Notes: Hope you guys enjoy. R&R!

CHEERS!

289 AC- Great Wyk

Stannis Baratheon drew a large breath as he looked upon his victory. The air was stale with the scent of death, blood, and smoke, but it pleased him nonetheless.

His fleet had broken the Greyjoy ranks at the Fair Isles and chased the retreating ships all the way to Great Wyk, picking off some of the slower ships they could catch along the way.

Once they had arrived, it had been a short battle. A large bulk of their ships, which consequently contained many of their men, had been destroyed. The Ironborn resistance upon their arrival was fierce, as expected, but ultimately futile.

He spotted Muirgen, the tall woman not hard to find, and knew his son would be nearby. It was impossible not to surrender a small smile at his heir's visage. His face hurt from forcing his facial muscles to submit.

Stannis was proud of his son, a young man of five-and-ten. Not only had he overcome greyscale, but also was already a veteran of war, and a victorious one at that.

Harry could have hid, shied away from the upcoming battle and Stannis would have let him. He would have encouraged it even. Harry was his son, the child who would carry his name. Stannis would have told the world that his son had done his duty by managing Dragonstone in his stead. No one would have questioned it. His brother, Renly, was close to Harry's age and stayed at Storm's End to 'hold the keep', so why would it be strange for his son?

But, much to his pleasure and chagrin, Harry was every bit his son. He did not hide inside the castle as his mother and father preferred. Harry knew it was his duty to fight for the peace of the realm and by the gods, did Harry fight.

Off the coast of the Fair Isles, his son had rallied the men of the Prayer and sunk half a dozen small longboats with his scorpions and boarded and sunk another four. With Harry's victories alone the Greyjoy had lost over a hundred of their men and because he had ordered the ships sacked, gained treasures that he split evenly amongst his crew.

Stannis could only snort at the thought. His son was barely a man and not even a lord yet, but he now had riches to rival one. A very poor lord, but rival a lord nonetheless. He expected that at Great Wyk for Harry to take it easy, allow some of the more rested men to do most of the work. But, Harry rallied his men yet again and once more courageously charged into the fray with his sword held high.

He had asked his son, what name would he give his sword. All great swords had names. The Stark's had Ice, the Lannister's used to have Brightroar, the Mormont's had Longclaw, and the Targaryen had many. Though those weapons were of Valyrian steel, Harry's sword was no less impressive. He had slain many of their enemies with a swing of his blade. Surely, as all young men do, he would give it a great name.

But, his son, just laughed.

'A sword is nothing without a man behind it. People say great swords all have names. I tell them, quit looking at the sword and see the man behind it.' Harry had said to him. Stannis could not have agreed with his more. Swords were tools, the power behind them…the greatness behind them lay in men.

He took his son's words to heart and in front of all those who could hear him after their victory at Great Wyk, Stannis named his son, Harry 'Ironside' Baratheon. The men of the entire fleet cheered, the crew of the Prayer more loudly than any other.

Stannis was not one to grant his son the name just because of morale. Harry had earned a title. He would have given Harry a knighthood, but coming from his father it would not have been taken seriously by many others, regardless of what part his son played at the Fair Isles and Great Wyk. But, the name was aptly given.

At the sea battle of the Fair Isles and the land battle of Great Wyk, Harry had battled more than his fair share of combatants, killed more than his fair share of men. At the land battle of Great Wyk, he did not command from the middle or rear as most commanders do. Like Stannis himself did. He was in the front, holding the line and inspiring the men.

But, throughout it all Harry had not received on scratch. He had taken some hits to his armor, some serious enough that Stannis had all but rushed to his son. But, Harry would just get back up and show the fury of the Baratheon name.

His son had fought like he was made of iron. Unyielding in his fury with a indomitable will that pushed back the enemy line better than twenty sword or spears.

Stannis spotted Ser Davos inform his son of his summons. They had won two great victories in as many weeks. Word from Pyke was that his brother's siege would break the wall any day now. It was time to congratulate his son and for him to return home. He would reward what of his men he could time with their families before they were summoned to King's Landing for a celebration Robert would no doubt throw in honor of 'his victory'.

"You wished to see me father?" Harry asked, armor caked in dried blood but untroubled. That was good sign to Stannis. Many men were troubled in the mind after things they had seen or done in war. He was glad that it would not seem the case for his heir.

"Yes, you are to set sail for Dragonstone soon. The war is over." He informed Harry, hoping to see the news brighten his son's face. There was no doubt that his son would be missing his sister and his mother would be over joyed to have her son back.

"Balon Greyjoy bends the knee to Uncle Robert?" Came the unexpected question, with an unnecessary amount of skepticism.

"Not yet, no. But, reports say that he will break through the walls any day now. After the fortifications fall, there will be resistance, but we smashed their fleet and most of their men. The Greyjoys will have no choice; they will bend the knee or be eradicated. I will go to prove support if necessary." Stannis said, not understanding where his son's reluctance was coming from.

"So I am to take myself home and leave you here? I most certainly will not! What of my men? They have fought hard in his war; they deserve to see it through to its completion. They have had friends die, they deserve to see that bastard Greyjoy kneel!" Harry said heatedly.

"It's not about what they deserve, it is about what is. This many ships are no longer needed; you have done our duty. You will take command of half the ships and sail back for Dragonstone. Assign enough to guard Blackwater Bay and give the rest time with their families. I do not particularly care how many. But, you are going home." He ordered his son. A part of him was proud for standing up to him. It showed intestinal fortitude. But, another part made Stannis grind his teeth at the rebellious attitude.

"I see…" was all Harry said before turning and posting himself on the many chests of treasure his men had gifted him in homage as their lord. His son did not looked cowed and it was that fact that Stannis could feel the headache coming.

"Men of the Prayer!" Harry announced loudly. The men of his ship had gathered around him, and many more were staring and listening.

Yes, definitely a headache.

"I have just received new orders. They say that we are not needed at Pyke…I am to take half the armada and go home." Stannis expected the men to cheer. When he was met with disturbed grumblings, nothing short of getting struck by lightning would have shocked him more.

No…considering what happened to his son, not even that would have surprised him more. A grown man overcoming greyscale was just as rare as being struck by lightning.

"They say the walls around Pyke are to come down any day now, that the war…is over, but we can all go home," Harry continued, "That bastard Greyjoy still sits in his fucking castle and all the sacrifices we have made are no longer needed…but, we can all go home."

Never had Stannis seen such dejected men at the mention of going home.

"Well…I am not going home," Stannis snapped his head towards his son, who wore an insubordinate smirk. The men of the Prayer looked up surprised at their commander and with something else in their eyes.

Stannis had always believed in ruling through fear, keeping the knights and lords under him in line through fear. But, it was not fear he saw in the men of the Prayer. Stannis saw hope and admiration. They wanted to sail to Pyke to fight. He was giving the opportunity to go home, to see their families, but they wanted to follow his son to more war.

It was not something he could comprehend.

"I going to get on my ship, I'm going to sail through the strait, and I'm going to kick that son-of-a-bitch Balon Greyjoy's arse so hard! The next usurper is going to feel it."

Men muttered and nodded their agreement between themselves. Gods bless their hearts; none of them mentioned his brother also being a usurper.

Harry himself looked proud of his words and Stannis could not blame him. His son had done one of the hardest things a lord can do: convince men to willingly lie their lives down for a cause not their own.

"Now, who wants to go home…and who wants to go with me!"

A roar ripped through the crowd. Even some men not stationed to the Prayer were cheering. Harry just nodded his head and gave him one last look. Stannis could see he was slightly regretful, not for his disobedience, but that it had needed to come to that. He could see the reluctance as Harry put his helm on his head before leaving with a war cry on his way to the ship Stannis had given him command of. The men and Muirgen were not far behind, creating a cacophony of sound as they bashed on their shields or breastplates yelling like lunatics.

"I can sabotage his ship, my lord." Ser Davos informed Stannis half-heartedly. He glared at the landed knight for even suggesting such a thing. Though, Stannis would have been lying if he did not admit, even if only to himself, that he wasn't tempted.

There really was no positive side for him at that moment.

If Stannis allowed Harry to do as he pleased, then Stannis himself would be seen as weak, unable to temper his son. He would be seen almost as big a fool as his idiot brother.

Stannis could punish him for what was essentially mutiny. But, then he would be seen as a tyrant or worse…a bad father. His son was going to fight for the realm, lead men into glorious battle, and where he to punish Harry, Stannis would be seen as forbidding help.

At least, that's what every man, woman, and child in the Seven Kingdoms would see.

They would think his son the noble hero and Stannis a craven. To hold a defeated army and conquered land, while his young son went and joined the siege of Pyke, bravely going into the breach. Stannis could only snort at what would be said about him.

Craven. Coward. Weakling. Gutless.

Those would just be from people in court. There is no telling what his lady wife would do to him. She'd murder him in his sleep if anything happened to their son.

There was only one option and it made Stannis grind his teeth.

That damned boy and his gods-forsaken willfulness!

"Ser Davos, take command of the men. You will hold Great Wyk and wait for me to return." He commanded.

"If I may my lord, where will you be?" Davos asked. From the tone in the ex-smuggler's voice, Stannis knew the man already knew the answer. He was just asking to amuse himself.

"Do not play daft," Stannis gritted out as he gathered his antlered helm and sword. Even though he knew the words to say, they were not words he ever expected to say. They were words that were supposed to come from Robert's lips, not his. But, it was the fact that he was saying them that Stannis had an internal quarrel between sickness and bewilderment.

"I'm going to go warring with my son."

289 AC – Pyke

To see Stannis and Harry talk was like watching a young buck lock horns with an older stag. They pushed and pushed, until one of them gave. Most people would have expected the younger to submit. But, Muirgen was not most people. She knew that once Harry got it in his mind to do something, it was as good as done. He was as overwhelming as a storm. There was no talking to him, no changing his mind, and certainly no stopping him.

He had the scars to prove it.

Sometimes being his Sworn Shield, Muirgen felt as if she had unwillingly been dump on top of a feral horse. There were only two things to do in such a situation. She could kick and scream in fear of her life or enjoy the ride. The horse was eventually going to get its way.

Needless to say, being around Harry had so far been an enjoyable ride.

The latest amusement was watching the dour and controlling, Stannis Baratheon, sit like a petulant child because he controlled nothing. He was still dour, but with his arms crossed against his chest being rather useless, it made Muirgen smile.

The Lord of Dragonstone lazing about as his younger son shouted commands…well, no one would have ever believed her if she told them. The fact that the crew's faces lit up and worked even harder when Harry gave them a compliment probably only made it worse for the man. Gone was their fear of his touch or the sight of his scar. They looked up at him with something akin to reverence now for it. They knew he was a tough bastard and the stories they told of his 'scar' had changed to reflect it.

A fickle and superstitious lot sailors were.

Muirgen knew full well what kind of leader Stannis was. Fear equaled respect. He was unused to seeing a respect from inspiration. Not that Muirgen could blame him. She had seen and heard of enough news about lords and ladies to know his way of thinking was common.

"Have some sympathy for my father. He may not be the most pleasant man, but he is a good one." Harry said, holding out a leather jug of water. She graciously grabbed it and took a pull. Muirgen was handing it back when Harry jerked his head over his shoulder. She looked as he motioned to his head towards Stannis. Her eyes widened at the suggestion. Just as she was going to urge against it Harry raised a brow.

Muirgen knew what the look meant. If she had been a lady, the groan that escaped would have shamed her.

But, she was no lady.

She was, however, sworn to him and did as he bid. Muirgen did her best to convince herself that she could power through one civil conversation with a man she did not particularly like if only because Harry told her to.

"Water, Lord Stannis?" She tried to sound polite, but doubted it came out that way.

Stannis nodded and took the leather jug. He took a pull as she sat down next to him. She accepted it back and did not comment when he sat in silence. After several completely silent moments, Muirgen was going to back to her post at Harry's side, when Stannis finally parted his lips.

"Only a few battles and his men love him. I can see it in their eyes. They know he is their commander, but look at him akin to a father, as ridiculous at is sounds."

Muirgen watched her liege's father. He was not judging or jealous, merely stating fact.

"They were very impressive battles, Lord Stannis." He looked at her, not questioning, but telling her to expound.

"At the start of the Fair Isle, your son was the first man to board the ship. Jumped straight off the railing and unto the Greyjoy ship. He slew one before the rest of us even set foot on the enemy ship. Launched himself from the railing like it was a catapult. They respected him for that. Too many lords send men to fight and die, without sharing any of the hardship, any of the risk. A lord loses and he may lose his land, his daughters, his riches, but it's unlikely they will lose their lives." She looked to see Stannis still listening intently.

"At Great Wyk, the men were ragged, less than seventy remaining. But, Harry urged them forward. Ask them if they would allow themselves to say that a boy of five-and-ten squashed the Greyjoy at Great Wyk by himself, while his men took a nap. He allowed them their share of spoils, but did not bribe them with it. He promised the only thing right for a man doing his duty. Much like a father would."

"And what is that?" Stannis questioned, genuine in his curiosity.

"Honor and peace of mind. Peace that yes, they may die, but they did so in defense of what they hold dear." She replied passionately.

"Sounds fool-hardy to me." Stannis interjected. Muirgen snorted and shook her head. She knew that a man like him would not understand. He would never understand that while ideals such as honor and self-sacrifice were unrealistic, they were great things to believe in. And in life, whether such things were truth or not, they were worth believing in. Men of gold would betray each other for it. But, men who share blood of a covenant would never turn.

"May be it was foolish," Muirgen stated as she stood abruptly, "but even fools are rewarded if their intentions are just."

"Foolish actions only beget stupid consequences." He said at her back. Muirgen turned every so slightly over her should and gave her parting shot.

"Truly? I did not think your daughter being cured by grey scale was a stupid consequence. Because even you cannot deny that Harry's actions were foolish. Well intentioned, but foolish." She 'tsked' at him while walking away, pleased that she could hear the grinding of his teeth.

289 AC Pyke

They had landed at Pyke before the walls had come down and informed his uncle of their arrival. To say that his uncle Robert was surprised by his presence would have been an understatement. He stood silent as his father gave the report on their victory at the Fair Isles and Great Wyk, informing the king that most of the fleet stayed at Great Wyk to secure the area, while Stannis and Harry had taken one ship to give reinforcements. The king had taken one look at his crew, a look that Harry did not appreciate, saw them marred and bloodied still over what they had done in his name and sneered. When his father had recommended Harry's troops for the vanguard, the king had all but laughed in their faces.

FLASHBACK

"They don't look fit enough to fight their way through a wet blanket! You want me to put them in the front?" King Robert laughed, before coughing and subduing his cough with a large pull of wine. "With my nephew of four-and-ten at its head? Are you mad, little brother? And what happened to your face anyway boy?"

Harry knew his father was to say something, but interjected.

"I had a small bout of greyscale, nothing for you to concern over. Maester Cressen said I was clear of the infection." Bless their hearts they did little but look bewildered, his uncle commenting that Cressen was a good man.

"I am five-and-ten uncle, and my crew and I have killed more Ironborn than any man in the vanguard you have now, all in your name and in the protection of the kingdoms' peace. They deserve more than your jeers and pity." Harry ground out, a habit he was no doubt inherited from his father. Stannis's hand on his shoulder and a hiss of his name was the only thing stopping him from approaching the king any closer.

His uncle Robert drew himself up to an impressive height. Harry noticed how broad his uncle was, how intimidating. He looked more a bear than a stag. It was not hard to see how easy it would be for him to cow other men. But, Harry would not allow him to so freely talk down to the men who had willingly laid their lives down not only for Harry, but ultimately for their king.

"Watch it boy," Robert growled, "nephew or not, I will not tolerate such disrespect. And they are my men to begin with. I am king and will look at them how I damn well please."

"Robert…" tried Lord Eddard Stark, reaching for the king's shoulder.

"No, Ned! I will not have it!" He said glaring down at Harry.

Harry met his uncle's glare and shrugged off his father's hand. His father hissed at him warningly again, but Harry would not back down. His uncle would not bully him, not when it came to the honor of him and his men.

"Your men are they?"

"Aye! My men!" Robert said, stepping towards Harry until they stood plate to plate.

"Then, I must commend Your Grace for being such a brilliant commander," Harry began, his uncle and Lord Stark looking at him peculiarly, "to be able to command the men of my ship from here while they fought at the Fair Isles and Great Wyk. The gods must truly favor you if they carried your voice so far." He retorted thickly in mocking compliment.

Lord Stark looked away to hide a smile and Harry could feel his father's own triumphing smirk at the back of his head. The king looked positively furious for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to see Ned looking away. Seeing his old friend laugh seemed to take away some of his uncle's fury. After a tense moment of another stare, King Robert released a large bellowing laugh.

"Ha! You sure you're your father's son? You remind me of myself at your age! Doesn't he Ned?"

"He certainly has a spirit to him." Lord Stark said, not completely agreeing. But, Harry appreciated the compliment nonetheless. The king regarded Harry for a moment before nodding.

"You think your man enough to lead the vanguard? So be it," He turned to look at Harry's father, "something happens to him, I will not be the one explaining it to your wife, little brother."

Harry nodded, before looking at the look on his father's apprehensive face. He could hear Lord Stark protest, saying that he was too young to be at the front. If the man only knew that Harry had always been at the front. At the Fair Isles, at Great Wyk, in all the battles of his past life, Harry had been at the front. He would not put his men in danger that he was not himself willing to face.

"Why?" He asked his father when they were farther away from the King and Warden of the North. His father looked down at him before staring out to the castle.

"You wanted to see Greyjoy kneel enough to disobey me. Then, I would see you have it," Stannis had replied, "You best not disappoint me by dying. If you do, have the courtesy to kill me first. I'd rather die here than have your mother do it while I slept."

Harry was sure that it was one of the few times his father every came to a joke and he gave a scoff of a laugh.

"If we died here, I'm sure mother would find some way to nag both of us, even in death." He quipped to both of their laughter.

END FLASHBACK

After a portion of the wall had come down a wave of Ironborn had rushed through the breach to meet them. The some of the vanguard, men who did not know Harry, ignored him when he shouted for them to stay in formation and stupidly ran forward. He could not help but curse as they were cut down, many clashing with two or more opponents at once.

Harry had the vanguard move at a slow pace, behind a strong shield wall. It was a methodical pace, pushing and systematically stabbing and hacking at anyone in the way, but they eventually made it through the gap in the wall around Pyke. Once through the wall, Harry ordered the men to spread out more, to not get bogged down in the hole or in the narrow corridors of the streets. He, Muirgen, and his father pushed their way to the Keep, killing more and more of the Ironborn that had been left behind.

Once inside the castle, men of the Prayer ran forward to clear his way, but Harry had told them to keep Balon alive. He had been slowly making his way, ensuring everything was clear, when he had found his men. Three of them slaughtered, butchered to death by a young man.

Harry understood that they were in war and that his men and he could die. Death and war came hand in hand. But, that was not the reason he was pissed off. The reason Harry was furious was because though death was inevitable in war, the bastard looked to enjoy that he had killed them. He took pleasure in it.

"You this Ironside, these men were yapping about. Kept saying some Ironside fellow would avenge them. Well, before they died that is. I'm Marion Greyjoy as it were and who would you be?" he asked condescendingly.

"Aye, I'm him, Harry Baratheon." Harry said bringing his sword to the ready. "They were right. Before this day is through, I will see you kneel or dead. Either works for me."

Marion just scoffed, throwing aside an axe. He twirled his remaining sword and motioned for Harry to strike. But, Harry wasn't stupid. He would not rush dumbly, would not allow his emotions to rule him. He had been hoping the Greyjoy to surrender at the sight behind Harry, but it was only a small hope.

They stood, Harry in a low guard and Marion's sword held in front of him haphazardly, and waited. Harry could hear others coming up behind him, but paid them no attention. They had cleared the halls and his father and Muirgen would handle any enemies that came.

It was Marion to strike first, a testing blow that was half-hearted at best, but Harry punished him for it. He parried the light stab and countered with one of his own. The young man was wearing full plate, so Harry did not stab at the normal vitals. He gave a quick stab to Marion's exposed elbow, sliding his blade in between the elbow guard and pauldron. Marion screamed when Harry's blade parted skin. It was a superficial wound at best, but it would smart like nothing he had ever felt.

The Greyjoy growled, getting into a more serious stance. Harry didn't care. The Greyjoy was dead; he just didn't know it. They slashed at each other, locking blades.

Harry snarled as he pushed forward, but allowed Marion to push him back with a roar. He tilted out of the way of a lunge and returned with a slash at Marion's head, the sound of a steel sword clanging against the steel helm rang loudly. It was not a mortal wound, but Marion's head would ring like a septum bell.

Harry blocked a slash and locked blades again, but he only allowed the stalemate to continue for a second before twisting out of the way and slamming his pommel into the Greyjoy's face.

Marion screamed, his mouth full of blood, and charged forward again with his sword high. Harry dodged the first two cleaves, leaning away from the blade as it swiped past him. On the third, he stepped forward and locked swords. As Marion attempted to push him again, Harry raised his sword into a high block, tilted his body away, and let Marion's sword slide down the blade. He pushed at the Greyjoy's elbow, further pushing him off line, and slashed down at behind his enemy's knee as he passed.

Again, the Greyjoy screamed in pain as Harry's sword again found flesh. When Marion stood up, despite the agony in the motion, Harry had to give the Ironborn some measure of respect. It wouldn't save him, but Harry mentally complimented the Greyjoy's determination.

Harry stayed in his low guard, slowly creeping towards his injured opponent. Marion threw quick strikes. He had learned from his mistakes and not locked blades, but Harry dodged and parried his blows away. He might be injured, but Harry knew he was still dangerous and it was safer to let the Greyjoy tire himself before going in for the kill.

His moment came when Marion came with a strong, two-handed diagonal slash. He was clearly expecting Harry to dodge as he had previously done, but that's what Harry wanted him to think. He stepped forward and brought his sword up to block. He could see the Greyjoy's eyes widen in excitement when his blade failed to make contact.

But, Harry wasn't trying to block with the blade.

Marion's sword sliced into the hilt of Harry's sword, a few widths of hair away from his supporting hand. Harry took the moment of surprise to latching one hand around Marion's blade into hand, pinching it in between his fingers and palm. Harry's sword, at perfect height because of the risky block, was thrust straight through the opening of Marion's kraken helm. There was a sickening squelch as metal parted skin, bone, and matter.

Harry watched as his enemy died with a sword through his eye. He twisted and yanked it out foe good measure. There was a degree of satisfaction in him, to know that he had avenged his men. He didn't know their names, their stories, but they were his men. Harry felt a measure of responsibility to see them avenged and he had done it. Marion's body had settled to die on his knees, a position Harry would see his father in.

"Ha! You see that, Ned! That's my nephew! Never let it be said he is not a man of his word! Kneeling and dead!" A booming voice japed in bad manner behind him. Turning over his shoulder, Harry saw that his uncle and Eddard Stark had joined his father and Muirgen. They had been watching. He did not know why, but it made him feel all the better that he had won.

It would have been entirely embarrassing if he died while they watched.

"A good kill, young Baratheon." The Lord of Winterfell said solemnly. Harry knew what he meant. He wasn't complimenting him on killing the Greyjoy, but glad that Harry had killed him quickly. Many would have humiliated Marion. Harry had made it clean. As clean as a sword through the eye could be, but still it was the sentiment that counted.

But, he had no idea how to reply to that.

"Its just Harry, Lord Stark." Harry finally settled on. The older man smiled. Probably glad for a little levity in a rather situation.

"Harry, then." The Warden of the North said with a small bow of his head.

"Enough of this! Listen to you, sounding like a bunch of women with all your talking." The king announced as he pushed past them to the door Marion had been guarding, carelessly pushing the dead body out of his way.

His uncle saw the door and raised his war-hammer, swinging the clumsy weapon with the strength he had been infamous for. The wood splintered, but the door did not give. King Robert looked at the door, then at his weapon as if it was faulty.

"Muirgen, get the door please." Harry asked his Sworn Shield, who easily stood as tall as his uncle. He could attest to her strength. He had never met anyone of House Mormont, but if Muirgen's strength was any testament to it, then Harry fully supported a bear for their sigil.

"Yes, my lord." Muirgen replied dutifully. She snatched a round shield from a near by warrior, much to the man's protest and looked at the king as if to say 'move aside'.

"A woman?" His uncle exclaimed, "If you think a woman can-"

What ever his uncle was to say was quieted when Muirgen charged forward with a roar, shield held at her shoulder. The door didn't do anything as spectacular as explode inward or come off its hinges. But, she did hit it with enough force for the bolt and catch to break and allow the door to open on its own.

Everyone in the hall stared comically at Muirgen and the door, none more so than the king who again looked at his war-hammer as if it betrayed him.

"I'm sure you weakened it substantially, Your Grace." Harry finally said, much to everyone's muted laughter.

"Of course I did! I may not be as young as I used to be, but if I hit the blasted thing one more time it would've turned into kindling!" His uncle boasted. The king did though give an approving nod to Muirgen, just as Lord Stark gave one to Harry at his comment.

They made their way behind the King as they walked into the 'throne room' of Balon Greyjoy.

The sight of him made Harry growl. He was an old man, frail with grey hair already starting to fall out. The wrinkles on his face were plenty and the weather of the Iron Isles hand not done his skin any wonders, it looked like over boiled leather that sagged off his bones. Harry knew the looks could be deceiving, but he could not believe that this was the man that the Ironborn had willingly went to war for. The man looked ready to keel over at any second.

Their overwhelming defeat of his forces may have had something to do with that though.

"Balon Greyjoy, you are charged with treason against your king, Robert Baratheon, and piracy against the Seven Kingdoms. Kneel before him and you may be shown leniency." Lord Stark commanded him, his hands resting on the Valyrian greatsword, Ice.

The rest of them had surrounded him, swords already drawn.

"The Greyjoy do not kneel. We are Ironborn." Balon hissed, hand on his sword as if to draw.

Harry could have let the man die a gruesome death, but that would have been too easy for him. Balon's greed was the reason his men had to die. Without the stupid rebellion, they would have been back at home with their families. He would not allow the Greyjoy to die a martyr's death.

He sprang forward quickly, slapping at the man's hand with the flat of his blade before rearing his free hand back and slamming his gloved hand into Balon's face. The blow set the older man to the floor with no trouble. Harry took his sword and slid it between the old man's armor and sword belt. With a quick flick of his wrist, the would-be king of the Iron Isles was disarmed. He grabbed what few strands of hair Balon had left and drew him up, Harry's foot at the back of his knee to keep him kneeling. He leaned in close, sword across Balon's throat.

"I have already killed your son, it would be no difficulty giving you a second mouth and watching you flop around the floor like a fish as you spit your life unto this fucking floor." He threatened.

"You lie!" Balon insisted, turning to look at Harry. He must have seen the truth in his words because his teeth were clenched together, threating to crack the bone, before looking aware. He let out a crying moan of pure suffering and Harry let the man drop to the stone floor, but not before kicking aside his weapon.

They all allowed the old man to weep and shout for the death of his child, even his normally tactless uncle. It was a small mercy they bestowed upon him. The fact his two eldest sons were dead, his rebellion a failure, and the amount of war reparations he would have to pay would only make the wound all the more deeper.

The least they could do was permit him to wallow in his anguish for a few minutes.