Pre-Chapter A/N: Welcome to September, guys! Let's smash whatever goals we've set ourselves this year. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
XXXX- ONE MONTH LATER (Late 108 AC)
It had taken a whole moon to clear the island. Dragons, men, improvised siege engines. It had taken all that and more for us to be sure that every cave on the island that could sustain a sizable force was emptied and cleared. Some of the caves had been harder to take than others, from Daemon's and Borros' testimonies. The former participated whenever he was bored, while the latter was at the forefront of every single push. The Stormlanders had loved him as the son of their Lord already. But now, there was a level of hero worship that was difficult to put into words. They stopped talking, eyes flicking to him whenever he entered a room. Every flagon of wine they claimed from the pirates, they gave him first refusal; they celebrated him at every campfire, and yet I could tell that he was far from pleased.
Borros was a simpler man than most imagined, so it was easy for me to tell what constantly ticked him off. It was not the fact that he had to share glory for his achievements; it was who he had to share the glory with that pissed him off so often—while he might have been the first through the breach in any engagement, there was oft a silent specter at his back. Manfred Storm. Borros clearly was not enjoying the notoriety his bastard brother was beginning to enjoy.
Even worse for him, Manfred was—somehow—more personable than Borros was these days. He drank to a stupor with the men. He told bawdy jokes with them up until late at night. He was their friend, their steward, one of them. And Borros fucking hated it. It was why I was not surprised that he had walked into my tent tonight. They were celebrating the last cave falling. I was thinking about the castle. Taking it would be a nightmare and a half. And thinking made me want to build.
It was a silly idea, a battering ram that relied on gravity and a counterweight to do more damage than a human crew would ever be able to manage. No, it wasn't silly because it wouldn't work. It was silly because it was wholly unnecessary. When the time came, Igneel would smash through the gate with his flames, and our men would flood in like water through a hole in a ship. What I wouldn't give for some wildfire now. Let's see how that Valyrian stone lasts against good old alchemists' flames. Sadly, my idea to get some for the war had been thoroughly shut down by Corlys before we'd even got here, and Rhaenys was even less inclined to listen to the 'insanity' I was brewing.
"Yes, Ser Borros?" I finally addressed him when it became clear that he was perfectly fine standing at the entryway and not saying anything.
"Let's spar," the man offered after a few seconds of silence.
"I am no longer your squire. I do believe that Mother clarified it and obtained your consent for my discharge," I said, looking from him back to my drawings.
"Then we spar as equals. Lords in our own rights," he said.
"I'm a lord and you're a Knight, remember? But sure, let's spar. Not like I had much better to do," I said with a sigh, standing up and putting the drawings away. That would be fun to build, but the crew of carpenters and laborers I'd recruited from the surrendered pirates was unlikely to be able to cough up the required competence for something like that.
I stepped out of the tent, and Borros handed me a blunted sword and shield. He took a hold of his own training hammer. There was no referee, we weren't even in a proper sparring field, and neither of us was wearing padding. This was extremely dangerous and stupid. Yet, I felt my heartbeat reach a crescendo as time itself seemed to slow down before my eyes. As I expected, Borros did not announce the beginning of the spar. He just swung. His hammer moved straight for my head. I leaned backwards. The shield remained in my grip but lowered. I'd learned my lesson early enough that if I wanted to last against this man, then blocking should be a last resort.
He swung again when I did not press the attack. This time, I ducked underneath it, keeping my stance. He thrusted forward with the hammer. I spun out of the way, allowing it to miss me by some margin as I brought my blade around for his head. There was a sharp clang as somehow he brought his hammer around to block, and my sword clattered away from the much denser weapon. I kept moving—staying still while fighting Borros Baratheon was another mistake I had learned not to make very early on.
I slid my sword along the handle of his hammer as I spun around him again. He pushed off with the shaft when I got close to his fingers. I kept my momentum going and smashed my shield into his side. Rather, into his shield, because somehow he'd seen through me again and had a block prepared right in time. I felt my arm shake as my very stoppable force hit the immovable object that was Borros Baratheon.
He moved his hammer to hit me again, and I shuffled backwards.
"What exactly is this spar supposed to achieve?" I asked as I danced away from another attack.
"I was a bad knight to you," he said. That actually was enough to bring me to a halt, and I was barely able to raise my shield in time to prevent my head from ringing. I dropped to the floor and rolled away to prevent him from trapping me beneath the shield with his follow-up attack.
"You trained me well enough," I said, and it was true. I might not have noticed it at the time, but sparring with Borros had made me grow as a fighter by leaps and bounds.
"I don't just mean fighting. I was cruel. Not because I hated you. I never hated you. But because it is how I was taught, and it's all I know how to be."
"I knew you did not hate me, Ser Borros. If you hated me, I would have climbed my Dragon, and I would have returned to my home. I am—was—the heir to House Velaryon. I took your cruelty both because I knew you did not intend it so, and because I knew in some ways it would make me stronger. It has made me a stronger man," I said, sliding my blade against his hammer's handle, and then twisting myself at the last moment so said blade was resting against his neck. I'd beaten him. It would have taken the force of a hundred men to stop my lips from pulling apart into a wide smile that split my face in twain. Even more men would have been required to stop the glint of joy I could see in my eyes—reflected on his sharp blue orbs.
Instead of the rage and disappointment I would have expected at losing the spar, the Baratheon Knight instead began to laugh. I snatched my blade away. Blunted or not, there was the potential for accidentally ending the male Baratheon line.
"Ho! A stronger man indeed. I yield, Laenor. Now let's go again, and this time I won't hold back," he said with his boisterous voice, and I could feel the standard Baratheon charm doing its work on me. I felt pleased to have beaten him, pleased to have him be pleased as well. I allowed that much to show on my face while hiding that I knew I would never fully trust this man. He had treated me as less than—whether he had truly meant to or not, he had done it regardless. I would still hold him as an ally—a Great Lord was a powerful ally to have—but I would know to guard my back around him.
Then, what he had said clicked in my mind. Holding back? I felt my skin pale against my will as he stared at me like prey. Needless to say, I did not win a single other duel that day.
XXXXXXXXX
"A siege or a storm?" Mother started, looking at the map of Bloodstone that the cartographers we'd brought over had been kind enough to populate. It was the age-old question when faced with a mighty castle.
"You brought the storm, did you not, Cousin?" Borros asked with a loud laugh. His contingent of Stormlander knights laughed with him.
"A siege would be less bloody," I said, tossing in my two cents as I looked at the figure that depicted the castle. I knew there was only one option we would pick. Mother and I had run through the strategy yesterday already. A storm was inevitable, but this theatre was necessary.
"I've never known you to be one to fear blood, Cousin," Borros said to me. I shrugged. Good, he was taking the bait.
"Better to wait them out than waste men and supplies. They are pirates. They will turn on themselves and present their leaders after a week of sieging," I said.
"Maybe they would have, but our policy of recruiting the useful pirates and burning the rest is not going to give them much hope for their continued well-being. If they know naught but death awaits them outside, then they would hold up for longer than our cause could bear," Daemon said. That was surprisingly coherent of him. It should not have been. This man was raised as a Prince of the Blood. All the best strategists and tacticians in the Kingdom would have lined up for the chance to tutor him on the matter. It was a mistake to underestimate him, I knew. Mercurial, short-tempered, and arrogant, but not stupid. Far from stupid.
"Maybe. But a beast caught in a trap would gnaw off its own tail to stop the pain. When the hunger hits its crescendo, we can be sure that they will forget about any other considerations," I said.
"Bah. We don't know what supplies they have. What means they have to sustain themselves. For all we know, there could be a water inlet in the castle itself. It would be a poor siege if they could just fish and fetch water from within, wouldn't it?"
"We don't know that for certain," I argued. And it wasn't particularly likely. If my hunch was right—which I was near certain that it was—that castle had been constructed by the Valyrians, and those fuckers were too arrogant to imagine having to ever deal with a siege.
"We know little for certain. That is the nature of war. What we do know for sure is that every one of my men out here is worth ten of theirs in there. Get us in, and we will take that castle." Hook, line, and sinker.
"So you would lead the charge, Ser Borros?" Rhaenys asked, every bit the warrior queen I knew her to be.
"Of course. Who else but I? I will be the first man over that gate, and I swear to bring you the head of whatever coward leads these scum." Hook, line, and sinker. I almost felt guilty for how easy it was. Now, when the Baratheon men bled in their dozens, we could point at Borros and say he insisted on it. Far better optics than being seen to have commanded them to take the losses.
XXXXXX
I sat on Igneel's back, waiting for the signal. I'd promised that we could get rid of the gates with one blow, and I'd be damned if I didn't deliver. The army waited behind me, Borros in front of me with a bloodthirsty smile on his face and his hammer twitching in his hand. In another man, I might have assumed the latter as a sign of nervousness. With Borros, it was obviously excitement. Vhagar and Meleys flew off to the sides, waiting to incinerate anyone that tried to defend the siege through the walls.
Rhaenys blew the horn and I nodded. "Dracarys!" I roared in sync with Igneel. He took one deep breath in and then roared his rage at the gate. His flames, blue as the sky, tore through the gate in a matter of seconds, roasting the men who stood behind it. We unleashed more flames down the gate and into the castle proper for good measure before stepping back. Borros and his men were running at the hole where the gate used to be immediately afterwards.
—XXXXXX- THE KEYHOLDER
"The Triarchy has come forth with an offer," he said as he took stock of those around the table. Vorrick Tessaro was not of the same ilk as the men around him—nobility in all but name. He still knew what Braavos had been built on, the premise that the lowest of the low could rise to become the greatest of the great. If only those noble men could see what had become of their great city—their great dream.
"I have seen their offer. I, Orrenaro Veylis, say no. We will not build ships for slavers. That is against what Braavos stands for," he said, sounding so self-righteous that Vorrick wanted to pull his tongue out. Like he himself did not patronise Madame Serenya's courtesans. With how tightly she held her girls, was that not slavery by another name?
"If you've seen their offer, then you would know that is a lot of gold we'd be turning down." One could always trust Tregar Ormollen to speak for the bank's balance sheet at the end of the day.
"Guaranteeing and intermediating this deal would mean a lot of gold for the bank. Is that not what the Iron Bank is about? Making gold?"
"We are also about not making needless enemies. Making an enemy out of the Sea Snake and his family of dragon riders would be shortsighted at best. Stupid at worst," Elvyrio Qonnis spoke next.
"Then I have good news. Whispers in the wind tell me the Sea Snake has fallen," he spoke now. That was the reason he had agreed to support the Triarchy's cause here. With the Sea Snake gone, it was only a matter of time until the Velaryon cause in the Stepstones failed. His source in the Sunset Kingdoms assured him that there would be no reprisals from Westeros if the Velaryons were to fall in their greed.
"And the dragons? Did the dragons die with him? Because last I checked, there were three of them in his family alone, and Daemon Targaryen is said to have joined in as well."
"Two of the dragons are ridden by women, and the Sea Snake had the good sense to leave them behind."
"Yes, because there is a huge difference between four dragons and two," Calvaro Thellis snarked out immediately after.
"Yes, yes there is," he found himself saying immediately after. Especially when the two additional dragons being spoken of were Meleys and Vhagar. One of them was old enough to have participated in the famed Conquest of Westeros and it had the size to prove it. The other was old and experienced as well, ridden by a woman who his spies said rode like she had been born on a saddle. Without the two of them on the table to worry about, things were going to be simpler. Laenor Velaryon was a boy and nothing more. Daemon Targaryen was dangerous, but it would not be the first time the Iron Bank would kill a dangerous dragon rider.
"Regardless, I would not be comfortable putting the Bank and Braavos itself on a course for conflict with the Sunset Kingdoms. While a kingdom of barbarians on any other account, the Sunset Kingdoms are famed for producing their own breed of warrior. Their numbers make ours seem paltry by comparison. They have vast forests to cut down to build more and more ships. They can keep coming for as long as it takes, and one day we will not be able to resist."
"I have assurances from within the Sunset Kingdoms—at the highest level of their government—that they will not take any steps to retaliate if the Velaryons or even Daemon Targaryen fall in this war of theirs."
"You would forgive me if I found myself doubting these assurances. The dragon lords are famously mercurial, and to bank our continued survival on the promises made by one is not good business," Carvyn Orellis continued. Vorrick leaned his head to show he understood the point, even as he found himself scrambling for some angle to use to preserve the deal. A deal that could see a lot of gold flow into his personal coffers. If only he had that gold already. He would have won this vote handily before even raising the motion. These men might act highhanded, sworn to work for the good of Braavos in general and the Iron Bank in particular, but he knew what they were inside. Grasping little greedy bastards that would slit their mother's throats for enough gold. It was probably the only real requirement for becoming a keyholder.
"Besides, all we would be doing is selling ships. The Westerosi would have to deal with the pirates in the Stepstones, and then the Triarchy, before turning to face us if they sought revenge for their lost Prince," Domyrr Veyro spoke now with his signature cold smile. When he spoke, the meeting quietened. He was the Sealord's personal representative on the Council of Keyholders.
"Is that the will of the Sealord?" Orellis asked, looking none too pleased.
"He would not have us turn down good business that would employ many in the city, see gold flow into our coffers, and give us leverage over the Triarchy in future," he said.
"And the dragons?" Thellis, because who else would be such a coward.
"What is a dragon without their rider? Nothing but another wild beast. We kill the riders—preferably far away from their mounts. I trust that you honored Keyholders know how to secure such an event," he said meaningfully.
"Such a contract would be expensive. Prohibitively so."
"Have the Triarchy pay. They have the gold to splash around."
A/N: And so Bloodstone falls (fully), then we get a look at how things proceed in Braavos. Not everything is taking place at the same time. If there's a timeline you want to pay attention to, assume the conversation in Braavos takes place a month before the Bloodstone castle falls. Next five chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.