Weiss
Within a week the Gold Keep and Casterly Rock were empty, with Lord Stannis sailing King Robert and his large army to the Iron Isles. The sellswords and hedge knights, at least, those that had survived the battle had joined the Redwyne fleet. There, they would form the vanguard of the invasion force, based off of the whispers from the kitchen maids. Doris, one of the cooks, had been sleeping with one of Lord Royce's knights, who told her such information during one of their nightly activities. Doris then started to spread the news amongst the other cooks, which then led to Weiss' ears, though the version she was told was sanitized and not filled with expressions that Weiss would rather avoid. Men and women were savage and uncouth in this world, when such activities should be kept private. Father Jacques had kept his affairs private, even if all of Atlesian high society knew.
"It's such a tragedy, my Lady." Alysanne sniffled. The two walked arm in arm having exited the carriage that had brought them back from the Great Sept of Lannisport. Ser Robart followed them silently, dressed in a brown leather doublet. Stuar's funeral had been earlier that day, and as his former betrothed, Weiss had to stand in as the chief mourner since his family was still in the Arbor. The Silent Sisters would now prepare his bones to be returned home, aboard the Arbor's Delight, the very ship where his blood had been spilled by one of the sons of Harras Harlaw. From what Weiss had heard, House Harlaw was one of the few houses that kept septons in their keep, the Ten Towers. "Lord Stuar was so young."
"He was." Weiss said softly. She was wrapped in a black dress with a matching veil, it made her already pale skin look even paler. The funeral had gone as expected, with a septon droning for hours about Staur's bravery in the fight against the heretics that worshiped the Drowned god. It was tedious, impersonal, and felt like the septon was trying to convince more knights and noble families to join the war effort or make donations to the Sept. In the end, none of it really mattered.
King Robert was a seasoned commander, and with the Iron Fleet smashed by Lord Stannis the Iron Isles were open to invasion. Lords, knights, and levies came from all over the Seven Kingdoms, except from Dorne, who had great hatred for King Robert and anyone who bore the name Lannister. Weiss didn't blame them, not with the way Princess Elia met her end if the rumors were true, and even then, they were always the outlier in the kingdom in terms of relations. Aegon the Conqueror and his descendants had to bring them into fold through marriage, not war.
"I prayed for your Father's safe return." Weiss continued speaking. Lord Lefford may have been in charge of the supply lines, but that was still a dangerous position with the remnants of the Iron Fleet hiding in one of the many islands. Should he fall in battle, Alysanne would have to leave to take her position as Lady of the Golden Tooth. Weiss didn't want to see one of her new friends go.
"You are very kind, my Lady." Alysanne smiled. Alis would join them later, she had decided to spend more time at the sept. Weiss felt it was a waste of time, but she wasn't going to voice that opinion out loud. If Alis drew some comfort from this, then more power to her, though she hadn't seem to be the most devout of girl until the attempted Sack of Lannisport.
"Please, just Weiss when it's the two of us." Weiss tilted her head in a childlike manner. Forming allies when she was young would prove to be invaluable once she was older. The Lefford's were one of the stronger families in the Westerlands, and the Golden Tooth guarded one of the main roads into the Lannister heartland. Those connections meant she could get in contact with people traveling into and out of the Westerlands with ease, which could prove useful.
Once she refreshed herself, Weiss was going to be busy assisting Mother and Father with their various duties. Mother in preparing the Gold Keep for the return of King Robert, and Father who was organizing a victory tourney alongside the reconstruction of the docks and replacing the fallen officers of the City Watch. They had taken heavy losses during the Sack, and would take time to reinforce and train. It was arguably easier to replace the lower ranked watchmen than the higher ranks, simply because some of them weren't suited for the role. Some Watchmen just couldn't handle the higher rank. Knights would be needed to replace the dead officers. However, you couldn't just grab any old Ser and stuff them into a watch uniform. They had to carefully selected for the task at hand.
"As you say, Weiss." Alysanne nodded. Weiss was thankful that both of her friends hadn't given her strange looks or remarks about training with a sword, the Westerlands didn't have a history of female fighters like the North, Dorne or the Riverlands. This could simply be due to her saving their lives, or just them being really good friends.
"Good!" Weiss turned her attention forward. It was a matter of time now, the war would soon be over and Weiss' life would be back to normal. Well, as normal as could be. She felt excited, it had been years since Weiss had attended a tournet, before her memories returned. The invitations had already been written and prepared, Father was simply waiting for news of King Robert's victory before sending them out.
Weiss was sure the Tourney of Lannisport would be one to remember.
Cedric Payne
Fighting on solid ground felt much better than at sea, now that he had properly experienced both. With a lance, upon his war horse, and clad in the heaviest armor the hedge knight could afford, Cedric felt right at home. Yet, all he had was his heavy armor, longsword and Rod, a fortnight into the siege of Pyke. The sellswords and hedge knights that had been pressed into the Redwyne fleet had been ordered by King Robert to storm the beaches of Pyke, despite their horses being left behind in the stables of Lannisport to make room for the siege engines and war horses of the great lords of the Seven Kingdoms. It was unfair, but Cedric would rather fight with King Robert than Stannis Baratheon, the prickly Master-of-Ships.
The storming of the beach had been a week ago, and despite heavy losses, they had carried the day. Cedric and Rod however, had somehow made it through without a single scratch. The following week was spent smashing the Botley keep and storming Lordsport before King Robert finally turned his attention to Pyke itself. Catapults, trebuchets and battering rams spent another week assaulting the southern walls, while the Ironborn remained fortified in their grand keep of stone, cowering and occasionally firing off volleys of arrows.That is, until today when things changed. An opening in the walls had finally formed, the stone smashed apart by the trebuchets that had been hauled from the Westerlands to here.
"I'm scared, Coz." Rod whispered beside Cedric. He was wearing Cedric's lighter armor, a chain shirt with a half-helm and well-worn leather boots. Rod carried a short sword and shield with the sigil of House Payne, the colors now dull and faded. This was partially due to not having the time to polish it, but also to not draw attention to them with a brightly colored shield or other heraldry.
They had been placed in front, alongside the surviving sellswords and hedge knights, all in well worn and battered armor. Joining them were men-at-arms from the North, led by a large man that had the sigil of a bear. Cedric had only gotten a glimpse of the lord who had been given command of the van, but it was enough. The Mormont was large and stocky, with a thick beard and a balding head. Surprisingly, he stood at the front of the gathered men, around five hundred strong. Thousands more were gathered behind them, all prepared to fight for their king. Even that fat man in red robes and light chains who seemed quite out of place, and very fond of flamboyantly gesturing around with his hands whenever he talked. The fat man happily talked with the Mormont, who tried his best to ignore the jolly man.
"Quiet, you." Cedric snarked. "Once the horns blow we're charging as fast as we can. Try and capture a highborn, will you? One or two should earn us a ransom that could afford a small house in Lannisport."
"Really?" Rod's eyes lit up even though Cedric was lying to him. It would take at least five highborn ransoms, not two. Still, he felt the boy could use some motivation at least. And besides, if it was a particularly valuable highborn it could work.
"Yeah." Cedric turned his eyes forward. The fat man was staring at his cheap sword with a furrowed brow, when suddenly, the horns started to blow and the drummers pounded their instruments. Immediately, a loud cheer came from the van as they started to move. Slowly at first, with their shields high in the air to block any arrows or axes that had been thrown their way.
The fat man simply charged, which caused a few others to break ranks, following him into the breach, including the Mormont.
"Yahhh!" Cedric yelled, increasing his own speed as Rod followed closely behind. The fat man's sword was suddenly lit on fire, green flames radiating off of the blade. Well, that was something you didn't see everyday. "Ah fuck!"
Cedric followed the flaming sword as it disappeared into the breach. The defenders still on the smashed open wall rained hell on them, hurling stone, axes, logs of wood and shooting arrows at them. "Keep that shield up Rod! I didn't spend thirty coppers on it just for you to not use it!"
A sellsword to Cedric's right had their head bashed in by a falling stone, his steel helm doing little to protect him from a chunk of stone the size of his head. It spilled his Bravoosi brain juice all over the ground, nearly causing Cedric to slip. Why did he have to be such a smart guy?
Cedric and Rod joined the other sellswords and Northern men-at-arms that poured into the breach. It was anarchy, with Ironborn soldiers using whatever they had at hand as a weapon, axes, scythes, hammers, spears, anything. One particularly fat ironborn who wasn't wearing any armor was lashing out with an oversized cleaver, and using a pot of all things to try to block any incoming blows. However, he was soon overwhelmed, being stabbed by a sellsword's spear from behind and then hacked to pieces by a few other soldiers in bear heraldry.
Pyke itself was composed of three smaller islands with keeps perched atop them, with the current wall being assaulting guarding a stoneway that would lead to the Great Keep of Pyke, where the Seastone Chair sat. All they had to do was take this section. Simple, just take a keep that was full of bloodthirsty savages out to kill any Greenlander they saw.
"Take out those archers!" The fat man boomed as he waved his flaming sword, causing several of the Ironborn, who wore black breastplates and pot helmets, to back away in fear. He had been the first through the breach, and his red robes were a shade darker.
The Mormont beside him drove his sword, made out of dark steel with ripples, straight into the shoulder of a man in full plate armor, a golden kraken on his surcoat. The stuck man released a scream of pain before another strike to his throat separated his head from his body, silencing him.
Cedric flinched at his yell, raising his shield almost instinctively and heard a thud not even a second later. He got lucky, but at least reinforcements were on their way. Men with the banners of a gray wolf, white falcon and black stag were pouring in behind them.
"Let's go Rod!" Cedric yelled, giving his cousin a side glance. Rod parried a blow from a thrall in rags, and buried his sword in the thrall's unprotected armpit. "Good job, Coz! But highborn to ransom first, then we can get to killing."
If they could capture a Greyjoy, their futures would be set, and songs would be sung about Ser Cedric Payne the Kraken Hunter! And Rod, his loyal squire he supposed. All of the highborns would be in the thickest of the fight to earn glory and win ransoms.
"Aye." Rod narrowed his eyes, full of determination and likely still hungover from all the drinking the day before. Cedric didn't blame him, he'd woken up hungover as well this morning.
With Rodrick by his side, Cedric raised his longsword high in the air and charged into the fray. A parry from a warrior in green with shoals of silver fish, a slash into the chain shirt of a raider in unmarked armor, the battle was full of chaos. Men fell around him, dead or dying, Ironborn and mainlanders alike.
"For Lannisport!" A men-at-arm in Lannister colors yelled. Cedric grimaced. He needed his own yell as well, that's how stories were made. But what? House Payne wasn't really known for much save producing a good headsman, and he was mute in any event. And Cedric had forgotten the words of his own house.
"Payne!" Rod yelled suddenly. He had his shield in the air just behind Cedric, blocking arrows and rocks. That was a good one! Simple, clearcut, easy to remember. His Cos was right, for once.
"Payne!" Cedric yelled as well, slamming his sword onto a shield with a scythe. The makeshift shieldwall continued to push back and forth for a few minutes, when the Ironborn suddenly started to retreat slowly. Some of the more arrogant sellswords darted forward, but Cedric stayed with the main body. Ironborn didn't retreat, not unless they had something planned.
"Payne!" Rod yelled into Cedric's ear, which was annoying. He was starting to lean against Cedric slightly, making his battered plate armor feel even heavier. Cedric shoved Rod back onto his feet, he was already tired.
"Payne!" Cedric parted the head of a warrior who didn't wear a helmet. At that, the Ironborn turned and started to run towards the stoneway to the Great Keep of Pyke. The makeshift shieldwall cheered loudly as they started to advance slowly. "Come on Rod! We're almost there."
"P-P-Pain-" Rod said weakly, causing Cedric to turn around. His eyes immediately widened under his great helm. A score of arrows were sticking out from his back, and Rod was spewing blood from his mouth onto his chain shirt. He had used his shield to guard Cedric's back.
"Rod? Rod!" Cedric dropped his sword to catch his cousin, who fell forward. Already tired from the charge and the weight of his armor, Cedric fell along with his cousin. The duo fell onto the ground as Cedric's armor started to become slick with the blood of his cousin. "You should've covered your own back! Why would you do that?!"
Rod stared at Cedric's helm with glassy eyes. "H-House in Lannisport, together."
With that, Rod's head went slack, his strength gone, h-he was gone. Cedric's own body went limp as men-at-arms, sellswords and knights stepped over their bodies to continue the advance. Cedric yelled silently, too exhausted to move his dead cousin off of him. The efforts in the battle, coupled with the sheer drain of losing one of his few relatives in front of him, coupled with a sheer lack of leverage, had defeated him.
The Knight of Payne's vision turned dark.
A/N
Welcome to the end of the Greyjoy arc. Don't worry, after this is a couple breather chapters, and then the start of a timeskip. Before long, we should be back at ASOIAF canon.