BLACKBIRD (Game of Thrones)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Valencia's boots clicked against the unstable platform as she approached the Greatjon Umber. She paused in front of him, the wind carrying the strands of hair in the wind. She tilted her neck upwards and met his beady, black eyes, he held a smirk on his withered face. "Queen of the North, and South now." Valencia nodded as he looked over the fleet behind her, he nodded approvingly. "Large fleet, and strong. You've done well. Other than the assassination attempt."

Valencia looked behind Greatjon, trying to spot familiar auburn hair. "Is Robb here?"

She secretly hoped he had come from Oxcross to see her, it would at least have eased her worries of the Volantis woman.

Greatjon shook his head. "No, Your Grace. Our King Robb is busy further down South."

"So he couldn't care to inspect my fleet?" She snapped, her nostrils flaring. She wasn't mad that he didn't come to see her new fleet, but that fact that he still didn't send word asking her of her health remained a thorn in her side. "If it wasn't for me, he'd still have to rely on the Greyjoys. What a mistake that would be."

Greatjon nodded. "Aye, their as treasonous as thieving whores."

Valencia glanced up to the walls of Castamere, long broken and collapsed, but still tall. "I applaud your ability to take Castamere, was it occupied before?"

"A few bandits, deserters, easy pickings."

"Good, I'm sure some parts of the Keep are in tact?" She questioned.

"The east side wing is, but the windows are shattered. The wind is stronger now, you've been gone to long, Your Grace. But you are a welcome sight, especially since none of us have seen women in weeks." Valencia noticed his wondering eyes to Lilith, then to Astraea. "Dacey, good to see you," he beamed as he patted her roughly on the shoulder. "And who's this beauty?"

The moment he looked to Astraea, she tensed up, her hand instantly going to the dagger at her hip. "Back off," she spat, eyeing him up and down threateningly.

Greatjon laughed. "I like her," he turned to Valencia. "If you'll let me escort you, my Queen."

Valencia smiled kindly and hooked her arm around his elbow as they began the climb to the castle, Valencia's guard and handmaidens behind her.
The steps were old and broken, cracks dove deep into the stone, erosion from the salty sea chipped away at high tides. The wind was harsh and cold, but nothing compared to Northern winds. The climb to the tops of Castamere was quick but treacherous. With falling debris from the ruined Keep above them and the crumbling steps. But once they entered through the gates and began moving through the Keep, everything began to look much better than outside.

"You've changed much since I last saw you, Your Grace." Greatjon announced as they roamed the east wing of Castamere.

Valencia nodded. "So I've been told."

"350 ships, more than Lord Balon Greyjoy would have supplied. Perhaps now, we'll be able to take the Rock?" He spoke hopefully.

"I believe that also, Lord Umber. But my ships will not be used to take Casterly Rock."

Then the mood changed.

Lord Greatjon came to an abrupt halt, his beady eyes swelling and his face turning red. "Why in the hell not?"

"I will not lose my ships to a Keep we won't be able to hold, I will only use my ships once we take Kings Landing." She made sure to emphasise on the 'my', no matter the hold the Stark's had on her, they were her ships and hers alone.

Greatjon's jaw tightened. "Those commands rest with your husband," he spoke harshly.

Valencia puffed out her chest, and tilted her head higher. "My husband has his Northerners. Before he sent my South  I had no control, now I do."