"Renly! But Renly wouldn't have such a big bastard!"
On the bow of the ship, Margaery Tyrell recalled the image in her memory—a handsome young man, carefree and cynical.
Duke Renly had slender limbs, broad shoulders, smooth, straight charcoal-black hair, azure eyes, and a warm, gentle smile.
"People say Renly is as handsome as the king was in his youth. That's why so many lords are eager to support him," Garland reminded his sister.
"We can't see the Liberator's face, but his hair, eyes, and build are very similar to Duke Renly's. Yet, he's stronger and more robust. Duke Renly is elegant and slender, while the Liberator is solid and powerful. If he's the king's son, then everything makes sense."
Little Rose's eyes sparkled with realization.
The Baratheon line is known for its strength and stature—most of its members are tall and broad, much like the Laughing Storm. It is their mark, just as the Starks bear wolf blood and the Targaryens their silver hair and purple eyes.
"Still, his demeanor is entirely different from Renly's. He's a hardened warrior," Garland observed thoughtfully. "Renly grooms himself, wears cologne, and jokes with Littlefinger at court, but he's no true fighter. He wastes his time on courtly trifles. The Wolf King beneath the Iron Mask is nothing like that—he's just like the King in his youth. Blood and warhammers are his companions."
Garland was wise and perceptive; unlike his brothers, he did not see Renly through rose-tinted eyes.
"How could the King have such a large illegitimate child?" Margaery frowned. To her, the notion seemed absurd. Having an illegitimate child was scandalous, a grave offense against the sanctity of marriage. For highborn nobles, it was a breach of their vows—and if the child was conceived before marriage, it was an even greater sin against the marriage contract.
Duke Eddard's late brother, Brandon the Wolf, had been a passionate man, infamous as the Bloodstained Longsword. Yet, despite his womanizing nature, he fathered no bastards and pursued Catelyn Tully out of duty and honor. Like most trueborn sons of noble houses, Brandon understood the difference between passion and obligation.
"That's just the kind of man the King has always been—self-willed and indulgent," Garland explained. "Before his marriage, when he and Lord Eddard were fostered in the Vale, he fathered an illegitimate daughter with a maid. Even after marrying, his lusts never abated. He fathered Edric Storm on his brother's wedding bed. I've even heard whispers that the Queen has been cleaning up after him—murdering his bastards in their infancy."
"Things are getting interesting," Garland continued, chuckling. "Soon there will be a new player at the King's Landing table. The Gunpowder King is larger than Joffrey, stronger than Renly, and commands a vast following across the Narrow Sea. He'll be drawn into the game soon enough."
"Then let's make sure we play our part," Margaery replied.
"There's never been a place for a Rose in King's Landing," Garland said quietly. "Our family's original plan was to fully support Lord Renly, but now we must secure a more favorable position for House Tyrell. Who becomes king is less important—what matters is that you become queen. Father dreams of seeing his grandson sit the throne, but he must learn not to put all his eggs in one basket."
House Tyrell aspired to play the same role as House Lannister—ruling through influence and marriage. In the current court, the Lannisters wielded immense power, both through their gold and their armies. With its wealth and resources, House Tyrell could rival them, if only they played their hand wisely.
"But the King is still alive—and he's a bastard," Margaery said, uncertain. Renly's ambitions were already bold; could there truly be someone even more ambitious?
"Times have changed, sister," Garland said calmly. "Without dragons, thrones are won by armies, warhorses, and food stores. King Robert's crown was forged through war, alliances, and his mighty warhammer. His blood may carry a hint of dragonfire, but it was his steel and his strength that won the realm. Compared to that, the Beggar King's dragon blood means nothing. Robert's throne was never as sacred as the Targaryen one."
"Even bastards with great power often dream of crowns," Garland added. "Just look at Daemon Blackfyre."
Inside the cabin, Maester Qyburn approached and bowed. "Your Highness, the Tyrells' wealth is renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps you could draw even more from them."
"The Roses are indeed rich and full of grain," Gendry replied. "They've been excluded from court for too long—no wonder they're plotting their own schemes." His tone was thoughtful but cold. The Tyrells' true rivals were the Lannisters, who had long dominated King's Landing through gold and marriage. It was only natural that the Tyrells would seek the same path.
"The Tyrells are powerful—and greedy," Gendry mused. "Let them wait for now. We'll continue with our original plan and sweep through the Stone Steps Islands."
Beneath the azure sky, the grey-and-white wolf banners fluttered proudly as the Wolfpack Fleet sailed across the Narrow Sea.
The fleet was a motley collection of vessels—riverboats, captured black ships from escaped slaves, and several merchant vessels. Though smaller than true warships, their crews were seasoned sailors, skilled in navigating the treacherous waterways of the Stone Steps Archipelago. The ships glided through narrow channels and wind-carved pillars of stone with uncanny ease.
"To the Liberators!"
"To the Kingdom without slaves!"
On small islands scattered across the sea, escaped slaves had long turned to piracy or banditry. Yet, when the Liberators' message spread, many came forward—bringing their ships and pledging allegiance to the new cause.
The people of Myr watched anxiously from afar. Catapults stood ready on their city walls, and fear lingered in every heart.
The Wolfpack Fleet launched a surprise assault on the pirate strongholds of the Stone Steps Islands. Though it was only a feint, the pirates were no match for disciplined soldiers. Ship after ship fell to the Wolfpack. The nameless islets were swiftly conquered—their forts burned, their captains executed, and their banners replaced with the snarling wolf.
Only two strongholds remained unconquered: Bloodstone Island and Grey Gallows Island.
"Bloodstone and Grey Gallows truly live up to their reputations," Gendry said grimly as he gazed at the smoking horizon. The fleet had already raided Bloodstone's outer docks, plundering shipyards and seizing vessels, leaving the pirates trapped and starving within their rocky redoubts.
"Your tactics are brilliant, Your Highness," said Qyburn admiringly. "Bloodstone and the Step Isles are built upon sheer cliffs and riddled with deep tunnels. The pirates hide in their stone fortresses—hard targets to breach. Even Prince Daemon once struggled to conquer them with his dragon."
"There's also the wider world to consider," Gendry replied. "Tyrosh is in ruins, the Ironborn are still licking their wounds after the Greyjoy Rebellion, and Dorne keeps to itself. These pirates have no allies, no trade, no food, and soon, no water. They'll starve long before they surrender."
"Bring up my spoils," Gendry ordered.
The Unsullied dragged forward a line of prisoners—pirates and adventurers from every corner of Essos. There were red-haired Tyroshi, pale-skinned Lyseni, olive-faced Myrmen, and black sailors from the Summer Isles. Their wrists were bound with coarse ropes that had already drawn blood.
"I want warships and sailors," Gendry said coldly, "but I won't pay for them."
"Damn you! The Drowned God will punish you!" snarled a gray-haired Ironborn among the captives. His words dripped with defiance.
"Then give my regards to your Drowned God," Gendry replied.
At his signal, two Unsullied stepped forward. They struck the Ironborn across the face, cut out his tongue, and nailed him alive to the prow of a ship. His muffled screams echoed across the deck until the sea silenced him.
Gendry respected skilled men—but obstinate fools had no place in his army.
"These ships and this island are mine now," he said, his voice carrying over the deck. "You have two choices: submit and serve me, or die—like him—and meet your god beneath the waves."
The Unsullied lined the pirates up, while crossbowmen raised their weapons from a short distance away.
A moment of tense silence followed.
Then, a single pirate fell to his knees and cried out, "King of the Narrow Sea!"
The others, desperate and terrified, followed suit.
"King of the Narrow Sea! King of the Narrow Sea!"
The chant rose from trembling lips, echoing across the ships and over the waves—until it became a roar.
Gendry stood at the prow, the sea wind whipping his cloak. Beneath the iron mask, his eyes burned with cold fire.
The Wolf King had claimed his new crown.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)