Chapther Thirteen
To Big-Post: Thanks for the added info about House Wode. I didn't know about that actually, so sorry. Let's just roll with it since it's already done okie?
To Revo777: She's a prostitute and no longer of any concern.
To I Really hate Eiri Yuki: We'll get into the Starks later when Delianah officially visits Winterfell.
To Sandmanwake: Thanks for the ideas about the Valyrian swords
…..
Northern Waters near the Iron Islands. A week after after Silvanna's Return from White Harbor.
For being such fast ships, the longships made by Floki are exceptionally quiet. Their sails, painted black to better hide in the night, Delianah watches the rest of the fifty plus fleet of longships sailing with her silently glide the waters heading to Old Wyk, the seat of House Drumm and the holiest place for the Ironborn. At this distance, she can see that the castle is mostly asleep. Why should they after all be alert?
Apparently the so-called Greyjoy Rebellion have ravaged nearly all of the major ports and towns of the Seven Kingdoms. White Harbor is not the only one ravaged, the rich ports of Lannisport and the other ports of the Westerlands that house the Lannister fleet are also burned to the ground. The proud fleet of the Lions, comparable almost to the entirety of the royal fleet are now burnt to cinders, reduced only to a paltry few. Currently the only remaining fleets that can pose a challenge to the Iron Fleet are the Redwyne Fleet and the royal fleet itself which is being reinforced daily by different ships from every remaining port in Westeros by order of Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships. Everyone of course answered the call. The ironborn are scum that is barely tolerated after all and every lord worth his salt knows that with the Iron Fleet in control of the waters, no trade by sea is safe.
For Delianah however, she has to admit that this new conflict is a golden opportunity for her to build her reputation even more. Plus the attack at White Harbor has just shown her some of the things that she does not notice in her life here, like her lack of skill about weapons. She has plans to rectify that in the future, but for now, she'll not waste this golden opportunity being offered to her.
Like everyone else, Lord Tully called his banners, however not all of the forces of the Riverlands are deployed with the royal forces. Almost half are garrisoned at the coasts in the case of any Ironborn incursion. Delianah herself has sent almost the entirety of the levies with almost a hundred longboats to Casterly Rock where the Royal Fleet is gathering.
As for her though, Delianah with the rest of the two thousand Unsullied and five hundred former pit fighters are here sailing towards Old Wyk, the seat of House Drumm. Majority of her forces after all are deployed to aid the royal fleet so her father could not complain much. Her status also in their eyes would not be that important as a waste which would be said otherwise if she is a trueborn daughter of Hoster Tully, meh it's their loss.
The fortress of Old Wyk looms overhead and Delianah can almost feel a feral grin appear at her lips. There is a good reason why none of the Ironborn are seeing them right now. First and foremost is the fact that the majority of the Iron Fleet is stretched thin making lightning raids against the remaing ports of Westeros and taking the fight against the Redwyne Fleet to prevent them from linking up with the Royal Fleet. What's left here is a token force to defend the castle.
Still, it would have been impossible to stay hidden coming here if not for the Captain Pike that Delianah captured. Long story short, any man would sing like a canary with even the slightest bit of application of the Entrail Expelling Curse. Captain Pike has quite literally been very reliable on telling her this secret route that the Ironborn ships use on the go-between the Iron Islands.
Behind her, the two thousand Unsullied and five hundred pit fighters aptly grouped together calling themselves the Death Dealers, serving as personal bodyguards for her and Lord Viktor stand in attention as they near the sandy bay at the side of the fortress, perfect for the long boats to ground themselves in silence.
Delianah has to admit that the commander of the Unsullied, a pale man with cut cropped hair with a permanent frown on his face did good work. On the small amount of time he was given, he had already extended the number of the Unsullied from the original five hundred that were brought to the two thousand that they are now. Sure the newer ones might not have the iron discipline of the originals, but they are exemplary in obeying commands and following formations.
The clinking of mail, at her side and the hand grasping hers makes Delianah give off a comforting smile to Amelia who is looking paler than usual. The Russian beauty despite her courage and bravado is obviously nervous and Delianah can't fault her. This is her first large scale war after all.
The beach comes into view and Delianah wears her helmet, a plain one like the Unsullied wears in order not to make herself a target. There's no point in a sneak attack after all and you are wearing all the bling that you possibly can. That's just asking for the enemy to plant a bullet, or in this case, an arrow on your forehead.
It is the Unsullied who moves first. Their usual spears replaced with short swords, they move almost robotically as they disembark by the hundreds from the longships that bear them. They are naught but shadows as they ghost over the harbor of Old Wyk. Soon the muffled cries of the dead and dying citizens are the only whispers of the night as the god of war demands its bloody work. Delianah herself is one of the few that disembarks from the longboats last with Amelia and five Death Dealers in tow.
Suffice it to say that the citizens of Harrenhal were not the least pleased that their ruler risked her neck by flanking twenty men alone. Thus the new demand of theirs was given when Delianah opted to come with them here. She would be present but only after the Unsullied and the Death Dealers finished off the last of the major resistance. The way they described it, there was only one of her and they can't risk her dying on them.
It is both touching and annoying for Delianah. Touching because they cared for her like truly cared for her and she does understand their worries. It takes one lucky shot to end a life and she knows that hers is one that her followers dare not gamble about. While that is all great that they are protective of her, part of Delianah is annoyed. She is after all, Harry Potter the Great, the Man who Conquered and all that. She can pretty well take care of herself. She's a Gryffindor through and through though with only the influence of Fleur Delacour and her sister that awakened the sneaky part of her. To not be at the forefront of a fight is almost like an unbearable itch for her.
She has a role to play though, and Delianah will play it well. What's the point of starting all this if she doesn't see it through after all to the end?
The last of the moans of the dead of the citizenry of Old Wyk are finished twenty minutes later. With a silent nod at Dragon Shit who nods to her to that all is clear, Delianah walks the pathways of the thatched roofs of the smallfolk of Old Wyk. For the massacre that it is , its almost eerily quiet and normal for anyone else. No bodies littering on the ground, no burning houses or blood pooling on the streets. The Unsullied did their work well.
The castle of Old Wyk is foreboding in sight made up of weathered stone courtesy of the storms that envelope the Iron Islands from the seas. As Delianah and the Death Dealers creep toward the main gate where the rest of the Unsullied are already gathered. As she expected, there are no guards at the towers above the gate. It is the middle of the night after all and only the bravest or the stupidest of people would dare attack from the front gate. Any assassin or thief worth his salt would try the walls instead. Delianah however has something that they don't.
Magic.
"Alohomora," her whisper at the back of the advancing army is almost silent but it does its job.
The massive doors of iron and wood that would take at least a week for a battering ram to break opens on its own. Massive chains from the inside squeak open on its own as beams move as if having minds of their own. Two thousand men can never hope to crack open Old Wyk even if it has fifty defenders holding it. Two thousand men however can tear the castle apart easy once its gates are opened wide.
With a shout, the Unsullied with Dragon Shit at the lead interlock their shields, moving as squads to the courtyard and spreading out to the different parts of the castle. They no longer bother to hide the march of their boots or the loud commands. After all the rather loud opening of the gates is enough of a warning to anyone sleeping. The bell above Old Wyk tolls in alarm as whatever watchmen that remain jumps into action. Ironborn also come out of their beds in a combination of smallclothes and leather armor in an attempt to defend their castle.
It is all in vain though.
Unsullied and Death Dealers spread throughout the castle in their squads like a fire eating dry wood. The unorganized and totally caught by surprise denizens of the castle cannot form a firm defense as they are cut down one by one at the corridor of their own home before they can organize. Delianah herself marches forward with her own personal guard of five. Once more the fire whip appears in her hand cutting open the one or two Ironborn that is lucky enough to avoid the roaming bands of Unsullied and Death Dealers at the corridors.
Thirty minutes later and Delianah and her honor guard find themselves at the weather beaten door of the welcoming hall of Lord Drumm. With a powerful heave, the wooden hinges crack and splinter before giving way. The door fell at the ground with a crash, the seven forms of Delianah, her guards and Amelia enters. Inside is Lord Duncan Drumm holding his family sword aimed at her with ten other Ironborn.
"What is dead may never die! But rises up stronger than before!" hisses the middle-aged man before uttering a war cry as he, accompanied by his thugs charge forward at her. Delianah kinda appreciates the forwardness of him. The Dark Lords back at Earth love to monologue a lot about their evil plans before she tends to smack them all down in seven different ways. Duncan Drumm simply charges with two others at her while the rest of the Ironborn challenges her personal guard.
The fire whip slashes like a snake and the two others supporting Lord Drumm get the half of their heads flying in different directions. The Lord of Old Wyk however is much faster and brighter, he has ducked under Delianah's attack before charging forward. Delianah simply smirks smacking the whip horizontally, planning on cleaving him in two from balls to brains as he raises his sword to block.
CLANG!
Imagine Delianah's surprise as the fire whip doesn't cut through the sword of the Lord of Wyk but instead wraps around it. The metal on the blade though glows bright red showing what seems to be crack likes made of fire. The moment's hesitation however is all that Lord Drumm needs. With the whip wrapped around the blade, he pulls it forward catching Delianah off guard as she is pulled. The next thing she knows is a blinding pain at her nose as a heavy fist makes contact with her nose damaging it a lot. Everything spins before she feels the breathe leaves her lungs as her back makes contact with the ground.
She can feel blood flowing freely from her nostrils and blinding tears. Despite that though, she can fully Lord Drumm poised over her, sword ready to pin her to the ground. Before he can do the deed though, a large spear connects with his chest sending the man flying to the wall where he is then pinned, dead.
"My lady! My lady are you alright?!" the panicked voice of Dragon Shit she can hear at the background as hands pulled her to her feet once more. Delianah can only laugh however as men start staunching the blood flow from her nostrils.
She just realized…..she almost died.
…
Casterly Rock, The Westerlands
Ned hates war. He had thought that Robert's Rebellion would be his and only major war to deal with. Even then, it was almost too much to bear. Now it seems the fates loved to make a mockery of him by throwing him in another major war that would leave countless thousands dead.
Now here he is, at Casterly Rock where the rest of the prominent lords of Westeros are gathering their levies before they sail off to Pyke and put an end to Balon Greyjoy's dream of an era of piracy. Of course not the entire strength of Westeros can be found here. Majority of the Lord Paramounts brought fractions of their strength here only. The rest of their numbers had been deployed before at their coastlines in fear of another Ironborn incursion. The last thing that these lords want after all was to return home victorious and see their fortresses and hooldfasts burnt to the ground and their families killed or worse.
Ned himself had thankfully managed to pull quite a sizeable force before coming here. He had ridden straight from White Harbor with the majority of the men taken from several smaller houses near White Harbor. The Reeds also sent men to accompany him to the rallying of the king, alongside a large number of Mormont men with their heir, Jorah Mormont himself leading them. As expected, Greatjon Umber with many Umber men also came, the big man after all loved a good fight always and together with some Glovers, Forresters, Karstarks, a hundred men from House Bolton with Roose, their lord, and more from his own house, the force from the North is quite sizeable. The
Eddard had to mentally thank his lucky stars about the delivered sacks of rice from White Harbor. It had taken him great effort to commandeer almost all, leaving twenty sacks of rice from a wailing Lord Manderly who had developed quite a taste for it. He admitted to himself that the bastard of Tully did not in any way disappoint about his expectations for the supposed new food source for the North. Not only did it taste good, but it did not spoil one bit from all the way their trek here. It also seemed to nourish them more than any fabled grain from the Reach. He spent the entirety of the ride here, making mental notes on how to be able to procure more of this grain for the North in the future.
Nevertheless due to their availability of supplies and the lack of need from waiting all over the Northern keep, his host had been one of the first to arrive here at Casterly Rock. Simple fact though, Ned hated Tywin Lannister and anything that were related to that name. Thus due to their punctuality, Ned Stark chose the farthest suite of room that he can find possible on the castle away from the Old Lion and his ilk. It seems that Robert, who arrived a day after him, also had the same opinion for he happily rejected the Lord's suite offered by Tywin and chose the set of rooms beside Ned's.
Now here he is above one of the open parapets of Casterly Rock where a huge table is set. Apparently Robert enjoys the crisp clean air here that is a major change from the stink of shit and piss that is King's Landing. Together with them are the other Lords and their representatives leading the royal army. There is Lord Royce representing the Vale, some low lord from the South representing the Martells, the lump, Mace Tyrell with Randyll Tarly in tow, Brynden Tully from the Riverlands alongside lord Viktor who is leading almost three thousand from Harrenhal and its attending lands compromising the bulk of the army of the Riverlands. The man is old but looks cold and calculating with frigidness that is almost statue like. Compare him to Tywin and it would be like two lions facing off one another.
Of course majority present in the long table is Tywin Lannister himself and other important Lords of the West. He cannot blame them for their grim faces as they stare at the large map of Westeros at the middle of the table. The Westerlands are the richest among the Seven kingdoms and thus they were the one where the hammer stroke fell hardest from the first forays of the now called Greyjoy Rebellion. They were hungry for revenge and Eddard Stark understood that feeling all too well.
"Everyone rise in the presence of the king!" the shout of the paige makes everyone stand up as the lumbering fat form of Robert makes its way to the large chair prepared specifically for him. Once more Edddard mentally winces at the form of his best friend. The years it seem has not been kind to Robert. With him is his brother, Stannis looking like a walking statue with all the expression he's showing from his face.
"Let this be recorded that-,"
"Let's bloody get on with it!" the booming voice of Robert cuts off the paige who made a squeak of fear before going silent. "What is our plan to put the fucking squids into their place?!" he directed his question at Stannis.
The younger Baratheon simply stands, face aloof. Already this war has shown that Stannis is a natural commander. He had saved the Redwyne fleet by smashing the part of the Iron Fleet besieging them at the rocks using elements of the Royal Fleet and ships from the Houses of the Stormlands, not wanting to waste the opportunity to strike the to strike the Ironborn at the rear. It worked splendidly and now the Redwyne fleet numbers are added to the Royal Fleet currently docked at Casterly Rock.
"We gather all our levies on all available ships, we head directly to Pyke and we crush the main seat of the Greyjoys," declares Stannis. "The Iron Fleet is the strongest fleet of Westeros my lords. Currently however, they are spread out all over our coasts raiding and pillaging. We do not have the time, nor the resources to hunt them one ship at a time. So we draw them in," he takes all the sigils at the map and placed it directly at Pyke.
"We cannot find them, but we can force them to come to us. They cannot afford to lose the capital of the Iron Islands and the seat of their king after all,"
"I like this, this way the war would not be prolonged and will give us time in the long run to repair our damaged shorelines" murmurs Tywin in agreement. "It would be one pitched battle instead of a hundred ones all over. We will have also the numbers advantage,"
"We need to be wary of the other parts of the iron Islands though," Brynden points out. "Especially Old Wyk and the Ten Towers. Last I checked, those places have large harbors and are naturally defended. The last thing we need is lightning raids at our flanks by ironborn ships before confronting the strength of the Iron Fleet,"
"Then we crush and sack the islands before heading to Pyke!" Robert booms. "We will bring them down on their heads one castle at a time before we put old Balon into his rightful place!"
"That…..would not be necessary your Grace," everyone turns towards the source of the voice which is a man in Maester Robes near the entrance.
"Maester Creylen," Tywin says in recognition. "What do you mean when you said that?" he asks.
"Exactly as I said it my lord," the Maester replies with a bow before taking a piece of folded thin paper before turning to Robert. "I have news your grace from Lord Varys of King's Landing. Old Wyk and the Ten Towers of the iron Islands has fallen your grace and the banners of the Tullys' are now flying on their fortresses,"
"Tullys? What is the meaning of this Ser Brynden?!" Robert demands at the stunned knight who raises his hands in confusion.
"I swear by the gods I have no idea what this is. I seem to recall my brother not sending any party to attack the iron Islands," he answers.
"Then whom?!" booms the king.
"Delianah Tully your majesty," the slight mocking tone of Lord Viktor, who has been quiet the entirety of the meeting says making everyone turn to the blue-eyed pale castellan.
"My lady had taken two thousand and five hundred of our best men and did exactly what she said she would to those Houses that dared attack our men,"
"And what is that?" Eddard Stark asks surprising even himself for speaking out.
"Justice my lord, justice," the Castellan simply replies.
…..
Author's Note: Hope ya like this chapter. Hihihi