were decorated with rings of emerald, sapphire and topaz. Her brother's wedding gift was on her head, a golden circlet of diamonds and rubies with a lion leading towards a sailing ship in its center.
Ralf on the other hand was dressed as was commanded by Harwyn. He wore gold gilded armour over heavy grey chain mail over boiled black leather, along with padded gloves underneath his iron gauntlets of lobstered steel plate. Ralf's tall black warhelm is decorated with an iron kraken, whose tentacles coil down below his jaw along with a cloak made of nine layers of black velvet sewn like the kraken of his House, and its arms reach his boots. His great axe and dirk were slung with his belt.
He wore similar plate armour, with his made to resemble a fresh skeleton with the bone white paint being contrasted with pitch black which looks frighteningly realistic from afar, he was told especially with his poisonous looking green eyes. His long black silken cloak with golden lace on the edges covering his head and most of his body added an aura of elegance in his opinion. He had his War Scythe slung along his back and had placed knives in his cloak sleeves.
Harwyn had spent quite some time on his half-armour clothing that accentuated his good looks, with wavy ringlets for hair, the colour of pitch black, the same as his eyes, along with skin as pale as a ghost despite the time under the ocean sun. Handsome as a God, a lady of House Mallister had claimed in a bout currying favour disguised as fawning upon and his vain friend had simply agreed.
He was also the only man among their companions that looked his age, both he and Floki had matured earlier and looked in their second decade especially with their extraordinary heights like his 7 feet and 2 inches and Floki's 6 feet 6 inches added to their maturity.
Gregor was in his second decade and looked like he was in his third from the many trials and tribulations their poor friend had endured. Thankfully for Harwyn's manhood and his poor ears, Gregor reached 5 feet and 10 inches, their Prince might actually have cried if he was the shortest among them. Alas to Ralf's sadness, Harwyn at ten and six stood at 6 feet and would likely grow a few inches and his eyes would remain dry.
His Prince was dressed in what he likes to call the future of fashion. A black and crisp silken tunic buttoned with pearls, tucked in breeches made of deep ocean blue velvet. The tunic was covered by a double breasted coat made with similar cloth as the breeches along silver myrish lace on the edges. He also wore shining long black leather boots and gloves coming just under the knees and elbows made from Sothoryos Terrible Lizards.
He wore a silver breastplate over his coat with jade the colour of seaweed depicting the Grey King's slaying of Naga, a masterful work in the styles of bust his friend found of a Dragon Lord in a sunken ship off the coast of New Ghis. He carried his baton in the style of Valyrian commanders of old, a golden cylinder wrapped in silk and studded with jewels with Sea Eagles on the top.
He wore a silver half-helm that covered his head with the sigil of House Hoare engraved on it along with sea waves around the edges and a baby narwhal horn on the top of the head. The helm did the job of Harwyn's hats and head coverings by hiding his forehead tattoo, one of four that he has. It would not do for the six pointed star of the Deep Ones to be seen on the head of the Prince of the Iron Islands.
Harwyn wore his most prized possession, the singing valyrian steel curved greatsword, Gram the Gorgeous, in a dragonscale sling and contained in a volcanic rock scabbard, colourful obsidian and silver and gold decorating and a dragonbone hilt. One could look upon the red runes carved upon the black black upon Harwyn's command for hours and never look away.
To top off the main clothing he wore a very long and flowing cape of crimson red silk on the outside and with rare ebony feathers of the Holy Obsidian Peacock from the Summer Islands on the underside.
They had not worn plate on the raid on Tommen as there were no sea beasts to catch them on the account of Harwyn's soul searching and the rest of their wargs being left on the Iron Islands. He swears the only person stupid enough to wear plate armour in the sea without magic for protection would also think the Great Grass Sea was an actual sea.
Harwyn stood up, with his arms spread wide and his smile shining bright, "Be welcome, Princess, to my humble abode."
Humble? There was not a single sane person on the entire island that would believe that false humility in Harwyn's tone. The princess seemed not to have an addled mind as she was all but snorting in response.
Harwyn then placed a hand over his head and shook his head with a sorrowful air about him, "Unfortunately, we do not have time to dine a current Princess of the Rock and future spouse of a Navarch with all the pomp she deserves. The delegates are soon to arrive and it would be quite rude for the guest to arrive without the host present. So we must walk and talk."
Before the princess could respond Harwyn rose from his desk and made way for the entrance where the two love birds stood and placed a slap on the back for Ralf and offered his arm for the Princess. Leila turned to Ralf for support and at his nod she linked her arms with Harwyn and they all made way for the tavern where the treaty would be signed with Ralf and Floki behind them.
Ralf seemed a little more nervous now than before, but that was to be expected. Harwyn was about to turn the princess upside down with every question in the book. By the time they reached the tavern, Harwyn would know this woman better than she knew herself.
Harwyn turned to her with an inviting smile, "I was just planning for game night before Floki came in with the reports. Since you will be marrying my dearest cousin, I must beg you for your attendance as well as any games close to your heart."
"I will be honoured, your grace, and I would admit to have a weakness for any game involving dice. I understand that is a weakness for Ralf as well, but a weakness of a different kind.", the Princess gave a cheeky grin to Ralf who rolled his eyes in response.
This was good, she was trying to lower the tension and ingratiate herself with Ralf's closest companions. The last woman that had tried to bring a wedge between Ralf and Harwyn, using their friend's bastard status, was punished…severely by their Prince.
Harwyn gave a jolly laugh, "You may not know, there is a popular verse in the Hymns to the Moon "A bold woman is a beloved woman to our Lord and should be to all his chosen people", it is oft quoted by the Drowned Men. I think it is fortunate that my friend's lady love is both."
Leila seemed deeply pleased at Harwyn's affirmation, "I would say those are the words of the wise. It was better to have a heart of steel rather than a heart of clay. I would like to give you a verse from the Book of the Father "Seek a wife with a heart of light for beauty fades and wealth disappears, only the light of purity is eternal.""
"I know you have kept yourself informed of the treaty, so I must ask what you think of the new forms of address I have designed?" asked Harwyn with the tone of a child showing his drawing to his mother.
Leila's brow rose at his excitable state, "I find them to be intriguing as well as amusing. "Your Reverence" for the Ironborn given the fact the Driftwood Kings were thought to exist between the Drowned Men and the nobility. "Your Excellency" for my own house is due to our gold being the foundation of our Kingdom of the Rock. I find it particularly fascinating you gave both Your Majesty for the Stormlands and Your Valour for the Riverlands to the Durrandons."
Harwyn nodded his head in satisfaction, as if he ignored the tone of Leila's voice that sounded remarkably similar to young Gylbert when he showed his mother something that she had only a middling interest in.
"I considered adding a third title for Hills, but upon closer examination it is my belief that the north of the Wendwater belong to the Rivers while the south belongs to the Storms. I even considered "Your Illustriousness" given your gold but I choose to keep it humble", Leila looked dearly happy she did not need to call her brother such an ostentatious title.
Leila soldiered on from such dark thoughts, "I would agree with your line of thought, the hills never formed a kingdom of their own. I also agree with your sentiments, truly it is wonder why we do not have a unique title for each kingdom. With them it makes our realms all the more…colour I would say"
Harwyn gave a wide-toothed smile at that, "I am happy that my friend has found someone who is not close minded. I remember this one girl who thought keeping human trophies was barbaric!", that smile turned sinister "I was the one who was kind and gracious enough for her to witness my skeleton of an infant dragonlord that was born with horns, scales and even a tail! How could one not find such a display not to be fascinating?!"
Leila looked a little ill at such an unpleasant topic but before she could change the subject Harwyn barreled on. It was a particular skill of his to make others deeply uncomfortable without seeming like he wanted to.
"Thankfully you are not such a low woman. You will love the Iron Islands, the weather may be horrendous but the people breathe such vibrant life onto those barren Isles. The Iron Price makes living superior, after the fighting our wine feels more refreshing, the food more delicious and the lovemaking of the Ironborn has a quality you will not even find in the brothel's of Lys." said Harwyn with a sickly sweet tone of voice.
Leila looked dearly ready for the conversation to be over, "I am certain I will, especially since your Gra-I mean your Reverence efforts have brought such change to the less savoury parts of the Isles. Along with those of the Sunken Priest and his Church of Pearly Wisdom, of course."
Harwyn looked pleased that Leila was not running away crying, "Some of our older folk believe that only combat and ruling is in an Ironborns prerogative. I do not think so, the mind is just as important as the body, the art of the merchants, scholars and the artists are vital for a civilization. That is the New Way, a task that my ancestors have worked generations for. I love the Old Way and combined with the New Way, we make way for the True Way."
"I was told that you wish to admit my son to your newly made Marine Academy on Great Wyk. You wish for him to become one of these "Steel Forged" of the sail sail company you will make. Why would you wish that for my Bertie?" Leila asked with a sharpness in her tone not seen before.
"Why would I not wish for him to join the Sacred Band of Tyr? He could rise through the ranks from Sailor to Officer to Lieutenant to Captain to Commander to even Admiral. He could live his life with pride, greeting his fellow officers with the Titan's Salute. The words of "Gold, Glory, God" would forever be on his lips alongside, "Our Word is as Good as Gold", "Thy Deeds Eternal", and "God wills it."
Harwyn then pointed up a finger, "If he does not want a life of adventure he needs only wish so, I could place him in the city guard, Black Cloaks or the palace guard, Steel Cloaks and even the Royal Guard, the Varangians. He could live as a respected member of our kingdom"
Another finger went up, "The path of a warrior is not his only one, he could go on to rule as Viceroy in the Driftwood Crown's name, become a renowned scholar or a legendary bard or anything he so wishes. For his efforts he could one day be a Navarch like Ralf. A life of battle, wealth, love and adventure awaits him and he needs only to gra-Ah, we have arrived."
Before they knew it they had arrived at the tavern, well before Ralf and Leila knew it at least. Harwyn always kept a look over his surroundings and Floki made sure to memorise the faces of passing nobles, knights and smallfolk of Fair Isle who glared at them. What love Androw may not have found in his marriage bed, he certainly found it in childhood home.
A home that misses him dearly and loathes those who took him. They can not hate Leila or her son after what Androw did to them but they can hate the heathen raider quite easily. They can feel and glare as they wish and not suffer the consequences of their hate so long as they do not try to act on it.
They can cry all they want but the histories will show the facts. This entire debacle was an absolute humiliation for their Kingdom, for their foolhardy King and all the way to the lowest thief. It will be written that despite the highborn being kept in far better conditions than any other occupant they stop their whining. How were these sorry lot supposed to adventure across the ruins of Old Valyria? That will be the questions of the minds of readers in the future.
The lowborn had an actual reason to complain and by in large kept their grumbling to themselves. One from each settlement was returned to spread tales of their King's defeat while the rest divided amongst the ships to serve as temporary thralls. Most had been busy at work in repairing the damage to their own fleet and the ships of House Lannister and their vassals that they were going to confiscate. The ones remaining with the miners were left to rot.
As we stood before the entrance of the tavern Harwyn's faces suddenly lost its luster " Pale blonde, icy green and snow white shall be the colours of their bodies. A leaping Orca covered in bloody pink…blood on a field of sunny yellow shall be their sigil. A house of giants with the beauty of a princess." he spoke in a solemn voice.
Before Leila could respond Harwyn removed his arm from hers and headed for the tavern, leaving her looking dumbfounded. Ralf, meanwhile, looked stupefied with happiness, probably thinking something along the lines of "His cousin had dreamed of it. So it shall be. I am Ralf the Lioness Fucker". Mayhaps not the last part.
He nodded at the reavers, Bulk and Spike, standing guard. They gave Ralf and his Lady a thumbs up and a wave respectively. It gladdened his heart to see his friend's love accepted by his people. Despite the fact most only approved of it because she was a beautiful princess. Reavers will be reavers.
The tavern was filled to the brim with the Ironborn, those who fought at the battle and those sent by the King as protection for his son and to serve as future governors for their newly acquired territory. They were devouring their breakfast, all on the purse of their generous host. King Tommen and the servants being the only Rockmen in attendance. However, the feeling he got from them was that they would rather be feasting in the Seven Hells than be in the presence of people they see as savages for a moment longer.
Speaking of said host, he could see his Harwyn had made a run in Tommen's direction and began cheerfully speaking to the King. As he moved closer to their table, all the while acknowledging greetings from his fellow ironborn, he heard Harwyn regaling him with tales of the great Zhang He.
Sadly, the adventures of the Yi Tish Admiral who sailed a treasure fleet consisting of giant ships from Qarth to the Summer Isles and back were cut short before they could even begin. Harwyn stopped mid sentence when he and Leila reached the High Table.
So there is a good chance if violence does occur today, it might not start by his friend's hand. Truly this was a joyous day, for Harwyn wore the colours on his sigil…or Harwyn wanted to wear the colours of his sigil because he felt like it. You can never tell with Harwyn.
"Ah! My dear Walker and soon to Lady Walker, come try this Sunset Sea Salmon. Our Dornish friend who made it had described it as the best roasted fish from the Wall to Starfall. He wasn't lying, I have had it every day for the last week" He gestured for a servant to bring two empty plates with the fish.
Harwyn Hoare, third in line to the true Driftwood Throne (No matter what those name stealing valyrian bastards in Driftmark had to say) and Master of Awkwardness. Creating it mostly. Ralf glared at his cousin's grinning face.
It was as if Harwyn forgot that little tidbit of information pertaining to the previous husband of their "Lady Walker" who happens to be Tommen's most beloved friend. Who was killed by the aforementioned Lord Walker. Yes, such an easily forgettable piece of knowledge.
Leila, without a hair out of place, went to sit down and have a taste. While both he,Ralf and Harwyn peeked at her brother, the once boisterous and brave King Tommen. The King of the Rock had a defeated presence about him. It reminded him of himself and the rest of his companions a few months back.
The doors burst open and in came the delegation from Casterly led on by Skurge and Galon. Now that he thinks about it, whoever (Harwyn, probably) thought it was a good idea to let men with as infamous reputations as these two to lead a delegation to anywhere must be very cruel. The miners must have thought they were heading for the gallows.
He didn't need a Myrish Eye to see the uneasiness among the approaching noble men and noble women. As they made their way over to the table he felt his lips twitching upwards, what greenlander did not dread the sight of an Ironborn. They were in a hall filled with them now, he would not be surprised if at least half of them were shitting their breeches.
Harwyn raised his goblet, "Thank you, my dear Executioner and Golden Grin, for bringing our esteemed guests to us". It seems the show is about to start.
He could tell the old man wanted to roll his eyes, but appearance's had to be kept, "You are welcome, my Prince". The two of them then went over to the free chairs awaiting them as First Mates of the Prince's closest advisors.
He stood up and clapped thrice, "Please, enjoy your meal in silence. While I collect our recompense.", the previously rowdy tavern quieted down instantly, it suddenly resembled the silence in a tomb. You did not deny the Hardhand his silence lest you face his wrath.
So he demanded and so silence reigned. For an uncomfortable amount of time. No sound bar, the scraping of metal, chewing and slurping of mouths were heard. The already uncomfortable delegation grew more and more agitated by the silence. They had eaten bread and salt, yet that ritual must have felt hollow given Harwyn's deeds.
Harwyn's usual sharp smirk, cocksure gait and unnerving gaze had an added air of triumph as he kept his eye on them. Yet he did not even deign to address the Queen Dowager awaiting him to begin the exchange. He pointed at the man in the back of the delegation and gave a "come hither" motion. The man, an obvious sailor, came forth twitching like a rat.
"You would be the Captain of the wonderful ship that escorted our dear guests?" Harwyn's broke broke the silence and yet did not ease the tension.
That took the proverbial wind out of the sails, leaving behind a gaggle of confused noblemen. He saw Ralf fight to control his smirk, He could hear Harwyn ask the bewildered Captain "What's her name?"
The Captain recovered his wits quickly, he'll give him that, "The Longstrider, you're Grace".
Harwyn nodded in appreciation "After Lomas himself, I presume.", he received another nod in return and spent a few minutes discussing the legendary explorer with the Captain. While the Golden Lords stood there stunned at the blatant disrespect. After finishing his pleasant conversation and directing the Captain to the standing delegation.
Harwyn looked at the now seething noblemen he had left in his wake. A fact he seemed to have noticed himself and addressed them in a cheery manner. "Oh my apologies, my mother always had to remind me of my courtesies, especially around Ladies…and twice over one as lovely as the specimen here.", his cousin was looking at the lady in question, like she was the fish on the table.
The Lady in question simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow. The Queen Dowager Cerelle Lannister, born to the House of Lefford, the mother of Ralf's lady love. She resembled her daughter, the only difference being her azure blue eyes. The love who was digging holes into his hands with her nails. Grgeor was right as always, their friend just wants to watch the world burn.
"Enough! I am not here to play games boy!" Gerald Lannister looked ready to strangle Harwyn, who in response only barked a sharp laugh and stared defiantly into the eyes of Tommen's uncle and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? And what are you going to do If I feel like playing? Will you have your out-numbered and out-matched men break guest rights and kill me, third in line to the Seastone Chair. In the presence of your lords and Queen Mother. Even though the reason we are here in the first place is the unprovoked attack upon mine and my companion's person by your King.".
What was left of Gerold's composure finally broke "Don't you dare spread such filth about my nephew, you reaver scum!" the lord spat as he rushed to his Harwyn before stopping inches away from Harwyn's face. Harwyn did not flinch or even look mildly bothered by the Prince nearly frothing in front of him.
The eyebrow showed no signs of dropping "Oh! so your nephew simply decided to pay me an unannounced visit hidden. The visiting party included nearly a quarter of your war fleet. The gift being the murder of my friends. The fact I survived only due to one of my spies informing me of his evil intentions." At the end, his other eyebrow seemed to have joined his brother in displaying their owner's mockery.
As Gerald nearly leapt over at them, Harwyn jumped over the table and landed gracefully, with his hair covering his face. He threw back his hair simultaneously as he pulled out the Sword that Sings the Siren's Song, Gram the Gorgeous out of its sheath with a flourish. Gerald drew his own sword, only for it to be cut in half with a single strike.
The air was filled with the enthralling voice of the deceased Freya Salt. The bastard daughter of Lord Harlaw was named after the mermaid wife of the Grey King. Who ironically achieved the same rank as her namesake with her legendary singing of Hymns in temples across the Iron Islands. The Conch of He-Who-Dwells-Beneath-Waves, the greatest since the High Mother some say.
The Nightingale of Harlaw was said to have brought even Halleck the Hunter, the heartless grandfather of the King to tears. He was proud enough to say he was certainly among those who always left her sermons with his cheeks wet. She passed away at the age of ninety last year. On the night of her death she had given one final recital to her adoring followers.
In attendance was a sorcerer from Qarth who had recorded her final verses into Gram. The sword Harwyn had paid the Iron Price for from the Shogun of Leng, the only one of its kind that sung every time it was swung. Its previous song (if it could be called) was about the grating boating of its creator. Claepatra Ptolaemy was the creator of a unreplicatable marvel, a rider who brought dragon fire to the last great slave rebellion of Old Valyria and the Empress Consort of Yi Ti from the Yellow Dynasty and she demanded everyone knew it
Before Gerold could reach for his dirk, Harwyn placed the blade over his neck. The man stood frozen as Harwyn gave him a glare that seemed to go through his essence. The lion had tried to claw at the shark but it only seemed to make him harder and stronger.
Harwyn Hoare had gone to sleep and The Hardhand of Hardrada, if you prefer the Drowned Tongue translation (Harwyn friend certainly did). The Demon from the Depths had awakened and he was going to go on a hunt for golden flesh.
The further complaint of the greenlanders was put on hold when Harwyn raised his arm to the sky and snapped his fingers. A sharp snap was heard followed by the sound of marching. A bone thin red head was thrown to the ground, who after a good few weeks of starvation and torture looked more skeleton than man.
His face filled with malicious glee, Hardrada pulled the blade back in a melodious rush. He then moved to pull the downed man by his hair up to show the man to face the greenlanders presenting them the man's beaten and scared, eyeless, lidless, earless and noseless visage. On his skull was a carved eye.
"Recognize this?" The hair was given a few harsh tugs to the painful moaning objection of the man and the delighted laugh of his tormentor.
A look of horrified realization passed through Gerold's face "By the Gods! That's Audrey Crakehall, my nephew's squire!". Harwyn gave a cheery nod in the suddenly green looking man's direction.
Before this, Audrey Crakehall was of an age with Ralf and as wide as Harwyn. Now he was as old as Gregor, and as wide as a raisin. Truly Harwyn and Skurge were talented at their craft of making a man wish he was never born.
Hardrada gave a smirk of derision "Correct! Now little Audrey, named after your foul ancestor who brought his tyranny to my people, be a dutiful little squire and regale our audience with the song you sang for my crew".
He took a deep breath before speaking in a dry ragged voice, "King Tommen…received a notice…from a…local informant…that Prince Harwyn… planned to attack Fair…Isle on his way to Dorne… Hence he…decided to postpone… our voyage…" he gave a violent cough before continuing" and made him… and I "Enjoy the… Lion's hospitality." I tri…ed to escape…and killed…a guard…hence…I was…reprimanded".
The boy had gone limp at the end, Still his voice had not wavered in the least, he could respect that. Even if Harwyn had trained him every night for the past month to do so. He then proceeded to snap the Boar Lord's neck.
Hardrada chuckled as he threw him back to the floor, "I must say Lion's have the strangest method of giving guest rights. If you can call them trying to shove me inside a bag of wheat and trying to send me to the drowned god's embrace, guest right that is. If they had wanted to introduce Gram to their necks I would have been happy to, there was no need to send all those poor sailors to their watery graves.".
Just as it looked like it may come to blows after all, the Queen came forth between the two parties. Her voice soft yet filled with authority "My Prince, my Lords please let us remain calm. Already because of a simple misunderstanding great misfortune has fallen upon us. I implore you to keep your passions under lock and key.", She stared the glaring Great Lords of the Golden Realm down like a mother would her misbehaving children.
She turned to Harwyn, "I come under the authority of my son, Tommen of the House Lannister, the Second of of His Name, King of the Rock, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Protector of the Faith and Lord Commander of the Order of the Warrior's Lion. I as such investigated the claims of Prince Harwyn Hoare, third born son of King Qhorwyn Hoare of the unprovoked attack upon his person and that of his retinue by my son. I proclaim them to be true, in the light of the Old Gods and the New."
She looked Harwyn straight in his deep black eyes, "I would like to extend the heartfelt apologies from myself and the realm for this tragedy as well as our gratitude for your and your father's understanding. If not for your patience, a needless war would have taken countless lives."
She gave a pointed look to her goodbrother, "A war you would have won. The majority of heirs and even some Lords of our Kingdom are in your grasp. The Reach is preoccupied with the war with Dorne. The Durrandon's dare not meet you in battle lest they lose the Riverlands, the jewel in their crown. The Vale shares no border with us. Dorne is your ancient ally. The North was humbled by your brother over two years ago.
The Queen then bowed deeply, "The fact I am a Queen Mother to a Kingdom still is by House Hoare's mercy. On behalf of the people of my home of birth, the Golden Tooth to the home of my choice, Casterly Rock and all those in between. I once again thank you."
Hardrada's face was set in a warm smile "Please rise, my Queen. Once I demanded a merchant take me to court for I underpaid him in my ignorance and he in his fear did not correct me. I would sooner be in front of my father as a thief again than have an innocent bow before me in shame."
Queen Cerlle rose and took a breath, "In accordance with our negotiating via raven, I shall now hand over your recompense. Firstly, The book with drawings that have said to "turn a septon blind" of Loreon Fifth of his Name. He was fond of dressing in his wife's clothing and wandering the docks of Lannisport in the guise of a common whore, for which he was dubbed "Queen Lorea". Alongside other… interesting yet ultimately unimportant trinkets from our Realm.-"
He saw the vast majority of the reavers grin at their Prince's way of an icebreaker. None speak though, they dare not. When they brought out the golden cock, he thought Gerold might grind his teeth to a powder.
"-The enclaves of the Iron Islands on the mainland, bordered by our Kingdom shall be expanded to include the entire coastline of our realm barring the coastal land around Casterly Rock and Lannisport. Houses Westerling, Banefort, Kenning, Prester, Crakehall and others who have lost their ancestral seats shall move to lesser castles in their lands with utmost haste.-"
It was either losing their entire Kingdom and taking many reavers with them or keeping their kingdom and losing their coast. From the look on the faces of the Lords, some would gladly have chosen the former.
"-House Farman and its Knightley vassals alongside other Houses situated on Islands will be attained. Gylbert Farman shall be compensated in gold by Casterly. Fair Isle shall be henceforth the sole property of the House of Hoare and is currently to be placed in control of Viceroys of the Driftwood Crown.-"
He saw Ralf gently squeezed his lioness hand. He had argued passionately for Gylber to at least be allowed to keep his castle but Harwyn had been adamant to take it all. Gold did not compare to a castle or Lordship, in this amount at the very least, but it was something.
"-However, the option to keep some of their previous privileges shall be allowed. All previous noble and knightly vassals shall be given the option to join the newly invented peerage system. They will be given the lowest rank of said system. Their continued service shall be rewarded with possible ascension to the ranks of-"
Harwyn's newest masterpiece was a difficult pill to swallow for many even in the Isles, they correctly assumed it was a way to centralise power within the crown. For those adhering to rigid greenaldner sensibilities, it must seem like something out of the Free Cities. The thought of smallfolk rising to ranks higher than Knight or Captain in the Isles or even the lowest of Lords must have seemed frightening.
The Queen faltered for the first time since she arrived and looked to her daughter with glistening eyes whilst Leila simply stared back in defiance. She took a haggard breath and continued, "The hand of Princess Leila Lannister as well guardianship of her son Gylbert Farman to Ralf Salt soon Ralf of the Navarch House Karlsefni.-"
"-The treaty with your grandfather Halleck Hoare stipulated the Kingdom of the Rock could have no more than fifty ships of war as well as eternal peace. Due to our breaking of the peace, Casterly Rock shall now command no more than a dozen ships of war. The remaining are to be given to Prince Harwyn Hoare and his followers, bearing in mind the sinking of the dozen ships in the Battle near the Cove.-"
It seems the Queen was finally showing her claws by not calling it the Lion's Erring or even calling it Iron Cove. The ships from the former coastal Houses shall be stationed at Lannisport further weakening them and strengthening Casterly Rock only minutely.
"-The Highborn who chose to try to escape after their surrender or betray their Liege unwarranted were allowed to be punished by Prince Harwyn's justice. The only one to be harshly punished was Squire Aubrey for the crime of oath breaking via attempted fleeing and murder.-"
He did not know the guard whose skull Audrey crushed with a lamp and he was certain neither did Harwyn. However, the pain of the guard was felt by Aubrey a thousand fold by his Prince's hand.
-"-Let it be known across the realms. The copies of this treaty shall be sent to the royal houses of the Seven Kingdoms and the Starry Sept with their new forms of address These include His Royal Reverence Qhorwyn Hoare, His Royal Excellency Tommen Lannister, His Royal Honour Brandon Stark, His Royal Highness Jasper Arryn, His Royal Majesty and His Royal Valour Ronald Durrandon, His Royal Eminence Alfred Gardener, Her Royal Radiance Myriah Nymeros Martell and His Blessed Holiness The High Septon. With replicas for House Hoare and Lannister as well as the citadel in the ancient Iron and Golden Tongues and the Common Tongue we are currently speaking respectfully."
No one bothered sending the Patriarch of the Vale a separate letter. The Kingdoms of Vale and Storm and the Eastern Riverlands may follow the Orthodox Sect of the Seven. Yet their Heads do not command a quarter of the power of the High Septon. The Swords and Stars alone match the might of half the Vale. The less said about House Martell's claim to both the earthly and spiritual realms the better.
Harwyn stamped his own sigil on all documents, "As promised I as the voice of House Hoare in return shall forgive your King for his transgressions. We will not demand any other recompense and the Highborn shall be returned to Lannisport by my own ships. Finally, I and my family shall hold the peace as we always have."
The documents were then brought to King Tommen who at some point started staring at the ceiling. He tore his gaze from the chandelier to the parchment and began to slowly stamp them. After a few moments of awkward and lethargic stamping. It was over, thank the Gods, as Tommen moved around the table to leave Harwyn put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
"If you had gone to Valyria your song would have been over. History would have told of a fool king who brought death to half his nobility including his nephew. Now you are a fool king who lost nearly all his coast, but this need not be the last verse. The lords of the Reach run amok in your southern lands, they should feel the same loss you have felt. Mayhaps then you could be remembered far more fondly.", it seems Harwyn was finishing up the final act too.
So that was Harwyn's plan, by the time the Iron Islands would join the war in favour of Dorne, the Lion would be clawing on the green hand. The lords of the Reach left there to guard their Northern Flank took this as an opportunity to pillage and conquer, now they pay for their greed. Tommen would make sure of it.
Harwyn continued, "Your foster brother Androw is still dead. Same with your Squire. That list would have also included you, your nephew and all those foolish enough to follow you. Yet now I have blessed you with a chance at life."
Tommen gave a dry laugh that sounded more like a cough"...I will live a life that will put yours to shame. My descendants will boast of my accomplishments and yours will be able to do naught but nod along. My song will be greater than yours, I swear that on my friend's grave."
The vow, naturally, had an invigorating effect on Harwyn who slapped Tommen on the back with joy "Then I greatly await it! For what is dead may never die…" Harwyn began
"…but rises again Harder and Stronger." finished Tommen, now with a fire in his eyes that was not there even before his erring.
Floki was not sure if that was a good thing or not. He would lean on the not but he knew Harwyn would definitely lean towards the side of chaos. It was simply his nature
Line Break
The Westerland/Ralf Arc is at an end, I hope you guys enjoy it. I had this chapter in my mind for a long time and I'm happy I could finally share it with the rest of you. Originally I planned for a version of this to be my first chapter, but then the muse struck with her back hand and the rest is history.
I will update every 2 weeks and for those who can't wait i have 2 additional chapters on the site for patrons that must not be named. you can find the link at the end of this: https/forums./threads/hardhand-harwyn-hoare-si.1207412/#post-107793947