The flagship of the Farman army, Silver Rain, was made of a beautiful white wood that made it stand out from others. Its flags were not blue, but red, a subtle defiance by the captain, a woman known to most as Alysanne Farman. She stood at the bow of her ship as dawn painted the water of the Narrow Sea, looking out for land. ‘Not this soon.’ She reminded herself and smiled, just a little.
The red-headed woman had been to Essos before, usually to the Free Cities. Their destination this time was not the Free Cities, but near Slaver’s Bay. To get there, they had to go around the Doom of Valyria. The fog of that hung in the air before them, and caused the woman reach to the sword at her hip, nicely sheathed. It was Valyrian steel, a sword that matched the ship, so-called Red Rain.
It had been in the hands of the Ironborn not even a year ago, until the Captain liberated it from House Drumm and took possession of it. It was dear to her, dearer than most things. It was her heirloom, after all, for she was not a Farman.
She was Leora Reyne.
This was one of the first ships out to Essos, but not the only. Around her the fleet of the Fair Isles floated, as well as others, full of troops from the Westerlands, High Garden, the Riverlands, and many other locations. Tommen Baratheon, long may he reign, had subdued Westeros with the Lannisters leading his forces.
In particular, Kevan, Jaime, and Tywin Lannister had subdued all of Westeros, even Dorne.
They now sailed for Slaver’s Bay because that was the last known location of Daenerys Targaryen. She had Tyrion Lannister at her side, whispering the secrets of Westeros to her. When this was discovered, there was no choice—they had to strike first, and try to surprise her.
The ships, thus, weren’t going to dock in any city. The Fair Isle fleets had located a decent strip of land to unload at, near enough to Mereen.
‘I just want to get off this ship.’ Or sink it. The thought had crossed Leora’s mind more than once, and it was because of the passengers. Considering that the Silver Rain was the flagship, that meant it was the best of the ships. So, naturally, the great leaders of the war were on that ship.
Tywin Lannister was on her ship.
If she didn’t want Tommen Baratheon to win the war, she likely would have sunk the ship to send Twyin to the lowest of the seven hells, even if she’d be condemning herself in the process.
Unfortunately, she wanted Tommen Baratheon to win, so she couldn’t rightly sink her own ship when other crucial individuals were on it.
The sigh she let out as she dismissed the thought once again froze in the air. The mornings were always cold on the sea. She turned from the bow to go back below deck. She needed a nice, warm drink, and then she needed to send a few ravens onto the captains of other ships in her fleet, to make sure everything was going smoothly. She also needed to send one ashore to ensure it was still good to dock where they were planning to dock.
It was going to be a long trip, though. ‘And you can’t poison him on the ship.’ No, because there weren’t enough people around to blame. Once they were situated in the camp, though, that was another story. Or in the midst of a chaotic battle. ‘If he even fights anymore.’ For all she knew, Tywin just devised strategies and stayed out of the scuffle.
Then again, that didn’t sound like the Proud Lord. 'And if I have to hear that song one more time....' Drunk Lannisters were the worst Lannisters.
The red-headed woman had been to Essos before, usually to the Free Cities. Their destination this time was not the Free Cities, but near Slaver’s Bay. To get there, they had to go around the Doom of Valyria. The fog of that hung in the air before them, and caused the woman reach to the sword at her hip, nicely sheathed. It was Valyrian steel, a sword that matched the ship, so-called Red Rain.
It had been in the hands of the Ironborn not even a year ago, until the Captain liberated it from House Drumm and took possession of it. It was dear to her, dearer than most things. It was her heirloom, after all, for she was not a Farman.
She was Leora Reyne.
This was one of the first ships out to Essos, but not the only. Around her the fleet of the Fair Isles floated, as well as others, full of troops from the Westerlands, High Garden, the Riverlands, and many other locations. Tommen Baratheon, long may he reign, had subdued Westeros with the Lannisters leading his forces.
In particular, Kevan, Jaime, and Tywin Lannister had subdued all of Westeros, even Dorne.
They now sailed for Slaver’s Bay because that was the last known location of Daenerys Targaryen. She had Tyrion Lannister at her side, whispering the secrets of Westeros to her. When this was discovered, there was no choice—they had to strike first, and try to surprise her.
The ships, thus, weren’t going to dock in any city. The Fair Isle fleets had located a decent strip of land to unload at, near enough to Mereen.
‘I just want to get off this ship.’ Or sink it. The thought had crossed Leora’s mind more than once, and it was because of the passengers. Considering that the Silver Rain was the flagship, that meant it was the best of the ships. So, naturally, the great leaders of the war were on that ship.
Tywin Lannister was on her ship.
If she didn’t want Tommen Baratheon to win the war, she likely would have sunk the ship to send Twyin to the lowest of the seven hells, even if she’d be condemning herself in the process.
Unfortunately, she wanted Tommen Baratheon to win, so she couldn’t rightly sink her own ship when other crucial individuals were on it.
The sigh she let out as she dismissed the thought once again froze in the air. The mornings were always cold on the sea. She turned from the bow to go back below deck. She needed a nice, warm drink, and then she needed to send a few ravens onto the captains of other ships in her fleet, to make sure everything was going smoothly. She also needed to send one ashore to ensure it was still good to dock where they were planning to dock.
It was going to be a long trip, though. ‘And you can’t poison him on the ship.’ No, because there weren’t enough people around to blame. Once they were situated in the camp, though, that was another story. Or in the midst of a chaotic battle. ‘If he even fights anymore.’ For all she knew, Tywin just devised strategies and stayed out of the scuffle.
Then again, that didn’t sound like the Proud Lord. 'And if I have to hear that song one more time....' Drunk Lannisters were the worst Lannisters.