Entrapment

Jason Mallister looked at the burning docks of Alesia, the town near Seagard, with despair etched on his face. The Ironborn were killing and raping throughout the town, their savage cries echoing across the waterfront. He and his men had been caught unawares, and now he had no choice but to retreat back to Seagard and prepare for a siege.

The acrid smell of smoke and the sight of flames engulfing the town filled him with rage. He saw his son, Patrek, running towards him through the chaos.

The Booming Tower rang for the first time in a hundred years as the townsfolk retreated to the castle. Jason knew the town was lost, and he knew what he had to do.

"Retreat!" Jason called out to his men. "Retreat to Seagard!"

Patrek turned to his father, desperation in his eyes. "No, Father, we can still defeat them!"

"No, boy, we can't," Jason ordered fiercely. "Retreat!"

Patrek hesitated but eventually nodded, his expression one of sadness and resignation, as he led the men back to Seagard. Jason stayed behind to ensure the last of his men made it safely out of Alesia. The Ironborn were relentless, but so was he. He would protect his people, no matter the cost.

Once the last of his men and the townsfolk had retreated, Jason led the remaining group back into the safety of Seagard's walls. The castle gates closed behind them with a resounding thud. Inside, Jason made his way to the battlements.

From his vantage point, he could see the Ironborn swarming towards Seagard, their ships dark silhouettes against the fiery backdrop of Alesia. The Ironborn were numerous and well-armed, their intent clear: to take Seagard by force.

"A siege it is," Jason thought grimly, gripping the cold stone of the battlements.

He turned to his men, who were already preparing for the defense. Archers lined the walls, ready to rain arrows down upon the attackers. Boiling water was being readied, and the gates were reinforced. Seagard had withstood a thousand Ironborn sieges, and Jason knew it could withstand another one.

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Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard led the armies of the Crownlands, their banners fluttering in the wind as they marched westward towards Seagard. The soldiers, clad in their armor and bearing the sigils of their houses, moved with determined purpose, their footsteps creating a rhythmic thud that echoed through the countryside.

The column of soldiers stretched for miles, a formidable force that included infantry, cavalry, and archers. Knights rode alongside their retainers, their lances held high, and squires hurried to keep pace, carrying extra supplies and equipment.

Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, rode at the front with Barristan Selmy, the Bold, by his side. As they rode, Arthur turned to Selmy, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Was it wise to have Prince Aegon lead the fleet?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed.

Selmy nodded thoughtfully. "Prince Aegon is not viewed favorably by the rebel kingdoms. If he proves himself in this crisis, many will begin to view him favorably."

Arthur sighed, his worry evident. "Aegon is not prepared."

Selmy gave a small, encouraging smile. "Sometimes wars can change people, Arthur. Aegon might return a changed man, more motivated and resolute than he was before."

Arthur glanced at Selmy, his expression skeptical but hopeful. "I hope so, Barristan. For the sake of the realm, I hope so."

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Aegon stood on the deck of the flagship of the royal fleet, the Balerion, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. They were at the Stepstones now, and soon they would reach the west coast of Westeros. There, he planned to meet up with the Redwynes, whose fleet had taken massive losses, and free the Arbor and the Shield Islands. From there, he would link up with the armies of the Reach and Dorne to march to the Westerlands, and finally to the Iron Islands, where he planned to end the Ironborn threat once and for all.

But his mind was clouded by the recent news of his mother's abduction. When they last made port at Tarth, he had received word that the Silence, Euron Greyjoy's dreaded warship, was still sailing around the Stepstones, evading the remaining Dornish fleet which had also been attacked at port by pirates, likely paid off by Euron.

The thought of his mother in the clutches of that monster filled him with a rage that burned hotter than dragonfire.

He had made a decision. He couldn't take the entire fleet to chase the Silence, as the Arbor and the Reach were in peril and needed their support. But he couldn't ignore his mother's plight either.

He decided to break from the plan and take five ships to chase down the Silence and free his mother. It was a risk, but one he was willing to take.

He looked to the ship sailing next to him where Monford Velaryon stood. He waved, signaling them to leave. He watched them disappear into the horizon. Now, he needed to find Euron Greyjoy.

He led the five ships through the Stepstones, searching for his mother. They sailed around Bloodstone after hearing rumors he was there. He then decided to dock in Bloodstone where he questioned some pirates who told them the Silence was headed into the Sea of Dorne.

Realizing he had no other choices, he led the ships west into the Sea of Dorne. It was two days into the journey that he found his target. The sun was setting when the lookout cried out from the top, "Ship spotted! It's the Silence!"

He rushed to the prow, his eyes locking onto the infamous vessel, its black sails billowing ominously against the setting sun. The Silence was alone. Aegon's heart raced with a mix of determination and dread.

"Give chase!" he ordered, his voice carrying over the deck. The ships surged forward, the wind catching their sails. The crew worked tirelessly, the thought of rescuing their queen driving them onward. As darkness fell, they closed in on the Silence, the gap narrowing with every passing minute.

He knew they couldn't attack outright, fearing for his mother's safety. He watched as Euron's ship led them into a small island chain where the waters were shallow and treacherous. The captain approached him, concern etched on his face.

"Your Grace, these waters are dangerous. We should proceed with caution."

"Follow them," he ordered firmly. "We can't let them escape."

Suddenly, from the surrounding islands, ballistae fired upon them. Massive bolts streaked through the air, their deadly accuracy sinking four of the ships almost instantly. Only the Balerion remained, heavily damaged but still afloat. The crew scrambled to keep the ship steady as the Silence turned and sailed directly toward them.

"Prepare for battle!" Aegon yelled, his voice ringing with urgency.

The Silence closed in, and the Ironborn swarmed over the sides of the Balerion, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight. He found himself in the thick of the fight, his heart pounding. He was protected by Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard, who fought valiantly to keep the attackers at bay.

"My prince, stay back!" Ser Arys commanded, parrying a vicious strike.

"I want to fight!" he shouted, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice.

But the Kingsguard were unyielding, their duty clear. Suddenly, arrows rained down, striking with deadly precision. One by one, his guards fell, arrows piercing their armor and finding their marks.

Ser Arys too dropped to his knees, an arrow through his eye, falling lifelessly at his feet.

He gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles white. He turned to face the oncoming threat, his eyes locking onto Euron Greyjoy. The man's lips were stained blue, his expression a mask of malevolent glee. His armor shimmered eerily in the moonlight.

Aegon advanced, and he swung his sword with all his might. But Euron was faster, deflecting the blow effortlessly. He struck back with brutal force, his attacks relentless and overpowering. He tried to defend himself, but each strike from Euron sent shockwaves of pain through his body.

Euron's movements were almost serpentine, his strikes precise and powerful. He knocked the sword from his hand with a swift motion and delivered a crushing blow to Aegon's head with the hilt of his own weapon. The world spun around him as he fell to the deck, his vision darkening.

The last thing Aegon saw before slipping into unconsciousness was Euron's wicked grin, the sound of his maniacal laughter echoing in his ears.