Interlude part 2
( Davos )
Davos Seaworth, Regent for Queen Shireen Baratheon, looked at the carved map of Westeros in front of him and tapped his hands where the island of Dragonstone was marked.
Dragonstone was once more on the warpath. If the castle itself was gloomy as usual, the ramparts were teeming with men while Queen Shireen's fleet had docked everywhere along the island.
However, the inner castle itself was quite empty. A lot of men left after news of Stannis' defeat, and only half of the men garrisoning the fortress now remained.
There were only three people with him in the room where Aegon planned his Conquest. These were his son, Allard, along with the Queen, Shireen Baratheon, the Bastard of Driftmark and now Master of Ships, Aurane Waters.
Davos had spent the past weeks following the disaster at Storm's End reorganizing his forces, purging the remaining Red Priests, which included sending Melisandre to the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and limiting the influence of the Queen's Men.
The last task was helped with the worsening condition of Queen Dowager Selyse. With Stannis killed, the Red priests purged and most of her family either killed, attainted or on the run, there wasn't much she was doing. Still, though, the Queen's men now composed a sizable part of his remaining army, and he could not afford to alienate them.
The same thing went for the sellswords. These were loyal only to coin and plunder, so Davos made sure that they had both aplenty. From the coffers of Dragonstone, he paid them handsomely for their loyalty and ensured that there was much to gain from plundering the coast of the Narrow Sea.
Indeed, the first raid on Duskendale and the pillage of the city had brought the sellswords a lot of loot and gold, and was a great tactical success for Davos, since he had managed to set fire to much of the Crownlander fleet stationed there.
Queen Shireen had lamented the great loss of life, something that Davos agreed upon, but the sellswords counted for much of their numbers, and with the dwindling coin in their coffers, such actions were needed to ensure their loyalty.
"Did we manage to capture some ships?" Davos asked the Velaryon bastard.
"Only two, I am afraid." the silver-haired man replied swiftly. "The rest have been set afire and could not be boarded."
Davos sighed. Two ships were a meager prize.
"Lord Davos." Aurane Waters raised his voice. "Did you know if my brother…"
Ah yes. The case of Monford Velaryon. Something odd had occurred there. A few days ago, they had received a letter saying that the ransom for lord Velaryon had been paid in full, and therefore the lord would be released to their custody.
However, Davos made no such payment. Ransoms could not be paid when he needed the coin for the fleet's upkeep, the pay of the sailors, and the pay of the sellswords.
"Lord Velaryon has reached Driftmark this morning," Davos replied.
"Then I shall relinquish my seat on the council."
"Nonsense."
Davos liked the bastard. He had quite a good skill in the ways of hit and run tactics, and could have made an excellent pirate or corsair. He needed men like him if they even had a chance of placing the rightful Queen on the throne
"You will continue to sit in the council as Master of Ships." Queen Shireen said, as regal as ever. "Your services are invaluable to the crown. Lord Monford will take the position of Master of…"
"Of Laws, your grace." Davos pointed out.
"Of Laws." Shireen nodded in thanks. "When this is over, I shall have you legitimized and give you a keep as a reward."
"Your grace is too kind." Aurane's eyes twitched, his expression quite bewildered. "I shall serve to the best of my ability."
"Now, Ser Aurane." Davos interrupted. "Is the fleet ready to act?"
"Yes, your grace." Aurane happily nodded. "We have restocked and are ready to attack Tarth and Parchments in two coordinated strikes. These spots are lightly defended and the Tyrells have yet to bring their fleet into the Narrow Sea.
Tarth only has a small flotilla of ships, and we will remind both Tarth and Penrose what it means to turn their backs on the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"May I suggest that you do be careful?" a voice rose up from the shadows.
Davos looked around and saw a hooded figure approach slowly.
"Who let you in?" Allard immediately asked, going for his sword.
"Peace. I am unarmed." the hooded figure came closer.
"Who let you in?" Queen Shireen immediately straightened up. "This is a private meeting."
"Oh, I have my entries here." the figure chuckled and removed its hood.
It was him. The Spider.
"Varys." Davos growled.
"Good day, Lord Davos. Or should I say, Lord Regent?" Varys smiled. "Congratulations on your promotion. It is not every day that we see a smuggler become regent for a Queen, as small as that kingdom may be."
"What are you doing here?" Queen Shireen asked. "We refuse to treat with the Lannisters."
"Oh, my." Varys' eyes widened slightly. "All of the determination of her father at such a young age. You could make a fine Queen, Lady Shireen."
"Why are you here?" Davos snarled. "I will not repeat it."
"First of all, to warn you that Lord Selwyn had sent a small flotilla to guard the Sapphire Straits. It will be positioned in a way that could annihilate your attacks should you go with your plan, but it could also prove an opportunity to capture the flotilla if you know where to strike from. Such information does have a price, though."
Davos restrained himself from killing the Spider right then and there. If it were only up to him, he'd have cut down the eunuch right then and there.
However, this information could prove itself useful, should it be true.
"Is it gold you wish? We have none to offer." Davos replied instead.
"On the contrary, should our partnership prove fruitful, I would be delighted to fund your navy and your sellswords."
"Partnership?" Queen Shireen asked. "Explain yourself."
"Bend the knee to the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name, and he shall grant you Storm's End, the paramountship of the Stormlands, the gold you need and more.
Refuse and you may continue waging your little doomed rebellion on your own.
In short, Lady Shireen, I am here to discuss the terms of your loyalty."
The words fell out of the Spider's mouth, and everything went silent. All eyes darted to the young Queen. Davos himself couldn't bring himself to speak for a brief moment. As he made to finally answer the Spider, though, Queen Shireen stopped him with a small hand gesture.
"Talk." the young queen answered, her voice filled with her father's grim determination. "Who is this Aegon that you speak of?"
...
( Victarion )
Victarion Greyjoy laughed as he took another swig of ale and threw out another curse.
The captain of the Iron Victory could've been plundering the Basilisk Isles and the Jade Sea, or perhaps even reaving the coasts of the Reach and the Westerlands. But no. His dear brother Balon had wanted to claim a bunch of rocks and stones, with a lot of trees and a few sheep and cattle in them.
Victarion cursed his brother once more.
He had been sent to take one of the biggest fortresses in the known world. Moat Cailin.
Hah! What a fortress!
A bunch of ruined towers, defended by only a handful of men. And what glories and riches had awaited them? None!
No women, no gold, and no plunder. Not even a few minor lordlings to ransom off. All they had were a few stone towers and the constant raids from Crannogmen, which thinned his host with every passing day.
Another curse left his mouth as he downed another cup of the piss they'd found in Moat Cailin's cellars. He did take solace in the fact that his kin weren't faring a lot better.
Balon was still at Pyke with Aeron, and Euron, that fucker, the Drowned God could take him for all that he cared. His niece and nephew were likely trapped in shit halls, too.
Although Theon had grown some balls and taken Winterfell! Victarion could only hope that his nephew had paid the iron price and actually plundered something that wasn't made out of sheep wool.
Victarion stood up slightly from the chair he'd slumped himself in. They would need to launch another small raiding party into the Neck to try and find these damn Crannogmen. They couldn't just strike from nowhere, they didn't live underground, the small fuckers.
Day after day, they had been harassed and his men mowed down one after another. They had become so frequent that Victarion had taken for habit to wear his mail at all times lest he be surprised by one of the small fuckers.
He needed another cup of ale to forget this too.
Oh, how he wished to be elsewhere right about now. How he wished for Balon to kick the bucket so that he may leave to gather support for his claim on the Seastone Chair.
But the old fucker was still alive and had asked Victarion to hold Moat Cailin. And as the dutiful little brother he was, he did as told.
Fuck that, he should just go back to Pyke and tell Balon what he thought about this little invasion of his, right to his face. Maybe he could…
But the Ironborn captain was soon interrupted by a lickspittle running into his improvised solar.
"Milord, milord!" he cried out.
"This better be fuckin' important for you to interrupt me like this…" Victarion growled.
"M-m-m-milord…" the boy trembled. "T-t-t-t-the ships…"
"Well, what about the ships?"
"T-t-t-t-they've burnt milord. They've all burnt down. We're trapped."