At Old Wyk…
Ser Barristan landed on the beach of Old Wyk with his men, intent on subduing the archipelago as he had done years before. He was aware of the surrounding terrain and knew his way around; every instruction he gave to his men, they followed to the letter. Reports had already come pouring in that the Tully forces subdued Saltcliffe, the Karstarks with Orkmont whilst the Tarlys took Blacktyde. And with the recent report of Harlaw's decimation, morale was high among the men.
Barristan, meanwhile, felt uneasy about the list of casualties as well: Lord Rickard Karstark, although successful in his mission, ended up succumbing to the injuries sustained by enemy ground troops before Orkmont was bombarded by the fleet, reduced to a pile of rubble and set ablaze. Apparently every island mentioned met a similar fate, the old Kingsguard knight suspected. But why was he not informed?
"Incoming ironborn, Ser Barristan!" shouted a Baratheon infantryman.
Barristan took notice of the ironborn raiders charging at them, swords and axes in the air. Indeed, Old Wyk housed the skeletal remains of the legendary Nagga the Sea Dragon, a creative so massive it was said to have devoured massive krakens and drown islands whenever angered which was then ultimately slain by the mythical Grey King on the island's shores during the Dawn Age roughly 8,000 years ago—using its bones to build his hall and its fire to warm it. House Greyjoy of Pyke claimed decent from the Grey King. Since then it was considered a holy place held in high esteem among the ironborn; its local noble houses take pride in this and are fiercely devoted raiders.
Sacred or no, Barristan knew this invasion needed to be done. Unsheathing his sword Bastion, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was already prepared for a vicious fight.
"To arms!" he ordered.
"For King Daveth!" his soldiers hollered.
"For justice!"
"Long live the Oathkeeper!"
The royal armies—Crownland, Stormland, Westerland and Reach—unsheathed their blades respectively and rushed to charge the enemy head-on, ready for battle. As the two armies collided, shouts and curses were hurled at each other; Barristan, despite his old age of 64 years, was still in fine physical condition as he clashed swords with the ironborn raiders in front of him, cutting down multiple men at once.
*SLASH!*
*CLEAVE!*
"Blurgh!" one of the raiders spurted blood from his mouth before slumping to the ground.
Indeed, the ironborn were offering fierce resistance against the mainland Westerosi invaders and were beginning to take down their fair share—though not quite as many as others would supposedly believe. So long as they were at sea the ironborn were ferocious warriors, but on land they were undisciplined: more brawlers than warriors, shouting and cursing, flailing and stabbing wildly, before them the ironborn were standing rather unhoned, untested, undisciplined… predictable, yet fierce and determined.
Through the gloom of night both armies traded blows, the sound of steel bouncing off each other and men die around them. The able-bodied would spurt their life's fluid in the air, and the scrawniest would be cleaved in half before each part fell to the ground, scattering guts and other body organs on the cold, unforgiving earthly ground beneath their feet. When Barristan first stormed Old Wyk during the First Greyjoy Rebellion, they landed near Nagga's hill and made swift work of the island. This time, however, the ironborn were more prepared.
"Old man!" shouted one of them.
Barristan turned and saw a rather large man, with thick arms and powerful figure calling him out. The ironborn was referred to as Andrik the Unsmilling, who was said to be the fiercest living warrior of the Iron Islands in service of Lord Dunstan "Bone Hand" Drumm and King Balon Greyjoy. Barristan knew Andrik was going to be a tough opponent, considering his physical size and reputation.
"Somehow we knew you'd come back here again," Andrik sized Barristan up. "But no more."
"Then let it be," Barristan replied. "In the name of King Daveth of the House Baratheon, First of His Name… Let's end this."
"For the glory of King Balon!"
Both Andrik and Barristan rushed each other as their men continued trading blows; several of the royal forces managed to storm past their aggressors and rush the windy hills and cruel black mountains, climbing Nagga's hill—overwhelming the elderly Lord Dunstan Drumm and his personal guardsmen but not without sustaining casualties along the way; if it wasn't the ironborn raiders set on defending Old Wyk, then the environment around them would do the heavy lifting for them.
True to his name, Andrik was living up to his reputation and was giving Ser Barristan a rather hard time. Parrying and deflecting blows, Barristan found himself being pushed back as Andrik's blade came down hard against the Bastion. The old Kingsguard judged the Unsmiling to be the most battle-hardened and the most dangerous threat. Barristan recovered and spun away from Andrik's charging thrust and repositioned himself for battle before rushing to outflank him.
Andrik saw Barristan coming and met his attacks with the swing of his axe, batting the old man aside before smashing his axe into Ser Barristan's shoulder plate. Barristan grunted as the blaze pierced his armor before it could graze his flesh. Getting back onto his feet, Barristan parried the axe and went onto the offensive, swinging his blade before throwing Andrik off-balance just enough for him to plunge his blade into the ironborn's left shoulder.
"Ngah!" Andrik cried out in pain, his face contorting with fury as he swung his axe.
Barristan leapt backward to avoid the blow while cutting down any ironborn who tried to interfere in their fight, preventing enemy numbers from overwhelming him. The distraction apparently proved enough for Andrik to knock the old knight off-balance and throw him down to the ground. The unsmiling ironborn swung his axe in an overhead chop and brought it down, but Barristan had enough time to roll to the side and backhand Andrik away from him long enough to get back onto his feet in time to duck under one of the raiders thrust and roll away from another before cleaving his sword through his neck, decapitating him and spraying blood everywhere.
*RUMBLING!*
*BOOM!*
As the fighting around them intensified, a fierce thunderstorm had been brewing around the Iron Islands and had finally arrived. Rain battered both sides as the wind blew hard; ships of the Redwyne fleet rocked as the waves shook them. Andrik again kneed Barristan, but the old man responded with a backhand of his own. The Lord Commander was getting exhausted while Andrik still kept coming.
In a sudden burst of strength Ser Barristan threw his shoulder into Andrik, halting his advance and followed up with a gash to the ironborn raider's stomach. Andrik hissed as the knight headbutted him in the nose whilst bringing the tip of his blade to pierce his trachea.
"Incoming!" one of his men shouted.
*KABOOM!*
One of the spitfires and trebuchet's fireballs from the Royal Fleet already began bombarding the island of Old Wyk, sending dozens of ironborn flying backwards or smashing them beneath their massive weight if the fires did not burn them alive first. The ironborn scattered, the royal ground troops had already begun dashing for the rowboats. Ser Barristan watched the scene unfold as Andrik kicked him away. Raising himself up, Andrik raised his axe to swing once more, but before he could one of the fireballs came crashing down—directly landing on top of him. The force of the impact sent Ser Barristan backwards, knocking him on his back.
"Gah!" he exclaimed as he landed with a hard thud.
Momentarily stunned, Ser Barristan groaned as he watched the fleet propelling their deadly arsenals on Old Wyk, decimating Nagga's hill and triggering a rockslide as the hills started crumbling one after another. One of the Baratheon soldiers, en route to the ships, huddled towards Barristan and helped him to his feet.
"Come, Ser Barristan!" he shouted. "We have to get out of here!"
"Back to the boats!"
"To the boats!"
"Move it! Quickly!"
Ser Barristan's left arm was hurled across his infantryman's shoulder and limped his way towards the war galley Lady Lyanna. As they climbed the ropes and set their foot on the deck before the ships sailed away, Ser Barristan watched on as the fleets pummeled Old Wyk and any remaining ironborn. The entire island was soon engulfed in flames and crumbling away, unable to endure any pressure being inflicted on them. Barristan briefly looked away, unable to watch.
"My boy," he quietly uttered to himself. "Stop this madness before it's too late… Don't lose yourself to this madness."
One of the crewmen approached him.
"What are our orders, ser?" he asked.
Barristan shook his head. "It is done. Have the men set sail to Pyke. His Grace King Daveth will need our help."
"Understood. All right, you lots! Get the sails down! We're marching for Pyke!"
'And pray that we make it in time,' Barristan thought, thinking of the boy his former squire used to be. He had to save Daveth again; not just from the ironborn, but from himself if he could.
######
At Great Wyk…
The battle on the largest of the Iron Islands was brought to an end after hours of non-stop fighting. Pebbleton had been subdued, Downdelving, Crow Spike Keep and Hammerhorn were completely destroyed. On the shores stood the red priestess Melisandre and Lord Stannis Baratheon, watching as dozens of ironborn captives were strapped to wooden poles as straws of hay were laid beneath them.
"Lord of Light, hear us now," Melisandre prayed. "Accept these tokens of our faith, my lord, and lead us from the darkness. Cleanse their souls with your fire and that its light may lead our way."
Among those strapped were Lords Gorold Goodbrother, Meldred Merlyn and the Spar. Each of them strained and thrashed against the ropes as they watched Dragonstone Baratheon troops held lit torches in their hands.
"Curse you, mainlanders!" yelled Gorold.
"The Drowned God drown you and your men!" shouted the Spar.
The Dragonstone Baratheon men-at-arms watched on as the straw beneath their feet was lit.
"Lord of Light, show us the way!" they chanted. "Lord of Light, defend us!"
Meldred felt the heat of the flames at his feet. "Wait until His Grace King Balon Greyjoy punishes you all for your insolence!"
"The kraken will ensnare all in its grasps!"
"May the Drowned God drown you all beneath the waves!"
Melisandre simply ignored their protests, shouts and curses. "Lead us from the darkness. Lord of Light, show us the way. Lord of Light, protect us," she continued, "for the night is dark and full of terrors."
*CRACKLING!*
"AAaaaaahHHH!" the captive ironborn screamed as the flames crackled before ensnaring them.
Stannis Baratheon stood and watched as his prisoners were burned alive despite the raging storm around him. He had already lost more than half of his forces obliterating one side of Great Wyk whilst his northern counterpart Lord Greatjon Umber and the knights of the Vale led by Ser Vance Corbray subdued the rest. Ser Lucius Blackmyre was already cleaning shop, but turned around to complete the other half. Stannis knew it wouldn't be long now. Although his firsthand insight was helpful, they still suffered heavy casualties.
"Have the men ready to sail," he ordered. "We march to Pyke."
Davos was still rattled at what he just saw. "My lord," he spoke up, "are you sure it was right? Burning men alive instead of simply putting a sword in them? Why make it slow and painful instead of quick and painless?"
Melisandre chimed in. "Fear not, Ser Davos. The Lord of Light only wishes to cleanse the sinners of their souls, not inflict pain and torment. To convert and remind the heathens that our God is the one true God, and all men must serve."
"He is not my God," he spun around before redirecting his attention towards Stannis. "My lord, if the King finds out what's happened here—"
"What's done is done, Ser Davos," Stannis interrupted. "Men die all the same. Who cares how we employ our methods? Besides, the ironborn are savage infidels. They worshipped some mythical underwater sea god of their fathers and ancestors before them for thousands of years."
"But what will King Daveth say about—"
"I already made myself clear."
As they climbed aboard the Fury, they sailed off to Pyke and watched from a distance as the Lionstar and other longships and war galleys began levelling the rest of Great Wyk. A hard serious man and grinding his teeth regularly, Stannis asked for his right-hand man.
"What of our northern allies?"
Davos shook his head. "Lord Umber and his men succeeded in subduing the other major strongholds, but…"
"'But'?"
"Last we heard, the ironborn overwhelmed Lord Umber and his men before our ships could move into position. Ser Corbray and the knights of the Vale were lucky enough to escape the carnage, though their losses were rather light than ours."
Stannis frowned, fixing his singed leather cape around his shoulder. "They still came into this war rather late."
"But they came here now at the Queen's request. Surely that mishap can be overlooked just this once—"
"The Lord of Light punishes those who do not heed his call," Melisandre chimed in. "But in the end, death by fire is the purest death."
"You've no intention of turning on our allies, hmm? I'm sure the King will voice his disapproval rather loudly."
"All men must serve, ser Onion Knight."
"And who would they serve when they are all burnt to a crisp?" he inquired almost daringly. "I do not judge people for the gods they worship, and if I did I would've thrown you in the sea long before you ever set foot on Dragonstone."
Melisandre merely smiled. "I am not your enemy. We offer tokens to the Lord of Light and punish the infidels. Friend or foe, our God lights our way. Take your son, for instance, when he—"
Davos snarled angrily. "You will not speak of Matthos that way!" he spat.
"What I told him before the battle at sea was true," she continued. "Death by fire is the purest death."
At that, Davos snapped at the continuous death of his son Matthos. Whirling around, the Onion Knight reached into his sleeve and drew a knife, shocking all present. Rushing to stab Melisandre, Stannis's guards held him back and struggled to restrain him.
"This woman is evil!" Davos cursed. "She's the mother of demons!"
Stannis observed his right-hand man's outburst. "Throw him in the brig," he ordered.
"She will destroy us all! The King will hear of this!"
Melisandre watched calmly as Davos was led to the deck below. "You've chosen the darkness, Ser Davos. And you intend to pollute the King's mind with your heresy. But I will pray for you, for your salvation."
Stannis turned back to the sea, obviously intent on maintaining the present course.
"My lord?" Ser Imry Florent approached.
"Continue to Pyke. We have a war to end."
######
Author's Note: A rather long time, but Old Wyk and Great Wyk are done for. Next chapter will include the final confrontation between Daveth Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy. No doubt Pyke will be heavily defended. The royal forces have lost a lot of men, but so have the ironborn. What do you guys think will happen when the Young Stag confronts the Kraken King face-to-face again after so many years? What will go through Daveth's mind? Thoughts? Let me know.
C.E.W: This Ironborn war has been truly costly, the fate of Greatjon Umber is unknown but at least Lord Karstark died in battle rather than at the hand of his king. Hopefully Daveth and the royal forces can bring it to end. Yara better leave the Iron Islands with what she can, because Balon has no idea what he has brought upon his Yara realizes it, I suspect it will destroy her loyalty to her father forever. I recommend, that when the time comes for Daveth to kill Balon, and it will, I recommend that he does not use a weapon, he can use his hands because he wants Balon to feel every pain he felt when he was prisoner of the Ironborn.
Guest #3: Excellent story although I kinda feel like Margaery should play a bigger role in this story only because she wants to be queen and is a very skilled manipulater using kindness instead of blackmail and such. Also I wonder how Daenerys and the white walkers will eventually play into this. Keep up the good work!
—Thanks. I'll take that under advisement. Don't worry, I plan on bringing Margaery Tyrell and others back into the story in a few chapters.
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter like always keep up the great work
—Thanks.
ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful!
Update immediately, please!
—Thanks.
GREAT CELESTIAL DRAGON: Da eth will not like this at all when word gets out his uncle is loosing his mind to the priestess
BioHazard82: Another good chapter.
—Thanks.
Blizzard dragon7777: Just hope Daveth does what his father should have done to Balon Greyjoy when he beat him.
—We'll see what he does in the next chapter.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
—Thanks.
DaddyChad: Well, Stannis finally lost all his marbles.
Go Daveth by the way
Hear My Fury: Okay, I got a lot to say about this chapter so bear with me. Okay, first of all how are the Ironborn easily decimating the Royal forces? Like I know they're fierce fighters but they suck at pitch field battles. They're only good for reaving and pillaging and the only power comes from their ships which at this point, they don't have much left. Like Stannis said, they're not soldiers, they lack discipline and strategy. In fact Balon's a dumbass, he doesn't plan ten steps ahead and just thinks if he wins a battle or two he doesn't need to do anymore. Also, really thought Karstark was gonna live but at least he's not dying by Robb's hands and this doesn't divide the North, but who knows what could happen? Harald Karstark could easily blame Robb for his family's deaths because Robb let Theon go back to the Iron Islands and this could make Roose go for a power grab. But again, who knows? Melisandre still burning, glad to see you're still keeping that in there, although to be honest the Ironborn kind of deserve it so I'm not crying over that. Davos is still wary of Melisandre, someone really needs to tell Daveth about her. I also remember that there was that Red Priestess who saved Daveth, maybe that could be like a clash for who is the true Prince that was Promised? Although in this case it's not gonna happen because Stannis is dutiful and loyal and the reason why he went to war was because Robert had no trueborn children, but since Daveth is Robert's son I doubt he's going to rebel against him. Whew anyway those are my thoughts. Sorry it looks like an essay but I had a lot on my minds after reading this chapter. Looking forward to the Siege of Pyke. Balon, you've messed with the wrong Stag this time.
Supremus85: Daveth risk to loose his soul if he continues this way.
—Here's to hoping someone can pull him out of it.