The Stronghammer - CH - 71

The city of Tyrosh bustled with life, its vibrant markets filled with the shouts of merchants peddling their wares, the scent of exotic spices hanging in the air, and the rhythmic clang of hammers from the forges that lined the narrow streets. Eddard Stormrage and his company, weary from battle but victorious in their mission, found temporary refuge within its high, sea-worn walls.

For the freed slaves, Tyrosh was a beacon of safety. They clutched their newfound wealth—gold and valuables taken from the Sons of Kraken—as if it were their very lifeline. Some fell to their knees in gratitude, others embraced their fellow survivors, overwhelmed by the reality of their freedom.

"You sure you don’t want to come with us?" Eddie asked Dearik, who had fought beside them through thick and thin.

The older warrior shook his head. "I’ve spent my whole life fighting, lad. Maybe it’s time to live instead. Tyrosh offers that chance. And besides, someone needs to make sure these poor souls don’t get swindled out of their fortunes the moment you leave." He clapped Eddie on the shoulder with a grin.

Eddie nodded in understanding. "Then stay and make a life here, old man. You’ve earned it."

With the freed slaves safe and Tyrosh offering them a fresh start, Eddie turned his mind back to his own path.

With Aemond Targaryen and Cassandra Baratheon at his side, he planned to return to Westeros. Cassandra, eager to return to Storm’s End and reunite with her family, had no intention of staying in Essos. And Aemond? He had changed since their journey began.

The boy-prince had grown into something more.

Eddie could see the fire in his eyes. The kind that only a dragon rider understood.

But just as he was about to book passage back to Westeros, the whispers began.

The kind of whispers that made his blood run cold.

At a small tavern near the docks, Eddie overheard a conversation that changed everything.

A group of merchants sat in a shadowed corner, speaking in hushed voices. Eddie, always alert to political murmurs, subtly signaled for Holden Cross to listen in as he drank his ale.

"It’s happening," one merchant muttered. "Norvos, Qohor, and Lorath—marching to war against Stormrage."

Eddie’s fingers tightened around his cup. What?

The second merchant scoffed. "Fools. They’ve let their greed blind them. Stormrage thrives, and they can’t stand it."

The first man shook his head. "It’s not just greed. It’s power. The rise of Stormrage has stripped them of influence. They lost their control over trade, their ability to manipulate prices, their monopolies. Now, they want to take what they failed to build."

Eddie exchanged a look with Holden, who narrowed his eyes.

This wasn’t just an attack. It was an invasion.

And if these city-states united, they would send hundreds of thousands of soldiers, sellswords, and mercenaries to try and crush Stormrage before it could grow any stronger.

Aemond leaned in, his voice low. "If what they’re saying is true, Stormrage won’t just need soldiers. They’ll need dragons."

Eddie let out a slow breath, his mind racing.

"And they’ll have them."

The decision was made.

Eddie wasn’t going back to Westeros.

His father needed him. His people needed him. Stormrage needed him.

He turned to Cassandra. "Cousin, I can’t go with you to Westeros. Not yet."

She frowned. "What? Why?"

Eddie’s voice was grave. "Because war is coming. A war that could end everything we built. And I need to be there."

Cassandra’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Then I’ll return home alone. I’ll tell my father what’s happening. If Stormrage fight, the Baratheons will help."

Holden placed a hand on her shoulder. "You’re a strong one, lass. You’ll make it back safe."

Eddie turned to Aemond. "What about you? You can still go home. If you return now, you’ll be hailed as the Targaryen prince who claimed a dragon and rescued Lady Baratheon from slavers. You don’t have to follow me into this fight."

Aemond smirked. "And let you have all the fun? No chance. Besides, you said it yourself."

He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Stormrage will need dragons."

Eddie exhaled sharply, knowing what had to be done.

"Aemond, I need you to take Cassandra back to Westeros," Eddie said, his blue eyes sharp and unwavering.

Aemond arched an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to fight alongside you? My dragon would be more useful in battle than on an escort mission."

Eddie nodded. "True. But I can't trust just any ship to take Cassandra back. If something happens to her, my uncle Borros will never forgive me. The last thing we need is a Baratheon-Targaryen feud."

Cassandra, who had been silent until now, crossed her arms. "I'm not some delicate thing that needs protecting. I fought my captors, I would have escaped eventually."

Eddie smirked. "I don’t doubt that, cousin. But I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. And Aemond here could use the reputation boost."

Aemond scoffed but didn't deny it.

"Think about it," Eddie continued. "You’ve lived your whole life as a second son. A spare. They look down on you because you didn’t have a dragon. But when you return to King's Landing, you’ll have Vermithor under your command, and you’ll be the prince who rescued Lady Cassandra Baratheon from pirates."

Aemond's jaw clenched as he absorbed the words. He had spent his life in the shadow of his brother, Aegon, mocked by his nephews, disrespected by those who didn’t see him as a worthy Targaryen. But now… now he had a chance to carve his own legacy.

"The King will welcome you as a hero," Eddie added, his voice firm. "And once you’ve delivered Cassandra safely to Storm’s End or King’s Landing, you can fly straight to Stormrage. The war will be in full swing by then, and we will need all the help we can get—including a dragon and its rider."

Aemond glanced at Cassandra, then back at Eddie.

"You truly think they’ll hail me as a hero?" he asked, voice softer than usual.

Eddie chuckled. "I know they will. And your father… he’ll finally see you as more than just a spare."

Aemond considered this, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. He wanted glory, recognition, power—and this was the way to get it.

Finally, he gave a sharp nod. "Very well. I’ll take Cassandra back. But I swear this, Eddie—once she’s safe, I will return. And when I do, I expect you to have a real fight waiting for me."

Eddie grinned. "Oh, believe me, there will be plenty of blood to spill."

Cassandra, arms still crossed, looked between them. "I suppose this is the best option. But if either of you thinks I’ll just sit back and let men decide my fate, you’re mistaken."

Eddie smirked. "Wouldn’t expect anything less from a Baratheon."

The next morning, under the rising sun, Aemond mounted Vermithor at the outskirts of Tyrosh. Cassandra stood beside him, her dark cloak billowing in the wind.

Eddie stood at a distance, arms folded, watching as Aemond ran his hands over the bronze fury’s scaled neck.

"Fly fast, Aemond," Eddie called. "And don’t take too long. We’ll need you."

Aemond smirked. "Don’t die before I return."

With a mighty beat of Vermithor’s wings, the massive dragon lifted off the ground. The earth trembled beneath its weight, and the wind howled as the beast soared into the sky.

Cassandra shot Eddie one last look, then climbed into the saddle behind Aemond. "Don’t let them burn Stormrage to the ground, cousin."

Eddie grinned. "They can try."

And with that, Vermithor roared, ascending high into the sky, disappearing toward the west—toward Westeros.

Eddie watched until they were just a speck on the horizon.

Holden Cross stepped beside him. "Think he’ll come back?"

Eddie smirked. "He’d be a fool not to."

Holden nodded. "And now, lad? What’s next?"

Eddie turned toward the docks, where several ships bearing the Stormrage sigil awaited departure. His home needed him.

"Now?" Eddie said, his expression hardening. "Now we go to war."

King’s Landing was in chaos.

The disappearance of Prince Aemond Targaryen, a Prince of the Realm, had sent ripples through the entire kingdom. The Red Keep was in turmoil as King Viserys I Targaryen sat upon the Iron Throne, weary and troubled. The aging king had barely held the realm together, and now his second son was missing—vanished without a trace.

It wasn’t just Aemond, either. Cassandra Baratheon was gone, taken by pirates, and with her, the knight Holden Cross and his squire, the bold and reckless Eddie. The council chambers buzzed with speculation.

Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, paced back and forth, his frown deepening with each moment. “We have sent search parties, spies, and envoys across Westeros and into Essos, yet we have no confirmation of the prince’s whereabouts.”

Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “It is clear by now that the boy was either taken… or he left of his own free will.”

Queen Alicent Hightower’s voice was tight with emotion. “He would not simply leave without reason. This must be the work of the knight Holden Cross and his squire! I told you from the beginning that we should never have allowed such a dangerous man near my son!”

Her outburst was met with silence. No one in the room doubted Holden Cross’ skill. He had once been a legendary warrior, and even now, despite his age, he could best knights half his age.

Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, spoke next. “Holden Cross and Eddie were last seen in Dragonstone, but after that, there is no trace. The pirate attacks near the Disputed Lands might be related. The Sons of Kraken are known slavers, and Cassandra Baratheon was taken by them. We must consider the possibility that Aemond is either with them or… worse.”

Alicent clenched her fists. “No. He’s alive. I can feel it.”

The king let out a tired sigh. “We will continue searching, but if Aemond fled willingly… we must consider why.”

The room fell silent.

They all knew the answer.

Aemond had changed in the last year. Ever since he had grown close to Eddie, he had become more confident, more ambitious, more dangerous. The boy who once sulked in the shadow of his brother Aegon was now sharpening himself into something greater.

Ser Otto Hightower shook his head. “If Aemond returns, he will not be the same boy we lost.”

The realm-wide search for Aemond was relentless.

Ravens were sent to the Free Cities, offering gold for any information.

Ships sailed to Essos, seeking word from merchants and spies.

The Crown’s informants in Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh were interrogated for any sign of him.

Bounty hunters were dispatched, looking for the knight Holden Cross and his squire.

But no one could find them.

The few reports that did return were wild rumors—whispers of a prince with silver hair flying on a great dragon over the Disputed Lands, stories of a young man leading battles against slavers, and claims of a Baratheon woman seen among warriors in the Free Cities.

Lord Borros Baratheon, Cassandra’s father, was furious. He sent his own soldiers to search for his daughter, threatening war if she was not found.

The Velaryons, masters of the seas, launched a naval campaign to search the waters for any sign of pirate activity.

Even the Targaryens were split—some saw Aemond’s disappearance as an opportunity, while others feared what he might become if he returned changed.

Queen Alicent sat alone in her chambers, her hands clenched together in silent prayer.

She thought of her son—the boy who had always felt like an afterthought, overlooked in favor of Aegon.

And now, he was missing.

Or had he left by choice?

Aemond had always been different. Unlike Aegon, who indulged in drink and women, Aemond had been disciplined, always striving for more. And then Eddie came along—a squire who was not noble by birth but commanded respect like a prince.

Was he influenced? Was he led astray?

Or… had he simply found something greater than the life that had been planned for him?

Alicent closed her eyes.

"Come home, Aemond."

"Before it's too late."