Chapter Twelve
…..
The sound of his men charging with their boats towards the shores of White Harbor is glorious for Captain Pike, also known as Pike the Picker due to his tendency to pick carefully the places that Ironborn raid before charging head on. At least compared to some of the other captains, he does have a brain; when it comes to raiding at least.
The king of the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy personally asked him to lead his five ships to attack this place. Their purpose is not to occupy it but rather damage it enough that it would be unusable. It is after all the only place of the North that can muster a small semblance of a navy. Once they burn this harbor out, the North would be unable to muster its own ships in aid for the Rebellion against the fat stag on the throne.
It is a brilliant strategy for Captain Pike. The burning of this harbor would earn him glory for himself for successfully following his king and at the same time, if he is lucky, find some worthy spoils here before hollering off in victory.
"What is dead may never die!" he roars to his men on the small boats who repeated the phrase as they paddled furiously toward the burning docks. Already the large ships on the docks are burning. They can burn the little ships later once they're done with the large town.
….
White Harbor, Main Square
As Harry the Great and all around awesomeness, there are few times in his battle-experienced life that catches him off guard. Your survival instinct after all tends to be honed when a lunatic is after your life ever since you're a baby. It doesn't help that said reputation of lunatic is one of the darkest wizards of the age. The years that followed being a senior auror and bane of many budding dark lords help. His life is one fight after another.
Thus when the first burning ballistae came crashing on a house at the square where Jon was showing her the rather ugly rendition of a merman statue that looks more akin to a blob of stone put together, even he was surprised for being caught by surprise. The explosion sent her flying to a nearby wall where she got the wind temporarily knocked out of her.
Cursing herself for being caught with her pants down, Delianah shakily stands up as she wipes the soot from her eyes. The absence of conflict in this world has rather rendered her usually sharp instincts dull. It doesn't help that her focus for the past few years has been more unto building her power and reputation to their previous heights back at her old life.
"If I ever get out of this, I would be training this feeble body back to something worthy," she thinks to herself looking at the smoke covered square filled with bodies of the dead and dying. She easily espies the black colored head of the seven year old bastard of Eddard Stark lying on the ground out cold a few feet away from the broken fountain.
He may be Delianah Tully on this world but her saving people thing has always been a part of Harry that he had come to accept so long ago. Running towards his form and deftly avoiding another burning scorpion bolt that reduced to ashes another nearby house and killing more civvies, she slids at his side and turning him over, placing a finger on his neck.
She sighs in relief. The last thing that she needs is for Eddard Stark's bastard to die on her watch. As it is though, they need to move. Even from here, she can see the ships bombarding the town with burning scorpion bolts. She mentally scowls as she sees their banners proudly etched on their ships' massive sails. The Kraken symbols on their sails are proof enough of what they are, pirates, Ironborn, scum! People that she hated before and hunted in her previous life.
Looking at the unconscious boy, she frowns, normally she would cast a featherlight charm on him and carry him somewhere to safety. Unfortunately right now, she is in unfamiliar territory and just placing him at a wall side is hazardous, especially when pirates are soon to be running around and that's not counting the firing ballista bolts toppling houses front right and center. She might not like it but there's only one thing she can do.
SMACK!
"OWWWWWWWWWWW!" the pained screech of Jon Snow echoes amidst the chaos that the invasion is causing on the town square.
"Get up Jon Snow! We are being invaded and I need you awake and attentive, do you hear me?" she hisses at the boy pulling him to his feet. Once more Delianah is mentally thankful of the aging potion that makes her body look eleven to twelve instead of the paltry six it is.
The boy just looks at her in disbelief for a second clutching his red cheek. "You slapped me!" he exclaims. Delianah just grunts at the accusation before standing up.
"Get to safety boy, whatever you do, don't go near the main roads and such. We are being invaded and the last thing you want to be is to be at the thick of the fighting,"
Delianah is just about to run off (at the direction which she guessed nine times out of ten where the harbor is) when the small hands of Jon Snow grips hers making her nearly drag him. As it is, he just face planted at the muddy ground.
"What in Seven Hells are you doing?!" Delianah demands once more hauling to his feet the now muddy bastard.
"Y-you need a- a guide where you're going," the boy is barely coherent thanks to the mud that he spits out.
"I know where I'm going," Delianah sniffs dismissively.
"Y-you're going to the Harbor right? I-I know where it is. But aren't you afraid my lady?" he asks.
Delianah nearly decks him at that question. She's Harry the Great and she faced monsters more dangerous than a few paltry pirates with clubs. She chooses thus to simply ignore his question.
"Take me to the harbor boy and quickly!"
It is a stark reminder for Delianah of the chaos and war that follows humanity. No matter the world, no matter the place, suffering always follows its wake. And that's why people like her existed, to put out the fires before they can become an inferno that swallows all.
As she and Jon ran past the winding paths of White Harbor, already she can see the damage caused by the sudden attack of the Ironborn. Burning houses and stalls courtesy of ballista and trebuchet firing from their ships. People are running back and fro, mothers grabbing children into safety while the town guard like her are rushing to the harbor in a combination of armor and clothes jutting out. They obviously did not expect the attack.
With Jon's guidance (she admits, the boy is brave knowing that they are running into danger but still guiding her), the two of them finally reaches the docks. It is quite obvious however that despite the good time that she and Jon made, the Iroborn raiders have gotten here first. Dozens of smallboats are parked at the wooden planks and thirty or more so of the raiders are already wrecking havoc massacring dock workers left and right with their axes and blades. There are a fair few harbor guards stationed here but most of them are either dead or dying due to the lack of resistance. The only major resistance the raiders are facing are the small group that is slowly being pushed to the center of the town. Even from this distance, Delianah can easily espy the black clad form of Amelia, slowly keeping the small band of warriors wearing the Harrenhal livery butchering any Ironborn that is brave, or stupid enough to get near them.
Delianah hadn't been stupid picking the crew for the five longships that travelled here with her. Despite wearing the usual surcoat that guardsmen usually wear, they are anything but guardsman. Out of the hundred men that accompanied her here, fifty are the usual sea men that man the longships while the other fifty is an assortment of former slave pit fighters from Essos, and daring adventurers who volunteer themselves. Basically men who are more at home fighting in leather armor and chain mail than the heavily plated knights. Handpicked men that would be able to fight on boats as naturally than they can fight in land.
"Hide inside that house Jon Snow and don't come out till the battle's over," Delianah points to an abandoned guardhouse. "Bolt the door after you enter,"
"But I wanna help!" protests the six year old with a stomp. Delianah almost smiles at that. The boy is Gryffindor alright, brave, daring, and not too bright.
"Get inside there now!" snaps Delianah stopping the boy's protests as he stands ramrod straight, an entire life of conditioning to obey lords naturally compelling him to follow.
Delianah breathes a sigh of relief as Jon Snow locks himself in the small guardhouse. This way he would be free of the incoming trebuchet and ballista fire burning White Harbor. The Iroborn would never fire near the docks in fear that they might hit one of their own currently making landfall here. It would be a lesser risk than leaving him back there where a stray ballista bolt might rip him in half or a crashing house fall on his head.
With Jon now clearly out of harm's way, Delianah glares at the pirates. Time for her to do some cleaning of the vermin. Her first targets is the small group of five putting down one of the harbor guards with a spear at the gut.
It does not take long for the five to notice her approaching form for their victorious faces turned lecherous at the sight of her.
"Uncivilized dogs, Serpentsorsia!" Delianah raises her right hand and with a flash, a three meter long python slams into the face of one of them making him scream in terror. The smiles of their faces disappear immediately as the realization sets in that they are not facing a simple noble girl lost on her way to the docks.
"Sorceress!" one of them whimpers only to gurgle as a piercing hex at the throat connects.
The rest of the three realizing immediately that they are facing a magic user disengages leaving their fellow whose face is being devoured by the python to his fate. Delianah however does not have plans of letting any of them go in any way.
"Wingardium Leviosa," the spear from the gutted guard removes itself with a bloody squelch before shooting like a bullet at the back of one of the Ironborn. He is dead before he even hits the ground.
"Aguamenti," the spell is simple, but proper placement and setting and it can be dangerous. The water appears at the feet of thefarthest fleeing Ironborn making him slip up and crash to the ground. The fellow after him to engrossed into getting away from her trips over his head killing him immediately while at the same time falling down.
"P-p-p-p-p-please! D-don't kill me," the last of the Ironborn begs making Delianah sneer. All these evil people, they're all the same when they're the one at their backs. Always asking for mercy when they give none. She's going to give them what they deserve.
"Sectusempra!" the dark ripping curse tears into the man making howl as half his chest is eviscerated. It is a painful death.
"W-witch!" a moaning curse makes Delianah turns her attention away from the dead Ironborn to the source of the sound. Color her surprised, it's the dying harbor guard that they pinned before. He is glaring at her hatefully. "The gods will have you witch!" he hisses despite his entrails coming out of him. Delianah mentally sighs. She has been to focused on gutting the worthless wretches that she kinda forget her reasoning why she doesn't use magic openly except in the presence of the Green Men.
"Not today I'm afraid," she simply replies to the guard raising a hand.
"Avada Kedavra!" the green colored curse slams into his chest killing him immediately.
"There is something wrong here. They do not have enough men," Delianah frowns as she sees the last of the Ironborn reinforcements arrive to help loot and put down the resistance at the docks, burning ships and nearby houses. This is untypical of pirate behavior, especially Ironborn. There is something here that she is missing. They usually raid, take whatever they can get, gold, women, children for slaves then run away. Yet here they are, going the extra mile of wrecking the place.
"WINTERFELL!" a roar that is more akin to a howl erupts from one of the roads and Delianah stares as the form of Eddard Stark with Lord Manderly followed by the rest of his household guards slam into the North side at the closest ironborn raiders. The Northern Lord looks every bit the Lord Paramount he is, face stern and strong, his eyes blazing with rage as he wields the greatsword of Valyrian Steel cutting through steel, and chain mail like butter.
Seeing the emergence of this new threat, the Ironborn immediately raise their weapons as they shout their war cry before charging despite being outnumbered two to one. The remaining few of them that are still sinking the ships and burning the harbor double timed it giving credence to Delianah's suspicions about another purpose of this attack other than reaving and raiding.
She needs answers and there's one way to get it.
With a small murmur, a firewhip appears on Delianah's hands. Basically used against inferi, if pumped with enough magic, it is more akin to a saw that cuts through anything and anyone. It's a massive cheat, and necessary. Delianah might never admit it, but all this time that she has been here, she has neglected her skill when it comes to weapons of arms. It is basically second nature to her to trust on her magic for fighting and frankly forget until today that in order to defend herself without being labeled as a witch, she needs to know how to use a weapon. Even back then as Harry after all, the mist she has when it comes with skill on medieval weapons is using the Sword of Gryffindor against the Basilisk, and even then it is a fluke. At least with an overpowered Fire Whip she can even the odds. Plus the fire whip would look like a muggle weapon encased with fire. No one would suspect it is magic.
Delinah does not move however to the main battle where Stark and his retinue are fighting the Ironborn, no. She instead turns towards the small group of fifty being led by Amelia currently grappling with at least the same amount of Ironborn invaders.
Delianah fell unto them like a firebolt literally. Due to her looks, none of the Ironborn takes her seriously and they paid for that with their lives. The fire whip at her hands strikes directly and true. Fueled by her magic, it cuts through steel, flesh and bone with ease. The attacks she make are simple, but fluid and precise. In instinct, men try to block and parry her attacks. They realized the futility of it too late as the fire whip cuts through them like hot knife on butter.
Screams followed with the sizzling smell of burnt flesh as bodies are torn apart in pieces at her advance. She's literally a one man army as she focuses on attack alone. She gives no chance for the pirates to force her on the defensive due to the unwieldy usage of a whip in such a fight and her obvious lack of skill. As it is though, her appearance and her rather sudden decimation of the enemy fighting force gives heart to her retinue who counter-attacked, overwhelming the Ironborn with sheer force of numbers. By the end of the fighting, ten of her soldiers are down with another five wounded.
"My lady you're alright!" the rather blood-soaked form of Amelia approaches her immediately panting. "I'm sorry my lady that I am at not your side. I am-,"
"Enough! There is time for that later," Delianah cuts her off with a raised hand. "How many of our longships survived the attack?"
"The longships? My apologies my lady, three are caught by the fires created by the Ironborn while one other is half sunk. There is only one left-,"
"That would be good enough. Gather the men Amelia, time is of the essence," orders Delianah making sure to conjure a regular whip that is supposed to be the "Fire whip" she used before for the sake of any observers.
"Gather them for what my lady?"
….
Ironborn Ship, Pike's Pick.
Captain Pike observes in satisfaction as White Harbor burns. Sure it costed him a lot of men but he knew that beforehand. Of the four hundred Ironborn raiders that attacked the largest city in the North, less than one hundred returned. Their purpose was fulfilled though, the massive damaged caused by bolts and trebuchets to the buildings and infrastructure would take years to rebuild. The entirety of its docks and harbor are also either destroyed or burning along with the majority of the ships. Once the Rebellion of his king starts, there would be no help coming from the Barbarians of the North.
He sighs feeling the aura of victory seeping through his bones. The rest of the twenty ships manned by skeleton crew of his had already left. Pike the Picker remains with three ships at the forefront to serv as honor guards while he memorizes every detail of the damage at the city that he can see with his eyes. Once he gets back to the Iron Islands, it would be a tale worth mentioning in their halls.
His daydreaming however is broken as the familiar sounds of iron thudding into wood catches his ears attention. It is a sound that Ironborn knows too well since they do it all the time when they board other ships. As he expected, the next sound is filled with war cries as men with the silver trout on a green field climbs up the right side of his ship and hastily engaging the skeleton crew with a vengeance.
Pike can feel the first stirrings of fear at the sight. His skeleton crew despite being worthy Ironborn are still new, some event their first time with the majority of the veterans joining the attacking force beforehand.
"To me! To me! What is dead may never die!" Pike attempts to rally his crew to his side. To their credit, none of them jumped off in fear. Instead the picked up whatever they could use as weapons before following his cry as they charged the Rivermen.
Surprise and shock however catches Pike by surprise, when the youngest of the attacking force, a girl of twelve he guessed raised a whip over her head that immediately bursts to fire. Almost all of his men stopped but Pike does not. He has seen many of the Fire god's followers at Essos conjure same parlor tricks. A whip on fire is still a whip no different. He raised both his axes over each other to weather the fire whip's attack.
The whip comes down and Pike pauses as his arms feel incredibly lighter and feels a searing pain at his elbow below. His screams echo on the sea as he sees his cauterized stumps staring back at him.
The fire whip had cut through both axes, flesh and bone as its owner intended.
….
Rice Point, Former Lands of Darry
Pieck Harbormaster barks angrily at the delivery men for the umpteenth time for being late. Rice Point is always busy due to it preparing for being the center of grain trade to everywhere else. However right now, the harbor town is busier three times more than normal as they prepare for the commands of the Castellan of Harrenhal.
Dark wings, dark deeds. The Ironborn has rebelled against the seven kingdoms and had attacked all port cities that could threaten them. The King has called the banners and that includes Harrenhal. Hoster Tully has also called the banners but with direct orders to many to secure the castles near the coasts. For Harrenhal, the order is on hold since their lady is not here at the moment. Everyone is preparing though, the Unsullied and their batch of trainees almost two thousand strong are encamped outside Rice Point alongside the three thousand possible levies that the Castellan provided with forty knights from the different knight houses.
However the main source of business for Pieck and the citizens of Rice Point are the dozens upon dozens of longships being made at the rivers under the supervision of Floki. They would be needed immediately once their Lady returns and answer the call.
…..
Author's Note: Sorry for the late update readers. Dealing with some personal stuff. About the story by the way, I'll be slowing down the pace for this one since I want to write a story about Jurrasic World, Camp Cretaceous. I loved the series and I wanna make a romance between Yasmina there and an OC of mine. Don't worry though, I would still update here.