The Lion and the Rose: Essos

[Lumine]

Essos:

Overview:

While Essos has failed to play a major role in Westerosi politics since Maelys Blackfyre and the War of the Ninepenny Kings, it now serves as the base of operations for several exiled Lords and knights, along with the remnants of the dethroned House Targaryen. Queen Daenerys Targaryen struggles to lead her own Kingdom in Meereen while hoping to return to Westeros one day and the surviving and virtually unknown Prince Aegon Targaryen is a huge wildcard as well. Will House Targaryen be able to beat the challenges of Essos and take back the Kingdoms they lost to Robert Baratheon and his heirs?

Currently held by: Currently divided in several City-States and Kingdoms.
Direct Players: Aegon Targaryen.
Indirect Players: None so far.

[DKrol]

Aegon summoned his retinue around him at Magister Illyrio's mansion. He looked around at the rag-tag band that he had assembled for himself; Rolly Duckfield, a common-born Westerosi turned knight; Illyrio Mopatis, a wealthy merchant; Haldon, a failed Maester; Lemore, a Septa; Jon Connington, a Westerosi Lord in exile. Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers to the Iron Throne who had planned the escape from the Mountain That Rides, was away in King's Landing. These were the men and woman with whom he had hid with, lived with, and grown up with in the Free Cities. Connington was the father that the Usurper had taken from him, as well as being the closest adviser to the last Targaryen in the male line. It had been these folk who had laid the groundwork for the Targaryen return to Westeros.

"Friends, it is time." Aegon proclaimed "Time for the dragon to awaken. Time to bring back honor to the Iron Throne. Time for Aegon Targaryen to conquer Westeros once more. No longer will we hide our noble names with the mummer's farce of 'Griff' and 'Young Griff'. From this point forth, I am Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." Aegon signaled, and a servant brought forth a pail of water. He thrust his head into the water, scrubbing at his hair. As he came up from the water, blue dye dripped off his hair. Anyone observing the scene had to admit, Aegon looked Targaryen - silver hair and purple eyes with fine, Valayrian features. "Now, to King's Landing."

[Lumine]

The Griffin Reborn:

The sight of Volantis forced a surge of nostalgia in Jon Connington. The obvious reason was because of his time in the Golden Company, but there was something else, something about the spirit of old Volantis itself that made him nostalgic. He was not there to lose himself in such thoughts, but the city seemed to shout its Valyrian heritage at every turn of the street, at every conversation, at every single headless statue making up for a grim reminder of the lost glory of the Freehold. The city reminded him of the Targaryens, of mad Aerys and sweet Rhaegar. Will I feel the same should I ever set foot back in Griffin’s Roost? Or Dragonstone? Or, the gods be good, the Red Keep itself? He could only hope he would be able to bring his Prince – my King, for he is the lawful heir to Westeros –back to where he was born. No man who has been a Lord can live too long in exile in Essos without losing something in the road… and win something else.

When he reached the camp of the Golden Company he knew he was taking a risk. Daenerys was on the East and she seemed to be the key to victory, only to realize that she had chosen to rule in Meereen, forcing the Free Cities to block the way to Slaver’s Bay and thus ruin yet another plan. Since his King has ordered him to let go of the ridiculous disguises they had used for years, he was Lord Jon Connington once againve again; speaking to Miles Strickland and realizing to his surprise that he knew the truth about young Griff. And it was worse, as he realized that all the other captains knew as soon as he saw them enter. So much for the element of surprise. Damn the eunuch and his scheming ways!

-Will you read us the letter or just say there, my Lord? – Tristan Rivers asked, Flowers and Lysono Maar nodding behind him –

Connington took a deep breath and reached for the parchment Aegon had given him in Pentos. I wish Aegon had come, I wonder if this will sit well with men who have been sellswords for their whole lives. He spoke of initial pleasantries, he spoke of exile and the dream of returning home, he spoke of red and black dragons and banners, and, for the first time in his life, he was able to say the words he wanted to say.

-With hope, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.-
-Surely you don’t expect us to just cross the Narrow Sea and go against the Iron Throne. The Beggar King tried that, and we refused to follow him. – Strickland said, skeptical –
-Nonsense, Strickland. The loyalists who have waited for our return will rise for us. House Baratheon is broken, Tywin Lannister is dead and the realm is in open war.-
-And we have more friends than most Lords would think. – Laswell Peake pointed out – These are not the times of Bittersteel or Maelys the Monstrous.-
-The risks are too high! – Strickland protested -
-The risk was Tywin Lannister, and he is gone. – Said Lysono Maar –
-I am sick and tired of running across these darned cities! – Marq Mandrake rose – And I will die in a huge castle, with lands of my own.-
-I’m for it as well. – Flowers was almost enthusiastic – It’s time I teach the Fossoways a lesson.-

Each of the captains of the Golden Company drew out their swords, and one by one they pledged their loyalty to Aegon Targaryen. Strickland was last, evidently displeased, but he swore his vow all the same. I will cross the sea, I will see Griffin’s Roost once again, and I will put an end to the usurper’s line. And unlike the fiery Lord who had led the army at the Battle of the Bells, he had the swords to back that boast.

[DKrol]

Aegon sat upon his courser, looking out over the hill. Soon, soon I will be able to avenge my grandfather, my father, my mother, and my sister. Lord Connington had sent a raven ahead of him, announcing that he had won the support of The Golden Company and they were on their way back to Pentos. Aegon the Conqueror took Westeros with dragons. I will take it with dragons - black dragons. The courser whinnied and pranced about. It could feel the tension in the air. Aegon had spent more than 15 years waiting and hiding. He was ready to go home. The Lion slew my grandfather. The Stag slew my father. The Stag boy-king is planning to slay my nuncle.

The sound of horses' hooves could be heard coming up over the hill. An elephant trumpeted, then another joined its call. The din of men's voices grew louder with each passing heartbeat. Banners of House Targaryen - a red three-headed dragon emblazened upon a black field - crested over the hill, carried by the men of The Golden Company. Leading them all, upon a great courser, was Lord Jon Connington.

And the Dragon will slay them all.

[DKrol]

The Golden Company had moved to the docks - men, horse, and elephant alike. Before them, 80 of the finest Pentoshi ships bobbed up and down, waiting to cast off. The time is here. I am going home. Aegon rode his courser at the rear of the host, surveying his command, with his closest allies around him. Lord Jon Connington rode to his immediate right. Lord Connington has always been at my side, as he was to my Lord Father before me. To Aegon's left was Ser Rolly Duckfield. A strong man, able with a sword. His service has been valuable. Magister Illyrio Mopatis was in a litter behind the King. It's for the best that Illyrio remains in Pentos. He is of greater service, for the time, here.

The Golden Company was boarding their ships and settling down. A servant came and led Aegon's courser onto Good Valaryian, the great cog given to Aegon by Illyrio. The King marched onto the deck of the ship and proclaimed "This ship deserves a more noble name. From hence forth, she shall be known as Balerion - after the noble dragon that carried my ancestor to Westeros." There were cheers from the crew and from The Golden Company who were close enough to hear.

Aegon then looked across the bay to the other ships, preparing to launch. Lord Connington would be on Black Bertha, Ser Rolly on Mother's Milk. I pray that the waters are calm, that we may meet again. A servant brought forth a warhorn and handed it to Aegon.

Now I must be a King and lead my host to war. He raised the horn to his lips and blew two long, slow blasts. Balerion lurched forward, followed by the rest of the Pentoshi fleet.

[DKrol]

Water. Everywhere, water. Aegon stood on the deck of Balerion, gripping the rail and staring out. Everywhere he looked, all he saw was water. It was not natural for a Dragon to be surrounded by water, but he knew it would be for only a short time more. In the morning, before the clouds moved in and obscured the horizon, he swore he could see mountains in the distance. It was not morning now and no mountains could be seen, even with the Myrish Eyes Half-Maester Haldon had brought with him, and the crew was busily toiling around. We must be close, or they would not be half so busy with their work.

Just as Aegon thought of his Half-Maester, the man scurried up to the Dragon King with a parchment clutched in his hand.

"Your Grace, you should read this. It just came in by raven." The Half-Maester handed over the parchment.

Dark wings bring dark words, Aegon thought as he read over the parchment. He read it twice, slowly, to be sure he was not misreading a word or two. I knew this was to come. "Haldon, bring a parchment and a quill to my chambers. This requires a response from the King himself."

King's Landing must be in an uproar, Dorne must be halfway to war. One can only hope. Aegon took one last glance across the Sea before turning and descending below deck.

[Lumine]

Arya:

It had been a while since she was Arya Stark. So long that she couldn’t even remember how long had it been since she the Twins, the Hound or anything that reminded her of Westeros. And there he was, the man with the largest ears she had ever met – and Braavos is the place for such encounters -, broad and almost looking like a Northerner. That she could have just ignored with her training, but not the words he spoke to the man from the Iron Bank.

-Winning the North was not difficult at all. We all had faith in King Stannis and in the Lord of Light, and he rewarded us with two crushing blows to the wildlings and the Boltons.-
-Yes, but his Grace has been slow in making friends. Every day more Houses flock to the Targaryen banner.-
-Targaryen? That boy is just a bastard. In the best case for him, just a boy from Lys that has been forced to believe he is a King.-
-King or not, he has the Roses and the Spears to guard him.-
-And we have the wolves with us. Lord Stark brings the might of Winterfell with him.-

Stark… Lord Stark… Her father? No, he was dead. She had dreamt too many times about the Sept of Baelor. Robb was dead too, as were Rickon and Bran. There was no Lord Stark.

-Lord Stark? I am surprised the Northerners would consider rallying behind a bastard boy.-
-By King Stannis’s decree no longer a bastard. Only the enemies of the crown call him Jon Snow.-

Jon… Stark? And the memories hit her with all their force, memories of the young man who had left for the Wall while giving her needle. Jon was alive, and a Lord now. The sheer idea seemed ridiculous, but it seemed Jon was, at last within her small grasp, and the last chance of a family she would ever get, not even knowing where Sansa was or even if she was still alive. As the Lord left the meeting room she felt pushed to continue her way through the corridors, losing sight of him as the small hole in which she was watching was left behind. And yet she moved, slowly at first, then running as fast as she could without alerting anybody. Her target was on the other side of that place, that she knew, but he did not matter, not anymore. Not even the power of the Kindly Man would compare to the sudden drive that compelled her to move.

She finally saw him again as he started to walk through the streets, and she summoned what Cat of the Canals had taught her to jump building to building in search of her way home. She knew she was being foolish, and she knew perhaps too well that the Faceless Man would not take kindly to her disappearance, even if her training had not been very successful until that point. But she forced herself to go on. She followed him for most of the afternoon and until the Lord found his large ship, taking his time while he boarded.

-Lord Axell! – She heard – How did the meeting go?-
-The Iron Bankers are not what you could call pleasant, Ser. But they have delivered.-
-Should we leave Braavos?-
-No. There are still things to be done.-

That route was over, but the journey was not. Arya mustered her strength to steal from the smuggest merchants she saw in the inn nearby, and by the end of the day she had what she needed to travel. Arya Stark was going home.

[Lumine]

The Kraken's Daughter II:

Battle of Meereen. If any of those ridiculously old maesters were here to witness the thing, they wouldn't call it a battle. They would call it a massacre. Asha Greyjoy was standing on one of the balconies of a gigant Pyramid in Meereen, flanked by Qarl and Tristifer as she watched the reparations being made to the city... and the fleet. The fleet that the warlocks of Qarth had sent was burned and resting in the bottom of the bay - that felt like justice considering how much she hated the warlocks -, but the Volantene Fleet was mostly intact. She had to thank herself for not rushing and attack the slaves as they were revolting, because Victarion and many of the Ironborn would have done that... only to find themselves killed by the Queen. Euron, the Drowned God take him, had only given her a small fleet, which meant that doing whatever she pleased was certainly not a good idea.

The trip had been interesting, being away from her uncles certainly made things better for her. A few raids, a few sackings, and the personal pleasure of seeing most of the crew scared to death as they approached Valyria - not that got that close -. All to reach Meereen at the last moment and strike at the warlocks. "Victory" celebrations were a strange thing, considering the unlikely collection of advisors Daenerys had. A Targaryen Queen mixed with sellswords from god knows here, a scarred northmen - that wouldn't stop giving her bad looks -, a Kingsguard looking like a maester, a slave girl, eunuchs and... an Ironborn Princess. The reputation of the Dragon Queen certainly lived up to what had happened in the city, and it had taken her days to recover from the surprise of seeing actual dragons in the sky.

She toyed with the idea of not delivering Euron's marriage proposal, but sure as she was that the Queen would turn it down she merely complied and repeated the message. The northman and the Kingsguard had been shocked, then outraged, and then relieved once Daenerys turned the offer down. She did, however, ask Asha to join her armies, making promises to the Ironborn that sounded a lot better that whatever madness Euron was thinking of. So she had accepted, her fleet had been massively increased and now she looked the massive city from a palace that dwarfed what Pyke had to offer, waiting for the Queen to come out of her chambers.

-I've heard the Queen is quite distraught.- Tristifer said, very casually -
-You hear many things, Tristifer, that doesn't make them true. Same for your thoughts.-
-You wound me, Asha. To think she was the last of the Dragons and find another one in Westeros...-
-With a better claim that hers.- Qarl said -
-You don't think she'll go to her rescure, do you? - Tristifer asked - Or worse, fight against him...-
-She has three dragons and an army of crazed eunuchs, I would not bet against this Dragon Queen.-
-You would be wise not to do so, Princess Asha.- Said Daenerys, standing behind all of them -
-I take it you have made your mind.- Said Asha, trying very hard not to say "your Grace" -
-Indeed I have.

Daenerys motioned them to follow her and they did, curious as to what she had decided. A line of Unsullied covered the entrance to the Palace as her War Council stood outside, waiting. Daenerys motioned for the Ironborn to join the other commanders and she finally spoke after all of them were prepared.

-The letter sent by Aegon Targaryen was an interesting one. It spoke of a bright future, of my need to stay in Meereen, of how would I inherit his crown until he had a son, of how Dragonstone was to be made a gift to me. I am Daenerys Targaryen, daugther of King Aerys, and I have never seen this Prince, this other Dragon that claims a throne with the help of Illyrio Mopatis... the man who once sold Viserys and me. Let the armies and the fleet be prepared, for our campaign begins! We sail to Volantis, to break its chains! We will go through the weakened Free Cities, and then we will cross the Narrow Sea! We return to Westeros to see if this Aegon is really my nephew, and we will put this endless chase to an end!-

Asha allowed herself a small smile as most of Daenerys's commanders shouted in triumph. She was far away from the Iron Islands and from Theon, but she would return to Westeros, a Dragon Queen and her dragons behind her. Fire and blood, indeed.

[Lumine]

The Queen's Hand:

-I'm not sure quite sure this is what Aegon Targaryen had in mind when he refused to aid Volantis, your grace.- Ser Barristan said, still struck by the haunting image -
-There was a day in which the Old Blood could have started another war of conquest, but not anymore.- Ser Jorah agreed, looking at the destroyed statues -
-I said I was going to break the wheel.- Replied the Queen - The Old Blood defied my offer, and they forgot that the oldest blood was my own.-

Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal danced atop the grand city of Volantis, finally free from attacks as the battle was over. Daenerys Targaryen had taken two weeks in capturing the oldest city of Essos, and Ser Barristan Selmy could hardly believe what was going on around him. When I slew Maelys the Monstrous Volantis was mighty and arrogant, and to see them fall like Slaver's Bay... To their merit the Old Blood had tried to do whatever was necessary to stop the invasion, building or hiring a second fleet to replace the lost one, bringing troops from all of their colonies, doubling the Tiger cloaks and doing what they could to contain High Priest Benerro and his followers.

All in vain.

Asha Greyjoy and Groleo had distinguished themselves leading the slave fleet to victory - in no doubt helped by the dragons burning the Volantene escape route -, allowing the siege to begun. After days of infighting the slaves had finally gained the upper hand in their uprising, and Benerro himself had led the Tiger cloaks into deserting the Old Blood and killing Triach Nyessos Vhassar along with several of his officers. It had taken a long of street fighting and heavy casualties among the freedmen, the unsullied, and even Daenerys's ranks with Daario Naharis death at the failed assault on the Black Wall, that drove the Queen into a bitter victory. And finally, all of Volantis belonged to House Targaryen... save for Malaquo Maegyr and the remnants of the aristocracy, who hoped to resist behind the Black Wall.

It was time to meet the High Priest and the Old Blood who had accepted to surrender, and then they would be ready to put an end to the conquest of Volantis. A victory owed to slaves, to their desire to be free. Ser Barristan had seldom thought about the slaves, but what he had seen so far was too much for a man not to be impressed. The High Priest's looks were shocking due to all his scars, but even with his weak body he looked the part of a leader surrounded by countless Tiger cloaks and foreign priests. Benerro gave Moqorro a very warm welcome, and his welcoming of Queen Daenerys - in high valyrian, no less - was all but customary.

-Behold! We were promised a sign, and now we see the sign! Our warrior of fire has arrived, from salt and smoke, having awaken the dragons from stone! Azor Ahai come again! Daenerys Targaryen, the one who will defeat the darkness and give us the eternal summer! All hail the Daughter of Fire! -
-All hail the Daughter of Fire! - The priests answered, starting to chant -
-Daughter of fire! Daughter of Fire! Daughter of Fire! - The Tiger cloaks started to rattle their spears, soon followed by the Queen's unsullied -

Daenerys looked with some pride at the red priests, and as the rest of her entourage joined the looks were more and more surprised, the Ironborn Princess looking most confused of all. The Queen spoke to the men of Volantis with her promise of freedom, and the screams of joy and the chants extended through the city. It was then than a large column of troops marched slowly towards the Queen and the High Priest, and the Unsullied and the Tiger cloaks took their positions. All the men threw their swords to the ground, and the one who led them knelt before Daenerys. Ser Barristan did not know him, but Missandei announced the surrender of Triach Doniphos Paenymion and his followers.

-Your Grace, I have come to surrender. The fight has been long and the city has suffered too much, and I do not wish for further bloodshed. For far too long I hoped that there would not be war between you and Volantis, and I regret it has come to this moment.-

All of Paenymion's troops, officers and noblemen knelt as well while the Tiger cloaks jeered and shouted at them, and the Queen had to ask Benerro to keep them in line before speaking herself. Having never lived in Westeros and with only her brother at her side, there was very little she knew of Volantis, and yet, she spoke of Valyria and their common heritage, and how decided she was in getting rid of slavery. The audiences with Benerro, Paenymion and the Queen's council took an entire day, and by the end of it Daenerys Targaryen had been proclaimed Dragonlady of Volantis. Paenymon could not free himself from being executed, but in the end Ser Barristan was able to convince her - with the help of Ser Jorah - that the scions of the Old Blood that had surrended could be useful and should be spared.

At the next day the greatest slavers in Volants were dead, and Daenerys stood with the dragons near the Black Gate. It was time to end the conquest, and Ser Barristan could not help but think how different things would be once they returned to Westeros.

[Lumine]

The Bear:

Ser Jorah Mormont was unsurprised when the unsullied came for him, especially as the past days had required a good number of meetings with the Queen – and her mood was not necessarily a good one -. He still took the time to put on his armor due to his mistrust of the Volantenes, and off he was to the Black Walls. To his surprise the unsullied were the young ones, those still untrained when Daenerys had sacked Astapor. While the lack of a finished training would have made any Westerosi solider – save for the northerners - potentially useless, even at those conditions they were great soldiers, and they had just proved it by taking over all the sea colonies sworn to the Old Blood, leaving only the colonies at the North, near Andalos, as the remaining threat left.

Daenerys Targaryen was now the Dragonlady, Azor Ahai reborn, and if Benerro imposed himself against the Paenymions in the Regency Council, she would also become the Empress and Queen of Volantis, at least in name. The more enemies she had to face, the higher she rose. Slavery had been struck down from Slaver’s Bay and Volantis, and with both Braavos and Pentos outlawing it – although Ser Jorah knew the reality of Pentos to be much different – all that was left was for Myr, Tyrosh and Lys to fall. Pentos was off the list, much as Daenerys disliked Illyrio the Tattered Prince had fallen while razing some of the colonies and without him there was little reason to burn another city to the ground.

The bear could not help but to feel small at the sight of the massive Black Walls, a sight that could compare itself to the Wall in which his father had served for so many years… only to be killed by his own men. He had not allowed himself enough time to think of him, but it hurt. It hurt to know that he had died in such a way, thinking the gods know what about his long and leaving Longclaw… in the hands of another man. That hurt. The Queen meant well when she promised to give him back Bear Island and perhaps his sword, but it would not be easy for him to face back his family, and to take back what now belonged to them.

Mayhaps… But no, the mere thought was treason. She would return to Westeros, and he would be at her side. Always.

-Your Grace.-
-Ser Jorah, good to see you. I trust that you slept well.-
-Yes, Your Grace.-
-Good.-

It wasn’t precisely a meeting of the regency council Benerro had put in place when Daenerys had refused the crown, but those important were there. The Ironborn Princess – who had not reacted kindly at the news that Ser Jorah had been the second man to breach the walls of Pyke -, Ser Barristan, Missandei, Groleo and Grey Worm, and then those who had joined after Volantis had felt the bitter taste of Fire and Blood: The bald High Priest, more sinister as each day passed; Mantarys Paenymion, the young and fiery scion of the Triachs that had bent the knee, and his colder brother Aenar; Galaevar who led the freedmen and Baeron of the Tiger Cloaks and Rhaenyx Naeliar, Daenerys’s new lady in waiting – and not a maid, judging by the looks she gave to one of the Ironborn.

-The time has come for us to move.- Said the Greyjoy Princess, looking at the huge map of Essos and Westeros – There is nothing left for us in the East, Volantis grows more stable as the fortnights pass and we have a clear road in the west.-
-If I might intercede, your grace. – Groleo stepped forward - It is not necessary for us to go to Lys, Myr and Tyrosh to reach Westeros. We could easily take the longer route at the sea and land at Dorne or in the Reach.-
-That would certainly be the more sound strategy, your grace.- Mantarys Paenymion said – Even if getting rid of slavery is an urgency, it has to be said that taking Westeros is the priority.-
-What does the High Priest think? – Aenar asked, a very subtle hint of hostility in his mind –
-I am not the one who will question Azor Ahai’s orders, and neither are you.-
-Thank you, High Priest Benerro.- Daenerys said, looking at the table – Word has arrived on the rest of the Free Cities, and a new fleet will be prepared to block us even if we try to take the long road. And I cannot sit idly while thousands suffer and the Free Cities say that I ignored them out of fear. No. We will liberate Lys, Tyrosh and Myr once our armies are ready.-
-And Volantis, your grace? – This time it was Galaevar who spoke, a rarity in those councils –
-I cannot dissuade the High Priests to grant Volantis to someone else, but neither can I rule from Westeros. Someday, we will find the way, and in the meantime the Regency Council is to stand.-

Ser Jorah did not trust most of them. He did not trust Benerro’s apparent devotion, he could not trust the Panenymions due to their blood, and he could not trust the Regency Council to do any better than Astapor and Yunkai on their times. But if Meereen was making slow progress with the freedmen, perhaps it would be possible to...

-Your Grace. – Ser Barristan moved forward with another scroll in his hand – Another message from Storm’s End.

Aegon.

-You can keep the message on a safe place, Ser Barristan. I will read it, just as I will read all the other messages from Westeros… once I stand at the top of Dragonmount, at Dragonstone.-

He could see it her eyes. Regardless of what the world could throw at them, they were going back to Westeros.

[Garlan Gunter]

THE LORD OF THE WATERS



"Gamble? It's more than a gamble, it's sheer madness, m'lord! To call a capns' council now, here...with our fleet reduced as it is...have y'heard of Thagbold the Stinger, m'lord?"

"Can't say I have," the one-time Bastard of Driftmark replied, flicking an idle, beringed hand through argent-flaxen hair. From his sealing finger glinted a generous sapphire's azure, plucked, magpie like, lately from Tarth. Its light played prettily on the sway of the waves, below Seasmoke's limber hull. "Must have come to prominence since I last stepped the Stones." He regarded the quartermaster, an old Hull mariner with some stress on the old, with playful unconcern.

It was as well, Aurane thought, while looking as thoughtless as he might, to remind the most hardened of his veterans that though he might not have fledged his twenty-fourth year yet, he was no child in this. Before he had been any sort of lord he had been a sell-sail, and not long before then, scarce two years after he first went to sea, he had won himself a name as a pirate. Not a name like Thagbold and his ilk, to be sure, but enough to command a fast ship and to see her through all kinds of trouble. Now he was in a slower but far larger one, for all their late misfortunes, and with a fortune in his hold. He intended to lose neither ship nor cargo.

"You were a smuggler as well as a sailor in your time, Rynard, were you not? Don't you know of this place?"

The older man scowled again, but puzzlement seemed to be overcoming his dissension. Good. My plans rely on keeping my own men as confused as my own head is cool. "The islet? Never 'ad cause to give it a glance ere today, m'lord. But heard some pirate's cast-off slattern call it the circlet. No bloody use to smugglers, y'can't moor anythin' bigger'n a rowing boat to those spikes, and scarce a jagged acre within 'em. No natural harbours or hidey-holes. Waste o' water, you ask me."

Aurane smiled; it was a kindly grin, if you were a damn fool. "You became a smuggler, Rynard, a seaman, a quartermaster, but never a captain. Otherwise you'd know the Circlet for more than a spurred patch of desert isle. This waste was made for more than hiding barrels of herring. It's not called the Circlet for its rocks. It was here the pirate chiefs witnessed Lord Corlys crowning Daemon Targaryen King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. Now him you'll have heard of?"

"Sure I have," the old sailor conceded slowly, "but don' tell me that's what ye're about now, m'lord? Y'can't make y'self another king with four ships. Y'must bear in mind, m'lord, the fleet is..."

"...reduced, I know. To a scrap of its former glory. And it will never be unreduced, unless I fulfil this plan. But don't give yourself an apoplexy, good man. I don't mean to play Daemon's part here, but that of my ancestor, the Sea Snake. It is another's cause I mean to plead. You know very well whose."

"Damn me if I could swear to it," Rynard complained, but his grumbling was already slacked to the gentlest of becalmments.

His captain ignored him and proceeded, "The Circlet's sharp inaccessibility makes it of immense value, for one purpose only. Parleys of captains. Few men can land, and they with little force. Land yourself on the Circlet, and it's a mark of trust...but aye, of prudence, too. Your fellow captains may gut you. No one else can. Ready a boat. I'm going ashore, alone."

Aurane was not the first, quite, to have done so, but he cut the brightest figure in his silks of sky-blue and verdigris. This Thagbold who inspired such fear seemed to have used something like a fishnet for his finery, though the ragged attire did set off his vice like arms and collection of blades to advantage. There was an Essosi, Lorathi at a guess, who looked like he made a habit of arriving promptly, lying low and departing in a hurry. More came on, one by one; some he could match to the tales he'd heard; one or two of them had hard faces he even recognised - not captains when he was here last, to be sure, but enterprising cut-throats who had done well for themselves since. Not altogether unlike Aurane himself, he considered, as he twirled his sapphire and nodded his greetings.

"A council is not idly called," the Lorathi observed, fatuously in Aurane's view. He was soon interrupted by Thagbold, and looked delighted to have so soon courted and dodged the captains' attention. "Cut the musin's," the hulking buccaneer snapped. "What in the hells is this about, pretty boy? Who are you? What are you for?"

"A couple of the more seasoned among you might remember who I was once," Aurane replied in his most unrippled tone, "but that's of little moment now. What I am now, gentlemen, is a serious business opportunity. One for you all to garner more gold than you've ever conceived existed. Even land."

"Land," one of the older men, a deserter from Eastwatch long ago, Aurane recalled now, spat. "That's mainlander talk. They say you tried to steal your lord brother's island from Stannis, and then the stags drove you off it. What land or gold have you got to offer now, even if'n we weren't sons of the sea, unbound by such lordly trinkets?"

Aurane's grin veered like the diagonal slash of a curved light arakh, as for answer he took the sapphire from his finger and tossed it to the erstwhile Watchman. Instinctively the other man caught it, then blushed in fury through his black whiskers.

"You don't seem entirely without interest in my trinkets, Gerdan Wavewatch," Aurane observed, to some grins among the others - even the Lorathi unbent to a slight crinkle, and the terrible Thagbold sneered. A good head for names is critical in this profession. "As it happens, I still hold Driftmark. I found your new present at Tarth. And I intend to find more for such among you as will stand my friends. I have four ships alone, at present, I admit; enough to cause trouble for most of you, if not to defy you all. And I have no desire for such defiance. We've all done well by the same spray, my friends."

He was standing half a head above even Thagbold, atop a convenient circlet spike that well bore his slight, agile frame. Make the best of the ground you have, and the waves you sail. "Stannis is not the sort of man to treat our sort well, he's proved that in the Sisters. That Saan of his will sew up all his plunder, and leave nothing for us but headings and hangings. As for 'King' Aegon, he's a boy and a weakling. That I have lately proved myself. And a pretender besides. I've had it on good authority he's truly Aegon Sand, Prince Oberyn's...cabin boy."

That drew out more laughs, but also a couple of questions from the shrewder-glanced captains.

"Didn't this Sand boy cleanse you of your Waters?" sneered Pirkriff the Saltthumb, one Aurane recalled as a boatswain with a mean whip-hand long since.

"Would you have us join the Greyjoys?" the deserter, Wavewatch, objected. "They're too damn far away, y'can't trust them to leave y'plunder well alone, and they're losin' hard."

"Never mind my name. Call me Lord of the Waters for all I care," Aurane threw back at once, and that set them almost all chuckling. Embrace your foe's jibes, use them like misericordes.

"And no. It's true Lord Greyjoy and I have had...mutually beneficial dealings. It may be of interest to you that Lord Qyburn, something of a sorcerer, still does my bidding. I've seized plunder in Tarth and I've gold and gems in hand to offer my...honoured colleagues. But I offer you a better cause, too. I think you all know what it is. I'm a trustworthy lord, I hope. I was not lying when I gave out word along Crackclaw way. Nor when I declared for House Targaryen."

And much to Aurane's surprise, it seemed to be Thagbold who caught his drift first. "The dragon bitch."

"Daenerys. Her forces will soon be at hand, and in collaboration with my own. Support us, and you gain payment now, the strongest of these claimant armies at your back, and all Westeros that Stannis and Aegon can squabble for to plunder. Inconvenience me...and you face four vessels today, then three dragons tomorrow. I give you till dusk to make your choice. Then those who would count themselves my friends are invited upon my flagship to receive their first cut of plunder."

"The Lord of the Waters!" the Watchwave cried, and he seemed already to have at least some measure of general support. A sapphire of great price, Aurane pondered as he flicked his offhand through his pale wisp of beard, but scarcely, I think, ill spent.

[Lumine]

The Mute:

It was that very morning that he had remembered about himself. The days would pass doing the bidding of his master, taking care of every detail of the ship and make sure that the fearsome Silence would remain the best ship of the entire fleet. The toughest part was always keeping the ship red. The warlocks would mock all of the mutes as they often had to paint the deck, but there was no ship that looked better among the Ironborn fleet that sailed across the Narrow Sea. He had been nothing more than a crewman to that greatest of warships, another of the mutes, another of Euron’s slaves… until he had finally remembered himself. His mouth opened as he laughed in silence, mocking himself for taking so long, for needing to hear the word “Oldtown” to finally recover himself from whatever those warlocks had done to him.

Oldtown…

He had been a Lord in Oldtown once, a very proud one. He did not care for the disdain given to his kind after the rebellion of the Widowmaker, for he was a Blacktyde. He mastered the seas of Westeros, and he wasn’t going to bow to a man like Euron. He had opposed him as bitterly as he could, and that bastard had rewarded him by making him one of his mute slaves. Death would have been preferable, and yet there he was. Every Ironborn had seen him paint the deck of the Silence for months, and even if somehow he made it out alive from the war he would be nothing but a slave. No. He would not return to that. He would put an end to it. He had already killed the few mutes on deck, and the darkness of that night would cover his moves.

-Halt. You are not allowed here. - Said the warlock –

Neither are you, he wanted to say. For all the supposed might of the warlocks there were surprisingly weak in a fight, and Qarthene quickly rolled on the floor after he hit him on the face. Baelor hid the body behind some coffers and he quickly opened the key one, wasting no time to get the hellhorn. It was heavier than it looked, for Baelor had a lot of trouble moving it from the room. It took him some time, but he was finally able to drag both the horn and the Qarthene. It was then that he went down for the last time to set the fire, and he closed the iron gate to the lower deck behind him. Returning towards the horn, he took the sworn he had stolen from a mute and he cut himself on the arm, spreading his warm blood across the horn and making the valyrian steel glow as if it was gold. He put the horn on the mouth of the warlock, and he prepared to make the cuts. He knew very well that you could stab a man in several places without killing him, and he drew some honest pleasure as he forced his victim to scream with all of his might, doing what Baelor would never be able to do in his short life. The horn was blown.

-AaaaRRREEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee! AaaaRRREEEeeeeeeeeeeeee! –

The ship started to shiver and tremble as several cracks appeared on the wood, and Baelor almost fell to the floor from the movement. The smoke was already flooding the deck, but with the horn the flames were consuming the Silence faster than any other ship Baelor had seen. He heard the sounds of alert from the other ships as the fire spread to its neighbors, and the Qarthene stopped screaming. He fell unusually peaceful as the fire engulfed the entire ship, and he could not help but smile when the mutes were desperately trying to open the iron gate while burning.

-Blacktyde! Blacktyde! – Shouted Euron from behind –

The man had to be some sort of demon, he thought. He knew full well Euron had no way to reach the deck, and yet there he was, dressed on the cloak that used to be his and a sword on his hand. Baelor took his, and both men stared at each other as the flames started to appear and the mute men began to turn into charred bones. Euron took a swing at him and he countered him, glad to realize he had not lost his fighting skills. Both men fought for some time as the chaos on the fleet seem to grow, as the flames consumed what used to be the proudest vessel of the Ironborn fleet. But even with his old skills Baelor was out of practice, and Euron was able to throw him to the floor, right beside the hellhorn.

-It’s over! You cannot defeat the storm, Blacktyde! – Euron boasted –

And then both men heard the sound of the wings, and the scream of thunder… Even with the ship almost ablaze both saw the enormous beast charge towards the ship, flapping its wings. They were staring at a dragon, at Balerion the Dread incarnate. Euron pointed his sword at it, victorious.

-You may have sounded the horn, Blacktyde, but I am the master of the horn! He belongs to me! – And he paused for a moment – Dragon, follow my commands! Burn him and take us away from this ship! –

The dragon looked at him, inexpressive, and Baelor knew he had won… the warlocks were right, because the horn answered to the power of blood and blood alone. He had no more regrets left, and he pointed his fist at Euron, commanding the black beast for the first, and the last time. The dragon elevated himself in the air and then breathed fire with all of his might, turning the Silence into a complete hell.

Baelor Blacktyde died thinking of how good it would have been to shout a final word of defiance.

[Garlan Gunter]

Proclamation by the Lord of the Waters and Captain-General of the Stepstones

I, Aurane Velaryon, Lord Admiral of Blackwater Bay, Regent of Driftmark, hold Bloodstone as Daemon Targaryen, King of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones, did of old, in the name of his kinswoman, Queen Daenerys, First of her glorious Name, rightwise Queen of Westeros.

Any soldiers, mariners, captains, lords seeking a good cause; any proficient sellswords and sails; any true septons, foes to demon worship; any wise maesters, wary of shadowbinders; any who bled for the late young King Aegon, or who are disappointed in the tyranny of the King in Gulltown; Crownlanders, Stormlanders, Riverlanders or wheresoever you come; in short, all good men of true heart, are invited to rally to the banners of the dragon and sea-horse at Bloodstone.

Long live the Queen! The Old, the True, the Brave! Fire and Blood!