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[sub][hr][/sub][COLOR=gold][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=gray][I]Few miles off the coast of the Reach[/I] - [I]41 AC[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b]Chapter 1:[/b] [COLOR=gray][I]Face to Face [@Archangel89]   [@Ruby][/I][/COLOR][/right][/sup][/indent][/color][sub][hr][/sub]

[color=gray]The hunt in Harlaw had been successful to a point, a band of Faithful had escaped on a longship under the cover of confusion. The Harlaw boy had put up more of a fight than previously thought and in the ensuing fight were gone before they knew it. They had taken advantage of the couple of hours lead and prolonged the hunt. The fools would be heading towards some sort of sanctuary, some port to stow away in. There were only two that came to mind and neither would bode well for Rowan if they chose them. In the distance he saw their sails unfurled, catching the full breath of the wind.[/color]


[color=silver]”They’ve caught the wind, they’ll be pulling into Lannisport soon. If they dock there then there is nothing we can do. The Lannister’s will kill us as soon as let us leave.”[/color]

[color=gold][b]”There’s another port they could get to, it would depend on them thinking that they can out run us…”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]Rowan’s face turned into a mischievous grin, his gaze never leaving his prey,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”...they’re going to Oldtown. They’re going to hope to outrun us and get down to the Reach and make a run for it. Bring the sails to half mast and give them some space, let them run, let them think that the Seven have saved them. Before we show them the true might of the sea.”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]The sails raised and the Faithful took a slow lead as they started to edge further and further out. The other sailors looked on in a sort of confusion as Rowan stood there and watched them go further and further out. It had long been speculated that while it was ordered by the Lord Reaper to drive out the Faith of the Seven from the Isles, Rowan had seemed to take it overboard by tracking them down like this was excessive; though they dare not say anything to him, especially after what happened to the Harlaw kid.[/color]

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[sub][hr][/sub][COLOR=gold][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=gray][I]The Mouth of the Mander - The Reach[/I] - [I]41 AC[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b]Chapter 1:[/b] [COLOR=gray][I]Face to Face [@Archangel89]   [@Ruby][/I][/COLOR][/right][/sup][/indent][/color][sub][hr][/sub]
[color=gray]The chase had gone on long enough, and an impatient captain began pressing the attack. It was true that the Faithful had chosen to forgo Lannisport and tried to make it to Oldtown like Rowan had said but his impatience pushed them towards the Shield Islands but they breached themselves at the Mouth of the Mander and took off. The forest was green thick, life teemed in every nook and cranny and it sickened Rowan. The weak had inherited such fertile ground and had to earn none of it, the greenlanders had to do nothing more than go outside and take from the earth. The tracks were sloppy and easily readable; they were heading towards the nearest village. [i]He[/i] was going to bring them back.[/color]
[color=silver]“Signal fires, from the Shield Islands.”[/color]
[color=gray]The messenger was breathless, a soak of sweat and near panic as he crashed into her pavilion in their camp outside the walls of Oldtown, where she’d been removed to following the incident. There was little time, as badly as she felt, purple and black as her shoulder was, there was just no time for discussion. “Mount who we can. I’ll dress quickly.” Not even Ren argued. He’d stay behind, but from the camp and Garin’s men they assumed possibly thirty. By the time she was on her horse and meeting them on the other side of Oldtown, the number was thirty-two. Half were Garin’s men, half was her knights.
Ryam cursed mentally as the messenger simply had the worst timing possible. He knew exactly what Vittoria was going to do and he felt his duty to defend her rise up… But no, he didn't say a word. He simply left the tent while she dressed and secured his, and Vittoria's horse. 
It wasn’t much, but they could easily be joined by men from the Shield Islands themselves, let alone the nearby villages and towns. She herself had gotten quickly into plate, the simple silver, with a thick wool cloak dyed emerald with the golden rose of Highgarden upon it, trimmed in gold.
They found other messengers along the way; Ironborn, for sure, possibly three longships near the mouth of the Mander. Another messenger had reported longships of the Reach dispatched from stations along the Mander, itself, heading down towards the mouth of the river. Messengers from Brightwater Keep found them last: the truth of it was a small force from the Shield Islands had chased the Ironborn who landed, though they had quickly lost the Ironborn after a quick skirmish.
Men from Brightwater Keep had found a band of fleeing men and women of the Faith, and there the story was finally learned: one, maybe two, longships of Ironborn chasing the members of the Faith. Vittoria had a sick feeling when she heard the news. There was little choice but to go as fast as they could, they had gotten a fresh horse for the Brightwater Keep messenger, and he rode point to guide them.
They were found by Garin’s men, between the mouth of the Mander and Highgarden. They crossed at the ferry near Orchardtown, a village, not a town, but the merchants of the village had always been a braggadocious, ambitious sort. By the time they found them, the men from the Shield Islands were gone. Dead, or lost, and only a handful of Brightwater Keep scouts in mail were found with the members of the Faith.
The moment they saw her ride up, they began to sob. She hoped in joy,[/color]

[color=silver]“They come quickly!”[/color]
[color=gray]Vittoria’s Myrish looking glass confirmed their story. Those were, indeed, Ironborn making a sprint through the rolling fields of golden roses, hot in pursuit. Garin’s men were split in half, one to the right flank, one to the left. The scouts of Brightwater had found a small grove of old oaks atop the tallest hill in the area. Two were left with the Faithful and told to lead them to Highgarden, the other three went with her, inflating the number of mounted men directly with her at nineteen.[/color]
[color=silver]“Should we charge?”[/color]
[color=gray]Vittoria saw no reason. Garin’s men were on their side of the ridge, not close but not too far for a shout to reach them. Two of her own knights had brought longbows, whereas Vittoria herself couldn’t move her left arm nearly at all without a good deal of pain. The milk of the poppy the Maesters had given her had all but worn away by now, leaving her with a splitting head and an aching body.[/color]
 [color=lightgreen]“No. We’ll wait for them here.”[/color]
[color=gray]The sun was red and sinking fast in the late afternoon by the time the Ironborn got close enough. The spyglass alerted her to a certain presence, one she openly cursed, hotly, without naming a name. The Knights around her stared, never before having heard their Lord Commander’s temper rise so hot, so fast. When they were close enough for the two longbow wielding Knights to reach, standing in front of the horses, Vittoria had them all move forward to the edge of the ridge, so those approaching the steep hill with the grove of old oaks could see the figures on the ridgeline.[/color]
[color=lightgreen][b]“ROWAN!!!”[/b][/color]
[color=gray]She screamed so loudly she shook, her shoulder throbbing hot, her left hand going near enough to numb, her head swimming,[/color]
[color=lightgreen]“Let’s go,”[/color]
 [color=gray],was all she said, as her ears rang. Two of her own mounted knights carried tall, broad shields, flanking her closely as they went down the hill that was just kind enough to their horses. Near the foot of the hill they stopped, awaiting the Ironborn leader to approach.
She looked to either side of the ridge, and saw Garin’s men, both flanks, appear as they got closer, bows drawn. If he tried anything stupid towards her, he and his would be dead, and fast. It was either talk, die, or try to run. Honestly, Vittoria had no idea what the man would do.[/color] 
[color=gray]That voice, that commanding presence that radiated from behind him, there was only one person in the seven kingdoms that could have that kind of presence. He knew that the Reach was [i]her[/i] territory he wasn’t sure that she would even be in the area. Mirth quickly spread across his face as he turned to see the Ardent Maiden herself, Vittoria Tyrell. Rowan hadn’t seen her since their campaign against the so called pirate king but to see her here in force was something truly masterful to behold. Rowan turned and to his party with two of the faithful held hostage, his joy unable to be contained,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”Stay here and keep a blade to their necks, we wouldn’t want them to get to…anxious.”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]As he turned back to his swarm of advisories and pointed his drawn axe to the object of his glee,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”VITTORIA!!!, IT HAS BEEN AGES HASN’T IT!!!”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]Rowan stolled towards the collected armored knights, in the back of his mind he knew that this was a bad idea. He was strategically at a massive disadvantage. The divided mounted soldiers on either side of the ridge were staring with intent, simply waiting for their commanders orders. The knights behind her were also well equipped, Rowan could make out several longbows with arrows notched and ready to be fired. In any sane commander's mind this should be as simple as letting the prisoners go, getting in the longships and walking away to see another day. Rowan, however, was always known to push the boundaries of greenland behavior,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”Good evening Vitt, still traveling with those armored scarecrows is see, are their sticks still firmly planted or have you gotten them to loosen up?”[/b][/color]
[color=gray]Lady Vittoria of House Tyrell, High Marshall of the Reach, looked anything but pleased,[/color]
[color=lightgreen]“Lord Rowan the Reaver, so good to finally see you again, instead of just trading letters. Speaking of letters, did I mention to you I spent some time in the Citadel going over copies of the letters sent from the King to the Lords of Greyjoy? Did you know the King rather explicitly states in those letters that members of the Faith may be [i]DEPORTED[/i] from the Iron Islands, but [i]NOT[/i] killed?”[/color]
[color=gray]There was a rise in her voice towards the end of her words, with emphasis on ‘deported’ and ‘not’, without ever approaching the anger of her earlier shout of his name,[/color]
[color=lightgreen]“We have most of the members of the Faith running from you. Where are the rest, Rowan? Give us the rest and your crew may live to see another day.”[/color]
[color=gray]Despite her straight posture in the saddle of her palfrey, someone who had spent time with her before would hear it—pain hiding under her tone. The sound was familiar to Rowan, the sound of stifled pain while attempting to be strong in front of a command. As he looked up under his eyebrows, staring with an almost hungry and malicious intent, Rowan grinned with an arrogance that he should not have in the situation that he finds himself in,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”Careful Vitt, your humanity is showing, wouldn’t want any of these fine soldiers knowing the great [i]Ardent Maiden[/i] is anything less than impervious,”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]With outstretched arms his voice rose to a roar, almost loud enough for all in attendance to hear,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”, AND I HAVE BEEN DEPORTING THEM, I DEPORT THEM TO THE TEMPLE OF THE DROWNED GOD, AS I WILL GLADLY SEND YOU ALL TO SEE! YOU [I]FAITHFUL[/I] HAVE GROWN WEAK, BELIEVING IN THE SOFT AND FORGIVING SEVEN! YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THE GODS OF YOUR FATHERS FATHERS! THE IRONBORN ARE STRONG, HARDENED BY THE CRUEL AND UNFORGIVING SEA! WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]By instinct the other reavers behind him chanted in unison, the sound of their cries could be heard at least as far as those in immediate attendance as Rowan could see the nerves of Vittoria’s shieldmen waver just a little,[/color]

[color=gold][b]”How about it Vitt? What say you give this merry band of a******s the slip and be my [i]stonewife[/i]? We could conquer the coasts taking all that we please and pay the iron cost for all of it?”[/b][/color]

[Color=gray]Her jaw clinched, and with her one good hand, she pointed at him,[/color]

[color=lightgreen]“You are insufferably mad sometimes!”[/color]

[color=gray]She didn’t yell, but the heat from her was enough to lift her in her stirrups until the haze of her head and the weight of her armor immediately pulled her back down, again. To its credit, her palfrey simply snorted.[/color]


[color=gray]Vittoria Tyrell didn’t let her mind even entertain his proposal. She was enough of a bookish girl to know what a stone wife was. Deep down, she was flattered. Deeper down, far away from this moment, when she was very much alone, she might even think about the idea in some twisted thought.[/color]


[color=gray]But now? She wanted those members of the Faith alive. It took her long, long moments to calm herself, and wait until her heart slowed in her chest,[/color]

[color=lightgreen][i]Gods, it hurts. All of it. Everywhere.[/i][/color]

[color=gray]She sighed. Then, after a moment, she sighed again, deeper. Her eyes looking past him,[/color]

[COLOR=lightgreen]“Your people will never make it a hundred yards, Rowan. You’ve doomed them to death.”[/color]


[COLOR=gray]He irritated her. He was at every war council. He was everywhere she turned. He was also, by far, the best man at sea she had ever seen. He was as a spirit of vengeance with an axe in his hand. He scared grown, veteran, men just with a shout and a charge. He was mad. His madness intimidated,[/color]


[COLOR=gray]But not her. There were times she suspected that’s why he pushed her so hard. She sighed, for a third time, and just…looked at him,[/color]

[COLOR=lightgreen]“Rowan, give them to me. You will live. I will make you my prisoner. Don’t make me kill you.”[/color]

[COLOR=gray]She said, as tiny beads of sweat started down her brow, as her head began to flutter, as her arm began to burn in a heat she had not felt before.[/color]

[color=gold][b]”You know that I can’t do that Vitt, as serious as you are about the Seven, I am about the Drowned God, these are not just [i]’faithful’[/i], these are Ironborn from the Iron Islands. I have to send them to his temple for his judgment.”[/b][/color]

[color=gray]Vittoria looked to one of the knights next to her, the one on the right; her sworn shield, Ser Ryam. Her brown eyes just started, but for a moment, before they slid away from her cousin and returned to the horizon,[/color] 

[color=lightgreen]“I suppose so, you’re right. NOW!”[/color]


[color=gray]It was yelled, loud enough to make her visibly wince in pain and draw her left arm ever closer to her body. Before she was even done with the short word both flanks were kicking up dust. Steeds between one thousand and two thousand stones picking up steam, drawing and readying arms,[/color]


[color=lightgreen]"Move, my Lord, and they will gut you like a fish and sew the ground you stand on with your entrails. See how your damned God likes that,”[/color] 


[color=gray],she said, never even directly looking at Rowan. She had wanted all of the members of the Faith alive, but her patience was gone, exhausted by him. The mounted archers would make the first contact. If they tried to use the two members of the Faith they still had as a hostage or shield, they would be pinned with arrows by the missile cavalry, or ran through with sword or lance by the light cavalry.[/color]


[color=lightgreen]“Bind him, we take him with us as prisoner. Have the Brightwater scouts locate the longships. I want them found and dragged onto shore and burned. I’ll be speaking to the others.”[/color]


[color=gray]She sounded as casual as a comment upon the weather as she turned her palfrey and headed off to speak to the members of the Faith they had rescued. The sound of approaching calvary was dim in Rowan’s ear as he watched Vittoria turn his back on him. In that moment everything fell away; his crusade, the faithful none of it but only the words burned rang in his ear.[/color]


[color=gold][b]TYRELL!!, HAVE I NOT EARNED YOUR RESPECT! DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT A LONGSHIP IS TO AN IRONBORN CAPTAIN! YOU CAN HAVE THE D****ED FAITHFUL, YOU CAN TAKE ME HOSTAGE BUT BY ALL THE GODS BOTH NEW AND OLD IF YOU BURN MY SHIP I WILL REIGN HELL UPON YOUR SHORES AND BRING WAR TO YOUR HOME!![/b][/color]

[color=gray]Rage flashed in his eyes and foam gathered in the corner of his mouth as in defiance he roared in command. Until this point Rowan had been calm, he had been respectful in his own way, but the mere thought of burning his ships sent him into a whirlwind of anger that if he had not had some grasp of himself he would have made the wrong move and killed his entire crew,[/color]


[color=gold][b]”IRONBORN, RELEASE THE FAITHFUL AND MAKE IT BACK TO THE SHIP INFORM MY FATHER PERSONALLY OF WHAT HAPPENED HERE, GO NOW!!”[/b][/color]


[color=gray]The Ironborn quickly turned from their prey and darted away running in haste back to the shoreline, as the mounted knights began to pursuit Rowan once again roared in command,[/color]


[color=gold][b]”NOW HEAR ME KNIGHTS OF THE REACH! I AM LORD ROWAN GREYJOY, FIRST OF HIS NAME AND HEIR TO THE IRON ISLANDS! I HAVE RELEASED YOUR FAITHFUL AND YOU HAVE ME CAPTURED BUT KNOW THIS! I AM THE PERSONAL CAPTIVE OF THE ARDENT MAIDEN, I WILL ONLY BE HANDLED BY HER AND HER ALONE! ANY MAN WHO DARES TO SO MUCH AS TOUCH ME WILL BE SLAIN AND SENT TO WHATEVER GOD YOU SO PLEASE!”[/b][/color]


[color=gray]Rowan moved with righteous fury up to Vittoria’s palfry wrists in front of him in a bound position,[/color]


[color=gold][b]”Your move Lady Tyrell.”[/b][/color]