Rickard II
Looking back on the events that had past, it could be described as too easy in the way he had planned to take the Islands of the Bite, most were ruled by a singular house and one would expect some sort of alliance or cooperation between these houses due to living in such proximity with one another. There was no sort of unity or alliance between any of the houses.
The Three Sisters called themselves a kingdom; with House Sunderland of Sisterton as the ruling house but in reality the only way House Sunderland could get any of the other houses of the Three Sisters to do anything more than aggressively ignoring them was a violent struggle which did nothing to breed any kind of camaraderie between these houses.
With a host of nine thousand, it wouldn't difficult to capture five warring islands that between themselves would struggle to raise anything beyond five thousand men even if they had been unified. Rickard started at the Pebble which was a small rocky island with little in the way of fertile crops that told him that was sparsely populated due to the relative smallness of the land. As the most of Westeros' economy was based on agriculture.
At the time Rickard wondered if the people on the isles knew of the basics of large-scale fishing, it didn't seem like such from how the people thought the large convoy ships that Rickard transported his army with was some sort of sorcery. To be fair to the people, it was a sort of sorcery, the kind that won wars.
Either way, the occupation of the island was a simple and an almost insultingly easy affair. The culture of the people was of the First Men, a pleasant surprise as Rickard thought that since the Andals had conquered the Vale they would have also taken islands such as this which would be close to them.
At the mere indirect show of force when the landing ships made it to the island uncontested, House Pryor laid down their arms and requested for a treaty to discuss the terms of surrender.
The demands were simple and a staple of all Stark conquests; fealty, tributes through taxes and the eldest two male offspring as well as the eldest unmarried female offspring.
In this case, House also rallied the men of their small island to arms, adding a paltry but well-meaning few hundred men to his currently unscathed nine thousand.
He sent the noble children he gained from House Pryor back to the north with a guard of some twenty northerners as well as discussed the information that House Pryor had on the remaining houses of the Bite. From Lord Jon Pryor he knew that they had warred against each other before and so the information held was of great import.
Rickard considered on whether or not it would be worth the trouble of taking the island of the Paps, as despite its location within the Narrow Sea, eventually, he decided that it shouldn't be of too much difficulty and no one would argue with him if he did.
He split his host into fours, one for each of the islands remaining. He himself didn't leave the Pebble as he remained with a guard of hundred loyal Stark men, a luxury in such troubling times. He needed to remain firstly to consolidate northern hold on the people and maintain Stark control in the Winterlands which he did through letters to Queens Selene and Maryam.
He conspired with the both of them so as to ensure he would know first-hand knowledge of what they planned to do against one another. Apart from rather vicious plans to kill each other they also kept him informed on the actions of the neighbouring kingdoms.
Maryam informed him on how the kingdom of the Neck was faring due to the recent major invasions from the Andal controlled Riverlands, Westerlands and Vale.
Apparently rather well, as they would ruthlessly pick off Andal hosts that would march into the marshes and swamps of the Neck before shattering such hosts against the walls of the Marshmoat, the as of yet unconquerable ring fort of their ruling house; House Wormwood.
When Rickard cast his mind back to the days of his youth when he served as a diplomat for House Stark to other kingdoms he remembered the intolerably smug smiles and pleased with oneself self-semantics that the neck-lords were of the damnable fort, he hated it especially when they tried to ram the verbal diatribe was so pasted with arrogance he thought that he was talking to Lannisters.
Rickard shivered at the horrid memories of conversing with the Lannisters.
The kingdoms of Rills, the Sea Dragon, Bear Island, and the Stony Shore unified into the Kingdom-by-the-Sunset-Sea, ruled by House Fisher of Hookpoint upon Sea Dragon's Point. This was surprising and somewhat threatening as the Sunset Kingdom would surely be a great naval power, in fact, the reason they unified would more than likely be to combat the growing Ironborn threat.
After the fall of House Greyiron by the Andals and the subsequent rise of House Hoare as the new Driftwood King was the only viable reason for why there would be such an upsurge in coastal raids by the Ironborn.
Further North Selene told him that everything was much the same, House Umber ruled the warring Mountain clans, and the Skagosi were still as much of a nuisance as ever. Except there was a bit of noise from the Wall, there were rumours of a city beyond the wall.
If there was city beyond the wall, it could change their entire opinion of the wildings for the mere fact that no-one thought that the most they had were huts in the snow. If the wildlings were technologically advanced enough to do so then they could also be able of mounting some kind of attack upon the Wall itself. While there had been King-Beyond-the-Wall before; Joramun who had fought alongside House Stark to slay the Night's King.
While Rickard could not claim to have any sort of knowledge of the wildlings or their habits, he did know that the wildlings were socially behind the rest of the nation as they were still a collection of petty kingdoms rather than larger kingdom that was currently the standard for Westeros. He had heard that the title King-Beyond-the-Wall wasn't one of succession but rather one of strength.
To which told him that whoever that the King-Beyond-the-Wall was he wouldn't be one for talking.
If there was city beyond the wall, it could change their entire opinion of the wildings for the mere fact that no-one thought that the most they had were huts in the snow. If the wildlings were technologically advanced enough to do so then they could also be able of mounting some kind of attack upon the Wall itself.
While there had been King-Beyond-the-Wall before; Joramun who had fought alongside House Stark to slay the Night's King. Rickard wasn't very sure if this current King-Beyond-the-Wall would be as willing to talk as his forbearers. If he was, then Rickard wasn't sure that he would have the patience of a saint to suffer through Theon.
Thinking of Theon, as he helped himself to another bottle of Sistermen scotch. Which he found to be the only good thing about the entire invasion despite not believing it quite so good enough to invade the damn place.
He had heard little but rumours about Theon's conquest into Essos to face the Andals at their home. He hoped that the little shit hadn't died, that would be exactly like the boy to just up and die as soon as it was the most inconvenient for everybody. If Theon died that would mean that the succession would be completely in the air and House Stark would be practically extinct, as its members would consist of on old bitter man and two unborn babes.
Maybe he needed to look further into the idea of a wife and heirs.
If Theon did die then there was nothing stopping Houses Bolton and Dustin from declaring themselves Kings through the claim of their children and then waging war against one another. Despite the fact that both of them had just lost a war in the last decade. If both of their children turned out to be girls instead of boys, then that would leave Rickard as the King of Wolves.
A king. What did that title mean to him? A hollow crown, all of his kin dead, his castle a burned out husk, his kingdom ravaged by wars, his men dead fighting in those wars, his enemies on all sides waiting to tear into the corpse that was House Stark.
No. Rickard as the King of Wolves would be the single worst future for House Stark as it was. Theon as insufferably annoying as he was needed to live long enough so as to restart their house and Rickard himself needed to live long enough so as to repair and improve their kingdom by implementing Bran's ideas.
/LINEBREAK\\
It had been six months since Rickard had landed arrived on the Isles of the Bite, most of it had been rather pedestrian Houses Pryor of Pebble, Elseham of Paps had surrendered swiftly and had sworn fealty to Stark easier than he had imagined. When he talked to the heads of those Houses he saw that it was more of a quiet resignation that with the forming of larger kingdoms around them, the realised that they would be annexed sooner rather than later.
When he spoke to the old lady Gwin Elseham of the Paps, he was treated kindly as if he was an honoured guest rather than an invader, it was rather surreal on reflection; to see an old woman surrounded by hardened killers and warding them off with a wizened smile and the warmth only a grandmother could convey. When he displayed the terms of their surrender, he felt a shame he hadn't felt since his dead mother had last scolded him when he was far younger.
The terms were identical to ones he had presented to House Pryor, he still felt like he was an Ironborn raider coming to rape the women and ravage the land. The Paps were similar to the Pebble in land and size; most of it being rocky and difficult to properly farm, but they had a somewhat larger population due to the influx of Andals that had come to the island. When Rickard first heard of that, he expected there to be some sort of violent outcry that the Andals would live under any sort of First Men rule.
But instead he was informed that the majority of Andals were more indifferent to the idea of violence against their First Men neighbours, so long as they were allowed to celebrate their culture and religions peaceful coexistence wasn't too difficult to achieve. It made Rickard hopeful for the future.
Lady Elseham had nothing but praise for the new immigrants, as with their new technology of steel and teachings of larger fishing boats made life on the island far more tolerable than it was previously.
For the last couple years of being embroiled in war after war, it was nice to see what peace could be like. Maybe after the war, he could return. Since he was feeling rather congenial towards the Elsehams and the island as a whole, he was willing to allow them more liberties than he would give usually; Lady Elseham took full advantage of this, instead of House Stark taking the two eldest males and eldest female for hostages instead they would only take the heir and he himself would marry into House Elseham, taking a woman from their house that would be approved from both himself and Lady Gwin. The taxes on the island would remain the usual.
To an outsider that may be too much for a house that ruled over a somewhat mediocre island in the middle of nowhere. But Rickard was an old man, with no lands to his name. Lady Gwin's husband died of old age years past and her eldest son had died in a storm. All that was left to her was her two daughters who were unmarried and her three grandsons whose mother had died of sickness. Should Rickard marry into such a House not only would it tie them and the rest of the isles to the mainland but it would deter any of the other houses from trying to usurp their position.
Rickard would gain a wife, which was really at this point all he really needed. She didn't need to be comely or be interesting all he needed was heirs. And he truly didn't mind staying on the Paps to do so. He married the fair maiden Perrianne Elseham two days after the terms had been ratified and bedded her on the same night. Perrianne was a demure lady who had been properly taught to do whatsoever her lord husband wanted and not so much a noise if she held any sort of disagreement. A brown eyed a black haired woman who was slim and would appear attractive to any man. Her dress and personality was as plain as a cloudless sky but she didn't need to make him laugh or give him wise counsel all she needed was to bear him sons.
To Rickard all that meant was that she was a quiet girl, nearly six years his younger and if there any sort of personality behind those docile eyes and comely face it was well and truly repressed. He took his wife and his men and left the island. Giving a polite farewell to Lady Elseham
When he made it to the Three Sisters he immediately noted a considerable difference between these islands and the ones he had already visited. Unlike the islands that were rocky and small, these were significantly larger and were far more forested. In terms of size, he would equate them to double the size of Pyke or triple that of Bear Island.
And another considerable difference was that unlike the Pebble and the Paps, the Three Sisters all resisted the Stark host, not to any considerable degree as they were vastly outnumbered, the attack was relatively sudden to the Sistermen striking them without a good number of their defences and the Northerners were using steel as compared to the bronze of the Sistermen.
While the attack was not as easy as his own capture of the Pebble, in where the enemy capitulated when they saw his men land. It was nowhere as difficult as the uphill sieges of the Barrow Wars or the bloody constant attacks of the Dreadfort. Those where wars and terror those were truly terrible things in where men died in their hundred on both sides, death could come abruptly and without warning.
Rickard blinked rapidly to stave off the repressed recollections of memories that he wanted to forget so badly he drank himself to near death when it first happened and would have died if not for his brother and nephew.
His journey was short and uneventful, all he saw on the way he had already seen before. He tried to keep up some type of conversation but the girl seemed the squirm away from him at the mere sight of him until he called her back and even then she tried to look anywhere but his eyes and seemed to be averse to the sheer concept of interesting conversation. After a few failed attempts of trying to talk to his wife he gave up and resigned himself to just leaving her be until when in bed and fulfilling his husbandly duty.
When he docked at the port of Sisterton, he gave express orders not to leave the boat until he deliberately called for her which he probably wouldn't do until he already in bed waiting for her. He made it to the fortress that oversaw the small, mean town, rank with the odours of pig shit and rotting fish. Its streets are made of mud and planks, while its houses daub-and-wattle hovels roofed with straw. He was truly unimpressed at the sight of it.
That's not to say that the Breakwater impressed him anymore, for that was even worse, he reckoned that even the corpse of Winterfell as it was now could be better fortress than this mess. As he saw it the Breakwater was built partially on huge, stone arches that stand as bulwarks against the Bite. Entry to the castle was by a bridge of black basalt and a rusty iron portcullis. As Rickard entered the squeaks and creaks of the old thing made him consider tearing it down in its entirety.
Its defences, -if they could be call as such- included a 'deep' moat and a drawbridge supported by two massive rusted chains, followed by a larger gatehouse of algae-covered stones. Rickard climbed up the uneven cobblestone steps lead to Breakwater's cavernous stone keep.
And the less said about the hall the better, to put it bluntly, it was gloomy enough that one needed a torch to navigate through it even if it was the sunniest day of the year. There were enough leaks in the roof that one could simply leave their empty cup out for a short while and it would refill itself. Not that Rickard would recommend drinking the water that would be there for any but his worst enemies.
He heard before he saw the ensemble of lords before him. Insults flew back and forth, death threats and accusations followed quickly after. Rickard thanked the gods for granting him the foresight for not only make sure that no one was armed but also it was only his guardsmen that lined the black walls of the hall, silent but making enough of an impression that it effectively dissuaded anybody from fighting physically rather than verbally.
When he entered the eyesight of the four nobles who's lands he had captured, his generals and their lieutenants flanking him, he knew truly made an intimidating sight. He glanced to his right and immediately words were spoken. "My lords, I believe that you are all aware why we are here this day." The accent was of the deep north, but the voice was that of a young man. Danwell Hornwood was the fourth son of his father. His elder kin had gone with Theon. Danwell chose to be different.
Near instantly a shrill voice came screeching out; "Yes, you filthy dog! You and your savages came into my home, killing my brothers and sons like the savages that you prove yourselves to be and then threatened to rape me and my daughters before killing us if we didn't do as you said!" He looked at the person who dared to speak like that; it was a Lady Mylessa Borrell, a married woman younger than Theon did.
The woman looked red in the face with anger, with a slender, no doubt soft finger pointed accusingly to Hornwood. To the man's credit, he didn't react as Rickard would have; with a slap to the wretch's face and throwing her and her daughters to the men to be used as entertainment. For a week if he was feeling kind, indefinitely if he was not. And if those words were towards him then gods take pity on the woman because of he would not.
Instead, Hornwood sneered at the woman, "Wretch, speak to me like that and I will personally ensure that your life will be short and filled with watching the agony upon the faces of your 'precious' daughters." When the man had stopped speaking and had paled considerably before retreating a god distance away from the man. Rickard suppressed a snicker when he smelt the fear permeating from the woman.
Lord Jothos Longthorpe of Longsister, Lord Harras Torrent of Littlesister, Lady Mylessa Borrell of Sweetsister and finally Geremy Sunderland. All of them had fought against his army, all of them had failed, all of them would bend the knee or watch as they and their houses were slaughtered.
He looked them all squarely in the eye and made their options clear as could be; "Kneel and swear fealty or you and your house will die." he fondly remembered his brother and father praising him for his eloquent speech when they sent him off to play diplomat.
He stared down at them for waiting expectantly for their answer. As expected there were looks of anger, clenched fists and murmurs of dissent. Which he noted, vowed to remember. A minute later, after a tense silence each of them, bent the knee before signed the terms of surrender and left the hall angrily.
Rickard spun on his heel and looked at the faces of the men he had brought with him, most looked mildly impressed, the others kept a stony visage. He took a look at all of them before smirking, "That went well, didn't it?" his voice was self-content if not slightly smug. At the words, most of them had a little chuckle or snicker. Rickard dismissed them and left the dark hall before leaving to his own quarters on his ship.
As he walked he idly wondered if his cousin was faring as well as he was
AN- Thanks for reading and please leave a review.
For anybody who played EU4 like myself, i thought it would be cool if I showed how the Starks and a few others were in terms of stats.
Theon; Adm 2 Dip 1 Mil 5
Rick; Adm 4 Dip 3 Mil 3
Selene; Adm 4 Dip 4 Mil 2