Aboard the King Robert's Hammer…

King Daveth Baratheon and his men gathered around the war table, each observing a map detailing the Iron Islands' seven major islands in the chain and map marker pieces stationed on several key locations where they will launch their all-out invasion. This was it, the final confrontation between the mainlanders and the ironborn. Daveth knew this was a critical moment where his naval and ground forces would either seal the fate of House Greyjoy or be driven out. The Young Stag inhaled through his nose before exhaling; his mind was made up. There will be no retreat, no surrender. The plan was to be carried out accordingly.

"Scouts report that Balon Greyjoy's forces had holed up throughout the Iron Islands," spoke Rodrik Cassel. "What's left of the Iron Fleet should put up little resistance, but they're still formidable on open water. We need to get them on broken ground and put them at a disadvantage."

Greatjon Umber shook his head. "Bah! They'll offer heavy resistance either way. We need to get around them and have our fleets distract them from behind so our troops can move in. Less of a hassle and we''ll have plenty of manpower to spare when the day is done."

"To do that, we'll need to cover more ground," Robb studied the map. "The closest island is Harlaw, it's the second largest after Great Wyk and is both the wealthiest and most populous region."

'Great Wyk…' thought Daveth, remembering the haunting images of his brutal torture at the hands of the ironborn so many years ago. He furrowed his brow, bringing his hand up to scratch his chin.

"Your Grace?" Lord Commander Ser Barristan Selmy broke his concentration.

Daveth shook his head. "It's nothing," he dismissed. He leaned forward, studying the map. "Lord Bolton, how many men do we have left from the last two battles?"

"After losing 10,000 men to free Moat Cailin plus another 8,000 to break the ironborn navy at sea, we have about 71,000 troops remaining," Roose informed the King. "Plenty enough to engulf the Iron Islands, though the battle will still be costly. If what Lord Umber suggests is accurate, then we will face heavy resistance once our soldiers land on solid ground."

Randyll spoke up. "There are no easy choices in war, Lord Bolton. You either march off to war with what you have or wait on the sidelines while our enemies gather strength. Here, we cannot afford to waste such valuable time. If we are to strike, it must be done now."

"Well then, we're all agreed on one thing," Stannis remarked, "that is to strike now before any of the ironborn could prepare a mounting defense. Balon Greyjoy and all who follow him must be destroyed or all of Westeros will feel the painful sting of defeat and humiliation for generations."

"Listen to yourself, Lord Stannis," Galbart Glover protested. "If you use force to wipe out tens of thousands, then how are we any better than the ironborn?"

Daveth pondered over the consult of his gathered generals. He agreed this campaign needed to be brought to a close soon, and it needed to be done now. But even the Young Stag knew that anything bold or reckless would possibly cost him more men in the long term. Running multiple scenarios in his mind, Daveth picked up a war piece in his hand, feeling the wooden structure brush against his fingertips.

"We're doing this to save lives, Lord Glover, to end the war, not for the pursuit of glory," he finally interjected. "I will mourn for the dead, yet I'll do whatever I must so that no one else has to suffer at the hands of their treachery again."

Robb felt uneasy about his brother-in-law's speech pattern, yet detected a notion of conflict in his voice as well. An inner struggle, no doubt. Before anyone could speak up, Daveth's squire Olyvar Frey ran into the tent.

"Your Grace!" he panted. "We've got ships approaching!"

All eyes turned to the Frey lad. "Under what banner?" the King asked. "What are their colors?"

"Are they ironborn?" Stannis demanded.

Olyvar shook his head. "No, my lord. It's not the Greyjoys. Their sigils are, uh… the sails are blue. With a, uh, white falcon and a crescent moon."

Daveth raised an eyebrow. "A white crescent moon and falcon on a blue field… That's the sigil of House Arryn."

"So the knights of the Vale finally decide to come to our aid after staying on the sidelines for far too long," Stannis remarked harshly. "If so, then they've come a bit late after choosing not to come to their King's aid when that prancing fool Renly took up arms."

"Don't dismiss them out of turn yet, Lord Stannis," Robb spoke up. "The knights of the Vale are some of the most capable soldiers in Westeros, trained to fight on ice or deep snow. Some are even taught to battle on steep cliffs and mountainous terrain. Yes, they've disappointed us by not aiding us when Renly rebelled, but they're here now."

As Robb and Stannis traded back and forth, Daveth stepped outside his war camp on his flagship and noticed the Arryn fleet sailing alongside King Robert's Hammer. Upon observing them, Daveth counted at least a host of 20,000 Vale knights plus 10,000 cavalry. One of the Vale longships lowered a drawbridge to the deck of King Robert's Hammer, allowing a leading Vale lord to walk onto the royal flagship. Daveth recognized him right away, with grey hair, stale-grey eyes and bronze armor.

"Lord Royce!" Daveth exclaimed surprise. "How did you know where we were?"

Bronze Yohn lowered his head apologetically. "Apologies for the delay, Your Grace, but we were just informed of the situation by Queen Sansa. She believed you could use our help."

"Sansa sent you?"

"She did. Lord Baelish showed Lord Robin the contents of the letter you've sent across the nation and had him convince our lord to send any military aid in putting down this uprising."

'Of course, Littlefinger has his own agenda; but Sansa… thank the Seven for that woman,' the Young Stag felt relief washing away his doubts. "Then are the knights of the Vale ready for the final push, Lord Royce?"

Yohn nodded. "They are, Your Grace."

"Then this battle is already over."

Both walked back inside, with many of the Northmen, River lords, Stormlanders and others noticing the arrival of the Vale knights. With the extra reinforcements now finally gathered, the battle plan could now begin.

"With the knights of the Vale now here, we have more than enough to strike a decisive blow," Robb said. "You see here?" he pointed to the map. "Right here, Harlaw is the closest island to us. Above it lie Orkmont, Blacktyde, Old Wyk and Great Wyk. That leaves Pyke, the capital of the Iron Islands itself."

"So what's it going to be?" Greatjon Umber rose up. "Do we hit them by land? Or by sea?"

Daveth looked at the map once more, gathering pieces of the puzzle before looking at his gathered generals again. "Lord Bolton, you and your men will take Harlaw. Take its wealth and resources. Ser Kevan Lannister and his men will provide back up while Lord Redwyne covers you by sea."

Roose stood stone-faced, but his arms folded. "Understood, Your Grace," he acknowledged. The King's great-uncle, Ser Kevan, nodded his head as well.

Daveth then placed the war piece of House Bolton, House Lannister and House Redwyne on strategic locations surrounding Harlaw before looking up again. "Lord Umber, you and Lord Stannis will both lead the vanguard on the largest island of Great Wyk. Have your forces make landfall at Pebbleton while Ser Vance Corbray circles around behind them with 10,000 cavalry to Sealskin Point. Ser Lucius, you take the Seaswift and Lionstar along with a dozen longships to provide cover by sea."

Stannis said nothing, Lucius and Vance nodded in acknowledgment, but it was Lord Greatjon Umber bellowed up a thunderous laughter. "My, my! We get the biggest piece of the pie! Not to worry, Your Grace, I've been making corpses out of men for thirty years. We'll give those fuckers a fight they'll never forget!" he exclaimed proudly, prompting several chuckles from those assembled.

Even Daveth himself could resist but grin at Greatjon Umber's bold confidence, before planting war pieces of House Umber, House Baratheon of Dragonstone and three of House Arryn on each strategic point covering Great Wyk. No doubt the battle would be beneficial since it was Lord Stannis Baratheon himself who subdued the largest island itself eleven years earlier and since he knows the island his insight would be of great aid to those who remain unfamiliar to the terrain.

"Ser Barristan Selmy," he turned to his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, "you and your men will take Old Wyk as you've done before. Pave the way for our troops."

Barristan nodded. "It will be done, my boy."

Daveth nodded and placed a war piece on Old Wyk itself. "Lord Edmure and the Blackfish will subdue Saltcliffe. Lord Karstark, you and Lord Royce will take Orkmont. Lady Tarly, you and your son take Blacktyde."

Rickard Karstark, Edmure Tully, Brynden Tully, Yohn Royce, Randyll Tarly and Dickon Tarly nodded their heads in acknowledgment as Daveth set down more pieces on the war map. Before he could speak again, his squire spoke up.

"Pardon my manners, Your Grace, but where will you be?" Olyvar asked.

All eyes looked to the Young Stag. Even Robb Stark wanted to know the details as well. Fully composing himself, Daveth picked up the final puzzle piece bearing his sigil of House Baratheon, a gold stag on a black field – all of which are attached to wood. Trading glances with his generals, Daveth placed the wooden piece down onto the map.

"I will take 30,000 men and lay siege to Pyke," he answered.

Even the King's own uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister—who was standing next to his nephew—scrunched up his face as other lords looked surprise at the youth's response. "Your Grace," he spoke up, "that stronghold is the most heavily defended and the fighting will be the thickest. For all intents and purposes, you're going to need all the help you can get. I'm going with you."

Daveth looked at his uncle. "I wasn't going to object. The remaining Kingsguard will be coming with me."

Jaime nodded, pleased that his nephew was listening to him.

"Lord Glover, you lay siege to Ten Towers and rescue Robett. Find your brother, and bring him home."

Galbart nodded eager to fight. "It will be done, lad. House Glover does not abandon one of its own."

"Lady Mormont, you take the port town of Lordsport. Burn it to the ground."

Maege of Bear Island readied herself for battle, her daughters Dacey, Lyra and Jorelle all steeled themselves for the final battle. "We'll show them the fury of Bear Island," she proclaimed.

"Robb."

The Young Wolf turned to his brother-in-law.

"You'll be coming with me too. Bring that direwolf of yours as well."

Robb nodded, much to the growing discomfort of his own bannermen. The direwolf Grey Wind, meanwhile, stood up on his paws beside his master. Once they were absolutely certain of their positions and objectives, the gathering lords spent the next several minutes getting to their ships so they could begin the invasion of the Iron Islands.

Daveth looked at his men. "Listen up. You all know our purpose. Why we're here. The ironborn know we're coming. For some, this will be a one-way trip. For too long Balon Greyjoy and his lackeys ran rampant across the Seven Kingdoms unchecked. It's time we rectify that error. There can be no retreat, no surrender, no hesitation. We move forward at all cost. Now… let's win this war so we can all go home."

"For the King!"

"Long live the Oathkeeper!"

"The North remembers!"

Lord Greatjon Umber was the first to depart the war tent, accompanied by Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, Lady Maege Mormont, Patrek Mallister and the others followed suit. Daveth watched each of them leave, but stopped only a handful before they got on their ships to carry out their instructions.

"Jaime, Kevan, Ser Meryn, Lord Bolton, Lord Tarly, wait a moment," he called out. They all stopped in their tracks and turned to face the King. "Before you leave, I have a special assignment for each of you to carry out. Be sure to tell the other captains, and tell them to move the fleet into position."

######

At the Red Keep…

Queen Sansa Stark and her handmaiden Shae walked throughout the halls of the Red Keep with her sworn shields Ariyana Dayne and Brienne of Tarth, each of them exchanging gossip of the rumors surrounding the city as of late.

"There's been a disturbing report coming out of Flea Bottom lately," Sansa mused. "Some of them are… rather unsettling."

"What kind of reports, Your Grace?" asked Brienne.

"People being taken from their homes, shops raided and pillaged… What's worse is that no one is coming forward to give the City Watch or the Master of Laws any leads or a depiction of possible suspects."

Shae chimed in. "Perhaps they're too spook to speak out for fear they'd be next. I mean, survival does take paramount over nobility in King's Landing, my lady."

"Even still, there's got to be something that would give Prince Oberyn something to follow up on. These heinous acts have got to stop at some point."

"Given the current state of affairs, Your Grace," Ariyana spoke up, "it is easy for fear to grip the minds of the less fortunate. Once things have settled down, perhaps more will eventually come forward. But until then, it's wise to not be too pushy given your current 'condition'."

Sansa sighed wearily, massaging her pregnant belly. "I know I shouldn't worry too much, but I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The lives of everyone in Westeros—rich and poor, great and small, nobles and commoners—are under my protection when King Daveth is away."

"An admirable trait, Your Grace. The common folk love you for it, but your enemies will certainly seek to take advantage of your nature. Don't let them."

Shae sought to change the subject to allay the concerns of her mistress. "Other than that, have you and the King thought of a name for the baby?" she asked curiously.

Sansa gave a small smile. "I, we… haven't thought that far ahead yet to be honest. We've been mostly concerned about readying ourselves for when I'm supposed to deliver."

"I could write down a list of names if you'd like, Your Grace."

"That would be considerate. What do you think, Shae? Will I have a boy or a girl?"

"I honestly don't know, Your Grace."

Sansa turned to Ariyana. "Ariyana, what do you think?"

"As your handmaiden suggested, even I don't know," she answered calmly and honestly. "But if I were to take a quick stab, given the amount of bastards King Robert sired, I… would guess that you would give birth to a Prince."

"Brienne?"

The maid of Tarth shifted a bit uncomfortably, but maintained her composure. "I fear that none of us can be certain on the baby's gender, Your Grace, but I suppose a Princess would brighten things up here."

'Two completely different answers; Gods have mercy,' the Wolf Queen contemplated. Sansa then felt her stomach turn, making her stop midway and bring up a hand to her mouth. "Ugh," she groaned, "I will be relieved when this pregnancy is over."

Shae stood at Sansa's side, rubbing her back and helping her to her feet as they all resumed their walk. When they left the Red Keep and walked down Aegon's High Hill and Visenya's Hill before taking a different route past The Hook and onto the Street of Sisters before arriving to the Street of Flour. Whilst on the move, Sansa observed to see the gathering smallfolk stopping what they were doing when they noticed their new Queen walking among them.

"It's her! The Queen!" one of them said.

"Queen Sansa!"

"Hail the Queen!"

"Seven blessings on you, Your Grace!" one of the children shouted.

Sansa politely waved at the commoners, noticing a small girl—possibly around the age of seven—holding out a single blue winter rose.

"For you, Your Grace," she offered.

'A blue winter rose, like the ones Daveth used to give me two years ago,' Sansa smiled and leaned down to accept it. "Thank you, little one," she said sweetly.

The little girl returned the smile and ran off when she heard her mother calling her. Sansa watched on, taking notice of the recent changes her presence brought to the population of King's Landing. Throughout her stay in these past two years and her ascension as Queen Consort, Sansa made a name for herself which garnered the love of the people. Indeed, Queen Sansa was well-loved by the smallfolk, yet even the nobles had their own opinions of this new consort. While Daveth was away at war, Sansa assisted in managing the city with her husband's grandfather Lord Hand Tywin Lannister—although they did have their occasional disagreements and differing ideologies when it comes to ruling. Even so, the Old Lion still terrified Sansa and she kept her distance from him; yet more so she moved to keep an arm's length distance—preferably a longer one—from her scheming mother-in-law Cersei Lannister.

As she resumed the tour, there was a shouting coming from several distances.

"Get back here, boy!" one of the City Watch shouted.

Sansa perked her ears up, trying to indicate the direction the goldloack's shouts were coming from. Her guards, Ariyana and Brienne, gripped their handle of their swords in case if there were to be any hostile attempts. As Sansa finally saw a figure in the distance, she recognized it was Arya, her own sister, who was running.

Before the goldcloaks could catch her, Arya turned at her pursuers and back before bumping into Sansa.

"Oof!" they both grunted and stumbled backwards; Arya landed on her butt while Ariyana, Brienne and Shae caught Sansa and prevented her from falling over.

Arya groaned and shook her head as the City Watch finally caught up. "About time, boy. Now come with us. We have a lot of questions for you," one of them said.

Sansa looked at them, a look of fierceness in her eyes being made apparent. "Stand back, men. This is my sister, Arya Stark," she warned them.

The goldcloaks looked up from Arya and noticed Queen Sansa glaring at them; each of them looked back and forth at each other before the Wolf Queen took another step forward.

"Return to your barracks this instant and report to your superiors before I tell Ser Bronn of the Blackwater what you just did, and don't you DARE think of laying a hand on my sister ever again," she warned once more.

The two goldcloaks complained and begrudgingly turned away, making quite a scene for the smallfolk to watch and observe the commotion. Once they were out of sight, Sansa rubbed her stomach tenderly as Arya stood to her feet.

"I could've handled them," she complained while dusting herself off.

Sansa exasperatedly shook her head. "And gotten yourself into even more trouble. By the Gods, Arya, what were you thinking? Where have you been?" she questioned.

"I was running an errand, that's all. One of the goldcloaks thought I was someone else and chased after me."

"What for?"

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "How in Seven hells should I know, sister? Two years we've been living in this stinking city, and they still think I'm a boy! I'm a girl!"

"Pay no mind to it," she sighed. "I'll try to smooth things over with their commander and allay everyone's suspicions as I can. But tell me, Arya, where were you?"

"I already said—"

"I know what you said, but I know you better than most."

Before Arya could open her mouth to speak, their conversation was interrupted by a loud shriek and a thud.

*THUD!*

"AAAAAAAAHHH!" screamed one of the locals.

Sansa and Arya turned their heads sharply to the left, with Ariyana and Brienne finally unsheathing their swords as they all went to investigate. A large group of people had begun assembling in one of the town squares by the tens; if the commotion were to continue, it would number in the hundreds. Even the goldcloaks and several Lannister soldiers had a hard time dispersing the crowd.

"Get back!" one of the guards hollered.

"Back! All of you!"

Sansa and Arya pushed through, with Ariyana and Brienne not too far behind. Looking down, Sansa gasped at the sight of a dead man on the ground, his neck broken and spun around in a sickening fashion. The Wolf Queen held a hand to her mouth, mostly to keep herself from making a noise and to prevent herself from vomiting; it had been a long time since she had seen a corpse up close since the Tourney of the Hand. It wasn't long before Sansa noticed a familiar sigil on the man's cloak.

"A black kettle on a red field… House Kettleblack," she examined. "Osney?"

One of the Lannister guards saw the Queen. "Stand back, Your Grace. It's not safe here."

Sansa shook her head. "Inform Ser Bronn and Prince Oberyn. Tell them everything that's happened here. The rest of you, try to disperse the crowd as gently as possible. They needn't see more than they already have."

"At once, Your Grace," they nodded. "All right, get back you lots! Get back!"

As Brienne and Ariyana and Shae led Queen Sansa back to the Red Keep, Arya merely continued staring at the body of Osney Kettleblack before giving a small satisfying grin.

"You won't be tormenting my sister anymore," she said quietly. "Cersei'll definitely take this as a warning soon enough."

Looking upwards, Arya saw Jaqen H'ghar leaning against one of the battlements above her staring down at her. Lifting to his left hand and placing one finger on his cheek, Jaqen silently indicates to Arya that the first death has been paid and two more remain—names included. Arya nodded and took off to avoid further suspicion. King's Landing was getting dangerous and Arya felt the responsibility of having to protect her sister getting heavier, but did not waiver.

"Even if you hate me for it, I hope you'll understand why I did what I did, Sansa. Try to understand."

######

Author's Note: Introducing at the last second, the Knights of the Vale! Led by Lord Yohn "Bronze Yohn" Royce, the Vale infantry, archers and cavalry are ready to make landfall in the final stages of the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. And what do you think Daveth's secret correspondence with those he called forth will entail? Also, Jaqen makes the first strike on Arya's behalf. How will her closing dialogue affect her relationship with her royal sister? Thoughts? Let me know.

Vasun05: Would have just named Cersei and be done with it

Guest #1: That idiot Arya instead of naming some lowlife could have asked for Cersei's death.

BioHazard82: Another great chapter.

―Thanks.

RHatch89: Awesome update :)

―Thanks.

LunaEvanna Longbottom: The need to protect Sansa has always been my favorite trait of Ayra's.

―They might have their own disagreements, but they're still sisters.

Patty 4577: Even with the Knights of the Vale. Pyke is probably going to be a medival Normandy. Anyway with Kings Landing. When did the Mountain change his name to the Ninja. Because Gregor is many things but stealth isn't one of them. Also a man has made his first kill.

―Stealth isn't one of Gregor Clegane's traits, true, unless Cersei placed him in a remote section of Flea Bottom far away from the eyes and ears of the Red Keep for a time. Also, a man has two more lives to offer. Which ones do you think a man will pick?

The Three Stoogies: a great chapter keep up the great work can't wait to read what balon's says when daveths shows up at his door keep up the great work.

―Thanks.

Alistair Lannister: Ah, The Knights of the Vale finally arrive! And it looks to be about 30,000 men, bolstering Daveth's army to now 100,000. The Ironborn don't have much. Considering their losses I'd say, less than 20,000 are left. It's pretty much over for the Greyjoys. Nice to see Sansa walking among the people, I'm guessing she learned that from Margaery? Or if she did it herself than that's probably more awesome. I'm guessing the baby's gonna be a boy, but the poll you put out had them voting for twins so maybe a boy and a girl? And finally Jaqen H'Ghar strikes the first kill on Arya's three kill list. Arya knows it's Cersei doing all this to Sansa, hope she goes for her next. Great Chapter! Excited for the Battle of the Iron Islands!

―Thanks. Sansa's pretty much a lady by the time she was 3, yet she learned much more after spending 2 years in King's Landing and becoming Daveth's queen. I'd say her influence was of her own personal nature combed with her adaptive intelligent honor that made Sansa so well-loved by the common people.