Blacktyde Island was like everything else in the Iron Islands. If anyone had the chance to choose where to be born, it would not be a choice. It was rocky and grayer than any other island Jaehaerys had ever seen. There were hardly any trees, and green was a rare color.
The Ironborn had the misfortune of being born on those islands. In the end, they could barely harvest their land; it was easier to kill a dragon than to be self-sufficient in food. Iron was precious now, yes, but not as much as it would be in the future. Weapons and armor required iron, but not enough to justify exploiting these islands. After all, the ability to process it was not the best. Jaehaerys would change that.
He took a horn from a leather belt tied around his waist.
The ships commanded by Tohrren began to advance toward the island. The Blacktydes, the family that ruled the island, had barely any ships left, about 20. A small number. Although the prince had only 30 ships, they were more than enough.
After the sound of the horn, his own dragon let out a roar that shook the rocks. She even looked at him, curling her long neck, as if asking him why the hell he needed a horn to make noise when he had her.
The roar caused the Ironborn to turn back to their islands, frightened.
Jaehaerys hoped that Tohrren would not give orders to burn the ships that were beginning to empty. After all, the Ironborn were quite good at building ships, and even Victarion managed to navigate the Blackwater with ease thanks to his ships.
Jaehaerys shared his vision with his eagle, one hand covering his eye, which was turning white. The Ironborn reached their shores, docked at a small pier, and when they ran out of space, they began to moor their ships anywhere near the coast.
They did not care about the condition of their ships.
Jaehaerys noticed the men running; they were a mixture of strong men and young boys. Some were very young, probably not even having been with a woman yet. They were scared, and even in his hatred for them, Jaehaerys felt pity.
The prince thought too quickly. He looked at the gathered inhabitants of nearby coastal villages, women and children, slaves, and the elderly.
"GRAAAWR!"
The dragon seemed to sense his anger. The Ironborn were scum; they always had been. Just because scum can feel fear doesn't mean one should have pity on them. The Ironborn threw all the inhabitants to the front, using them as a vanguard.
Jaeherys saw a woman fall to the ground, a baby in her arms. War was cruel. Jaehaerys landed on the beach and waited for his men there.
The ships were slow to arrive, long minutes that filled the Ironborn with fear. The sight saddened him. The people sent to the front were most likely salt slaves and their children; they did not have the same status as an Ironborn born completely "pure." The prince kept his gaze on them, not wanting another feeling of pity to arise in his body.
"My prince!" he heard someone shout in the distance. Tohrren approached with a group of men. The prince's men boarded in places that the Ironborn, in their haste, had not taken into account. They had time; the castle would fall sooner or later.
"They are using the inhabitants as shields," said Jaehaerys. "Do not attack them," he told them.
Among the inhabitants, he saw a man with a long, bushy beard. He did not seem afraid; he seemed at peace. He knelt and clasped his hands together as if offering a prayer to the gods.
Behind that man appeared another man, a nobleman if Jaehaerys recognized him correctly. Jaehaerys, through the eyes of the eagle, watched him smile, as if he were enjoying the situation a little. He gave orders, and the Ironborn began to mingle with the inhabitants of the islands. It was as if he were challenging the prince, as if he were asking him if he had the courage to burn innocent people to kill his men as well.
Jaehaerys clenched his teeth.
"My prince," Tohrren said, hesitating. The man could see what was happening on the battlefield. "I..."
Jaehaerys didn't know if Tohrren was going to say he would follow his orders, or if he would refuse to force an attack if it meant killing so many innocent people.
"Hold your position. When they surrender, separate those who deserve to be saved," Jaehaerys said.
Despite everything, he couldn't burn innocent people. Was it a lack of will? Perhaps. He didn't know how he would look his daughter in the eye afterward. Killing looters and rapists was one thing. But a woman with a child in her arms? A woman who had probably been kidnapped from her hometown, who had been forced to give birth to the child of a man she hated.
'That would be like losing to that son of a bitch,' thought the prince. There was also the pride of his family, of being forced to do things he did not want to do.
A rider approached.
He carried a white flag. It was not the lord of the castle, no, it was a servant or a knight in his service.
"Pri-Prince Jaehaerys! Lord Baelor Blacktyde, the lord of these Isles, invites you to his castle to drink and eat as a guest. My lord wishes to discuss an alliance with you," the man managed to say without stuttering so much.
Jaehaerys looked down at him from atop his dragon.
"Tell him I will go."
"Lord Blacktyde wishes that..." the man choked, "he wishes that you go-go-go... go alone, as a sign of trust." Jaehaerys almost laughed at that bad joke.
"I want to take a trusted guard," said the prince, as if echoing the man's words. "Would your lord approve?" the prince asked, as Moonfyre snorted through his nostrils.
"Whi-whi-whithout a doubt!" the man shouted as he began to turn his horse around.
"I will go at dusk, then," Jaehaerys shouted after him.
"I will convey your words!" The man's voice faded into the distance.
"My prince—"
"The orders remain the same," Jaehaerys said.
"I will be the guar—"
"You will wait with the others. I will bring someone more ferocious for the... negotiations," Jaehaerys looked at the castle.
Tohrren looked at the dragon and nodded.
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Baelor Blacktyde waited patiently. His foot tapped on the stone floor. He had ordered his cooks to prepare a roast pig. He looked at the skin that had turned a bronze color. Watching the flames brought him an unexpected sense of warmth.
Jaehaerys had not dared to attack and kill the innocent. Baelor had defeated him. Even the greatest dragon could not burn his men. Not for lack of power, but because Baelor's mind was beyond what Jaehaerys had expected.
He allowed himself a satisfied smile. Although when the prince was in front of him, he would wipe it off. The person who had gone to war was his father, who was already dead. He could disassociate himself, claim that he did not want to get involved in the war, and offer an alliance to capture the rest of the islands. That was the only thing he could offer him; no one knew the sea like an Ironborn.
At first, he had thought of killing him or taking him hostage. That was why he had asked him to come without guards, but that was only in the heat of the moment, when he realized he would not attack. A moment of emotion, nothing more. What would he do with the fleet that was on his shores? And with the royal fleet that was capturing other islands?
He had heard from his father's ships that returned after his father's death that most of Balon's children were dead, only his daughter remained in Pyke. Perhaps Baelor could end up married to Asha Greyjoy and be lord of the Iron Islands. He allowed himself a smile if he proved sensible and advocated for peace.
WHOOOM!
The stone began to shake. Baelor looked up at the ceiling, dust beginning to fall as everything shook. Then, for an instant, Lord Blacktyde saw a flash of white fire descend from the sky, shattering the stone that fell upon him.
How quickly smiles die!