(Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire nor its characters. Those all belong to George R. R. Martin, aside from my OC.)


(Pyke, The Iron Islands)

It had been a few hours later since his children had laid waste to the Iron Fleet, with both Euron and Balon as his captives.

They now, alongside the bound Iron Lords, Captains, Reavers… whatever the fuck they called themselves were bound outside the ancient seat that was Pyke. His vassals stood by, vigilant for any potential moves from the Ironmen.

There was bound to be an emotional idiot, who grieved the death of his kin. Then again, Dragons tended to be major deterrents, especially now that it became clear to everyone that the horn was a dud.

Adding insult to injury, Erlend had ordered the Seastone Chair to be brought out, which he now used as a seat, presiding over his impromptu court. There would be no trials, for there was no need for any.

These idiots saw no reason to hide their crimes and boasted it to whoever would listen.

Aeron Greyjoy, the fanatic one anyway, had claimed only a pious Ironman could sit on the ugly thing, not an ungodly man or woman. It didn't seem to have any problem with him sitting on it. So that was a load of horse shit.

Aside from being slightly greasy, it wasn't anything impressive to sit on, nor did it have a negative reaction towards it.

The real reason Erlend was interested in it, was the lack of magic. Everything in this world had some form of magic in it. It could be argued that non-living objects did not, but magic could at least flow through them.

This stone didn't, no matter how much of his aura or magic he subtly imbued on it, there was no result.

It was a fascinating find, the black stone in Harrenhal had been for all intents and purposes-cleansed by his ritual and turned into limestone, even before it, the material it was made with had been black basalt.

Come to think of it, didn't that mean he'd achieved transfiguration long before he had been gifted Potterverse magic? The fact that no one made note of it and shrugged off the change was odd.

Even he to a smaller part had shrugged off the change, which shouldn't have been possible.

Some research had to be done, he couldn't afford to shrug them off and he had to find out what other effects it may have had on him.

All the Drowned Priests have been put to the sword. Not a single one was left alive, while most of the more extreme followers of the Old Ways had been on those ships, there were a few stragglers here and there who had to be hunted down by his men.

This has taken hours, and now he just wanted to get this shitshow over and done with. Starting with the destruction of Pyke.

It was fascinating watching his children work.

As all three flew up into the air and surrounded the ancestral seat of House Greyjoy. For the first time since the Dance of the Dragons, a castle was burned by Dragonfire.

He watched as his children got to work, with Balon crying out in impotent fury and grief as his childhood home was burned bit by bit.

Perhaps his children wanted to pour salt into the already open wounds of the Ironmen because they certainly took their time.

All that was flammable was the first to go, catching fire and turning to cinder. This included supplies, bridges, and the green lichen that covered the walls of the castle.

The towers were next to react, beginning to crack and melt, as the Dragonflames heated up.

Rock crumbled, as the keeps and towers began to shake, his children targeting their very foundation. Velskud was the first to grow impatient as the potency of his flames increased. The keep now visibly melting to all who could see.

Verna was next, her poisonous breath eroding the very stones that held up the towers.

The Sea Tower was the first to go, crumbling into itself as it broke apart, with a significant portion of it falling into the sea below. Next were the various towers that littered the castle.

A beautiful sight, Erlend admitted inwardly, paying no heed as the Kitchen Keep broke apart.

Everyone else merely stared in horrified fascination as one of the Oldest Castle in Westeros was destroyed in front of them. It was so old that no one even remembered its original builders and Lords.

The Bloody Keep was next to go. Within its hall, the sons of Bernarr II Justman had been slaughtered, and their pieces sent back to their grieving father.

Finally, The Great Keep of Pyke went down as the stone stacks and unstable earth broke from under it, reuniting it with the rest of the castle.

"Wasn't that a sight for sore eyes!" exclaimed a chuckling Erlend, amusement dripped from his words.

Euron Greyjoy was by far one of his most dangerous enemies. This was a man who somehow got his hands on a fucking Dragon Horn, had they worked, Erlend would have been in a bit of a pickle.

His children posed no threat to him, as he was convinced they would be able to break free from its control. The same could not be said about his vassals, it would reveal his powers and guarantee that his reign would become far more troublesome.

Speaking of Euron, the man was staring vacantly at Erlend, confusion marred his face, every time he looked at him.

Were there some truths to the theories that Euron was trained by Bloodrivers? Mayhaps he somehow got glimpses of the past that broke him in a way.

Balon on the other hand was glaring at Erlend, not that it bothered him all that much. The man knew the risks of going against him and still chose to do so. You had to admire the balls on him.

He was a fool, but at least one who didn't back down easily. No matter how retarded the decision might be.

Yohn approached him, carrying a crown made out of driftwood, it was an ugly thing truth be told.

The crown was supposed to be broken up and cast into the sea after its bearer died.

Erlend stared right into Balon's eyes as waited for Velskud to fly close. His most vicious child sensed his intentions from a mile away.

As he sensed his son nearby, Erlend casually tossed the crown nonchalantly into the air, only for Velskud to swoop in and breathe out his flames, completely burning Balon's symbol of power.

He motioned for his men to bring the would-be king closer.

He looked around as his Lords and Bannermen surrounded them in a circle. Boxing the rest of the bound Iron Lords.

"I'm curious Balegh." Deliberately butchering the squid's name. "What exactly made you think you could win in a war against a united Westeros?"

"Your Dynasty fell once, it can fall again." Balon spat out, his voice hoarse. In response the man holding knocked on his head, sending him straight into the mud.

Raising his eyebrow, Erlend stared silently at the squid as he struggled to get up.

"Maybe." Erlend finally responded. "My House has risen and fallen, time and time again. The Difference between mine and yours is that mine always clawed its way back up. Your's pilfered its way to glory. A house of glorified thieves."

"We Do Not Sow!" Balon stubbornly said to Erlend.

"That's what you're going with. It's quite obvious, isn't it? Hell, your ancestral home was a shining example of that. It wasn't even built by a Greyjoy."

"I reckon they killed its original rulers, your Majesty." William Dustin snarked while the Lords around him chuckled at his words.

"Judge as you will. You Greenlanders will never understand our ways." Balon snarled.

"You mean the so-called 'Old Way'." The dismissive tone in Erlend's voice earned him an enraged snarl from Balon.

"Let's cut the bullshit, shall we squid. Every single drowned priest within these Isles is dead. Cut down by the men around you."

"The Drowned god will have his due." Declared Balon.

"That's cute, I'm sure he'll be delighted to meet you. The man that was responsible for the end of the 'Old Ways'."

That shut the fucker up real quick.

"You… You…" Euron interrupted the two, getting Erlends attention while Balon sneered at his brother.

"Oh, the mad Kraken finally speaks," Erlend said.

"You can't exist. You don't belong." Euron rasped out, staring in confusion at the Mudd King. "Your line should have died."

The man mumbled to himself, speaking in gibberish and whatnot as he stared uncomprehendingly at Erlend.

"Euron." Balon gritted his teeth at the sight of his brother. "Shut the fuck up you traitorous cunt."

Ignoring his brothers. Euron simply laughed hysterically, his mumblings getting worse and worse, as chuckled at everything.

"This doesn't make sense… Everything is all wrong. No. I am not wrong. You're Wrong…" Crow's eye let out. "He promised… He lied…"

Getting irritated with the insane fellow, Erlend motioned for one of his men to grab ahold of the hysterical Greyjoy.

Surprising everyone, Euron lunged at the poor man, grabbing ahold of his sword despite being bound.

Immediately everyone moved to stop him, assuming his target would be the Mudd King, only to stare in surprise as the still laughing kraken, plunged the sword deep into his brother's heart.

"Dead… Big Bale is dead… Making things go right…" Swaying as he stared vacantly into the shocked eyes of his brother.

"What a nice family you have Balon," Erlend said, getting up and unsheathing Ardent.

Casually making his way towards the two brothers, Erlend observed the dying Balon who struggled against Euron as he continued to mumble.

His eyes went wide as Erlend raised his sabre, the cruel smirk on his face visible to the last King of Rock and Salt.

Just like that, Euron Greyjoy, one of the most feared men in this world lost his head. His corpse's blood practically gushed all over the dying squid. Before it fell to the ground with a thud.

Balon lay there, his body listless and unmoving. Eyes marred with confusion and mixed emotions. Joy at the death of the traitor, Despair at what seemed to be the end of his house. Hatred for the man that played a big part in it. Finally, he turned in resigned acceptance of his fate.

With a signal from his hands, bodies began to fall, as Iron Lord after another began to fall. Their corpses spilled blood on the ground around them.

Never before had so many Lords lost their heads in one sitting.

It was a terrible thing to behold for a King. To watch as his realm came undone. Unable to do anything to prevent it.

The last pillars of the 'Old Ways' crumbling to nothingness like his ancestral seat.

It was cruel and a terrible thing to behold.

But it sent a message to his would-be enemies.

The Lords gathered watched in horror and understanding of the fate that would befall them should they resist.

Erlend for his part merely watched in grim satisfaction as his plans came to fruition.