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Beyond The Sea [Closed]

Lucyfer

Said you'd die for me, well -- there's the ground
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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.
 
Tywin had been sitting in his cabin for hours. He needed to find a way to get to the Targaryan girl, but how? She had a great army and it had been said she was the mother of dragons. Three dragons to be exact. He thought maybe he could send one of his men in disguise as a farmer, complaining to the so-called queen about his burnt crops to assassinate her, but that wouldn't work, she was too well protected.


Clearly out of ideas Tywin though he could use some fresh air. He asked his squire for an ale, and when he got it, he stepped outside, feeling the cold breeze of the sea on his cheeks. The captain was there, standing.


He trusted her as a captain, she had a lot of skill and her ships were of great quality. He didn't really trust her men though, sailors could never be trusted. He went and stood near the captain, sipping his ale.


"How long until arrival?", he asked plainly.
 
The sailors required liquor. It was a hard truth to accept, but once Leora had done so, it became easier. She herself never partook while on the sea. She was, for some reason, surprised to see that Tywin was drinking so early in the day. Then again, she had heard from others on the ship that he was up for quite a while that night. It seemed the Gold Lion kept strange hours while on a ship, or perhaps found it difficult to sleep.


He wasn’t accustomed to such travel, or at least, Leora didn’t think so.


The Red Lion inclined her head in mock respect to him. She’d mastered the lie of being Alysanne Farman.


She had been about to pass him to head down into the bowels of the ship. “Ah, Lord Lannister,” she greeted pleasantly and then listened to his question. “Today we will go around Valyria. Tomorrow we should be at Slaver’s Bay,” she informed him, “I’m sorry that we cannot be there sooner,” and she certainly was, although not for his sake. “Is there anything you require?” She was, technically, his vassal. The Farman house belonged to the Westerlands.


So did the Reynes.
 
Tywin was glad to learn they would arrive soon, he did not particularly enjoy being on a ship afterall.


"The sooner the better", he though.


After a second, he anwsered her question. "Yes, I need advice on how to reach the Targaryan girl." He figured that a trained sailor like this woman might be able to help him kill his target. "Do you have any idea?"
 
To reach the Targaryen girl? What an interesting proposition. Leora had been under the impression that they were simply going to destroy her, armies and all that jazz. The question asked made it sound like Tywin would prefer subtlety.


‘Red Wedding.’ Leora reminded herself. It wasn’t unusual for him. He was concerned with sparing men, too. “I’d begin with spies, Lord Lannister. Pay men to infiltrate Mereen, but make them men that your son, Tyrion, would not recognize. I would send Jaime to Tyrion, if you trust that Jaime won’t defect.”


Tywin would have to decide that for himself. ‘You’d die of shame if you knew you were listening to advice from a Reyne.’ Leora just continued to offer, though, “Your spies can find out about weak points—the dissatisfied people under her reign. You can use that to learn how to get to her. Then, get an assassin into Mereen, have them convince Daenerys of their usefulness, and assassinate her.”


It was simple in words, but it would take a lot more than words. The spies had to remain undercover. The assassin had to remain true and not switch sides.
 
Tywin though about the red-haired woman's idea. She was intelligent, no doubt on that. But the flagship would arrive sooner than the smaller ships were, on the flagship were all his most trusted allies, but Tyrion would certainly recognoze them.


What to do...


Tywing looked at the ship captain for an instant and had a though. Maybe it would be possible afterall.


"Captain", he asked "what is your training?"
 
The question Tywin asked was a strange one.


‘I’ve been honing a false identity my entire life to kill you, so, does that count?’


Leora didn’t say that, of course, “Lord Lannister, I’ve no training in the fine arts of deceit. No more than any other noble woman, that is,” take that how he will. She’d heard the arts of women praised and cursed in the same breath. “I’m a Lady of house Farman, and a ship captain. That is about as far as any training I have, goes.”


He knew of her place as a captain. He had certainly heard of how her fleet had helped to destroy the Iron Born, and she wore a Valyrian steel sword which she knew how to use. She was more soldier than assassin, to the untrained eye. Her training in the arts of poison were not something she intended to confess to Tywin.


After all, she couldn’t have him figuring out her intentions towards him. Though, he might assume anyway. Poison was considered a woman’s art.
 
"I guess she can't do the job for me then" Tywin thought. She was but a ship captain afterall.


"Well then",he said "Do you know of any assassins on this ship that are up for hire? We will pay a good amount."


He was speaking the truth; his family did have a lot of gold and he was willing to pay lot to the slayer of the dragon woman. He glanced at the woman's blade; a very singular weapon indeed, valyrian steel, i was quality. Interesting.


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Leora laughed at the question, unable to help herself, “Lord Lannister, these men and women are soldiers and sailors. Deceit is not the currency of the Fair Isles. Have you not thought to bring along your assassins on other boats?”


Was Tywin Lannister so unprepared, with this many ships going forward to Slaver’s Bay? Now that seemed odd. If all he wanted was assassins and spies, he could have managed all of that from Casterly Rock. “What was your plan of action, if I may know, before you got this new idea into your head to play a game of deceit and assassination?”


She’d never heard of Tywin being unprepared. This was rather novel.
 
Tywin felt insulted "Are you questioning my strategies woman? Do not challenge me." He looked angrily at her. He would not allow a mere boat captain question him. He knew everything about war. She knew everything about knots. "My plans are clear to me."


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“My apologies, Lord Lannister, I was unaware that your plans involved acquiring strategies from a woman,” Leora knew she shouldn’t rise to the bait, but she did, a mocking little smirk on her face.


She was every bit a Reyne.


She brushed some of her red hair back over her shoulder, “I do not understand the intricacies of your plot, and how it requires my input, but I’ll trust that you do.” The smirk didn’t fade a bit, “Is there any other way I can be of assistance to your plot, or may I go send off ravens to my ships to make sure everything is going according to my plan?”
 
Tywin put his hand to his sword.


He was extremely angry. How could this glorified sailor woman taunt him? He needed to shut her up. He was going to kill her. People were going to feel his dominace.


The boat hit a wave and Tywin quickly reavised. She was the only person able to manage a boat afterall, he needed her.


"Go on", he said through his teeth.


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‘Do it.’


Leora would have one hell of an explanation to give if she killed Tywin on her own boat, but at least self-defense wouldn’t be a lie. She did not reach for her sword. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction of baiting him with action.


The boat rocked him. He didn’t have a sailor’s footing, and he reassessed, restrategized. She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth when she saw him back down. ‘Are your claws not as sharp as they once were, Lord Lannister?’ Another statement to avoid.


“Thank you, Lord Lannister, I appreciate your understanding,” she inclined her head, and moved to step by him to go into the boat and compose her letters.
 
Tywin was glad to see her go. He rubbed his tense neck.


He wasn't what he used to be. Clearly.


That sword, it wasn't the first time he had seen it... how did the sailor woman acquire it? Had he seen it at a merchant? No... merchants don't sell Valyrian steel. He should investigate that sword. He wanted to... he wanted to...


Make it his.


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“But mine are long and sharp, My Lord,


As long and sharp as yours.”



Leora Reyne had started to hum the melody shortly after venturing below deck, and started to sing once she was certain she was out of earshot of Tywin. A laugh was in her voice. She hated the song, even then, but it was stuck on repeat in her head.


“And so she spoke,


And so she spoke!”


“Marko!” Leora hissed, and her second-in-command laughed at her. He was the only one on the ship that knew her identity. There was one other, a lord of the Fair Isles, who was already on the shore.


“Finally get something of a spar with Tywin, eh, lady?” He asked as he fell in step with her back to her cabin. She rolled her eyes and didn’t answer.


“What do you want?”


“We received a letter from the shore. The black dragon was seen flying towards the Dothraki sea, but none of the others have yet been noticed.”


The woman nodded, “I trust that raven is still here?”


“Yep,” he pushed the door open, “third perch is the one that goes back to shore.” There were three perches, two for ships, one for shore.”


“Thank you,” she inclined her head and stepped in, “If you could be a dear and get me a tea.”


She heard his laugh as he let the door close behind her. She wasn’t sure if he’d bring tea or not. Either way, she drew out her inkwell and quill, before spreading out parchment and starting to write so she could get messages out, and receive them to learn how all were doing.
 
Tywin walked back to his cabin silently. He locked the door behind him and pulled out a few books, looking to find out more about the weapon:


Weaponsmiths of Westeros- Nothing


Swords of the Andals- Nothing


Valyrian blades- Nothing


History of Valyria- Nothing


Farman family history- Northing.


Where was that sword from?


Tywin decided that the best way to find out was to confront the captain about it. He needed to find the right time and words.


But the it hit him.


He quickly opened his favorite book:


The demise of the Reynes of Castamere.


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Had Leora known that Tywin had brought such a collection of pleasure reading books, she would have been impressed. She also would have been offended that Red Rain wasn’t in most of them, considering it had as long a history as the famous Brightroar. It had also been in Drumm hands for several of those years, and not the Reynes.


Leora didn’t know, of course.


Her time was spent writing three letters. One would go to Ilyse of Braavos, another to Lord Brynden, and the third to Lord Quint, the one on the shore. Marko did return with tea during this process, and then went about his rounds to check on the ship’s crew for her.


Leora attached the letter to each raven when finished, and then called them to perch on her so she could take them back up to the deck, and let them fly off.
 

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