The Northern Dragon

CH 20: BATTLE OF BLACKWATER BAY

So sorry for the long break. School and work have been a bit time and brain consuming. I feel like I have no brain cells left. Because of my job I also ended up having to be around people with COVID so I've been a bit on edge.

I'm perfectly fine, though, and I hope everyone is doing well and healthy. Also Happy Halloween. Enjoy the candy, 'cause I definitely will.

By the time Rhaenys reached the port, her expression had not become much better. Still as dark as when she left the mausoleum with her oldest uncle inside. The cloak she wore, forming a shadow over her face, making her expression look even worse.

The soldiers and sailors in the port all bowed, the moonlight brightening the red sun pierced by a golden spear that they each wore on their clothes.

Once she reached the ship prepared for her, Rhaenys stepped on the gangplank and walked up, her flat shoes not making it hard for her. At the end, a soldier waited for her, offering his hand once Rhaenys reached him to help her board the ship.

To avoid bringing too much attention to the ship, Irene and Oberyn had said their farewells in her chambers. The two taking forever to let her go. Which meant that only those who were departing for Essos were here. The Martell soldiers and sailors, Gabriel, Qoren, and Aeron.

"Stannis's ships should reach King's Landing soon." spoke Aeron.

With Stannis approaching, King's Landing would be in high alert, and Cersei would be too concerned with keeping herself and her children alive to notice them.

Rhaenys nodded, letting the others return to their jobs so that they could depart. "Did Michael receive the letter?"

"He did. Just as you ordered, not a single one of Stannis's men will be kept alive."

Michael sighed as he gazed at the dark ocean beyond the large windows of his chamber. The sky void of any stars to brighten it up a little. He couldn't say whether that was a good or a bad omen.

"Something the matter, milord?" the young steward stopped the movements of his hands that had been adjusting Michael's armor. The armor was mostly black with golden tracery, except for the breastplate which was a dark scarlet. On both shoulder pads, the head of a golden lion was engraved.

The boy's voice woke Michael up, the lion shaking his head, "Nothing much. Just thinking."

"This is your first time on the battlefield, milord. There is nothing to be ashamed of even if you're nervous." No matter how well someone may train, it cannot prepare you to fight in an actual battlefield where swords swing indiscriminately and blood flows. It's either kill or be killed.

Unless you are a madman like the Mountain, anyone would be nervous to enter such a hell on earth.

Michael didn't deny it. It wasn't like his steward was wrong. This would be his first time on the battlefield, so it was nerve-wracking for him who only heard stories as he had barely turned ten when Westeros experienced its last war. And that could barely even compare with the War of the Five Kings considering that the Greyjoy Rebellion ended so quickly.

The steward finished his job quickly and stepped back. Michael adjusted the leather gloves, clutching and unclutching his hands to get used to it.

Without needing to be told, the steward reached for the sword on the table and passed it on to his lord. Michael held the sword tightly before tying it to his belt.