……….

293 AC

Lannisport

The Iron Victory.

Victarion Greyjoy stood by the Iron Victories helm, his dark eyes looking fixed on the horizon as Lannisport drew near. They sailed in silence. Yet in mere moments this place will be louder than a busy slave market.

His hand shifted first to his longsword, then his battleaxe. Under his usual calm demeanor a storm was raging, Eurons plan was one that could help them eliminate the Lannisters early on yet didn't come without risks. It was a high risk, high reward plan. If the Lannisters see them coming all will be lost. He gripped his battleaxe tightly gritting his teeth.

"Hard to port, take us in …. ", He commanded, looking left.

The Royal Fleet lay anchored with the Lannisters fleet just off the harbor. Several lanterns adored the ships as they rocked on the waters of the Sunset Sea, the sea itself looked beautifully golden in the evening sun with a tinge of orange in them. In the distance Casterly Rock the ancient fortress of the Lannisters sat. The slanting rays of the sun fell on the fort and it looked like a mountain of light.

On the coast people moved along with their daily activities. Harbor masters droused in books, keeping the coin. Workers carrying wood or transporting some goods. A few men-at-arms leaned lazily across the various structures chatting away.

As the Iron Victory moved by the anchored ships he looked at the ship, the only men on board were either dozing off or chatting away. Some had noticed them and were hailing them. No alarm had been rung yet, it was now or never.

"Burn them all, let's go …. What is dead may never die ….", He shouted, blowing his horn twice as he threw a barrel of oil on the nearest ship followed by a lit cotton wick.

As the ship burst into flames the commotion started, his ships clashed into the royal fleet with men throwing barrels of oil, using flaming arrows, some rammed into the ships before boarding them, his Helmsman led the Iron Victory along with a few more ships into the main harbor. Gripping his battleaxe, he put on his black helmet shaped as a kraken, his black chain armor shining brightly as it reflected the roaring flames he jumped down into the pier with a battle cry.

" Burn them all "

" What is dead may never die "

" Spare no one "

Such cries echoed in the air as he led his personal crew into the harbor, his first opponent was a man of the City's Watch, his opponent roared as he rushed for him swinging his bastard sword too wide, he dodged the blow before bringing him down with a blow from his own battleaxe.

Without a moment to waste he moved right dodging another blow from a men-at-arms and sent his battleaxe clashing with his leather shield, overwhelming him before kicking him to the ground and finishing him off with another blow.

He looked up to see the streets burning, Ironborn everywhere, a small smile found the way to his face as he rushed right to confront a knight who had just taken down two of his men.

Judging by his armor the knight was of a lowly house. He struck Victarion with his longsword only to be blocked and later parried before a blow to his throat left him bleeding on the ground. Without looking back he moved forward. Taking up the Knight's shield as he moved up the street, he used it to block two arrows before grabbing a spear and flinging it directly at the archer. He grew mad with bloodlust as he brought down his battleaxe directly on to the skull of some poor soul, before moving again only to go on the defensive against another knight as he rode down on his horse, a beautiful black steed.

He positioned himself clutching his battleaxe with both hands and as the Kinght rode down ducking as he crashed his battleaxe into the steeds legs, the animal cried out in pain crashing to the ground into a burning pile of wood with a iron spike down it's rider throat as they both burned alive.

Looking left he saw some of his men dragging a woman and her daughter down into the street, their clothes half torn, soon they were on the ground with his men taking their turns with them one by one.

He went through the street to be met with some of his men engaged in a skirmish with some Lannister men-at-arms, led by some Westerlander noble.

" Finally a real fight ", he thought, tightening his grip on his battleaxe.

Shouting a battlecry he rushed into the fray aiming for the noble, they met in the street and for the first time since he landed, this noble was skilled enough not to leave openings as he slashed with his longsword, and defended against all attacks with his shield, on his shield were a coat of arms of gold coins in the checks of a checkered purple and white field.

As time rolled by he grew impatient giving his opponent a window, which led to him getting a deep cut on his cheek, had he not pulled out in time he would have been done for, but it was his day today, only he would prevail so he decided to give his opponent another window and the fool having grown overconfident by his first success took it, Victarion slashed with his battleaxe first chopping off his sword arm before hammering his way into his skull.

Slowly they made their way through the harbor and the outer city, raiding warehouses, shops ,houses ,shipyards and guard stations. The Lannisters were too late to send men, no help arrived from the Rock. The Ironborn reaved and raped through Lannisport for hours leaving a burning city in their wake. Taking gold and women to be their salt wives alike as spoils throughout the battle.

Hours later as he helped himself up onto the deck of the Iron Victory he had a huge smile on his face, he was drenched in blood and sweat yet he cared not, Baelons dream would be true the Ironborn would return to the Old Ways, any doubts he ever had about their success were now gone.

He had played his part now it was all up to Euron to play his.

"What is Dead May Never Die ….."

He shouted to the ever cheering crew before moving toward the helm, as the Iron Victory and their fleet sailed away into the darkness of the sea leaving a burning Lannisport behind.

The North, Moat Cailin

293 AC

Lord Eddard Stark

The winds howled south across the towers of the Moat as lord Eddard Stark stood atop one of the last remaining towers of this ancient fortress. For thousands of years the ancient fortress which had been the guardian of the North from invasion was a shadow of its former self. Of its twenty tall towers only three still remained standing, surrounding it layed blocks of basalt half sunk into the ground, reminding all of the Great Wall that once stood surrounding the towers. It was against those walls Andal armies led by Knights high on their faith had smashed, only to be repelled, slaughtered and thrown back to wherever they came from; that was only if they managed to brave the swamps of the neck first.

Lord Stark stood atop the gatehouse tower looking outside at the host he led south, almost twenty thousand men, mostly from houses Mormont, Glover, Umber, Karstark, Manderly, Flint, Hornwood, Bolton along with his own personal levies, the Reeds would join them as they rode south, their destination Seaguard.

Behind his stood around the carved table stood his lords, first was Lord Jorah Mormont the lord of Bear Island a good man brave and true who fought beside him in the trident, followed by his good friend Lord Greatjon Umber the lord of The Last Hearth a giant of a man nearly seven foot with his height only to be matched by the height of his greatsword, next was Robett Glover the Lord of Wolfswood, the man stood in the far side discussing something with a commander of his and finally last but not the least was Roose Bolton the Lord of the Dreadfort, Ned remembered how seeing him gave him creeps at first yet he had grown used to man's presence through Robert's Rebellion.

Moving back he spied map on the table, their route was simple following the kingsroad, crossing at the Twins and heading straight to Seaguard, it would be there they would decide the next course of action, possibly moving towards the Crag, Castamere or the Fair Isles for an invasion of the Iron Isles, Last he heard Stannis had set out with the Royal Fleet from Dragonstone heading south, with ships joining his from the Stormlands, Dorne was silent as usual, The Arbor and the Hightower fleet were patrolling the Shield Islands, hoping to hold off the Iron Fleet until the Royal Fleet arrived. While he had no doubts in Stannis capabilities he had his repercussions about the Royal Fleet, before Robert's Rebellion the Royal Fleet always had the Velaryon support, with a huge percentage of it comprising of ships and captains that flew under the banner of the seahorse, yet now it was a entirely new fleet flushed off with Stromlanders enjoying greater control with some Lord Seaworth from the Stromland enjoying high authority, due to Roberts insistence of " putting the dragonspawns in their place ". Yes the Velaryons were saling with Stannis but that was only because of their hatred for the Ironborn, not because of their loyalty for Robert.

Sighing he studied the map and as he did his eye moved towards Winterfell and his mind went back to the day this all began.

It was one cold dreary morning when the raven arrived, Lannisport had been burnt, The Lannisters and the Royal Fleet anchored at Lannisport burned, Baelon Greyjoy the Lord Reaver of Pyke had declared himself Iron King claiming the driftwood throne.

Getting the news he had immediately told Ser Rodrik to raise a sizable host and asked Maester Luwin to send messages to his Bannermen summoning them to war.

He spent the evening in the crypts that night, contemplating the situation….

"Another war …. Gods ….. "

He had sat beside his sister's tomb looking back through the years after the rebellion, ten years of peace and quiet, he was a father to four children now, his firstborn son and heir Robb was growing up into a strong and honorable boy, he was good with a sword and had a good heart loved by everyone in the castle, his first daughter Sansa was all his wife in both looks and mind, a perfect lady, that's what she would become, sometimes he was concerned about her obsession with songs and southron things but let it go dismissing it as something she would grow out of it, third was his little wild wolf Arya, gods even at four she was Lyanna come again, wild as her or Brandon was, she bowed to no one, most of the time one could find her in the yard, the crypts or the godswood in company of Jon and his last son was Bran a sweet of three would would one day do great things.

And finally there was his nephew, no son, his bastard son Jon, Jon Snow. He was the best of them in literally everything. He was a prodigy, took to his lesson easily and was as equally as good in the yard. He was skilled enough to disarm a grown man at the age of ten. He often switched between single and dual blades and was equally good with them, something that was exceedingly rare in this world, in fact the only man he knew of being able to do so was Set Arthur Dayne.

He surely had Lyanna's wildness, yet that was not what all he had, Ned feared he had too much of his father in him, the boy loved singing and took up the harp on his eighth name day. The boy listened to no one, most times he would either be in the library reading, the yard training, playing with Arya or somewhere in the crypts or the Broken Tower.

His personality and behavior towards Cat was most troubling.

While he never expected them to have a good relationship, he never expected him to behave as he does with Cat. He defiled her will regularly and talked back to her, insulted her even, without a care in the world and in the end he would be caught in a fix with Cat shouting about how he was a would be usurper and how he tormented her.

The boy didn't care what people said about him he always got whatever he wished for by hook or by crook, he remembered the incident when Cat had tried to have him eat in the kitchen, defiant as ever he refused to even eat at all, until being allowed at the high table with his siblings, his sense of self respect was surprising for someone raised as a bastard, often Ned feared that the boy knew the truth about his parentage and thus behaved as such, but he banished such thought. For it surely could not be so, Howland would never betray his confidence, would he ???

Jon's future troubled him, someone of his intelligence could go to the Citadel and prosper there, but his nephew dismissed it as soon as he suggested it, saying he would not swear off his life to serving others.

Even when he suggested the Night's Watch his nephew immediately rebuked him saying it was a penal colony for rapists, murderers and traitors ……

" My Lord…. My Lord ….. ", a voice snapped him out of his trance, he looked up to see lord Mormont calling for him.

"Yes Lord Mormont ", he answered, looking at him as the lord informed him of the latest news, for now he would banish all thoughts of his nephew from his mind for he had a war to fight.

The Silence, The Iron Fleet

Somewhere in the Sunset Sea north of the Iron Islands.

Lord Euron Greyjoy.

The Crow's Eye moved up to the upper deck of the silence, the ship lit with lanterns, it sailed under the cover of darkness, the only sound to be heard was that of the sea, and behind him nearly thirty ships followed , loaded with his Ironborn along Tyroshi and Myrish mercenaries. He moved to the helm to find his nephew Maron Greyjoy, his elder brother's second son at the helm, the boy moved away as he acknowledged his presence as he handed the control of the helm over to him.

As he steered his ship a sly smile adored his face, Victarion had played his part, it was all up to him now …...

Authors Note.

So there you have it, in my story the rebellion happened in 293, Jaekar is ten name days old currently.

As for Euron I wonder what he is doing...

Wait for the next chapter to find out...

Please comment you suggestions down below.