"Victarion is dead. The Iron Fleet didn't even last a day."
Kevan Lannister rode a fine horse as he spoke to Tywin, who rode a white steed half a length ahead of him.
They had hoped the commander of the Iron Fleet could hold down the Targaryen main force, freeing the Westerlands army to strike behind enemy lines and withdraw from the Westerlands at their leisure.
Instead, the Ironborn had failed to last even a day. Their entire force had been annihilated.
Victarion's head had probably already become a Targaryen trophy.
The carriage jolted.
Tommen Baratheon was woken by the voices outside his window.
He rubbed his eyes and heard the voice of his great-uncle, Kevan Lannister, outside.
Traveling day and night without stopping was too much for a child.
Even sitting in the carriage, the jolting left his bottom aching.
Then he heard his grandfather Tywin's voice, as cold as ever.
When Grandfather Tywin was angry, no one in the entire castle dared speak loudly.
He heard only one word:
"Useless."
Tommen sat up and stared blankly out the window. He did not understand what had happened to everything.
He had been perfectly happy in King's Landing. Then one day, Uncle Tyrion had sent men to take him to a castle and told him to stay there.
But before long, a crowd of men had surrounded the castle. During that time, he had been afraid to sleep alone every night.
Then Uncle Jaime had come, but Uncle Jaime seemed to have been defeated. After that, people had taken him away, fleeing all the way to his grandfather.
He did not know why they had to keep running.
All he had heard was that bad people had taken their home, the Red Keep in King's Landing. They had nowhere to