I am back! For how long? I don't know. For now enjoy this AAR set in the A Feast for Crows bookmark.
He smiled and headed off back to his cabin as the sailors around him climbed the rigging and shouted orders and japes to each other. A blast of wind caught Ayrmidon in the face, to his pleasure. Before entering his cabin through the ornated door, a Lannister lion encrusted above it, he looked up at the sailor standing behind the drums.
“We’re approaching, make sure the rest of the fleet will know as well.”
The sailor nodded and the rhythmic banging of drums began. Other ships around them had joined in and Ayrmidon found himself smiling once again. Entering his cabin, he was suddenly hit with the pungent smell of a festering infection. In front of him sat Aurane Waters, pirate king of the Stepsones. The upper half of his body was tied with rope around the ornate chair and, as Ayrmidon noticed, some of the rope had begun to scrape at his skin. His lower half had been covered with discoloured trousers though with nothing covering his feet. As Ayrmidon observed him he saw Aurane’s face; an unkempt beard as well as shoulder-length hair were mangy and features that may have once been considered handsome had now faded away to show a hollow man. Ayrmidon’s eyes went further down to watch the source of the particular smell. Aurane’s right hand was missing, replaced with puss slowly oozing out on to the red and gold Myrish carpet that must have cost the Lannisters a considerable amount. Behind Ayrmidon opened the door and let in a refreshing breeze before it was suddenly cut off as the door closed. Aegon approached Ayrmidon’s side, cringing at Aurane and cupping his nose and mouth from the ever-present smell. He wore a sea green tunic and breeches, the same outfit that was on Ayrmidon save for a woolen cyan cloak.
Behind his gloved hand came a question, “How long are planning on keeping him alive? Look at that, he can barely stay awake.”
Ayrmidon’s eyes slowly went from Aurane to Aegon and at an instant his hand left his mouth. Ayrmidon spoke soothingly, as if to calm Aegon, “Not long, I hope. That hand must have done most of the work for us. I just need some time to say my farewells. Your dagger, if you will,” he showed his naked palm to Aegon.
“Lord of Light have mercy, here,” in Ayrmidon’s hand Aegon placed a short dagger, with a leather wrapped hilt and the likeness of his paramour from Lys carved into its blade, “When should I come back?”
“Whenever you hear the screaming stop.”
With that Aegon left the cabin sending another short breeze into the cabin which seemed to have stirred Aurane to look at Ayrmidon wearily. He let out a weak groan, “Bastard…” his words trailed off as his eyes slowly closed.
Ayrmidon smiled and tapped Aurane’s cheek with the flat end of the blade, “Come, brother. We both share the stain of bastardy our father has so generously bestowed upon us.”
Aurane looked at him with whatever hate he could muster, “What do you want?”
“Simply, Driftmark. You just happened to insult our family’s name and become a pirate. Well I could not stand for this. And betraying the Crown like that, oh you have just been a pestilence on house Velaryon for too long. Hopefully our nephews will not be as foolish as to try to attack me and follow your example.”
Ayrmidon slid the dagger down Aurane’s chest and he let out a groan somewhere from his throat, “Brother you say, what claim do you possess, who even are you?”
“Claims? Same as you I suppose. Who am I? Ayrmidon Velaryon, bastard son of Lucerys Velaryon. I am the rightful Master of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides and the eternal ally of house Targaryen. Rightful lords of the Seven Kingdoms. And you… are dead.”
Slowly he took hold of Aurane’s hair and held him steady. He lifted the dagger to his eye and drove it as far as he could. The screaming stopped when the dagger could go no further. With one quick pull the dagger went out of Aurane’s head soaked with blood. His head dropped with a sudden silence descending upon the room. Ayrmidon brushed the blood off the blade on Aurane’s trousers as Aegon entered the cabin with another breeze shadowing him.
“Are you finished here?” he asked holding back a gag.
Ayrmidon chuckled, “I am afraid we shall never see our work done. Come now, we must be close to Driftmark. And find someone throw the body overboard. Kings dislike tainted gifts.”
Ayrmidon
From the prow of his ship Ayrmidon could see Driftmark appearing on the horizon, a lowly strip of d rising from the sea as if it were some kraken. To him it was home, or it was supposed to be for he had never seen it and the only kind of home he knew were the pillow houses of Lys. What possessed his ancestors to settle that gods forsaken island he did not know; some of his Westerosi allies told him of its strategic location in Blackwater Bay but so was Dragonstone and the Velaryons were here before the dragonlords. Above Lord Tywin a storm was gathering with the storm clouds draping the previously blue sky in a grey curtain. No sunlight was breaking through yet the wind blew with all its might as it whistled past Ayrmidon’s ear. Though today the wind was favourable and blew them ever closer towards Driftmark.
He smiled and headed off back to his cabin as the sailors around him climbed the rigging and shouted orders and japes to each other. A blast of wind caught Ayrmidon in the face, to his pleasure. Before entering his cabin through the ornated door, a Lannister lion encrusted above it, he looked up at the sailor standing behind the drums.
“We’re approaching, make sure the rest of the fleet will know as well.”
The sailor nodded and the rhythmic banging of drums began. Other ships around them had joined in and Ayrmidon found himself smiling once again. Entering his cabin, he was suddenly hit with the pungent smell of a festering infection. In front of him sat Aurane Waters, pirate king of the Stepsones. The upper half of his body was tied with rope around the ornate chair and, as Ayrmidon noticed, some of the rope had begun to scrape at his skin. His lower half had been covered with discoloured trousers though with nothing covering his feet. As Ayrmidon observed him he saw Aurane’s face; an unkempt beard as well as shoulder-length hair were mangy and features that may have once been considered handsome had now faded away to show a hollow man. Ayrmidon’s eyes went further down to watch the source of the particular smell. Aurane’s right hand was missing, replaced with puss slowly oozing out on to the red and gold Myrish carpet that must have cost the Lannisters a considerable amount. Behind Ayrmidon opened the door and let in a refreshing breeze before it was suddenly cut off as the door closed. Aegon approached Ayrmidon’s side, cringing at Aurane and cupping his nose and mouth from the ever-present smell. He wore a sea green tunic and breeches, the same outfit that was on Ayrmidon save for a woolen cyan cloak.
Behind his gloved hand came a question, “How long are planning on keeping him alive? Look at that, he can barely stay awake.”
Ayrmidon’s eyes slowly went from Aurane to Aegon and at an instant his hand left his mouth. Ayrmidon spoke soothingly, as if to calm Aegon, “Not long, I hope. That hand must have done most of the work for us. I just need some time to say my farewells. Your dagger, if you will,” he showed his naked palm to Aegon.
“Lord of Light have mercy, here,” in Ayrmidon’s hand Aegon placed a short dagger, with a leather wrapped hilt and the likeness of his paramour from Lys carved into its blade, “When should I come back?”
“Whenever you hear the screaming stop.”
With that Aegon left the cabin sending another short breeze into the cabin which seemed to have stirred Aurane to look at Ayrmidon wearily. He let out a weak groan, “Bastard…” his words trailed off as his eyes slowly closed.
Ayrmidon smiled and tapped Aurane’s cheek with the flat end of the blade, “Come, brother. We both share the stain of bastardy our father has so generously bestowed upon us.”
Aurane looked at him with whatever hate he could muster, “What do you want?”
“Simply, Driftmark. You just happened to insult our family’s name and become a pirate. Well I could not stand for this. And betraying the Crown like that, oh you have just been a pestilence on house Velaryon for too long. Hopefully our nephews will not be as foolish as to try to attack me and follow your example.”
Ayrmidon slid the dagger down Aurane’s chest and he let out a groan somewhere from his throat, “Brother you say, what claim do you possess, who even are you?”
“Claims? Same as you I suppose. Who am I? Ayrmidon Velaryon, bastard son of Lucerys Velaryon. I am the rightful Master of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides and the eternal ally of house Targaryen. Rightful lords of the Seven Kingdoms. And you… are dead.”
Slowly he took hold of Aurane’s hair and held him steady. He lifted the dagger to his eye and drove it as far as he could. The screaming stopped when the dagger could go no further. With one quick pull the dagger went out of Aurane’s head soaked with blood. His head dropped with a sudden silence descending upon the room. Ayrmidon brushed the blood off the blade on Aurane’s trousers as Aegon entered the cabin with another breeze shadowing him.
“Are you finished here?” he asked holding back a gag.
Ayrmidon chuckled, “I am afraid we shall never see our work done. Come now, we must be close to Driftmark. And find someone throw the body overboard. Kings dislike tainted gifts.”
