[Center][img]https://www.askart.com/photos3/2014/KZS20070921_4001/3162.jpg[/img]
[b]The King At The Edge Of The World[/b] [/center]

Not a day went by Myros didn’t think of that valley on that stinking hot afternoon back in the Red Mountains. The sword at his throat, the trickle of blood running down his neck, dripping onto the dry sand. His friends all lay dead around him, Smiling Nymor still smiled as flies danced across his empty eyes; Rass Of Ghosthill hung limply, skewered on a knight’s lance. It had been a rout.

Myros remembered the Reach knight’s sneer as he looked down at him, clearly confident his place in songs was now assured, bragging rights for the rest of his days. Though he was to die of the pox less than a year later. Myros gaze had drifted over, glared death at the young septon who had been no septon at all. Of course it had all ended in betrayal. The knight had pressed the sword against his neck, cutting into the flesh. 

[i]You any last words Vulture King?[/i]

Forty-three years and more than two-thousand miles away Commander Sand of Eastwatch-By-The-Sea scratched at the scar on his neck uneasily, bracing himself against the spray and the sway of the autumnal waves as they rowed to shore. Ever since they’d spotted the smoke rising up out of the fishing village that same feeling had come back to Myros, haunting him from all those years ago. There would be death here and more would follow.

They’d left Wormwood anchored off the coast and Myros had taken 10 brothers to see what was left. There was an unsettling stillness to the place as they pulled ashore, Eyron’s Pier had always been bustling and busy when they’d come to trade, now the silence was deafening. Swords drawn the black brothers moved cautiously on, they could see signs of fire and fighting, but no bodies. This did little to reassure Myros. 

“You will keep yourselves sharp.” Myros ordered, his black hair may have turned to white and his Dornish tan long faded in his years on the wall, but he'd stubbornly clung to the accent of his homeland. When at last they found the bonfire it turned out even the battles of the Red Mountains could not have prepared him for what they saw. Teeth marks on charred bone, children upon pig-spits, rotting skulls that had been caved in and the innards eaten raw. Myros felt his stomach rise and had to steady himself against a wall. More than one of the others, hardened watch-men all, ended up spewing. They did not linger to bury the dead.  

-

“Oi’ll kill tha’ bastard whoreson oathbreaker myself!!” Spittle flew from the enraged mouth of the first-mate back aboard Wormwood. Angry mutterings from the rest of the crew gathered on the main deck, looking at a cannibalised child’s skull brought back. “Sooner we find and burn ‘is ships then join with the Stark host the better!” This drew shouts of agreement. Edwin was known to frequent the brothel’s of Eyron’s pier and the rumours were he had a bastard girl off one of them in the village. 

“I would not even be taking the time to spit on Torwynd's corpse.” Myros spoke quietly for the first time since returning aboard, this had the effect of silencing the men. “But that was the work of an army." The old man’s eyes seemed very far away. "Torwynd, he is no mere oathbreaker leading a band of savages - he is a king.” The words were painful to speak, but it was truth. 

“I don’t give a fuck what he calls himself I’m gonna-“ Edwin flared up but the Commander cut him off.

“The Night’s Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms.” Myros sternly recited the mantra. “We should never have come here.” The Commander said shaking his head, this whole expedition had made him uneasy. Lord Commander Forrester was a good man, a capable one too Myros thought. But he was young and young men had a way of seeing the world in black and white.

“Skagosi are no different to wildlings anyway!” Someone else shouted out. “Are we cravens hiding on the wall just because the wrong type of murderous fuckers are raiding?!” 

“We’re not hunting an traitor, we’re fighting a war. Turn the ship around.” The Commander hated himself right then, he could see the pain on the first mate’s face, on all their faces. Of course Myros wanted to help kill this monster, but he’d tried being a hero forty years ago and that had just gotten his friends all killed. It had taken a long time but Myros had found purpose in the Night’s Watch, left the anger of his youth behind. 

“We got orders Myros.” Edwin growled, dropping the ‘Commander Sand’, Myros saw Edwin's hand resting on his sword, there were angry tears at the edge of the man's eyes. 

“You swore oaths Edwin.” Myros’ gripped his own sword hilt tightly, the tension on the deck was sharp, they seemed to have formed into two rough groups behind each man. Breaths all misted in the air, for a moment nothing happened. “I will not tell you again. Turn this ship around.”

“You won’t.” Spat Edwin as if Myros was Torwynd himself. The man lunged forward, steel flashing. Then all was chaos. Myros wasn’t as fast as the younger man, had to use his scabbard to meet the blow and tripped backwards, falling over. It was brother against brother, the Orders against the Oaths, more of a brawl than a battle though. He saw someone’s dagger slide into Edwin’s chest and the man went down. It was all over in moments.

Myros was helped to his feet, he was panting heavily. It seemed the oaths won it. The fight had been smaller than it had seemed, most of the crew had only watched in shock then fallen into line with the winners. The oath-breakers were bound and led below deck, some with fearful looks, others defiant. Aside from Edwin there had been only one death, young Ronnel the cabin-boy. 

“What now Commander?” Someone asked. Myros thought back to the Red Mountains, the fighting, the death. He swore to himself this would be different.


[hider=TLDR]
- Commander Sand thinks of his past failed uprising as the Vulture King.
- He and some men find the atrocities of the Skagosi in a village.
- Back on the ship Myros feels they are breaking their vows and leads a fight against those loyal to  
  Lord Commander Forrestor. They win and restrain the loyalists.
[/hider]