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Hadrian Stark stood before the walls of Pyke with a taut façade adorned upon his face. It was night and an immense and fierce storm was attacking the siege and castle forcing everyone even the guards on duty into the shelter of the captured houses of Lordsport and forcing those within the castle indoors.
It did not bother Hadrian, however. A couple water-proof and warming charms later and Harry would be dry as the sands of Dorne.
His grim aura though spiking as a being materialized beside him. Harry did not move to acknowledge the being. He knew from the cold mist sweeping the rocky shores of the Iron Island that Death had come for a visit.
"You have weakened the Pretender's following considerably. It is time to rid this world of a fake god."
Hadrian nodded. Death brought his scythe to bear and slammed it into the ground and Harry drew Winter. In a moment, the rains coalesced into a form in front of them. The storm increased tenfold and lightning strikes began hitting around them.
At first, the Stark Lord didn't know what to describe the being as but as it did so, he likened the being to a squid man. Tentacles covering where it would've had a mouth and an emerald encrusted crown atop its scaled-armored body.
Hadrian had to contain his laughter at the absurdity of it all.
Hadrian heard it speak but he didn't understand as the two beings spoke to each other. Death nodded and moved far to quickly for Hadrian's mind to comprehend. What he did comprehend though was the distinct sound of a blade piercing flesh and exiting it.
In a moment, the head of the squid fell off and the ghoul avatar of Death raised his hand and a greenish hue began to exit from the fallen form of the squid god.
Hadrian looked a little perplexed at the simplicity of it all.
"A zealous follower may attempt to bring back the worship of it and it may gain traction but these people will not be as attuned with the sea as they had been before." Hadrian knit his eyebrows in confusion. "The Drowned God will not return. It's essence dispersed amongst the void once again."
"That's it?"Hadrian questioned. "What did you guys even talk about and what even was that language?"
"Some things, young Hadrian, are not meant to be known." Death spoke its rattling tone. "Do not trouble yourself with such things. It does not concern this world nor you."
Hadrian did not respond to that as he figured it was no use so he moved onto the next. "You did not come here just to tell me that did you? I could, after all sense a distinct lack of magical aura now."
There was an imperceptible nod from the being that Hadrian barely caught. The very slight inclining of the hood enough to give credence to the answer of the question.
"We have eliminated the first of the Pretenders that exist, arguably the weakest of this world. The others will not rest anymore and will attempt to subvert us in any manner possible." Death stated in its rasping voice. The cold mist sweeping the rock causing ice to form in their immediate area. Hadrian, though, noted that Death said we even though the being did the heavy lifting.
Harry, after all, didn't favor his chances in regards to a god even if it was fake.
"I have a question regarding the dragons of this world." Hadrian suddenly stated.
The being didn't outwardly respond for a moment before it began speaking. "I must say that we are lucky the beasts of Valyria have all died out. The grand majority of them birthed from a particularly vile ritual of blood magic, a particular sort of human sacrifice in that they become the avatars of one of the Pretenders. The souls that partake cannot be redeemed." The being stated. "The dragons themselves being creatures of fire, feed the Pretender's life force but while there may be no more. The Pretender's agents make use of human sacrifice to please their god. Humans, dragons… this Pretender does not care only if it is fed."
That disturbed Harry greatly, he may be powerful but maybe a magical creature of that magnitude was a bit beyond him. Luckily if he could gather a few eggs he could hatch them correctly. The words of Death clicked something then. The Doom of Valyria made a hell of a lot more sense now.
After all, an angry fire demon that was yearning for a purpose had to do something in order to get this powerful.
Hadrian nodded to the being. "Thank you."
"I am Death. The balancing force of the universe. The Pretenders may be moving against you but they do so with caution. They realize they are not as invincible as they seem to portray themselves as." And with that the cold and foreboding mist that set in, immediately vanished as Death also did.
Hadrian's attention turned towards the walls of Pyke, they had refused to surrender and Harry had to make good on his promise.
Harry crouched low and palmed the wet earth in his gloved hand. His multicolored eyes spilling with the eldritch energies he held within him and pulsating with green lightning dancing about like a storm of the curse that should have preemptively ended his life on two occasions.
Blue and white streaks of lightning danced in the sky, torrents of rain poured and gusts of wind picked up their invisible races.
As the hidden young wizard slowly stood with he faces of his hands facing towards the dirt of Pyke. In equal speed he raised one of the palms of his hands to the sky. Suddenly, a flash of lightning struck Hadrian's outstretched hand. His multicolored irises shining a bright and envious green with unbridled power.
The electric and destructive energy coalesced within his gloved palm. A pure bright orb within the darkness of the stormy and violent environment.
His eyes turned to Pyke and with a simple thrust outwards the white orb flew like an arrow. It impacted the closest wall with ease. Nothing happened and Hadrian calmly walked away. The strong walls of Pyke that could still siege weapons for weeks on end looked no different.
Tomorrow they would fall electrifying force.
The day after, Hadrian marveled at the storm caused by releasing the energies contained within the Drowned God. Hadrian had managed to shield the encampment and naval forces from the worst effects of the storm but the muddy ground and few frazzled tents and a single stone building being knocked down attested to the strength of the storm.
He still hadn't figured out how his accidental magical foray at Moat Cailin went the way it did. The fact that creating a canal from the annals of his grief and causing a Westeros-wide earthquake from said grief did nothing to alleviate his fears of what may happen if one of his cousins was killed.
That being said, he planned to do anything and everything to keep his family together.
Hadrian stood before the walls of Pyke slightly behind King Robert and his uncle Eddard, Jon Arryn was standing imperiously off to the side with a frown directed at the younger Stark. The army was ready to head into the breach with Robert and Ned leading the charge.
"Hadrian Stark!" Robert boisterously greeted, the man was in his steel plate armor and crowned stag tunic. The infamous antlered helm giving them a glimpse into what happened at the Trident. The man was wielding the massive warhammer with ease in one hand
"Your grace." Hadrian bowed slightly. "The trebuchets are in position."
"Good!" He shouted impatiently. "It is about time we show these squids what Baratheon steel tastes like!"
"Your grace. May I give a few words to the defenders of the walls?"
Robert gave a nod and lowered the visor to his helm. Hadrian opted for no helmet and instead his wild raven black hair was free but the slight wind blowing made some dirt get in it. He had shed his wolf pelt cloak for the coming fight and while the black boiled leather armor stood proud over the simple mail shirt he wore. Winter was at his hip, waiting to be drawn while a steel buckler, one with the head Direwolf engraved into the face. In his hand was simple short bow and a quiver of arrows on his back.
While he was proficient in swordsmanship, archery was where he shined.
Approaching the awaiting defenders and within arrow range, Harry had handed his buckler to one of his battle companions who took it without question. He admired that in his household guard. They were loyal and never asked question. That didn't mean the bunch weren't a rowdy one when ale or any type of alcohol was involved however.
"Men of the Iron Isles!" His amplified voice carrying in the wind. "I ask only one thing of you. Was it worth it?" And with that the young Stark lord turned his back.
There was a shout and Harry felt his instincts taking over. He spun on his heel and caught the flying arrow, that would've pierced his back in the hand, much to the gaping of astonishment of all those that saw the act.
Hadrian, during the sudden silence, quickly nocked the arrow and sent it flying back to battlements where it caught an unlucky Ironborn in their throat. The Stark Lord did not know if that man was the perpetrator, he did not care.
The men of House Greyjoy will soon realize this.
The battle was over before it even started. When King Robert gave the order to begin the attack the ten siege weapons loosed their contents into the wall Hadrian had spelled the night prior under the cover of a stormy darkness.
Upon impact, the walls fell with such explosive force that everything within a twenty meters was vaporized in an instant.
Such was nature of harnessing and binding such an erratic magic if even for a short amount of time.
Luckily for the vanguard, they were no where near that close. Unluckily for the defenders atop the walls, nothing was ready to respond to such a threat in time. The vanguard, not thinking anything of the explosive show, rushed forward at the opportunity. Green summer knights of the Reach among the majority of them. All eager at a chance to earn a name for themselves.
Hadrian's own battle companions did not move a muscle until their lord did. Only as the majority of the army began to push forward did Harry moved forward in a confident and powerful stride. The thirty men surrounded their lord and behind them did the rest of the Stark men begin moving.
They had fought brutally at Orkwood in the vanguard, before that a lot of them having survived the battles of the rebellion and did not feel at all slighted at letting their younger, if a little naïve and stupid, comrades go into the fray before they did.
They moved slowly, methodically as they went through the breach in the walls. Hadrian picking off any straggling and resisting Ironborn with arrows, even if they were in the middle of fighting a summer knight of the Reach, or a soldier of the Stormlands, or even a red cloak of the Westerlands.
Hadrian wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
Harry quickly became a prime target as a group of roughly fifteen Ironborn appeared out a dark alleyway, brandishing axes and their oval-like shields.
They didn't survive long, Hadrian quickly plugged two arrows into a pair of vulnerable necks. The guard handled the rest with ease. Harry turned to one of his guard and ordered him to find the former Mormont Lord. It wasn't long till the man returned with a party of Reach soldiers in tow.
The Stark figured that Jorah would've been as close to the rear guard as possible.
"Take what men you can gather and go door to door. Every Ironborn man is to have surrendered or killed by day's end. See to it that it is done." Hadrian's eyes narrowed at the look of displeasure and disdain directed at his liege lord but said nothing in response as he brandished the Valyrian steel sword Longclaw and left.
It wasn't long before the whole of the castle was cleared out and every nook and cranny being inspected by the men for loot.
Hadrian turned his gaze toward the main keep of House Greyjoy and with a feeling of grim satisfaction, took the first steps to the end of his vengeance-filled campaign.
Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and Warden of the East looked on in disdain at the captured Greyjoy family. He was relieved that after the walls fell there was no real fighting to be done. Though that was to be expected. The walls falling to a single volley of siege weapons was unheard of and caught everyone by surprise.
The King, himself, was off doing gods knows what, probably fucking some Pyke whore or 'inspecting' the captured treasury.
His other foster son was probably executing some troublesome prisoners.
That left himself discussing things over with Tywin about a tourney he was going to hold in Lannisport in commemoration of the victory in front of the bound and gagged Balon and Maron Greyjoy. Apparently, House Harlaw was currently fostering both of Balon's youngest. Something that apparently escaped Hadrian Stark's notice.
He would have words with the young Stark regarding this.
Granted the surrendered House Harlaw probably hid them away as the Northmen ransacked the castle of it's treasury, and they probably were expecting the Iron family to be in Pyke.
The two's discussion, however, was abruptly interrupted when there was shouting and swords clashing right outside the main keep of Pyke. The two inside quickly brandished their weapons and the few men-at-arms within the keep drew readied their spears and swords.
Jon almost jumping in his armor when the large kraken carved polished wooden doors burst open, revealing a Hadrian Stark, whose armor was slightly caked in grime and dirt with blood spattered across his face and armor as well and four of his guardsmen following him. Jon noted that the young Stark's eye was bruised and closed, a slightly wide slash starting above its brow and ending just below his eye. "Your men did an excellent job clearing out the castle." He dryly stated as his guardsmen took post at the entrance.
The Stark Lord moved towards them in a predatory gait. The tip of his Valyrian steel longsword, Winter, slightly above the ground as it was dripping slightly in the blood of a now dead Ironborn.
The men relaxed but Jon Arryn had a foreboding and commanding feeling take hold of him. The Hand of the King could only watch as Hadrian strode past them, made eye contact with the fearful looking Maron Greyjoy and continue his gait.
A gripping terror took hold in all those that looked at the young Stark Lord, immobilizing their bodies.
The Wolf circled the bound, fearful and whimpering Squid.
Jon Arryn wanted and willed his body and mouth to move and protest the young lord as he raised the rippling sword of Old Valyria.
It didn't.
In one fluid, strong and forceful motion, the Stranger claimed another son of House Greyjoy.
The lopped off head of Maron fell to the ground with a terrified look in his eyes as the body of the rebel squid fell in a resounding thud. The Stark Lord looked downwards, before nodding to himself, satisfied in his lust for revenge before striding past a fear-stricken and immobile Hand of the King and Warden of the West.
Balon Greyjoy too shocked at the action only let out a strangled gasp from the dirty rag that was forced in his mouth.
The Greyjoy's Rebellion was over. The Winter's blizzards have claimed what the Ironborn have bought for their ignorance and negligence. The young Wolf sated in his palate of death.
The Stark guardsmen following their lord out as he left without any other word to those present.
It was at this moment that Jon Arryn of the Vale realized that he had lost control of the North and would need to take some steps further to ensure that the Vale was not caught in the eyesight of the Wolf of Winterfell.
Hadrian stepped aboard the Winter's Call before it cast off for Harlaw. The Northmen not staying a moment longer than necessary. Ned, on orders from King Robert, was to go retrieve Theon Greyjoy and have him as a ward at the Moat.
A nicer way of saying hostage in Hadrian's rather cold opinion. If he had his way, the entirety of the Greyjoy family would've been killed. Alas, he was already pushing bounds with executing Maron the way he had and the war against the Drowned God was over.
In the grand scheme of things, the Greyjoys were nothing of note anymore, at least to him.
While the majority would be leaving for Moat Cailin and the new canal to get to White Harbor, a small portion, namely Lord Dustin, went to Lannisport to celebrate the victory and to make a personal purchase of more Arbor Gold as, in his words, a gift for Barbrey.
Hadrian let the small smile across his face contort into a wide one at that, though it kind of caused the bandage that wrapped over his cut face to itch. The Dustin Lord proclaiming and making it a tradition for whenever he or future lord Dustins returned from war to bring a dozen barrels of the expensive wine for their wife.
Hadrian was greeted in the captain's quarters by his uncle waiting for him inside.
"Hadrian." Ned stated. His ever-present grim and sullen expression faltering for a moment with the slight curling of his lips.
"Uncle." Hadrian's own widened smile never faltering.
"The Hand of the King has forbidden you from attending the tourney at Lannisport." Ned stated getting right to business. "He believes it just punishment for going against his orders."
Hadrian only nodded, this falling right into his plans. Now Tywin couldn't make such a huge fuss over a slight that wouldn't have happened regardless if he attended or not. Granted, he wouldn't have attended but it was nice to have an excuse other than not feeling like it.
"He pushed for me to take over the lordship of the North, saying you were not fit if you disregard commands."
Feeling a bit daring and figuring a way to clip away some more of his uncle's honorable defense of the man, Hadrian nonchalantly responded. "If you wish to do so, then do it. Frankly I stand on the basis, that the King never denied me his head. King Robert granted me a boon and Maron's life paid it in full. If the Warden of the East decided to stop me he would've not only slighted the North but also Dorne. Can't have that."
"It is a good thing I denied him then." Ned responded with a slight smile again and drunk a good portion of ale that was in the tankard nearby. "He proposed a marriage alliance with little Sansa and his heir presumptive Harold Hardying. I hope it is alright that I accepted."
Hadrian nodded. It was obvious what the man's play was which was sinking more of his Falcon's talons within the North.
Not that Harry minded. Quite the contrary in fact, as Sansa was being brainwashed by her uncompromising mother and, ironically, devil of a Septa and the Wolf of Winterfell knew this to be an amazing way to tie the Vale to the North while still appeasing Catelyn who would've made a rather messy fit if her little red pup had to marry a 'savage' of the North.
He would just have to make sure the Hand of the King didn't think to attempt to off Hadrian as that would rather damper Harry's mood in having to retaliate in kind.
He would need Robb and Arya at least to marry of the North. Bran would have to find a wife of the Riverlands as he was Hoster's heir to Riverrun.
As Hadrian's thoughts turned to more of the events regarding the south a thought occurred to him and he could feel the beginnings of a headache form at his head as he realized he did not even have a way to get sensitive but crucial information to him in a safe way.
He took a sip of water as his uncle left the cabin to get some supper. Another more uplifting thought occurred to him.
Maybe it was time to revive ol' Cregan Starks spy network? That would definitely be something for his journal, at least.
He opened said book in anticipation and slightly winced. He knew the coming years were going to be particularly busy for him, at the very least.
Damn him! Damn Jon Arryn of the fucking Vale! Tywin seethed inside his solar but it did not show on the proud lion even in private with his brother Kevan present.
Though to the brother of the Old Lion, it was readily apparent that the man was angry. Kevan left quickly after that.
The man had ruined his plans regarding the young Stark Lord and his spies had told him that the man had arranged a betrothal for his nephew and heir to Ned Stark's eldest daughter and given that Ned's youngest son would be in control of the Riverlands the North would be in a powerful position.
And if Oberyn Martell's rather vocal agreement of the young Wolf's execution of Maron Greyjoy was any indication on Dorne's thoughts then Hadrian Stark was the key to half the kingdoms of Westeros.
Tywin shuddered to think of the power the boy wielded at such a young age.
He knew his plan at Lannisport was a longshot and now that he thought about it, it was rather ill-planned. The young Wolf wouldn't have let himself be easily used.
The Lion needed to be cautious now but fast. Hadrian Stark proved himself a capable battle commander and a respectable lord at such a young age and many a lord would be trying to arrange a betrothal with the young man.
It was time to put pressure onto Robert and Cersei. The North needed to be in their control. It needed to be in his control.
Olenna Tyrell, much like her Lion counterpart in the Westerlands was internally seething.
Mace Tyrell, her oaf of a son, once more made the Tyrell's one of the laughing stocks of the more affluent nobility.
Making an insult of Hadrian Stark's tactical prowess, he not only made an enemy of the Wolf of Winterfell but the powerful North.
While many Northern lords could honestly not care for anything of the Reach anymore and what their liege lord's words were, the infamous Queen of Thornes knew that (even from hearsay and rumors) that the young Wolf could hold a grudge even in the face of the ruling powers of Westeros, saw his appetite for revenge sated and left with hardly a scratch.
Metaphorically speaking of course, the scar that one of her son's men-at-arms described an injury that almost cost the boy an eye.
Brandon Stark son definitely held the wildness that made him unpredictable and made use of the wit he inherited from his mother. The two creating a dangerous and powerful personality in the Game and one few, if any, could even hope to be naturals at.
She wasn't one for military matters, as she left that to the men and their sticks of metal, but even she knew that the gruesome, simplistic and effective methods drew a bone-chilling and primal fear within those that witnessed them.
Oddly perfect for the house whose words are 'Winter is Coming'.
She needed to mend the ties with the North and fast. She could've and might've suggested a marriage between her granddaughter Margery and Hadrian but her idiotic son was dead-set on making her a queen.
The North was no longer the child to be pushed around by the other kingdoms, but now the elder son that has withstood thousands of years of abuse.
And Olenna feared the day that the blizzards of Winter remembered its errant siblings.
Until Next Time!