~~~Third Person, Duskendale~~~
~~~Twelfth Moon, 277 AC~~~
"When I get back to King's Landing, I'll give King Jaesyrian a big kiss, maybe then he'll give me more of these potions," Arthur, even in the middle of a serious event like this, couldn't help but say teasingly, "Well, I doubt Queen Valka will let you, she'll cut off your balls first and give them to her man-eating beast," Gerold reminded him, remembering the Devastator as Queen Valka's mount.
"Hahaha, we'll see," Arthur replied with a smile on his face, only to have it wiped off, as Arthur stuck to the wall of the hallway they were walking down, an act copied by his two companions, soon, the reason for Arthur's behavior became apparent, a squad of guards walked past them down the hallway ahead.
"We should have killed them and taken their armor, I don't think we can get any closer to the castle in these robes," Arthur said, holding the pommel of his Dawn sword tightly, "no, our priority right now is the prince, having more bodies to hide will only waste time and make us targets for discovery."
"Then what do you propose" Arthur asked, with a grimace on his face, apparently he liked the idea of non-stop assassination of those who had Rhaegar caged better.
Gerold looked ahead and observed Dun Fort in the distance, he turned to the right and looked carefully at the tide crashing against the city walls, "looks like we have to get wet again gentlemen." He commented with clear apprehension, he didn't like the idea of diving back into the cold water, especially considering that winter was already coming and getting bone chilling cold was not an option.
"We are not going to go unnoticed walking from the walls to Dun Fort, here almost everyone knows what the Royal Guard looks like, they will recognize us instantly, instead, swimming to the Fort's wall, or to the Fort's dock, we can get there without problems, and enter as we did before."
Barristan did not hesitate for a moment, and taking off his tunic that had not finished drying, adjusted his sword to its scabbard and jumped into the water, "well, he sure is motivated", was Arthur's comment, which earned him a hard look from Gerold.
Which Arthur either didn't see, or saw and ignored, instead, he also removed his tunic and dove into the water, being followed by Gerold seconds later.
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~~~~Iron Victory, Narrow Sea~~~~~
"You know, with all the bluster raining down behind you, you've disappointed me," Victarion Greyjoy, younger brother of Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, sat comfortably on a wooden chair, as he sharpened a huge double-bladed axe, while the gentle rocking of the boat soothed him.
"Hahaha," a soft but cold chuckle was heard at the other end of the cabin, an upright silhouette, camouflaged within the shadows the sails provided, stood calmly, unperturbed by the large figure that was Victarion. A burly man, with a chest like a bull's, and a serious, rigid countenance. Much like Stannis Baratheon's.
"I did my part brother, my babies did most of the work, the Lannister fleet may well have been destroyed without any casualties on our side, it's not my fault the Xandarians decided to intervene, even when we didn't attack them, but well, that's not clear to you, considering you were here all along, hiding like a coward."
Victarion, who was serene and calm before, rose from his chair with extraordinary speed considering his size, and reaching his brother, grabbed him by the neck, pulling his face close to him, causing the candlelight to illuminate his face.
Pale skin, black hair and a neat dark beard, blue lips and a black patch hiding his right eye, with the left being as blue as the summer sky, "hmm, even now you are uglier, are those trips to Qarth and Ashai doing you any good?" Victarion said, releasing his brother's collar and sitting back down.
Euron Greyjoy, captain of the Silence and eldest son of Balon Greyjoy's younger brothers, massaged his neck, but without wiping his cruel smile from his face, "fortunately I managed to escape, many of my babies perished that day, my beloved Silence fell as well, but hey, that's life, right? Sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down."
"Balon is out of his mind, he thinks he can win this... I don't even know what to call it anymore, rebellion? Assault maybe? Our chance of winning anything with this was dashed when the Lannister fleet didn't fall, fortunately, I was here then, and thanks to that the Vale is without a head to lead it," Victarion commented, sticking his axe into the wood of the floor, to reach out his huge, broad hand towards a flagon of wine.
"No doubt what continues to embolden Balon is the reach he has gained in the Riverlands, but even that will be cut short when the Targaryens organize and he rallies his army, then, he will have Balon's few forces on the mainland scatter back to sea like rats."
"I didn't think you were so virtuous when it came to seeing the big picture, little brother, but I want you to know that it's not all over for House Greyjoy, not anymore. You have to understand that with me at the helm, the Ironborn will no longer be looked down upon, I even left a token of my gratitude to King Aerys."
Those last words made Victarion frown, not understanding what Euron was referring to, "what does King Aerys have to do with this?" Victarion asked somewhat doubtfully, with his brother Euron, anything could happen. "Let's just say we now have a leash around Aerys' neck that will cause him to keep his Xandarian lapdogs away from matters happening in Westeros."
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~~~Dun Fort, Duskendale~~~
The three Royal Guards had been able to enter Dun Fort at last after swimming and dodging the stares of the guards posted on the ramparts, having entered through the drainage culverts, after breaking the iron rods protecting the entrance, entering the first floor of the Fort was a piece of cake.
At the same time, it was useful to them because the cells of the Fort were also at the lowest level, where the sea water made the cells cold, almost freezing. "Once the prince is safe, the Darklyns will have a hard time," Barristan assured, seeing the state of the cells, he couldn't help but clench his jaw at the thought of the conditions Rhaegar would be in.
"Who's there?" a thick, husky voice was heard down the hall, where a thick oak door stood closed, heavy footsteps were heard, and from the side of the hallway near the door a large, strong man appeared, wearing leather armor and with a sword at his hip.
"What, who are you, how did you get in?" the man asked, as he drew his sword, the wad of keys jingling as they were swung. "Are you the jailer?" Gerold asked, advancing towards the man, "stay where you are or I'll cut your fucking head off."
Gerold hardened his gaze, and in a blur, appeared in front of the jailer, "you talk a lot," he said, grabbing his sword arm and bending it at an unnatural angle, as a cracking sound was heard, "AHHHH!" The man screamed in pain, as his sword fell to the ground, only for Gerold to grab it out of the air and thrust it into his foot, eliciting more screams from the man.
"Will you listen now?" Gerold asked, but the man was still moaning, "Clap!" a hard slap received the man from Gerold, so hard that it knocked out two of his teeth with just the blow, "And now?" he asked again, and this time the jailer was thankfully more receptive. "Hmm, yes."
"Very well, now you will tell us where they are holding Prince Rhaegar," without further ado, Gerold removed the sword from the man's foot, eliciting more groans, "he...he's gone," the man said between moans. Which caused the three Royal Guardsmen to look at each other.
"What do you mean he's gone?" Barristan reached over and grabbed the man by the collar. "I don't know much, we only found a hand in his cell, but no trace of the prince, Lord Darklyn has forced us to keep quiet, for fear that they might enter the city by not having the prince."
"Even his hand is still in his cell," with that, Barristan released him, causing the man to fumble. "Take us there," Arthur said, his tone bitingly cold, devoid of his humor.
"I... I, it's okay." The man said tearfully, getting up from the dirty floor and walking carefully to the oak door, only the jingle of keys could be heard in the cold place, as the man reached for the door key, "get off." Arthur said angrily, and without waiting for the jailer to do as he said, he gave the door a hard kick, which caused the hinges to give way and the door to fall with a loud clang.
The cell was empty and without much light, but the distinct iron smell of blood permeating the air could be smelled. "My prince," Barristan said with unbridled fury, as in his hands lay a severed hand, already maggoty and pale.
"It is the prince's, his ring is still on his finger."
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