Chapter 21.2- The Seadragon's Roar

“Well done, Cousin. You have done a great deed here today” Rhaenys said, sliding down from Meleys’ back to walk towards Borros.

He met her with a wide smile and placed the head at her feet while she leaned in and embraced him. It was a full hug. Uncaring of his armour, his ruff personality, and the audience. The men cheered it even as I watched Borros fold himself into the hug in a way I had never seen him. For the second time in knowing him, Borros Baratheon seemed human. Seemed more than the caricature of boisterous brawn that his House forced him to be. Maybe if I were a kinder man I would try to find this part of him again. In truth, I just wanted all of this to be over, and counting the numbers that flowed from the castle….unless the most of them had chosen to stay within the castle for some reason, we were going to hav to be on this for a while.

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Sadly I was right in the end. One thousand knights and men at arms had sailed from Tarth under the command of Daemon Targaryen with the goal of taking Bloodstone. The campaign was over. The Island was ours. However, only abut two hundred of those men were battle fit. The healers had begun their work and we expected that another hundred would be battle ready before the week was out but the other two hundred non-battlefit casualties were either going to need longer than that or would never be battle fit again. Or at least my definition of battle fit.

“This ol thing? Only makes it a fair fight, you see my Lord?” One of the man asked me when he noticed me staring at the stump of his right hand. I tried hard not to let my disbelief show on my face even if I far from believed this man would ever be fighting again.

“Sure thing, Ser. Now lay still so I may look at that.” I said, and he did. He pressed himself back to the bed, and to his credit, he only flinched once when I removed the bandage, doused the wound in boiled wine and then began rewrapping it. Far from the best way to go abut things, bit resources limited as they were, we were doing the best we could with what we had available. Maester Bernard, when he had been flown over, had taken command of the healing tent and after a conversation with my mother I had not gotten the chance to witness, I was here now.

Ostensibly under his command even though he was sworn to listen to my orders. It was a funny thing being a Lord under a regency. I was Lord Velaryon, master of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides. No one gainsaid it, but Mother could countermand any order I gave, and give me orders herself. It went beyond just listening to her as a result of our relationship. There were other things involved there as well— she had authority over me as my Regent.