GOT: House Redwyne

The sea churned violently beneath the clashing warships, foam and fire mixing in a chaotic swirl as the battle raged on. The Redwyne fleet, once maneuvering with precision, was now caught between the closing Lannister-Tarly formation. The sharp creak of wood, the clang of steel, and the screams of dying men echoed across the waves. The scent of burning pitch and salt filled the air as fire spread across the decks of splintered ships.

Paxter Redwyne stood at the center of the Gilded Vine, his blade slick with blood, his breath coming in sharp gasps. Around him, his men fought with desperation, their backs to the railings, as Lannister soldiers poured onto the deck. The battle was slipping from his control. He had made his move, striking at the heart of the enemy formation, but Jaime had anticipated his strategy and now House Redwyne was trapped.

Mina ducked beneath a wild swing of an enemy's blade, rolling back to her feet before burying her dagger in a soldier's ribs. She pulled it free, shoving the body aside as she met Paxter's eyes.

"They're pressing from both sides! If we don't break free now, they'll board every last ship!" she shouted over the chaos.

Ser Martyn was engaged near the main mast, clashing with a Lannister officer. He parried a strike, delivering a brutal counter that sent the man sprawling. "Lord Redwyne, we need to push through the western flank while we still can!"

Paxter's mind raced. Their ships were outnumbered, their formation collapsing, and the enemy was boarding faster than they could repel. If they stayed in this position, they would be overrun. But if they moved too soon, they could be picked off in open water.

A nearby explosion sent a shockwave through the Gilded Vine, splintering part of the deck as another Redwyne ship took a direct hit from a Lannister catapult. The fire spread quickly, turning the vessel into a burning husk, its crew desperately leaping into the sea to avoid the flames.

Paxter clenched his jaw. They had no choice. "Signal the fleet. Break the western line. We cut through them, or we die here!"

The order was relayed, signal flags waving from the mast. The remaining Redwyne ships, seeing the danger of their position, adjusted their course. Oars dipped into the churning water, turning the fleet westward, aiming to punch through the weakest point in the Lannister blockade.

Jaime Lannister, standing atop the Iron Fury, saw the shift in the Redwyne formation. His lips curled into a smirk.

"Ah, there it is. The desperation push," he mused. He turned to his first officer. "Move the flanks in tighter. Don't let them slip free."

Randyll Tarly, standing beside him, scowled. "If they escape, they'll regroup and harass us for weeks."

Jaime's golden hand tapped the railing thoughtfully. "They won't escape. If we hold them for just a little longer, they'll be too battered to run."

On the open water, the Redwyne ships surged forward, their captains pushing their vessels with everything they had left. Oarsmen rowed furiously, sweat and blood streaking their faces, muscles screaming as they forced their ships into the enemy's flank. The impact was thunderous—hulls slammed together, boarding planks were thrown, and the fight continued on both deck and sea.

The Gilded Vine crashed into an enemy warship, sending both crews stumbling. Paxter surged forward, cutting down a Lannister soldier before throwing another overboard. His men followed, pushing onto the enemy ship in a desperate bid to break free.

Mina climbed onto the railing, using the chaos to leap onto an adjacent vessel, landing hard but rolling to her feet. She drove her dagger into a soldier's throat before kicking another into the mast. "Martyn! To me!" she called, spotting the knight still fighting on the Gilded Vine's deck.

Ser Martyn, bloodied but unbowed, cut his way across the ship and followed her onto the next vessel, knowing that if they didn't move now, they'd all die where they stood.

Paxter fought his way toward the bow, gripping the ship's wheel. His face was streaked with sweat and smoke, his muscles aching from the relentless pace of battle. He saw the opening—the Redwyne fleet was fracturing the Lannister line, but it wasn't enough.

A sudden roar of fire lit the sky as another ship exploded, the force sending a shockwave of flame rolling over the battle. The heat licked at his skin as he turned his gaze eastward.

There, in the distance, was his final move.

The fire ships.

Three Redwyne vessels, coated in pitch and oil, unmanned except for their helmsmen, drifting toward the heart of the enemy fleet. If they connected, they would ignite everything in their path.

Paxter's stomach twisted. They were running out of time.

Mina had seen them too. "Paxter! The fire ships! They're getting too close!"

Jaime Lannister, watching from the Iron Fury, spotted them as well. His smirk faded. "Seven hells…"

Randyll Tarly stepped forward. "Do we pull back?"

Jaime hesitated for half a second. He hated retreating, but he wasn't about to burn at sea for Tarly's war. His gaze locked onto the oncoming inferno, then back at Paxter, whose eyes were already on him.

"No," Jaime said. "We fall back."

Tarly was furious. "You—!"

Jaime turned sharply. "The Reach will still be yours, but I will not waste my fleet in an inferno. If Redwyne wants his moment of glory, let him have it—for now."

He gave the order, and the Lannister and Tarly fleets began to pull away, leaving the Redwyne fleet to regroup.

Paxter exhaled sharply, his body shaking from exhaustion. The Lannisters had withdrawn, but he knew what this meant.

They had won this battle, but Jaime Lannister never forgot a defeat.

Mina gripped the railing, watching the Lannister fleet disappear over the horizon. "They'll be back."

Paxter sheathed his sword, looking over the wreckage of the battle, the shattered hulls, and the smoldering remains of his ships. "Yes. But next time… we'll be ready."

The Battle for the Arbor was over, but the war for the Reach had only just begun.