Part 3: The dogs of war

Gormon I

Pyke, 297 AC

The cup went flying through the air and crashed on the wall, splintering in a thousand tiny pieces and spilling its content on the stone. It was followed soon after by a stream of curses so vile that even a sailor would be put to shame.

Gormon watched all this and said nothing, even though he disliked curses and violence. By now, he was used to Lord Rodrik's fits of anger, and knew that the best way to endure them, was to just stay still and wait. It could take quite some time for quiet to return, for the Lord of Pyke had a fiery temper that was often exacerbated by the copious amounts of wine that he always drank, and on those days only his lady wife's pleading voice managed to calm him.

Luckily, this time it took only a few moments for Lord Rodrik to calm down. He paced around his desk like an enraged bull, then finally sitting heavily on his chair. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, took a couple of deep breaths, then looked at Gormon, who had silently breathed a small sigh of relief. "Read it again. The last lines, I mean."

Gormon opened again the parchment that had caused his lord's previous outburst, cleared his voice and began to read. "What else is there to be said? The two of them look too much alike for it to be a mere coincidence. It's not unreasonable to think that Lady Alannis was too close to her goodbrother Victarion in the early years of her marriage..."

Lord Rodrik swore again and banged his fist on the desk, causing Gormon to stop reading. He felt a pang of fear slowly creep into his heart as he hurriedly put the letter into one of his pockets. He had never seen Lord Rodrik in such a state, and there was no telling what he could do. Gormon just hoped he wouldn't choose to vent his rage on him.

"That...that swine!" he growled. "How dare he...how...THAT SWINE! MY OWN BROTHER!" Gormon could almost see the veins bulging on Lord Greyjoy's neck. "How dare he accuse our...my mother and my uncle of this?!"

Gormon didn't know what to answer. The eldest Greyjoy siblings hadn't always seen eye to eye on everything, and in later years they had basically become strangers to each other. But to accuse one's elder brother of being a bastard...that was one of the vilest actions conceivable.

"My lord...sometimes greed does bad things to the hearts of men." It wasn't the first time in history that someone had tried to slander their kin's legitimacy with lies in order to inherit their lands and titles. The Blackfyres were the most notorious example, with many more in the distant past. Even his own House had had a few cases.

Lord Rodrik nodded at his words. "Perhaps you are right, greenlander." he said, his voice still full of rage and contempt. "Old Wyk must not have been enough for Maron." He tapped his fingers on the desk.

"My lord, if I may..." Gormon said cautiously. "Your lady mother is well known around the islands, just like your late uncle. Everybody knows that they...they would never have done something like this. Nobody will believe your brother's accusations."

"My grandfather used to say that the world is full of idiots who will believe anything." said Lord Rodrik. "There are still far too many of my bannermen who despise his reforms, and most of them are on Old Wyk." By his tone, Gormon guessed that Lord Rodrik was regretting assigning Old Wyk to his brother. "The Old Way isn't dead yet, as much as Grandfather would have liked it."

Gormon realized what Lord Rodrik meant. Even if the...more traditionalist ironborn didn't actually believe Lord Maron's claims, they would pretend to in order to have an excuse to try to overthrow their rightful liege and return to their ancient customs. And if that happened...

"Do you want to send guards to arrest Lord Maron?"

Lord Rodrik pondered on those words and stroke his beard. "That would be the right thing to do, but...what would happen, then? This could lead to war. And I promised Grandfather on his deathbed that I would never let that happen."

Gormon recognized that Lord Rodrik was right. If something went wrong, the Iron Islands would soon be ravaged by the first civil war since before the arrival of the Targaryens. They had to be extremely cautious.

"You could always send a few men under a peace banner and ask your brother to come here and explain his actions."

His liege furrowed his brow. "That wouldn't work. Maron is far from stupid." He grunted. "For fuck's sake, whatever did I ever do wrong to deserve this?" Then he muttered a few colorfoul curses that Gormon had never heard. He silently sighed. Did they really have to send me here, of all places?

A few moments later, Lord Greyjoy banged both his fists on the desk. "I will have Cerenna and Dagon sent to Lannisport to visit her kin. If worst comes to worst, at least they will be safe." Then, he added: "About Maron...fuck, I don't know what to do!"

Gormon had an idea. "My lord, you could arrange a meeting on a neutral ground, giving your brother a chance to explain his actions. This way you may be able to settle things peacefully."

Lord Rodrik snorted. "Explain his actions..." He shook his head. "As much as I hate it...very well, Maester. Start writing a letter."

Gormon did as he was told. For a few days, nothing happened, and everybody on Pyke held their breath as they waited for an answer from Old Wyk.

Then the answer arrived, and everything changed. Ravens started flying in all directions, and armed men suddenly appeared everywhere, their faces grim and their hands firmly on their weapons.

Gormon dreaded what was to come. For anything that he had imagined would happen, he had never thought he would find himself involved in a civil war.

AN: Yes, this is Mace's uncle. And yes, I know that this Rodrik Greyjoy is kinda different from what we know about his canon self. However, remember that this is an AU. And anyway, anything will be explained.

Meanwhile, I'd like to hear your thought on the story so far. Is it good? Does it suck? Is there something that could be improved? Please, let me know.