Monford Velaryon
Whispering Sound
Monford Velaryon stood on the deck of his flagship, the Sea Dragon, his eyes fixed on the horizon. One of their scout ships was returning, and he sent a prayer to the Seven for good news. The situation was dire enough without further setbacks.
Prince Aegon had been supposed to lead the fleet, but upon arriving at the Stepstones and learning that Euron Greyjoy had been spotted nearby, he left with five ships to rescue his mother from the mad Greyjoy's clutches.
Four days later, they arrived at the Arbor and freed the Redwynes from the Ironborn blockade. The sea was filled with remnants of the Redwyne fleet, which had been attacked in port like the Lannister fleet.
They had driven away the Ironborn, but they had not given battle.
After stopping by Vineport, they left to chase the Ironborn fleet again. Then, as they approached Mermaid's Palace under the cover of night, they were ambushed by the very fleet they had driven off. To Monford's shock, it was led by Euron Greyjoy himself, who took great pleasure in displaying the captured Prince Aegon. The Ironborn had unleashed wildfire upon them, a move that caused havoc and destruction, even among their own ships.
The attack had been brutal but short, with the Ironborn retreating and leaving the royal fleet heavily damaged. They had been forced to dock at the Arbor again to repair their ships.
The capture of Prince Aegon had dealt a severe blow to the morale of the soldiers and sailors, but they remained determined to rescue the prince from the Ironborn.
With the fleet repaired, they set out again. They had learned that the Ironborn had attacked Oldtown. Monford anxiously waited for the scout ship, hoping that Oldtown had not fallen to the Ironborn. The presence of wildfire among them worried him greatly.
He glanced down at his hands, still bearing the healing burn scars from the previous attack 'What can they do to counter such an attack again' he thought
After some time, the scout ship pulled alongside, and a man quickly boarded the Sea Dragon.
"Speak," he ordered, wasting no time.
"The Ironborn have a strong presence, but they are spread thin," the scout reported. "Their ships are patrolling the harbor, but the city still holds."
He nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and resolve. He signaled the fleet to move, and soon enough, Oldtown came into view. Smoke rising from the city painted a grim picture. The Ironborn longships were clearly visible, blockading the harbor and launching periodic assaults against the city's defenses.
"Signal Oldtown. Let them know we are here," Monford commanded.
Horns blared and flags were raised, sending a clear message to the city's defenders.
The Ironborn noticed as well. He saw their ships, sleek and fast, designed for raiding and quick strikes, in stark contrast to the royal fleet, which was larger and more heavily armed.
The sea came alive with the sounds of creaking wood, snapping sails, and the shouts of sailors and warriors. The Sea Dragon led the charge, flanked by other mighty vessels of the royal fleet.
As they closed the distance, the first volleys of ballista bolts and flaming arrows were exchanged. The air filled with the sharp twang of crossbows and the roar of flaming projectiles.
The larger royal ships plowed into the Ironborn lines, their reinforced hulls smashing through the lighter longships. Grappling hooks were thrown, and boarding parties leaped across to engage in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Swords clashed, shields splintered, and the cries of battle echoed across the waters.
Ironborn warriors, known for their ferocity and skill in close combat, fought fiercely. They swung their axes and swords with deadly precision, aiming to overwhelm his men. But his men, disciplined and well-armed, met the attack with shields raised and weapons ready.
The sea became a maelstrom of activity. Ships collided with thunderous crashes, splintering wood and sending sprays of seawater into the air. Fire spread across the decks of burning ships, and the waters around Oldtown were soon littered with debris and bodies. The chaos of battle engulfed everyone involved.
Suddenly, the Sea Dragon was struck by the largest of the Ironborn ships, which had a metal ram affixed to its prow. The impact was devastating, almost splitting the Sea Dragon in two. The ship shuddered violently, and he struggled to keep his footing.
"Ironborn coming!" a sailor shouted, panic in his voice.
Monford drew his sword, preparing for battle as Ironborn raiders swarmed onto the deck. He met the first attacker with a swift slash, his blade cutting through the man's neck. All around him, his men fought desperately to repel the Ironborn, but the Ironborn were relentless, their savage cries filling the air.
As he fought off one Ironborn, he saw a massive figure approaching through the chaos of battle. The man was clad in heavy black plate armor, his broad chest and powerful frame making him an imposing sight. He held a steel axe and a shield adorned with the golden kraken of House Greyjoy. Most terrifying of all was his tall black warhelm, decorated with an iron kraken that gleamed ominously in the firelight.
'Victarion Greyjoy,' Monford thought grimly.
Victarion let out a thunderous scream and charged into the fray, his axe swinging with deadly precision. He charged at Greyjoy, their weapons clashing with a resounding crash. The force of Victarion's blows sent shockwaves up Monford's arm, each strike pushing him further back. He parried and countered as best he could, but the Greyjoy's strength was overwhelming.
Victarion swung his axe in a brutal arc, and Monford barely managed to block it with his sword. The impact jarred his arm, nearly making him lose his grip. He struck back, but Victarion deflected the blow with his shield and retaliated with a powerful strike that knocked him to the deck. Gasping for breath, he tried to rise, but Victarion loomed over him, raising his axe for the killing blow.
Just as the axe began its descent, a group of Monford's men tackled the large Ironborn, driving him back and saving him from certain death. It gave Monford the precious seconds he needed to scramble to his feet.
He looked around, seeing chaos everywhere. The sea was filled with blood, the air thick with the sounds of clashing steel and dying men. Ships burned and splintered, their masts falling like felled trees. His heart pounded as he tried to make sense of the battle's madness.
Then he heard a large explosion from the direction of Oldtown. Turning his gaze, he saw the horrifying sight of wildfire spreading through the city, its emerald flames licking hungrily at buildings. The base of the Citadel was engulfed in the fiery inferno.
"What madness are these monsters up to?" he thought, horror gripping his heart.
One of his crew shouted, "Ships incoming!"
His heart dropped. If they were more Ironborn, then they were surely doomed.
But then another cry went up, "Stark colors!"
He looked north to see ships bearing the banners of House Stark, and leading the fleet were five ships unlike any he had ever seen before. The Stark fleet crashed into the battle with a thunderous roar.
The Ironborn were now trapped between the royal fleet and the Stark fleet.
The Ironborn longships, surrounded and outnumbered, tried desperately to break through the encircling forces. Some managed to escape, but many were boarded, captured, or sunk in the frenzied combat. He saw one of the Stark ships crash into the Iron Victory, sinking it. His own ship was rocked by the collision but remained unscathed.
He spotted Victarion Greyjoy, his helm long gone, revealing his twisted, contorted face of fury. With a howl of rage, Victarion came after him again. Monford readied his sword, bracing himself for the clash.
They met in a violent exchange of blows, steel clashing against steel. Victarion's strikes were powerful and relentless, driving Monford back. He parried and countered, but the Ironborn lord was too strong. He fell to the deck, his sword knocked from his hand.
Victarion stood over him again, axe raised for the killing blow. Monford's eyes widened in fear, but then, with a sickening thud, a spear impaled Victarion through the head, right through his mouth. The Ironborn's eyes went wide in shock before he crumpled to the deck, dead.
Monford looked up to see a man in a wolf-shaped helm and Stark armor standing over him. The man extended a hand, and Monford took it, pulling himself to his feet.
"Maekar Targaryen," the man introduced himself.
'The bastard prince,' Monford thought.
But then he quickly corrected himself. 'No, Prince Maekar.'
Prince Maekar pulled his sword from its sheath, looking at the spear impaled through Victarion. "I am going to miss that spear," he said with a touch of humor.
He turned to his men, his voice commanding. "Kill all the squids. Leave none alive."
The Stark men surged onto the ship, clashing with the remaining Ironborn. Monford, reinvigorated by the prince's arrival, joined the fight with renewed vigor. The battle was fierce, but the tide had turned in their favor. The Ironborn, caught between two formidable forces, were quickly overwhelmed.
The battle was won.
.
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Read up to chapter 31 here :
p.a.t.r.eon.com/Illusiveone (check the chapter summary i have it there as well)