Ygon

The day was young so far, and Ygon was already out in the courtyard doing some training, or observing more accurately. Father rarely reaved as the other Ironborn lords did, instead preferring to fish and fend off pirate attacks. Lonely Light certainly lived up to its namesake. Ygon didn't share his father's isolationism or concern for the west, and instead watched two reavers practise their shield formation. Aron and Dagmar were at it again. He felt a thump on his back.

"Brother!" Gyles called out. His big brother in both age and girth, and heir to the island clearly wanted to oversea the training too. "Father's wishing you to come speak in the tower. Yohn too apparently, if you can find him." Ygon took that as a sign, and went looking for Yohn.

"Shield up a bit, Dagmar!" He called out as the youth failed to raise his shield on time. "If you were out reaving the Summer Isles, you'd be half full of arrows by now!"

"Ye thanks, milord!" He replied as Aron launched his longaxe at the shield. Now he raised it.

Ygon didn't need to guess where Yohn would be again. He went through the castle's outer wall towards the beachhead. Even far out, it didn't take long to find his brother out with an empty jug of mead next to him. As he approached, he saw what was going on. His eyes were closed, but Ygon knew what colour they would be.

"Brother! Brother!" He shook his shoulder, and to no surprise, Yohn's eyes opened as pure white for a split second, before switching back to their normal grey. He shuddered and coughed as he came back to consciousness.

"Ah...ah! I see em! I see ships!" He gasped and reached in vain for the jug. "Not like ours, a queer shape, and many of them!" By the Drowned God, Ygon thought.

"How much have you drank this time? You know you shouldn't drink when you go into Nipper!" Nipper was the name of the spotted whale Yohn had bonded with, with a single upturned tooth that stuck out of its mouth. He had to speak quietly, not in case of his men, but in case islanders from east heard what was being said. "And what's all this talk about ships?"

"I saw them, it's true!" His little brother exclaimed. "I swear by the drowned god himself!"

"I'd dare not invoke his wrath if I were you!" Drowned Priest Orrigan came by, a long bearded fellow who neared seventy, old even by the standards of the priests. "Be careful he doesn't trap your soul in that whale, and you lose it to that beast, never feasting in those beautiful halls below." Yohn felt scared somehow, sweat coming down his face in a way Ygon hadn't seen since they'd lost their sister to shivers. "Out with it!"

"Priest, I see a great fleet coming east, to meet us." Ygon was fed up with this nonsense, but his attempt to drag his drunken brother up was unsuccessful. "They came from a route even Elissa Farman never knew of!"

The priest shook his head. "That's impossible. Centuries, millennia even of navigation by Ironborn have never made contact with some other men of the sunset lands. Why now?"

Ygon was red in the face. This was tragic. "Worry not, priest, I will take my brother to be disciplined with father!"

"As you wish, my Lord," Orrigan said as he went on. Ygon carried Yohn with his underarm, pulling and holding him up.

It took some time for them to walk up the steps of the tower up to Father's quarters. He was with Gyles and a couple of salt wives and what appeared to be his half brother. Ygon guessed it was some dispute.

"Leave, both of you." Their father said as he noticed Ygon and Yohn enter. Only the brothers and father remained now. "Do you know of why you're here?"

Yohn was shaking now, and Ygon confused. "Another raiding party, I presume? Lord Greyjoy promises we can go to Slaver's Bay once his plan is in motion."

Gyles, the heir apparent offered his proposal. "Mayhaps we need to increase our whaling stock? The Ibbenese are visiting less frequently now, and our own have gone down in number." He knew logistics better than his brothers, but it seemed Father shook his head at either.

"I...Ive heard stories. Of west." Yohn really shook now. Three of my westernmost fishing boats were supposedly lost to a ship unlike any we've seen before. Only a single sailor managed to come ashore to tell me."

"I was right!" Yohn cried out! "They're coming." Ygon decided to let him go, where he fell to his knees. Mad, he is.

"Enough." Lord Farwynd interrupted before insults could be exchanged. "Whatever your brother saw in his...gift only strengthens what that sailor saw. I do not think him mad, for while he was shook, it seems he could describe quite rigorously who came for his ship. Their outfits, their tongue, even the beasts they had transported were all queer indeed. I can't think of anywhere in Essos or the south that is even close to them, bar mayhaps the Summer Islanders."

"Well, father," Gyles began. "What can our brother say?" He turned to Yohn, who was annoyed about Ygon being so careless.

"I was only as a whale, brother. I saw almost nothing of those men, bar one who looked over the side. It seemed as though his hair stood up like a plant and was all sorts of colours! But I could only see through Nipper's watery eyes, not my own." He sulked.

Father paused for a couple of moments. "What you said has consistency with what the sailor said, for he-" before Father could continue, the maester and two guards barged through. "How dare you interrupt your lord!"

Maester Arwylle was stuttering again. "My-My L-lord, we've spotted s-sh-sh-ships near doc-doc-d-dock! I-i-i-i-"

The guard to his left interrupted. "Milord, he's not mad, there are strange ships in our waters, and they're attacking our own! There's at least a dozen warships and four cargo ships as I saw, and there may be more that we don't know about!" What?

Ygon was astonished. "Is this some cruel jape?" He drew his axe, enraged that they would dare organise such a thing. His brother was half-mad, and a sailor fully mad, and now they were expected to believe that all of a sudden, the lands to the west were to reveal themselves? Preposterous! He walked forward. "If this is one of Dagmar's pranks, I will have his shit-filled head for-"

"Sheath yourself, son!" the Lord of Lonely Light spoke with a tone of iron as sharp as any blade. A horn was heard in the distance. The horn for battle!

"This is unpresidented, father!" Gyles exclaimed. "How could we not have known this?" He let the soldiers go past into the courtyard to mobilise the soldiers. Why, you fool, Ygon thought. How could any of this nonsense be even contemplated as truth?

Father looked down, ashamed. "It is not so." He got closer to his sons, including Yohn, who stood up once more. He spoke as little more than a whisper. "I should have listened to their envoys."

Ygon flew into rage. "You speak of madness, father! You mean that not only are the lands west of Westeros true, but they sent envoys? How could you not have informed us? Everyone else too!" Nothing in the Iron Islands' entire history could be compared to this. The Deep Ones who serve the Drowned God surely knew of such people, but they were not mortal men, and would never give such secrets away willingly. He felt betrayed. Had he and the people of Lonely Light been lied to all this time?

"When I was a boy, my own father and your nuncle Naeron came across a ship while sailing, full of strange gifts. Flowers of all shapes and colours, fruits unlike any we'd seen before, many dragonglass blades, the pelt of a great bear or pig of some kind, and this sweet drink to which we had no comparison!" He paused. "Their leader wore a crown of white and green feathers five feet long, and armour of leather and dragonglass scales. He had the gift too, for he walked alongside a huge long-legged crocodile, as tall as a draft horse and much longer. We knew not a word of one another's languages, but I could tell they wanted gifts in exchange for something. My father hoped to offer gold and silver in exchange, but my uncle Naeron spilled his drink. The newcomers took offense to this, as if they'd had their son killed in front of them, and left in disgust. We kept none of their gifts. I wonder why their commander didn't set his beast upon us that day." This was all too much to take in at once! He might as well have told of the rise of Valyria once more, or the Targaryen exiles hatching a dragon!

"How could you not have told us, father?" Gyles was more hurt than angry. "We could have prepared, warned Pyke. Warned the Iron Throne! Now we are lost!"

Boom!

They felt a shaking as some projectile landed in the courtyard. The attack was already starting. The men were panicking and getting to their station.

Father drew his axe. "We're not lost, son. We've found our purpose. Tonight, we will dine in the halls of the Drowned God!" Now all three brothers drew their swords and went out into the courtyard to face the enemy.

There was rubble in the middle, as the enemy had launched some flammable substance at them from a siege weapon abroad one of the ships. The men who hadn't been killed or injured already started to pour outside the walls to defend against the attackers. Ygon and Gyles ran across the side of the walls as they saw what was coming. The ships were quicker than they could ever have imagined!

The first ship made beachhead. It was a mighty vessel, vaguely resembling the Ironborn's own, but made of a strange wood, and with two heads on each end. One of a wolf of some sort, and the other of something Ygon did not know. Out of the ship poured the strangest fighters he had ever seen. With hide spherical shields and dragonglass clubs, maces, axes and spears, they came out in droves, battling the Westerosi. Their armour was what appeared to be bronze, inferior to steel plate but nevertheless superior to the leather Father had mentioned. They fought fiercely too, and like the Ironborn, they did not fear death. Their skin was red with white and blue markings, their lips pierced and chin forked. They were a new people indeed! Ygon reached for a small scorpion to fire upon the invaders, and chose a target. Aron was fighting a huge warrior, over seven feet tall and covered in bronze armour that looked strangely like those of the Ghiscari, yet with a helmet that resembled those of the Northerners, bar the black feathers on top. This hulk of a man was getting the better of his warrior, so Ygon fired. This one missed, and he went down to reload. Gyles got on his own turret and began to fire at the invaders alongside the archers. Men began to pour burning sand and boiling water upon the invaders, driving them off. Ygon fired again, and this time, hit the giant of a man straight in the neck, nearly decapitating him. He waved at Aron, but Aron was only able to smile for a short while before turning to shock, as a wolf pounced from the ship at Dagmar and tore him asunder. But it wasn't really a wolf, for its head was much larger compared to its body, and its proportions were alien. It was as large as a lion in fact, with a head more than twice as large! It too wore some leather armour over it to protect from arrows. Ygon only felt worse as five more of the beasts lept at the Ironborn and savaged at any who got too close. Aron managed to bury his axe in one of them before fending off another with a shield.

A squadron of Ironborn tried to board another ship that had come ashore, but they were bowled out of the way by a big shape that Ygon couldn't even see, obscured by the battle. All he knew was that it was hairy and had a mounted archer on it. He aimed the scorpion to fire.

A heat caught to him, and he felt like he was flying. Bits of rock and dust peppered him as he fell to the ground with a sickening crunch.

"Aaaaaaaagghhh!"

His arm was broken, that was what he could tell even before he opened his eyes again. He tried to get back up, but his body was weak. Dust was all around him, and it was hard to see besides rubble and dead bodies, many Ironborn and a few of the attackers too. What had they done?

Out of the fog came more of the attackers with bows and arrows, as well as crossbows and spears. Instead of pouncing upon him there and then, they parted to his left and right. Another figure appeared, obscured by the fog of soot and dust.

A strange tongue was spoke by the man as the soldiers lowered their weapons. This man was uncanny in his appearance. His hair was black as soot and went down to his shoulders, while he was clean shaven bar a moustache that went all the way down to his flat stomach. The man's eyes were as red as rubies, as if full of blood rather than water. His chisseled jaw was decorated with rings and crystals of multiple types; emerald, sapphire, dragonglass and ruby. Even while nearly fifty years old, the man was in good fighting shape. His mouth was small and his nose large and like an eagle's beak. He held in his right hand a great bronze warhammer, its head shaped like a beak to bite into armour, and amethysts encrusted into its eyes. He wore steel plate, far beyond any of the others in quality, and his armour had what appeared to be a great bird etched into it. But there was the faintest hint of another etching beneath it, something that resembled a head... He also wore a dark blue cloak over it all. Behind him was another shape, long and snarling.

The man bent over Ygon, who writhed in pain. The man spoke some words in his native tongue, clearly of contempt. Then, to Ygon's astonishment, he spoke a few words of the common tongue.

"Your men...die well. With big courage." It was broken, but it was the common tongue nevertheless! How many Westerosi had found themselves wherever these invaders came from over the centuries, Ygon wondered. His father had told him the New World would bring new chances to the Ironborn, not dread like this. "You should have accepted our friendship." He said plainly. He turned around, toward the shadow.

The great mass appeared as a scaly snout, gnarly and with teeth protruding out. As it came closer, the true size of the scaly monster became apparent. It must have been at least six feet tall at the shoulder, if not more, and more than twenty feet long with its long tail behind it. What concerned him most however was the jaws, with teeth like blades pointing downwards, ready to strike. Along its back were scutes from the neck down to the tail. It was the long legged crocodile Father had mentioned!

Feeling the piss leave his body, Ygon knew his time was numbered. He looked towards the mysterious commander, for some plea of mercy he knew wasn't coming. The commander smiled ever so slightly, and said 'Myurbakar', and the beast approached, hissing and opening its jaws.
Just as it pounced and began to tear into him, Ygon noticed that the old etching in the commander's armour was a wolf. A dire wolf. That armour had once belonged to the Starks! As he died in agony, Ygon felt the most bitter irony.