In this tale of dragons, storms, and the quest for identity, Lucerys Velaryon navigates the labyrinthine castle of Storm's End, driven by duty and haunted by the weight of his blood. As his destiny collides with his uncle, Aemond Targaryen, the line...
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The tension was palpable in the war council chamber as Lord Borros Baratheon's voice boomed with frustration, his every word a hammer against the anvil of their recent loss. "It was a massacre!" he thundered, slamming his fist against the table, causing the assembled lords and ladies to wince. "How many men did we lose? How many ships?"
"More than half," replied Lady Selmy, her tone stark and devoid of emotion, serving as a chilling testament to the devastation. Her husband, Lord Selmy, was notably absent from the council, perhaps unable to face the grim tally.
"More than half," echoed Lord Borros, his voice thick with anger. "I have never seen such ferocity from damned pirates."
"That man is not just a simple pirate, my lord," interjected Lord Corlys Velaryon, his voice steady and commanding. All eyes turned towards the seasoned seafarer, expecting insights only he could provide.
"Please, enlighten us then, Lord Corlys," said Lord Lancel Caron, his tone bitter and tinged with grief. His hollow face and swollen eyes were a silent scream of his recent personal losses.
"He calls himself 'The Great Other', or so I've heard in my travels," continued Lord Corlys, his silver hair catching the light as he leaned forward. "Rumors speak of a man undefeated in battle, commanding a dreaded black ship known as 'The Kraken's Shadow'. It is said to leave only death and despair in its wake."
"And I suppose you have not heard any 'rumors' about blue fire," Aemond interjected with a sardonic lift of his brow. "Have you, Lord of the Tides?" His tone, laced with skepticism and a hint of mockery, suggested he found the tales as fanciful as they were terrifying.
Lord Corlys met Aemond's mocking tone with a measured look. "No, Prince Aemond, I hadn't heard of blue fire until yesterday. But now, seeing its devastation firsthand," he paused, his gaze sweeping over the council, "it's clear we face something unnatural, something that requires more than just ships and swords."
Lady Jocelyn Baratheon leaned forward, her expression composed yet hinting at an underlying sharpness. "If this 'Great Other' commands such power, it begs the question," her eyes narrowed slightly, "what does he want? Pirates seek gold, not ruins."
"It's not piracy," Lady Elara Tarth asserted firmly. "It's a proclamation of war."
The suggestion of imminent battle seemed to resonate with Lord Lancel, who nodded vehemently, his usual flamboyance dampened by grief and drink, suddenly interjected with a slurred. "We must strike back. Hard."
Lady Selmy's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, clear and resolute. "If we strike back now, we'll only repeat our recent losses," she stated, her expression unyielding. "We cannot afford another defeat, not after House Swann's lord was lost, and Lady Swann... she is inconsolable."
Lady Elara of Tarth nodded in agreement, her young face set with a grim determination that belied her age. "We mustn't expect aid from House Swann any longer," she asserted. "Their grief is too deep, their losses too great."
