8th Month of 284 A.C. Oxcross
Lord Triston Farwynd.
He can still hear his mother and father screaming, as the water lapped up their bodies and the fires came pouring in. His sister and brother had been slain when the Greyjoy men had come calling, knocked and dead, and there was nothing he could have done to stop them. He was but a boy when it had happened, fifteen and not yet strong enough to wield the mace of Nereus as his brother and father had done before him when they had turned sixteen. Nereus, the Grey King, that was why his family had been killed, because Balon Greyjoy was too damn stupid to realise they worshipped the same damn god, they just gave it a different name. Nereus was the Drowned God, and the Drowned God was Nereus, or rather Nereus was the son of the Drowned God, if the thing even existed. That they had not worshipped the Drowned God had seen them taken and hit, and drowned. And yet their cousins on the Lonely Light had survived perhaps because none had truly seen or been to that damnable island, and none truly wanted to go there.
He had fled to Seagard and come to King's Landing alongside Lord Jason Mallister, Lord Rickard Stark had promised him his revenge and it was that, that kept him going through the snow and the cold. The destruction the Greyjoys had reaped on the Westerlands horrified him and made him truly question whether or not Nereus truly existed and if so, how he could have allowed for such a beast as the Greyjoy family to come into being. It was something his dreams were filled with, wondering about what his purpose in life was, with Nereus, the Grey King, the God King sat in his halls in the lands across the sea, distilling wisdom some thought long forgotten. Telling him they all had a purpose in the schemes of the gods and that soon he would reveal all. Triston knew Saltcliffe had the same visions but Saltcliffe had always been mad and needed to be stopped before he did something wrong.
Of course fighting against Rodrik Greyjoy was something that had kept Triston going, the battle at Pendric Hills and Nunn's Deep had given him so much relief and had been a truly cathartic experience. He had not been the one to kill Greyjoy but he had come close, wounding the bastard enough for the Sword of the Morning to finish him off. And he had played his own role destroying, the man's outriders alongside the Greatjon Umber. He knew the northmen were suspicious of him, and they had every right to be, the Ironborn were hated as a people for a reason. But he liked to think this time fighting alongside them was earning him their respect. He was not a bad fighter, but he was not as good as his brother or father or cousins had been.
Now they had finally managed to catch onto Maron Greyjoy and his band of raiders and rapers. Destruction had followed them across the lands, and Triston had been further horrified and committed to knowing that the Greyjoys needed to be wiped off the face of the earth so that Nereus might come again, and that Nagga never rose from the sea. Greyjoy was as mad as his uncle the Crow's Eye and had stationed no look outs or back riders, and now the carnage had truly begun in the slopes of Oxcross. Triston wielding his family's mace swung and swung and used all the strength he had to crush one man and then another. Wearing the black armour and blue cape of his house, he roared challenge after challenge and swung his mace and crushed those who came towards him. Those he could not beat with a clean hit he killed with the spike on the tip of the mace.
The mad rush of battle was still flowing through Triston's veins and his blood was up. Men were streaming through pounding their weapons against one another, roaring challenges and screaming for their mothers or loved ones. Triston had no such luxury and merely contented himself with a swing of his mace and the rush that came from the feeling of it connecting with a man's skull. He was advancing towards where he thought Maron Greyjoy would be, the man had half his brother's skill with arms but was twice as mad and would likely think himself worthy of leading from the front. It was a flaw of all Greyjoys, their belief in themselves was a curse from Nagga, as Nereus had said. It was time for them to go. Triston took a fair few blows to his arms and his chest, and his armour was dented and there were wounds forming that would sting significantly when the time came.
Triston cared not for the pain though, for he was a son of Nereus and he would not be felled by mere blows. He pushed through and swung his mace crushing those who came in his way, swatting them away like flies, intent on nothing more than revenge. It coloured his vision and dictated his every action, he roared and swung his mace swatting away men again and again until there was very little standing between him and Maron Greyjoy but the slope that led upward toward the mad man. It appeared that the mad man saw him for Triston heard his mocking voice call out. "Oh Farwynd, have you come for revenge? Have you come to show me that you are Ironborn and indeed not some Greenlander? The way you fled, god I thought you were nothing more than bones."
Triston roared his own response. "Greyjoy I shall have your head and deliver it to your father before I kill him myself." With that he charged up the slope and towards Maron Greyjoy who had already drawn his sword ready for him. They met in a fly of sparks and the strain of battle was showing in the way their muscles tensed and their movements were slower than they had been at the beginning of the fight. Still both were giving it their all, Triston as vengeance for his slain kin, Maron out of a sense of pride and trying to get what he believed was his.
They forced one another to look hard at their own individual strengths and weaknesses, and as such both men were soon dancing around one another, their horses having been deemed pointless. This was a fight for men, not animals. They circled round one another and then Greyjoy lunged at the same time as Triston and their weapons collided with one another, a whir was created. They broke apart and then the same thing happened again and again, until both men were tired, but neither had more wounds to show for their fight. Greyjoy was an impatient man though, unlike his uncle, Triston knew this and he suspected he knew how to exploit it as well, he moved backward, and as Greyjoy followed him he lunged forward and swung his mace, knocking the man in the side. He did this again and again, and still Greyjoy continued to fall for the trap, until finally Triston had managed to knock his sword out of his hand. With the spike pointing at the man's throat he said through his helm. "You will die now Maron, and when I bring your head to your father I will make him kiss it."
"You do not have the balls to do that." Greyjoy responds.
"Oh?" Triston asks. "Watch me." And with that he thrusts the spike straight into the man's throat, standing there as blood begins pouring out of the wound created. He stands and he stands and then he moves away from the body, and watches it fall to the ground. He gets back on his horse and re-joins the fighting. Eventually Maron Greyjoy's men surrender or are killed, and soon enough the battle has ended and Triston can go back to where Greyjoy's body is and safely hack his head off. It will remain as a trophy for some time, a reminder for other times.
The northmen and Riverlanders celebrate the end of this battle with a long lasting celebration and feasting. Triston is there for some of the revelry, but leaves partway through, somewhat tired and wanting to be alone. He walks towards the woods and sits down and begins to pray. "Oh Nereus, you of the Grey King and the slayer of Nagga, let me know where the future lies and what it holds."
He sat in silence and waited, often the King would not speak to him in words but in visions, but this time he was surprised when he heard the voice as if the king was right there next to him. "You are a brave man Triston Farwynd. Your father would be deeply proud of you. Soon revenge shall be yours and the Greyjoys shall die apart from one. He who must live for the cause to continue."
"But why must he live? You have always said the Greyjoys are the spawn of Nagga and not of your own blood." Triston asked.
"There are some things which you do not know but which your cousins on Lonely Light know. They know the importance of this one son of Nagga, for he is the result of an accident when the sea dragon became a woman, and enraptured my son into madness and lust." The voice responded
"Madness? What sort of madness? You mean this thing is the son of that tryst? But then how can he be alive now?" Triston asked confused.
The king laughed. "Oh he is not the direct result of that. But rather the product of generations of the bloodline of that accident mixing with those of the true blood. His father knew something of the result and wished to remove him, but he shall be needed when the darkness comes. And death stalks this realm."
"But then what purpose am I to serve?" Triston asked feeling lost.
"You are to show the wolves the true light my boy. You are to guide them towards rediscovering the past when wolves and horned ones danced and when we were allies not enemies. It is your time to show the world what brews beneath the sea might once again come to rule the land. Lead the way and when this son of mine comes to light we shall guide him." The king responds.
"I do not understand. You wish for me to show the northmen the way. But they will never abandon their gods, they would kill me for suggesting such a thing." Triston stutters.
"You will do as I ask. The wolves will see the light eventually, for there is a time of the old ones to come back to the light. The false idols the foreigners worship are not right. They will cause nothing but destruction and plague. The tides are changing Triston. Show them the way." The king says.
"But I…. I… I do not know how." Triston says but he gets no response, and he remains there sitting in the woods for a long time ponder all that has just transpired and trying to understand what his king has asked of him.
Eventually as the sun begins to rise he stands and walks out of the woods, and sees the men either fast asleep on the ground or in their tents, some are still up, others seem to have woken early. One such man is Eddard Stark the heir to Winterfell and the commander to whom Triston has come to respect so much. "Lord Triston," Stark says respectfully. "I had not thought to see you up this early. You left the feast early."
Triston bows before the man before saying. "Aye, I did my lord. I did not quite want to impose on something I did not wish to be there for. It was not my victory, my victory will come when Balon Greyjoy is dead rotting before me."
Stark seems to consider this for a moment and then says. "Well I had thought to inform you, that we shall be marching for Lannisport after we have broken our fast. It is time to end this war, and then Pyke shall be yours."