Chapter 20: Ride the storm

Chapter 20: Ride the Storm

Jaime's Pov

Deafening thunder boomed, accompanied by vivid blue lightning streaks across the sky. Bolts occasionally slammed into the black water, illuminating the surface with lethal currents that eradicated any unfortunate marine life below.

The wind howled ferociously as ice-cold rain pelted my face, causing my eyes to burn and sting from the salt. The deck beneath my feet grew slippery, and the rigging groaned and creaked in the night.

Amidst the chaos, orders were shouted, but their words were lost to the roaring wind and the increasing thunder. Suddenly, the world seemed to tremble as the black night illuminated with screeches resembling an otherworldly beast.

Terror threatened to consume me, but I steeled my resolve, clinging tightly to the railing. My feet wavered, but I focused on the captain at the helm.

The canvas sails ripped under the relentless wind as sailors struggled to lower them and secure the others. The ship rocked, and I stumbled up the stairs to the helm, barely able to see more than a few feet ahead due to the pouring rain.

I tried to scream, but all that escaped was a rumble from my throat. Attempting to speak was futile as thunder drowned out my words. The captain seemed oblivious until the ship lurched to the left and then to the right, dislodging men from their positions, some plummeting to their deaths. A few managed to grab onto the rigging and descend to safety, while others fell into the unforgiving ocean.

To my left and right, I could see other ships struggling just as much, accompanied by the terrified screams of elephants.

The thunder's bass resembled cannon fire as I reached the helm, gripping the railing with fear for my life. The wind whipped my hair into my face, obscuring my view until I could only see the glimmer of the coast.

Anxiety gripped my chest, and my stomach coiled as I contemplated the possibility of dying on this accursed ship. It was ironic, considering I had survived a severed hand, Dire Wolves, wars, a crazed sister, and the self-righteous Starks, only to meet my end like this. I had served mad kings, a fat king, and a weak and mad king, and now I was destined to die aboard a cursed vessel.

Hysterical thoughts consumed me as I fought to clear my vision, the rain feeling like armored arrowheads against my skin. My soaked clothes concealed my amputated stump. Nausea washed over me as the cold wind sent shivers through my body. Only when lightning struck could we see the impending danger of an island directly in our path?

With a sharp jerk of the helm, the captain steered the ship to port. Other ships struggled to stay afloat as black waves crashing against them, and the rain made the deck treacherously slick, causing both deckhands and seasoned soldiers to slip and fall.

It felt like we were living through one of the hells described in the Seven-Pointed Star. The weather showed no sign of improvement, with continuous black rain, thunderclaps, and a sulfuric stench. An arching blue streak struck our vessel.

Bombs detonated nearby, propelling me backward to collide with the railing. My body felt leaden, making it difficult to move. My eyes closed as the rain trickled down my face. Pain surged through my body, and a throbbing ache took root behind my right eye. Crippling panic gripped me as the scent of smoke filled my nostrils, mingling with the terrified screams of those around me.

Slowly, my eyes began to open, revealing the same swirling darkness that had plagued me. A sharp, acrid odor assaulted my senses as my mind grew hazy. I fought to my feet, reminding myself that a lion cannot die on his knees.

The storm eventually subsided, and as morning broke, we counted the loss of thirty ships. The scorching sun beat down on me, and my clothes clung to my body. Sweat dripped down my back, carrying the scent of onions.

I gazed at my golden hair, shimmering in the light, and listened to the faint squeaks of seagulls. I knew that Old Town would soon come into view, our next stop for resupply before continuing to King's Landing. However, the image of that black dragon haunted my thoughts.

He wasn't fully grown, but he was already massive enough to engulf our entire ship. His black scales with red highlights on his wings and spikes made him resemble Balerion the Black Dread himself, were it not for those touches of red.

I didn't spot the silver-haired queen on his back; perhaps she was calling to him or sending him to spy on us. Although the latter seemed unlikely unless she could communicate with dragons.

Slowly lifting my gaze from my thoughts, I saw the golden coast of Old Town on the horizon, just a few miles away. The marble buildings gleamed in the sunlight, concealing the fact that we were in the midst of a war.

The scent of apples and morning dew filled the air instead of the usual stench of urine and violence. But beneath the surface, the city still carried its familiar odors. Regardless, I knew the air was sweeter in Old Town, a welcome change from the putrid air of the capital.

It made me wonder why the Targaryens had chosen that place as their capital. The Red Keep alone was a grotesque monstrosity; they might have been better off using the lush green hills behind the keep. Perhaps then they wouldn't have needed to confine their dragons.

However, such thoughts were futile now. I just needed to get off this ship. I had gone to Volantis and back, and in a few short hours, I would be back on board.

A tired yawn escaped my lips, followed by an irritated groan. I tilted my head back, letting the golden sun bathe my newly tanned skin. The warmth felt soothing against my clammy skin, and the scents of cider and apples enveloped me.

Old Town boasted one of the largest apple orchards, featuring green, red, and yellow apples—sour green ones, sweet yellow ones, and red ones that struck a balance between the two.

Perhaps I should stock up on them. Our food stores were running low, and this would provide some relief, albeit a small one. Surely, Highgarden had sent supplies by now.

Drawing in a deep breath, I watched as the deep brown wooden docks came into view. The heavy iron anchor dropped, creating a splash of bright blue water that filled my ears.

I hurried back to my cabin, changed into my white and gold Kingsguard armor, and then attached my golden hand before leaving the cabin.

The dark, dank cabin's moist air faded, replaced by warm breezes that tousled my hair. A gentle smile graced my lips as I stepped out into the open. The scent of cider, apples, and the fresh spring air filled my nostrils.

Old Town was fortunate to be one of the last places to feel the chill of winter's wrath. I couldn't help but envy them. Maybe we should consider escaping to Dorne for the winter; even during winter, it remains blisteringly hot there. Though I'm not particularly fond of the sand and barren landscapes, it beats the freezing in what the Maesters predict to be the longest winter yet.

As I strolled along the cobblestone roads, their edges adorned with gilded gold bricks, a comforting warmth enveloped me. People's eyes bore into me, some filled with hatred, others disgust.

The soft clinking of my sword against its belt echoed gently against my armor, and the rhythmic thud of my steps was a soothing backdrop as I wandered through the streets. The sun caressed my face, and I became so lost in the tranquil moment that I collided with what felt like a solid wall.

I looked down to see a plump boy with wide brown eyes, a hint of fear in his gaze. He wore brown trousers, a white shirt, and a thick black cloak adorned with furs. A dirty blonde woman with wide blue eyes clung to his shoulder, cradling a toddler of two or three name days. The child shared the same blue eyes and had short, dirty blonde hair. His chubby face held a blank expression as he looked up at me.

"I'm sorry about that; I guess I wasn't watching where I was going," I spoke in a polite tone. It was evident that they didn't belong here; they appeared more like poor villagers than noble lords or ladies out for a stroll. They were heavily cloaked, and I sensed a hint of wariness in their demeanor.

They nodded quickly and moved aside, allowing me to pass. However, it seemed that the plump boy recognized me. I couldn't place where we might have crossed paths, but his shoulders stiffened, and his face displayed fear and panic.

Intrigued, I turned slowly, trying not to arouse suspicion, to see them engaged in hushed conversation. Perhaps they were just Northerners returning home. I didn't dwell on it for too long and continued down the road until they disappeared into the vast green rolling hills that stretched before me. As far as my eyes could see, bright green grass covered in morning dew extended, the heavy scent of rain mixing with the sweet aroma of apples.

I passed by thick brown tree trunks, their branches laden with red, green, and yellow apples. The candy-red ones looked tempting, the yellow ones triggered an unknown hunger, and the green ones made my mouth water with their sweet and sour juices.

"Sir, are you interested in some apples?" I heard a hunched old man with wispy gray hair beckoning me. Standing next to him was a young man, no older than twenty, with hazel eyes and curly brown hair that brushed his ears. He had a handsome face and a sturdy build.

"Yes, I'd like to purchase some for my journey back to King's Landing. I'll take twenty crates of each variety and have them delivered to my ship. Here are five gold dragons, and the rest of the payment will be waiting for you," I said in a courteous tone as I gazed up at the trees.

The old man's eyes lit up as he accepted the gold, clearly delighted with the sale. I smiled warmly at them before swiftly turning on my heels and heading toward the orchard. The trip was brief, but I wanted to enjoy a drink at the tavern before returning to the ship. After a few glasses of Arbor Gold, I made my way back to the ship and settled in for the night.

Time passed quickly as the ships continued their journey across the ocean. The stench of King's Landing assaulted my senses as we entered the port.

"Ser Jaime, the Golden Company is unloading their gear as we speak, and the pens are being set up for the elephants. Also, a messenger is here; he said you are to report to a council meeting immediately," The captain's booming voice filled my ears as I rolled onto my side, my body still heavy with sleep.

I nodded slowly, rousing myself, and began the process of putting on my armor. Its weight seemed to pull me down, making me sluggish.

As I stepped onto the deck, each wooden plank creaking beneath my boots, the golden-yellow sun greeted me. The stench of pig waste was overpowering, making me resist the urge to gag. The odor of fish and crab, simmering in the heat, only made matters worse.

I made my way off the deck and onto the pier, where I spotted Qyburn in his black robes, wearing that eerie and unsettling smile of his. He nodded politely at me. "Ser Jaime, we have your horse, Honor. Shall we proceed?"

His tone was courteous, yet the cunning and deceit in his eyes told a different story. I knew he was just another one of my sister's loyal pets, awaiting her orders. But I had nothing to say to that, so instead, I watched as crates were unloaded.

Qyburn observed them with mild interest and ventured in a low, crafty voice, "If I may inquire, what do these crates contain?" His tone was meek and polite, yet sly and shrewd, much like a rat masquerading as a lion.

I mounted Honor, my loyal steed, whose deep black eyes seemed to peer into my soul. His smooth, black fur felt silky beneath my fingers, and the cool auburn mane cascaded down his neck. His joyful neigh cut through the strangeness of the moment.

Running a gentle hand along his thick neck, I felt Qyburn lurking behind me. "Apples—three different types, twenty crates each. They should at least fill some empty stomachs."

"We are still low on food, or have the starving masses received provisions from Highgarden?" I inquired. As I spoke, Honor trotted forward, with Qyburn trailing closely beside me. His grim expression told a troubling tale. All around, I could see hungry, haunted stares, and the city seemed tinged with a gray gloom of despair, disease, and famine.

People were little more than skin and bones, and Sparrows with hatred in their eyes confronted me, wielding thick maces and short swords as they preached about the wicked king and the mad queen who allegedly fed them the flesh of humans.

"Margaery and Loras Tyrell were executed after it was discovered that Highgarden had not sent aid, and they had closed their borders to the king's men and other realms. Since then, unrest has gripped the city. More heads have rolled in the few months of your absence than during Joffrey's entire reign."

Doubt crept into my heart and mind. If Cersei knew that Highgarden was in open rebellion, why would she kill the only leverage we had while the city starved? Disgust began to creep into my voice as my skin crawled.

"These rumors the Sparrows are spreading...tell me she is having those executed butchered and fed to the people."

Qyburn fixed me with a cold, emotionless stare as he continued speaking in a calm tone, "As we speak, we're making efforts to secure shipments from other regions – the Crownlands, the Westerlands, and the Stormlands. We've even dispatched ships to Dragonstone to gather all available food and supplies. However, even with these efforts, it may not be enough, and there are whispers of a riot looming, potentially worse than those during Joffrey's reign."

As we passed through the gates, they closed swiftly behind us. Fortunately, the Golden Company had brought rations sufficient for two years. However, if Cersei decided to take their provisions for her stores, we might find ourselves just as hungry as the city's starving populace.

As I surveyed the yard while heading toward the Small Council chambers, I couldn't detect signs of hunger in anyone's eyes, not even among the chambermaids. My boots resounded with a solid thud against the ground as I pushed open the massive metal doors with my left hand.

At the head of the table, Cersei sat, radiating an almost supernatural beauty. Her skin glowed, her emerald eyes shone brightly, and her golden hair glistened. There was no hint of starvation about her, and my gaze wandered to Kevan, who nodded in greeting. His graying blonde hair retained its healthy shine, and he appeared robust, his muscles as formidable as ever.

"Where is the commander of the City Watch?" I inquired. However, my question went unanswered, as my attention was drawn to Tommen, who sat with a somber expression, his eyes fixed on the table, filled with fear and dread.

Without waiting for a response, Cersei commanded, "Report." I moved to my seat, observing her eyes gleaming with venomous hatred.

"I went to Volantis and secured 30,000 sellswords and enough warships to match. I also acquired elephants for 250 chests of gold," I reported, receiving a sharp nod from Cersei.

"Additionally, in Volantis, Strickland informed me that the dragon queen's black dragon has been flying over the city frequently in the past few weeks. I initially dismissed it as a lie, but as we departed from Old Valyria, its shadow engulfed the entire ship, and it wasn't even fully grown," I added.

A chill settled in the air as my words hung there, but I wasn't done. "As I looked up, it roared at us before flying toward Old Valyria. If Strickland's information is accurate, Volantis might be her next target. From his sources, she possesses around 8,000 Unsullied soldiers, the Second Sons, and the Stonecrows Company. However, her Dothraki numbers are small, and they lack experienced warriors. Most of them don't even have braids."

Taking a deep breath, I met Cersei's eyes, witnessing the madness lurking within them. Her sly smile only added to the disturbing atmosphere. "I hear there's still no food. I didn't know that at the time, but I did procure 20 crates of green apples, 20 of red, and another 20 of yellow. It's not meat and bread, but it should fill their stomachs and temporarily quell their hunger."

Tommen's face brightened momentarily at the mention of dragons, but for the most part, he remained sullen and disheartened. "How is the situation in the North?" I inquired, causing a ripple of unease to sweep through the council. Some council members exchanged fearful glances with Cersei as she clung tightly to the chair's arms, her knuckles turning white.

"The bastard won the battle. He and his sister, along with their dragons – three of them, aged around two years – reclaimed Winterfell. They hatched at about the same time as Tyrion was sent to the Wall to find them. Remember Slynt's plea for assistance?" Cersei's voice trembled with rage as her fingers dug into the leather of the chair, her face contorted in fury.

However, a smug, almost arrogant grin began to take shape on her lips. "I dispatched Lord Redwyne to negotiate with him. We have one of his bannermen as a hostage. If Lord Redwyne returns, excellent; if not, it's one less Reach lord to deal with later."

I couldn't help but marvel at the madness of her decisions. Did she truly believe Jon Snow, Eddard Stark's son, would surrender his dragons for a single hostage? She sent our Master of Ships to negotiate after she executed two Reach hostages, and then she sent Olenna's nephew to be torn apart by Northern dragons. Each choice she made seemed to lead to disaster.

"As for the ships we dispatched to Dorne, they have yet to return. If they don't within a week, we can assume Dorne is in open rebellion. The North is a problem that's already been dealt with. The South is where we should focus our efforts. Without food, the city will revolt. Even as we speak, supplies are being gathered from other regions. We must hold on until they arrive," I concluded, shaking my head in sadness, feeling a sense of despair at the state of affairs.

"For now, we must maintain the appearance of peace while we prepare for the wars that lie ahead. Be ready for a war of conquest not seen since Aegon the Conqueror," I said, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on my shoulders.