The meeting with Commander Jorund ended without bloodshed, but somehow that made the entire encounter even more unsettling for the Westerosi delegation.
If the Narnian commander had shouted threats, demanded surrender, or spoken with anger in his voice, Rhaegar Targaryen might have understood him better. Westeros was filled with men like that—lords who mistook volume for strength and kings who believed intimidation alone could win wars. But Jorund had spoken calmly from beginning to end. He never once raised his voice. Never once looked uncertain. Even when discussing the possibility of war with the Seven Kingdoms, he spoke like a man discussing weather rather than kingdoms and armies.
That calm certainty followed Rhaegar and his advisors all the way back through the Narnian camp.
The deeper they walked into the sprawling military encampment, the more uncomfortable the atmosphere became. The camp was still active, soldiers drilled beneath the sun while engineers hauled cannon shells between reinforced positions. Messengers rushed between command tents with practiced efficiency, and along the distant coastline, enormous Narnian cannons shifted slowly toward new firing angles overlooking the sea.
This was not an army preparing to leave after victory.
It looked like an army settling in permanently.
By the time they entered the royal tent, the mood had already darkened considerably. A large map of the Iron Islands lay spread across the central table while lantern flames flickered softly against the canvas walls. Outside, distant waves crashed against the rocky shores of Great Wyk, occasionally interrupted by the low thunder of Narnian artillery testing somewhere along the coastline.
Tywin Lannister stood beside the table silently, studying the map with narrowed eyes. Robert Baratheon dropped heavily into a chair and immediately grabbed a cup of wine while muttering curses beneath his breath. Jon Connington looked exhausted, and Jason Mallister seemed deeply troubled by everything they had witnessed that day.
Rhaegar remained standing for several long moments, staring down at the map quietly before Robert finally broke the silence.
"I don't like this."
Tywin glanced toward him briefly. "You finally noticed?"
Robert snorted irritably. "Don't start."
He drank deeply before continuing, his expression unusually serious now. "They talk about war with Westeros too calmly."
Nobody argued with him because it was true.
Commander Jorund had not sounded afraid even once during the entire discussion. That alone disturbed them more than open threats would have. Threats usually came from insecurity. Confidence like Jorund's came from preparation.
Jon Connington finally spoke from near the edge of the tent. "It is because they already prepared for it."
Silence followed immediately afterward because everyone there knew he was probably right.
Jason Mallister frowned deeply. "How? How could they prepare against Westeros without us knowing?"
"Because unlike us," Tywin replied calmly while still studying the map, "they actually plan ahead."
That irritated Robert instantly. "Enough praising the bloody Narnians."
Tywin ignored him completely. "We still do not know where their true kingdom even lies."
That statement was the greatest problem facing Westeros.
Nobody knew where Narnia truly existed.
Some believed it lay beyond the Sunset Sea. Others whispered about hidden islands or unknown continents far beyond mapped waters. No certainty existed, and that alone created a terrifying reality.
Westeros could defend itself.
But it could never strike first.
If war began, the Seven Kingdoms would be forced entirely into a defensive position against an enemy whose homeland remained completely hidden. And after seeing the Narnian military firsthand, nobody liked those odds.
They had seen the soldiers.
Seen the cannons.
Even now, outside the tent, Narnian troops continued training with brutal efficiency despite the freezing winds. No drunkenness. No disorder. No lazy knights avoiding duty.
Every movement carried purpose.
Robert rubbed his beard slowly and muttered, "Gods… I almost pity the Ironborn."
"That makes one of us," Jason Mallister replied coldly.
Unlike many present, Jason had spent most of his life dealing with Ironborn raids along the western shores. Entire villages under House Mallister had burned because of Ironborn attacks. Families slaughtered. Ships stolen. Children taken. If anything, Jason seemed grimly satisfied watching the Iron Islands finally face consequences.
Tywin leaned slightly over the table. "The Iron Islands are finished."
Nobody denied it.
Pyke would fall eventually.
Great Wyk would fall soon.
The outcome no longer truly mattered. Only the cost did.
Rhaegar finally spoke after a long silence. "We cannot stop them. At least not without tearing the realm apart."
The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but they were true.
Tywin nodded once. "Then let them have the islands."
Jason looked genuinely shocked. "You would surrender Westerosi territory?"
Tywin finally looked toward him directly. "The Ironborn have spent centuries raiding our own people. They obey the crown only when convenient and rebel whenever strength weakens. They contribute little besides instability."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"And now another kingdom wishes to waste soldiers controlling them. I consider that a gift."
Robert barked out a loud laugh at that while Jon Connington nearly smiled. Only Rhaegar remained serious because for him, this situation was larger than the Iron Islands themselves.
This was about authority.
The image of the Iron Throne.
If Westeros openly allowed a foreign kingdom to conquer part of its territory without resistance, the consequences would spread far beyond these islands. The great houses would notice weakness. The Free Cities would notice weakness.
And once kings appeared weak, the realm became dangerous.
Still, even Rhaegar understood reality now.
War against Narnia would devastate Westeros even if the realm somehow survived in the end. The Narnians were simply too prepared, too advanced in ways Westeros barely understood.
Eventually the conversation shifted naturally toward the only peaceful solution anyone could still imagine.
"The only way to control Narnia," Tywin said quietly, "is from within."
Rhaegar already knew where the conversation would go.
Immediately, two names entered his mind.
Daenerys Targaryen.
And Sirius Gryffindor.
His mother's letters had mentioned them repeatedly. Training together. Studying together. Spending nearly every day beside one another. And Harry Gryffindor himself had already made one thing very clear through both actions and reputation.
He would never force his son into a political marriage.
But if affection happened naturally…
He would not interfere.
Tywin clearly understood the situation as well. "The prince is the key."
Rhaegar nodded slowly. "Sirius Gryffindor will inherit everything someday."
Robert frowned while trying to remember the boy clearly. "That child?"
Rhaegar remembered the first time he had seen Sirius years earlier near Winterfell. Even then, the boy unsettled him. Too observant. Too intelligent. Too bold.
Not a child easily manipulated.
"No," Rhaegar said quietly. "Manipulation will not work on him."
"Then affection must," Tywin replied calmly.
Silence settled over the tent again because suddenly, for the first time since arriving at Great Wyk, a path forward existed that did not end in war.
A marriage between Sirius Gryffindor and Daenerys Targaryen…
That would change everything.
For the first time in many weeks, Rhaegar finally saw a possible future where Westeros and Narnia did not eventually destroy one another.
One by one the others departed afterward until eventually Rhaegar remained alone inside the royal tent. A single candle flickered beside the war table while distant cannon fire echoed faintly across the dark sea outside.
Slowly, Rhaegar sat down before a blank piece of parchment.
For several long moments he simply stared at it.
Then he reached for a quill.
For the first time in weeks, he decided to write to his mother again.
Ever since Oberyn Martell returned with news of Queen Rhaella's pregnancy, Rhaegar had avoided contacting her entirely. Not because he was angry. Truthfully, he no longer knew what he felt.
Confusion.
Embarrassment.
Concern.
All of it mixed together into something exhausting.
And beyond emotions, there were politics. Spies existed everywhere now. The Citadel watched constantly. The royal court whispered constantly. Secrets rarely stayed buried long in Westeros.
But now he needed her again.
Needed her influence within Narnia.
Needed her understanding of Harry Gryffindor's court.
Needed her guidance regarding Daenerys and Sirius.
Rhaegar dipped the quill slowly into ink before pausing once more.
His mother was pregnant.
By someone unknown.
Strangely, that thought no longer angered him the way it once had.
It simply made him tired.
Tired of politics.
Tired of kingdoms balancing endlessly on the edge of war.
And finally, Rhaegar began writing.
The final meeting between Rhaegar and Commander Jorund took place the following morning beneath a gray Ironborn sky. The weather itself seemed fitting for the conversation ahead.
The war did not pause simply because kings wished to negotiate.
In Westeros, the arrival of a king usually froze entire camps into ceremonial stillness. Lords rushed to impress royalty. Officers abandoned ordinary duties for political appearances.
But the Narnians treated the presence of Rhaegar Targaryen almost like an inconvenience.
Efficiently acknowledged.
Then ignored.
Inside the command tent, however, the atmosphere remained tense. A massive map of the Iron Islands covered the central war table, now marked heavily with Narnian symbols and troop movements. Almost every island carried the dragon-banner of Narnia.
Only Pyke and portions of Great Wyk remained outside total control.
Commander Jorund entered moments later without ceremony.
The giant commander still wore dark furs and weathered armor stained faintly by sea salt and ash. He looked less like a noble lord and more like one of the old northern conquerors from ancient stories.
"You made your decision?" Jorund asked directly without bothering with greetings.
Rhaegar nodded slowly. "The Seven Kingdoms will not interfere further in the Iron Islands."
Commander Jorund simply nodded once. "A wise decision."
Tywin's eyes narrowed slightly at the wording, but he remained silent.
Rhaegar continued carefully. "The Iron Islands will remain your responsibility."
"For now," Jason Mallister added sharply.
Jorund ignored the interruption completely. Instead, he walked calmly around the war table while studying the maps spread across its surface.
"I know what worries you," he said quietly.
"You fear Narnia turning the Iron Islands into a military base."
His rough finger tapped against Great Wyk.
"A place from which we launch attacks against Westeros."
Silence inside the tent confirmed the truth of it.
Because yes—
That was one of the reason they were frightened.
A Narnian-controlled Iron Islands would become a permanent dagger pointed directly at the western coast of Westeros. The fleets alone could cripple trade routes and coastal settlements within weeks if war ever erupted.
"You do not need to fear that," Jorund said calmly.
The statement surprised several men immediately.
Tywin spoke first. "And why should we believe that?"
Jorund looked toward him steadily. "Because if Narnia truly wanted war with Westeros…"
A faint smile appeared beneath his beard.
"…we would simply use the dragon."
Absolute silence filled the tent.
Even now, merely mentioning the dragon unsettled everyone present.
Jorund continued slowly while walking around the table.
"You compare us to Aegon Targaryen," he said while glancing briefly toward Rhaegar. "But your ancestor came to Westeros because he wished to rule it."
His finger tapped lightly against Harrenhal on the map.
"That is why he spared most castles. That is why he preserved noble houses."
Another tap followed.
"He needed your lords alive."
"He needed your keeps."
"He needed your systems."
Jorund's voice became colder then.
"A conqueror who wishes to rule a kingdom intact cannot simply burn everything."
Then he looked directly into Rhaegar's eyes.
"Narnia is different. If war ever comes between Narnia and Westeros, it will not be because we desire your throne."
The commander's expression remained completely calm.
"It will happen because Westeros does something foolish."
Tywin silently noticed how terrifyingly certain Jorund sounded while saying that. There was no anger in the man's voice.
"And if retaliation comes…" Jorund continued quietly, "…we will not waste soldiers storming every castle one by one."
His hand slowly moved across the map of Westeros.
"We will simply destroy them."
Suddenly every man inside that tent imagined it.
Dragons soaring above castles.
Keeps collapsing into fire and rubble.
Entire bloodlines erased in a single night.
Jorund's voice remained horrifyingly calm.
"Aegon the Conqueror needed your lords," he said.
"We do not."
Then came the sentence that truly unsettled everyone present.
"You are only lords because you possess castles."
The commander leaned slightly forward over the map.
"Take away the keeps."
"And you become the same as the smallfolk."
The words struck harder than open threats ever could.
Because in Westeros, power truly came from land and fortresses. Noble houses survived because castles protected their authority. Remove the keeps, and even the oldest bloodlines became little more than names.
Jorund continued calmly.
"Your kings throw untrained peasants into battle constantly," he continued. "You sacrifice thousands for your pride."
"We do not."
Then he pointed once more toward the map.
"We destroy the foundations first."
"Then we see how many people still obey their lords afterward."
Finally Rhaegar broke the tension quietly.
"Then let us hope war never comes."
Jorund nodded once. "That depends more upon your people than ours."
The meeting ended shortly afterward.
The Westerosi delegation departed the command tent slowly beneath the gray northern skies. Most of them looked deeply unsettled.
Near the docks, the royal ship prepared for departure while sailors quietly loaded provisions and supplies for the journey home. Tywin immediately ordered preparations to leave as quickly as possible. He clearly wanted distance between himself and the Iron Islands before the situation grew even more unpredictable.
But just as the delegation approached the harbor—
Robert Baratheon suddenly stopped walking.
Then he turned toward Jorund with visible excitement in his eyes.
"What if I want to stay?"
Chaos erupted instantly.
Rhaegar blinked in disbelief.
Tywin looked genuinely furious for the first time that day.
"Robert," Jon Connington warned sharply.
But Robert ignored everyone completely.
Instead, he looked toward the Narnian commander with an expression that had not appeared on his face in years.
"I haven't seen a proper war in my whole life," Robert admitted openly.
Tywin stepped forward immediately. "You are not staying."
Robert laughed loudly. "And why not?"
"Because you are Lord of Storm's End," Tywin snapped. "Not some wandering sellsword chasing battlefields."
Robert grinned shamelessly. "Exactly."
Then he looked back toward Jorund.
"Well? If I fight beside you against these Ironborn bastards, will you refuse me?"
Jorund stared at Robert silently for several long moments.
Then finally, the giant commander smiled faintly.
"Narnia does not reject willing warriors."
Tywin's expression darkened instantly. "Absolutely not."
But Robert had already made his decision.
Everyone there knew it immediately.
The old fire had returned to him.
Robert Baratheon had missed war desperately ever since inheriting Storm's End. Peace bored him. Politics exhausted him. Administration made him miserable.
But battle—
Battle made him feel alive.
Rhaegar rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Robert…"
But Robert simply clasped his shoulder firmly.
"I'll return alive."
Then he grinned again.
"And if not… at least I'll die fighting instead of drowning in court politics."
Tywin looked ready to strangle him personally.
"You are a complete fool."
Robert laughed loudly once more.
"That's why people like me."
And just like that—
Robert Baratheon remained behind in the Iron Islands.
Ready for war.
Author's Note:
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