Chapter 19

“Lord Varys, to what I do owe this pleasure?” Yara Greyjoy asked the Spider as he descended upon the docks, where she had rounded up some three dozen Lannister men.

“I have been given orders to arrange the transport of certain cargo presently located in the Dragonpit, namely wildfire, for the voyage to White Harbor, and from there to Eastwatch-by-the Sea, which must begin as quickly as practicable,” Varys answered, “also, I have been named Master of Coin, so I will naturally help fund this expedition.”

“How convenient for you, milord. Tell me, what is to be done with these prisoners?” Yara inquired of the former Master of Whispers, a post still vacant at this point.

“Well, their escape is to be prevented, but they must be given a chance to enlist against the Night King. Your Grace will require plenty of sailors and soldiers for this campaign, so in the absence of a clear royal command, I’d advise you to simply put them to work on the oars. Busy hands don’t work as much mischief, wouldn’t Your Grace agree? No slavery, of course. When the war is over, they should probably be released, assuming that they didn’t revolt or mutiny, of course. No doubt, you’ve lost a good deal of Ironborn, and while these are not exchangeable for them, they can take up oars to free more of your Ironborn for combat,” Varys made a snap decision which cut down the numbers of potential Lannister troublemakers in King’s Landing just like that.

“Excellent. I am glad that we can work together and see eye to eye on this. After all, I paid the iron price for these men, didn’t I? Now that it’s clear that we’ve won the war, however, what’s to be done with the promise made to Theon and I regarding the independence of the Iron Islands? Queen Daenerys swore to us that the Iron Islands would be free of the Iron Throne, so will they be? If so, when might we expect this?” Yara demanded to know.

“Ah, yes. King Jon and Queen Daenerys are agreed that, once the war for the Long Night is finished, the Iron Islands shall be a free and independent kingdom after all. Until then, however, we must band together and share our resources, after all. This is the price of your freedom, the iron price, as you put it. Tell me, though, do you really intend to walk around the North with your buttocks bared, mooning every Northman, Wildling, White Walker, and wight, while risking frostbite on your bottom?” Varys raised the most obvious question even as he answered hers.

“This is excellent news, of course, for the Ironborn and myself. As to the Northern chill, I imagine that I’ll adapt and survive as needed. It helps to be at sea as much as possible, of course. The salt air and sea waters tend to thaw things out a bit more, don’t they? As much as I can, I will live and die as Yara the Bottomless, Queen of the Iron Islands, fierce and brave, a warrior queen so fearless that I dare to bare my arse for the world to see ... and kiss. A legend. A hero for the sagas of my people.

“You needn’t worry about me, Master of Coin. Perhaps your wildfire will keep me warm enough at any rate. Maybe you’d like to join us and sample what I have to offer you. Perhaps I can warm your face while you warm my bum,” Yara boldly flirted with the Spider, who showed no interest or attraction whatsoever.

“I’m afraid, Your Grace, that I have little desire where men or women are concerned, nor even boys. I have no taste for such things at all, nor much with which to act upon such lusts, even if I possessed them. All that I seek is your assurance that you will deliver this first shipment of wildfire to Eastwatch, to be followed by other such shipments. I can trust, on behalf of the King and Queen, that you will honor your word?” Varys replied with complete disinterest as he prepared to walk over to the Dragonpit to take charge of collecting the wildfire jars.

“A pity, but I understand, and yes, they can rely on me, as Queen of the Iron Islands, just as I trust that I can depend upon them to honor their vow,” Yara made her departure, eager to get the ships loaded up and readied now that she had a maritime task to execute.

“So, Your Grace, then, we have to put these captive Lannister men to work, it seems. It will certainly help our cause in that respect, even if most of them are piss-poor sailors, of course,” Darren Haerd observed, “we don’t need them to sail or fight, of course, as Lord Varys said, just to man the oars.”

“Stop!” a voice behind them called out.

“Ser Bronn, what brings you here?” Yara now turned to the Lord Commander of the City Watch, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, Lord of Castamere, as he approached her with Bernadette and two captives under the guard of the Gold Cloaks, “I just spoke to Lord Varys not a moment ago, in fact.”

“Well, I barely take a bride, courtesy of a Red Priestess, don’t even get a chance to consummate my marriage yet, and the bloody Hand of the King and Queen, that old Imp himself, assigns me the task of going ahead to drop off two criminals to be taken by ship to White Harbor, and from there to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, where they are to be inducted as sworn brothers of the Night’s Watch. A life sentence, if you will, for however long they might yet live, given the war with the Dead, of course,” Bronn explained, handing off his two prisoners.

“Which men are these? These are mere boys!” Yara noted Dander’s youth incredulously.

“That boy was Cersei’s last Master of Whispers and a pupil of the late Qyburn, one of his little birds, his spies. His name’s Dander. The other boy here is Ser Wyllam Haigh, formerly Master of Ships, originally from Lannisport. Yes, that’s how sad matters were for House Lannister of late. They had mere youths on their Small Council, of all possible things! Desperate lot they were!” Bronn commented, even as Bernadette held onto him more possessively than expected.

“Ah, so traitors and dangerous ones at that! I’ll have to keep my eyes on the both of you. Put them on my flagship, Darren,” Yara ordered her most trusted lieutenant these days.

“Well, at that, I shall take my leave of you, Your Grace. I do have to say that your chosen epithet is an excellent one. No historian’s going to forget to write of Yara the Bottomless, whatever happens in this war, unless, of course the Dead win. It’s quite catchy ... and a rather splendid bare arse, if you don’t mind my saying so. Anyway, best of luck to you and good, strong winds as well,” Bronn left Yara’s company and squeezed Bernadette’s bottom rather abruptly to reassure her of his continued affections, hoping to ease her jealousy a bit.

“You were jealous!” Bronn teased Bernadette a bit.

“A little, yes. I’ve got a lord now. I don’t feel threatened by common wenches. Screw them by the cartloads, if you wish! But a Queen ... much more dangerous to me and my cause! Yes, it’s not fair, since I had a King, a Hand, and a knight, but you’re the only one of the three willing to marry me. And it was just the one time with the other two. I swear that now that we’re wed, I’ll leave them alone. So, m’lord, if you must bed a Queen, it has to be a different Queen each time. Even a strumpet like me gets jealous now and then, especially when my good luck could run out someday and I’d be back as a handmaid like some dream that proved false,” Bernadette clarified, even as she ran her hand briefly over his groin.

“And on that note, let’s get ourselves a tavern room at last, so we can drink, bathe, change, and fuck, what say you?” Bronn encouraged Bernadette, who grinned at those ideas.

“With pleasure, m’lord,” his wife answered him with a wink.

For Yara, however, she was quite pleased to put her new sailors to work on the oars, manning the ships as part of the crews. For the four Lannister men assigned to the flagship, it was rather unpleasant, of course. Small rations, sour ale and mead, a shortage of fruit and water, and very hard, backbreaking labor were not the best moments or hours for the captured Lannisters. They feared that they would be enslaved or the next thing to it after the war and the second that the Dragon Queen’s back was turned.

The two youths who once sat on the Small Council, Dander and Ser Wyllam Haigh, were both summoned rather abruptly into the Queen’s personal cabin, later that evening, after a long day of sitting in a rather cramped cabin that they shared and awaiting their fates with terror and anxiety. The boys were now condemned to serve on the Wall as men of the Night’s Watch, with the old rules presumed to still exist as far as they knew. Even the slightest glimmer, sliver of hope, dangled by the likes of the Queen of the Iron Islands, was like a beacon of light in the worst of storms. Even so, their only real taste of female sovereigns had been Cersei Lannister and she didn’t exactly impress them of late as being a paragon of feminine mercy or kindness. There were certainly no guarantees with the Ironborn Queen.

“You are both only boys, yet you’ve already lived more, I dare say, in your short lives, than most others twice, even thrice your age. You’re not like these troops who were consigned to the oars, of course. You’re fit for something other than rowing, I trust that you agree with me. You’re already condemned to another kind of punishment, but you haven’t taken vows as men of the Night’s Watch yet, and there’s no guarantee how long there will even be a Night’s Watch. Let’s not worry about sticking too closely to certain ... aspects of said vows just yet, I would argue.

“For now, lads, you’re in my custody. I’m holding onto you, so while I’m keeping you against your will, I’d say that I’ve paid the iron price for you. Darren, what are your thoughts on these boys and their ... supposed chastity? Shall I enforce it?” Yara asked her first mate.

“Methinks that we Ironborn never had much use for chastity or celibacy, or whatever, Your Grace. It tends to be rather pointless, wouldn’t you say? Anyway, as you’ve said, they’ve not taken any such vows yet, and they won’t at least until they arrive at Eastwatch. That’s a long way from here, my Queen. Anything can happen ... between now and then. They could accidentally get burned up by a cache of wildfire or end up dead at the hands of wights or get tossed overboard. Just my thoughts. Not saying that they shouldn’t complete their sentence, just that life is frail and ... accidents happen, especially at sea. No sense in failing to enjoy their last days born taking the black,” Darren grinned, catching Yara’s drift, his own curiosity overcoming his jealousy for the moment.

“Plus, you’re hoping to find a salt wife or two in White Harbor and you’re expecting me to discard you as a lover in time, anyway, when I get bored with you, am I right?” Yara winked at Darren, not actually ready to dismiss him just yet.

“Something like that, Your Grace,” Darren agreed, his cock stiffening as he contemplated what Yara the Bottomless might do to the two lads.

“Come here, boys. I need someone to bathe me as well as shave my cunt and my bottom. They’re rather dirty at the moment. Can you manage that?” Yara instructed the youths, deliberately humiliating two former members of the Small Council with servile tasks.

While well aware of the insult intended to them with these menial duties, both fellows realized that they were really in no position to argue or defy their captor. They weren’t lords or even members of the Small Council anymore. Dander was no longer Master of Whispers. Ser Wyllam Haigh was still nominally a knight, but he had nothing else but that title. He was certainly not Master of Ships anymore. They didn’t dare to refuse their new duties, though they lacked much practical experience in terms of shaving such sensitive and delicate areas with the only bladed tools available to them on the ship, so nicks were inevitable.

“Good, now wash me clean, lads,” Yara commanded them, while Darren was on the deck, keeping the men busy at the oars and sails.

Not having much of an alternative, both Dander and Ser Wyllam removed Yara’s shirt and bathed her fully. They even washed her hair as well as they could in the cabin of a ship such as the Balon, the name that Yara chose in honor of her late father. Both lads reminded themselves that they came up from the lower ranks, and while they had flown high and close to the Sun, their standing declined along with the Lannister lion. Once he accepted his fate, Dander in particularly found something very sensual and erotic about caressing the sinewy legs and thighs of the Ironborn Queen. For Ser Wyllam, it was much about her scarred breasts, which were still smaller than he usually preferred, but quite firm and with a decent amount of cleavage to them.

After a good while, Yara’s handpicked menservants, once high-ranking officers of the Lannister regime, finished cleaning her body and brushing her hair in the particular manner that she instructed them. She loved it as she then seized Dander by his hair and pushed him downward to shove his face into her gash. She held him there with her muscled thighs squeezing his head as she rocked her hips back and forth.

“You, knight, part my cheeks and stick your tongue in my arse crack. I want you to focus on my pleasure, lad. Taste me, boys! Tell me that isn’t every bit as well as salty and sweet as the women like to claim. I could easily grow accustomed to having men lick me below my waist, as I am Yara the Bottomless, am I not? You might not know as much as women about how to lick me, but you’ll serve well enough while you await your vows. At least this way, fellows, you’ll get a last taste of womanly flesh before you have to swear it off, am I not right?” Yara laughed as she ordered the young men to lick her below the waist.

Ser Wyllam privately agreed that this was a perk of their new position, as they didn’t know if or when they would ever get another chance to bed or even lick a woman again. If the Night King prevailed, this might be their last opportunity to even smell or look upon women for all that they knew. There were no guarantees. Rumor had it that Mole’s Town was abandoned, not to mention pretty far from White Harbor or Eastwatch. That hope was gone, probably for good. In spite of the humiliation, he enjoyed the surprising sweetness of Yara’s pucker. At least she had a clean bottom and it came naturally to lick her bum, including her buttocks themselves after a short while. Instinct took over, even though he was generally not fond of the Ironborn at all.