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Chapter 68 – "Wolves and Roses"
The sea rocked gently beneath the hull, but inside the captain's chamber, there was only warmth — and quiet breath.
Cregan Stark sat with his back against the cabin wall, bare-chested, his black hair tousled from battle and sleep alike. Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene Sand lay beside him in a tangled sprawl of limbs and silk sheets, still flushed from their shared heat. Tyene's head rested against his shoulder, Nymeria's hand lazily traced the scar on his side, and Obara's legs were tangled with his.
A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness.
"Speak," Cregan called, his voice calm but cold.
"Commander," came the voice of the scout from the other side, "we're expecting trouble in ten to twenty minutes. A few ships are approaching from the east. We can try to avoid them if you wish."
Cregan swung his legs off the bed. "What do the boys say? Are they ready for a warm-up?"
"Aye," the scout chuckled, "they're eager for it. Say they've been bored too long."
Cregan snorted. "Figures. Let the men prepare. And make sure they're not pissed drunk."
"Aye, Commander."
As the footsteps faded, Obara lifted her head, squinting at him. "Commander? Since when did you get a title like that?"
Nymeria raised an eyebrow. "You never said you were a leader."
Tyene yawned. "What did we miss?"
Cregan pulled on his fur-lined vest. "Back in Essos, I served in the Company of the Rose. Not just served — I commanded them for over a year."
Obara sat up, blinking. "You were a sellsword?"
"Aye," he replied casually, fastening his black steel bracers. "Four years, from the time I was fourteen. Led the company from sixteen onwards."
Nymeria smirked. "Bit young to be leading hardened killers, aren't you?"
"Well," he shrugged, "circumstances forced it. And having the Stark blood helped."
Tyene narrowed her eyes, curious now. "The Company of the Rose… that's not just any band."
"No. It was founded by Brandon Snow, the bastard brother of Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt. Brandon refused to kneel. Took a few hundred Northmen with him to Essos and formed the company. They've survived ever since."
"Huh," Obara said, whistling low. "Northern honor has long roots."
Cregan smiled and buckled his axe to his belt. "We'll finish history lessons later. Company's coming."
---
On Deck – Moments Later
Cold sea wind whipped against his furs as Cregan stood at the prow, shadowed by the towering figure of his direwolf, Shadow, whose eyes glowed red in the dark.
His men — former sellswords, frostguard veterans, and iron-hardened Northmen — were already preparing without panic, their movements sharp and fluid. No fear. No hesitation. Only quiet grins and murmurs about stretching old muscles.
The Sand Snakes followed behind, cloaked in light armor, their expressions mixed with confusion and intrigue.
Tyene whispered, "They're calm."
Nymeria added, "Too calm."
"They've done this before," Obara said, eyes narrowing as she watched a one-eyed veteran chuckle while sharpening a blade.
"They know who leads them," Nymeria murmured. "And they trust him."
From the shadows above, Cregan's black steel axe glinted like moonlight on still water.
The enemy ships grew closer.
Then, like a sudden breath—chaos erupted.
---
The Battle
The clash of steel rang out as grappling hooks connected. Cregan leapt first, landing on the enemy deck like a thunderbolt. Shadow leapt with him, fangs tearing through a screaming sellsword before his paws even hit the wood.
Cregan fought like death incarnate — his Valyrian steel longsword slicing through armor, his black steel axe crushing skulls. Blood sprayed in arcs. Every step he took was a death sentence. He fought not with rage, but with cold precision.
His men followed with brutal joy, laughing as they spilled blood. To them, this wasn't a battle — this was nostalgia.
Tyene ran a dagger through a sailor's throat. Obara cracked another's skull with her spear haft. Nymeria slid behind a sellsword and slit his throat before he could turn. But still, they looked around in disbelief.
"Gods…" Obara muttered as Cregan ripped through four men in a blur. "What is he?"
"North's Bloody Wolf." Tyene whispered.
Within ten minutes, it was done. The enemy ships were either sinking or seized. Not a single one of Cregan's men had fallen. The attackers had been overwhelmed, outmatched, and humiliated.
Cregan wiped blood from his axe with a bit of cloth and turned to his second-in-command. "Check the holds. Take what's useful. Scuttle the rest."
"Aye, Commander."
He looked at the Sand Snakes, breathing hard but wide-eyed.
"Welcome," he said with a grin, "to my side of the world."
---
Arrival in Volantis
The sun dipped low over the harbor of Volantis, painting the waters a deep crimson. Cregan's ships sailed past the Black Walls and docked near the merchant quarter, the colors of House Stark and the Company of the Rose fluttering side by side.
Cregan disembarked, flanked by his veteran warriors and the Sand Snakes. The dock was already cleared and watched by sentries — familiar men with rose-emblazoned cloaks and hardened Essosi faces.
From the waiting group stepped a tall man with dark Northern features and a cloak clasped with an iron rose.
"Welcome, Commander," the man greeted with a mock respectful bow, though a smirk tugged at his lips.
Cregan stepped forward, arms crossed. He studied the man for a breath before his face broke into a rare grin.
"Still at it, Cousin?" he asked.
The man laughed and the two embraced like brothers long parted.
"Still fond of this mad company, Cregan?" the man replied.
"This mad company made me rich," Cregan muttered with fondness. "And kept me sharp."
The man was Edwyle Snow, descendant of Brandon Snow, and the current Commander of the Company of the Rose.
Cregan turned to the women beside him. "Girls, this is my distant cousin — Edwyle Snow. Present leader of the Company of the Rose. Edwyle, meet my lovers — Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene Sand."
Obara gave a curt nod. Nymeria offered a cool smile. Tyene, however, tilted her head and purred, "My, my... another Snow with command. What is it with your family and leading wild men?"
Edwyle raised a brow and grinned. "And what is it with Dornish women and finding trouble wherever they go?"
Tyene laughed. "We don't find it, Snow. Trouble finds us."
Obara smirked. "Usually after we've stolen its horse, wine, and favorite dagger."
Edwyle leaned toward Cregan and whispered loud enough for all to hear, "Your lovers are charming. My sister's going to be very disappointed, Cregan."
Cregan exhaled sharply and shot her a deadpan look. "Let's try to keep your sister's disappointment to one letter a week, shall we?"
Edwyle chuckled. "My sister still sending threats?"
"She's upgrading her threats," Cregan muttered. "Last one included a drawing of my funeral pyre."
Tyene batted her lashes. "How creative."
"Alright, enough," Cregan said, waving his hand trying to change the topic . "We've got work to do. Let's talk somewhere private before the sun disappears."
"Of course," Edwyle said, gesturing toward the inner docks. "Your war room is just how you left it — dusty and full of half-drunk maps."
The Company men laughed behind them, and the Sand Snakes smiled as they followed, boots clacking on Volantis stone.
---
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