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The Aftermath
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 08:46:43 +0000 UTCChapter 74 – The Aftermath
Volantis – Battlefield
The air reeked of blood and burning flesh.
Pillars of smoke twisted into the darkening sky as bodies were stacked and set aflame. Blood pooled in the mud, soaking into the scorched earth. The battle had been won—but it had not been clean.
In the center of the war camp, amidst the stench of death, Cregan Stark sat on a battered wooden chair. His face was stone, emotionless. The great black direwolf, Shadow, lay beside him, blood on his maw, his eyes glowing faintly in the firelight.
Around them, no one dared speak.
"So," Cregan finally said, his voice low and cold as northern frost. "You let a Second Sons captain of the highest rank slip away. And now the bastard is gods-know-where."
No one answered. The silence that followed was deafening. No one was ready for the fury of The Wolf of the Ruins.
Edwyle Snow, his cousin and commander of the Company of the Rose, spoke up to ease the tension.
"Cregan," he said calmly, "everyone was knee-deep in the fight. Our men did try to stop him. He got injured—but he's slippery. Knows how to survive."
Cregan sighed. "At least we captured Prendahl. Bring him in."
Two guards dragged the man forward. Prendahl looked barely alive, bloodied, bruised, and clearly resigned to death. He had the hollow, distant eyes of a man who had already said goodbye to the world.
"Prendahl," Cregan said, looking him dead in the eyes, "You already know you're a dead man. But if you give us the information we need, I can promise you a swift and painless death."
"Fuck y—AARGHHHHH!"
Before he could finish, Shadow lunged forward, tearing into Prendahl's arm with brutal precision, ripping his limbs apart one by one. The man's screams echoed into the sky.
Cregan didn't blink. "Should've picked different words. Shadow's been cranky lately—probably spending too much time with Kael. He's picking up his mood swings."
Shadow let out a grunt and looked at Cregan with a deadpan expression that somehow mirrored annoyance.
Edwyle chuckled, "Don't let Kael hear you say that. You'll be stuck dealing with his antics. Especially now that he's spending time with Little Lyanna. That girl can control you like a servant from what I heard."
"Oh gods, don't remind me," Cregan groaned. "I'm already dreading the consequences of arriving home late."
"Maybe she'll demand a dragon in compensation," Ed teased. "You'll have to go steal one from the Stormborn herself."
Cregan smirked. "You believe those tales? Dragons after 150 years?"
Ed shrugged. "In Essos? Anything's possible."
"Let's pray to the Old Gods it's false," Cregan muttered, clasping his hands mockingly in a prayerful pose.
"Afraid of dragons?" Edwyle smirked. "Is the Bloody Wolf finally afraid of something?"
Cregan snorted. "I'm not afraid of fighting a dragon. They die like anything else—scorpions, poison, siege engines. They have died before.But I am afraid of my niece asking me to bring her one as a pet. And not giving me the option to say no."
Edwyle burst out laughing, nearly falling over from the sheer amusement.
Their nearby men glanced at each other—half confused, half relieved. Most of them still stunned from battle, and now wondering how the two most dangerous men on the continent could talk so casually about dragons, children, and pets in a war camp.
---
Volantis – The War Tent
Myra Volant, their spymaster, entered with a grim expression.
"Jon Arryn's been dead for moons," she reported. "And now the King is traveling to the North."
Edwyle frowned. "Why are we only hearing about this now? Did our network fail?"
Myra shook her head. "The Crownlands and Riverlands have been chaotic since the last unrest. Many of our spies pulled out or were compromised. I focused our attention here—on the Second Sons and Tywin's moves."
"Shit," Cregan muttered. "He's going to ask Father to be Hand . And I wouldn't be surprised if the Sansa marriage proposal comes up again."
"Relax," Edwyle said with a grin. "Your brothers can handle politics better than you. And besides, no one wants you near the royal family. You'd probably kill a prince or two."
"I would probably not murder a prince," Cregan replied, not quite convincingly.
---
That Evening – Company of the Rose Camp
Cregan stood before the Sand Snakes, all three looking fierce and unsatisfied.
"You all did excellent," he began. "The assassinations, the ambushes—they kept our losses low and gave us the edge."
The sisters smirked, pleased by the praise.
"Well," Obara said with mock sweetness, "He does remember us. We're eternally grateful, oh Wolf of the Ruins."
The sarcasm dripped like honey.
"You're still angry I didn't take you into the parley," Cregan noted. "I know you're experienced. I know you're deadly. But war is a dance—we each have our part to play."
They nodded, though Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene were clearly still fuming.
Cregan leaned forward with a grin, voice low and suggestive. "If you're still angry… I think I know a way to make it up to you. Tonight."
All three smiled in unison, like predators circling their prey.
Obara smirked, "We'll see if the Wolf still has teeth."
Tyene chuckled, "We will check your body throughly to check injuries of course."
Nymeria simply grabbed his collar and pulled him toward the tent.
---
Essos — Near the City of Astapor
Two weeks after the battle at Volantis
Dust trailed behind a ragged column of riders pushing their mounts hard across the dry hills outside Astapor. Banners once proud and golden were torn and slashed, fluttering weakly in the hot wind. The Second Sons—or what was left of them—rode with slumped shoulders and hollow eyes.
At the front rode Daario Naharis, blood drying on his coat, a gash still fresh along his ribs, and a devil-may-care smirk forced on his face to cover the weight dragging at his soul.
They had lost everything.
Mero was dead, torn apart by the Wolf of the Ruins. Prendahl was likely being tortured in some freezing tent. The once-proud Second Sons were shattered. Most of the captains were dead, and the few who survived had followed Daario out of desperation.
He rode ahead of the others, his beard streaked with dirt, his flamboyant clothes charred and frayed.
Before them, the city of Astapor glimmered under the hot sun, and the black-and-red banner of House Targaryen waved above the gates.
---
Outside the Targaryen Encampment
A group of Unsullied blocked their path.
Daario dismounted with a flair, despite the pain. He raised both hands in peace and bowed, deep and theatrical.
"I am Daario Naharis, formerly captain of the Second Sons... and now, perhaps, your queen's most useful servant."
The Unsullied said nothing, but a messenger was dispatched swiftly.
---
Inside Daenerys' Tent
The air was thick with the scent of oils and parchment. Maps covered the table, along with scrolls from Qarth, Yunkai, and Pentos. Daenerys Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, sat upon a carved chair made of timber and bronze.
Her expression was unreadable.
Daario was led inside, stripped of weapons. He looked around the room with interest before bowing low.
"Your Grace. I have come not as an enemy, but as a man who sees where the future is rising... and wishes to kneel before it."
Daenerys didn't blink. "You were a captain of the Second Sons. You got destroyed by some Lord from Westoros."
Daario straightened. "True. Stark he was a Stark your enemies your grace, Your servant must know him they were his leige lords."
Jorah Mormont, standing at Daenerys' side. "Yes, I know them Your grace . I know the person personally Cregan met the young lad one or two times myself. Fierce and talented kid at that time. I had to keep a hidden profile in essos for years to hide from him ."
"He is that amazing and strong that even you have to hide from him, SER Jorah."Queen said.
"He became a captain of one teh biggest sellsword company in mere 2 and half years . Even Dotharki knew of him and somewhat feared him."Ser Jorah said.
Daenerys"Dotharki fearing someone?"
Rakharo"I have heard of him ,not many people meet us in ground and Iived to tell the tale . He slaughtered two khalasars and defeated two khals himself.His name was quite infamous and even Khal Drogo wanted to fight him himself to prove him to other Khals to that he was superior to them."
Daenerys was a bit shocked after hearing that information.
She leaned back, thinking and watching him. "And what would you offer me, Daario Naharis?"
He knelt then, slowly and deliberately. "My sword, my loyalty, and what's left of the Second Sons. They'll follow me, and I will follow you."
"You fled from battle," Jorah said again. "Cowards don't get to bend the knee."
Daario shot him a glance. "And yet cowards live to kneel. Brave men die too early to kneel to anyone."
Daenerys considered that, eyes still sharp. Then she gestured to Grey Worm.
"Take him to a guarded tent. No chains—for now. I'll decide what to do with him after I hear what the others have to say."
Daario bowed again. "Then I thank you for your mercy, Your Grace. I do not need your trust today. Only the chance to earn it."
As he was led away, Daenerys remained silent, her thoughts turning. She wasn't sure whether this man was a gift from the gods or a devil in silk.
But she'd learn soon enough.
---
