Chapter 10

Casterly Rock, Westerlands

Tywin Lannister observed the approaching Northern Army from the battlements, his keen eyes noting every detail. The banners of the Cailstarks led the march, followed by the sigils of the Ryswells, Glovers, Cerwyns, Umbers, Dustins etc. Yet, the sigils of the Starks, Boltons, and Manderlys were conspicuously absent. That was unusual. A servant approached and bowed deeply before speaking.

"My lord, the King has requested your presence."

Tywin suppressed a sigh. Of course, Robert Baratheon would summon him. The King would never pass up an opportunity to reunite with his old friend, Eddard Cailstark.

Finishing the last sip of his drink—vodka, a Northern spirit he had come to begrudgingly appreciate—Tywin left the battlements. It had been the dwarf's idea to acquire it, a minor defiance after Tywin had forbidden him from indulging in wine.

By the time he arrived at the gates, Robert was already there, waiting with the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, at his side. Tywin noted, with some irritation, that Jon Arryn should be in King's Landing, ruling the realm in the King's absence. But here he was, traveling with Robert like an old knight on a nostalgic journey.

Robert's face lit up when he saw the approaching Northerners. "Ned! You're finally here. Where have you been hiding all these years?"

"Guarding the North for my nephew, Your Grace," Eddard Cailstark replied smoothly. Then, turning to Jon Arryn, he greeted him respectfully before shifting his gaze to Tywin. "Lord Lannister, good to see you."

Tywin nodded, he caught the underlying disdain in Eddard's voice. It did not bother him. He had seen greater men break before his stare. With a silent signal to Kevan, he watched as his brother took charge of escorting the Northern Lords into the castle, with the King and the Hand accompanying them.

Tywin, however, retreated to his chambers to think.

The Ironborn attack had been a disaster for Westeros—one he had not foreseen, and he had paid the price. While the Westerlands were well-defended after the initial attack, the Reach was still suffering heavily. Only the North had remained relatively untouched. That, too, was something he had not anticipated.

Unlike the other Kingdoms, the North had reacted swiftly. Instead of dismissing the initial raids as isolated incidents, Aryan Stark had prepared his defenses in advance. When the Ironborn struck, the Northmen were ready. The krakens had been repelled before they could gain any ground. Tywin had seen the Northern Army earlier today—better armed, better equipped than he remembered. Their steel was no doubt a product of their new-found forges.

The North's sudden rise in prosperity and power had not gone unnoticed by him. He had been keeping a close eye on them ever since Aryan Stark had begun reshaping the North. The boy was a visionary. The infrastructure he had built was not for short-term gain but long-term dominance. The canal alone had rewritten the trade routes of Westeros. Even the Westerlands were benefiting from it, as the passage to Essos had been cut in half.

With more smallfolk flocking to the North for better living conditions, their numbers would swell further. A strong economy, an expanding army, and the loyalty of his vassals—Aryan Stark is setting himself up as more than just a Warden of the North. He is building a kingdom in all but name.

That was something Tywin could not ignore.

The boy undoubtedly held a grudge against him for what happened to his mother. That would need to be addressed. Tywin Lannister did not fear many things, but unpredictability was one of them. And Aryan Stark, much like his father Brandon, was unpredictable.

By evening, they gathered in the war council. Only a select few had been invited to attend—Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, Yohn Royce, Tywin Lannister, Kevan Lannister, Damond Marbrand, Eldon Estermont, Brynden Tully, Jason Mallister, Mace Tyrell, Randyll Tarly, Eddard Cailstark and William Dustin.

Dorne was noticeably absent.

Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Barristan Selmy stood guard as members of the Kingsguard.

Jon Arryn started the meeting. "As we all know, Westeros has been attacked by the Ironborns. We are gathered here to discuss how to deal with them. Most of the Reach, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the North were targeted. Let us first discuss the extent of the damage. My lords, please tell us about the current state of your lands."

Mace Tyrell puffed his chest. "Lord Hand, these savages reached as far as Oldtown but were repelled. They attempted to reach Highgarden through the Mander, but I personally led our forces and drove them back. The Shield Islands, however, have fallen. Other than that, our lords are handling the krakens well. The Redwyne fleet is engaging them as we speak."

Tywin nearly sighed at the sheer idiocy of Mace Tyrell. The fool truly believed his own delusions. From his sources, he knew the Reach had been devastated. The largest army in Westeros meant nothing when its soldiers were green boys playing at knighthood. The Ironborn had slaughtered their way through the coastal regions, taking thralls and salt wives while the Reach lords cowered behind their castle walls. Euron Greyjoy had effectively outmaneuvered the Redwyne fleet, which had consisted of too many repurposed merchant vessels.

Jason Mallister was next. "Seaguard was hit immediately after Lannisport. Maron Greyjoy laid siege to us. We suffered heavy losses, but thanks to the timely arrival of Ser Brynden Tully, we broke their forces."

When it was Tywin's turn, he reported the ongoing battles at Banefort, Crakehall, and Fair Isle. "I have sent ten thousand men under my brother, Tygett, to deal with them. We will push them back soon."

Jon Arryn then turned to Eddard Cailstark. "What is the situation in the North, Ned?"

Eddard's response was measured. "We suffered little compared to the others. My nephew had already anticipated the attacks after the initial skirmishes. We fortified our western coast and increased patrols. When the Ironborns struck, we were ready. We killed nearly a thousand raiders before they retreated."

A heavy silence followed. Many of the gathered lords, Tywin included, felt the sting of jealousy. The North, the once so-called poorest of the Seven Kingdoms after Iron Islands, had fared better than all of them. And it was due to Aryan Stark's foresight.

Tywin Lannister did not like being caught off guard.

Randyll Tarly, ever the pragmatist, cut to the chase. "My lords, we cannot remain idle while those savages pillage our lands. The Lannister fleet is gone, and the Redwyne fleet is occupied. The Royal Fleet will take at least a moon to arrive. That leaves the North. Lord Stark, could we use your fleet to reach the Iron Islands?"

Eddard Cailstark nodded. "I was coming to that, Lord Tarly. The Seastark fleet is still under construction, so it remains on defensive duty. However, we are using the Manderly fleet to launch our assault. As we speak, my nephew Aryan is already attacking the Islands. He planned to establish a foothold there before we transport more troops. Once he has secured a base, he will send ships to Lannisport."

Robert Baratheon straightened at that "Wait… Aryan is leading the attack himself?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Eddard confirmed. "He leads the Stark, Bolton, and Manderly men."

Tywin absorbed that information carefully. So that explained the absence of the Starks, Boltons, and Manderlys.

Suddenly someone started to laugh. It was Mace Tyrell. "The little shit is probably playing at war. It seems Lord Cailstark that you clearly didn't teach the boy anything. The little wolf pup is keen on dying at such a young age." Mace Tyrell said while still laughing. The man seemed to have drunk too much wine.

No one else was laughed. Tywin looked at Robert and sure enough Robert looked pissed. His face had turned red and eyes were burning in fury. He had known from Pycelle's reports that insulting the Starks in front of Robert was not a good thing. Some of the Lords were looking back and forth between Robert and Mace waiting for the inevitable explosion.

William Dustin seemed to get ready to retort back to Mace with an angry look but Eddard silenced him with a look. Lord Hand seemed to finally notice Robert's expression and immediately tried to diffuse the situation saying, "I am sure what Lord Tyrell means is that isn't Aryan too young to fight in a war Ned?"

Mace Tyrell finally seemed to stop his laugh when he noticed no one else seemed to share his joke. 'Or survival instinct' Tywin thought then he dismissed it. 'Survival instinct is for seasoned warriors and not to someone like Mace Tyrell.'

With his hard eyes fixed on Mace, Eddard Stark began to say, "My nephew is the Lord Paramount of the North. The North is a hard place to live and so it breeds hard people. Aryan is a strong boy. It is because of him the North has changed. He is a good strategist which we all northeners agree on. He is also a good swordsman. So Lord Tyrell I didn't see any reason to discourage him from leading his own men to protect his homeland."

And then Robert Baratheon exploded, "Tyrell you fat flower. While your sons are swinging swords and playing knights or sucking your wife's tits, Aryan is protecting his people. And you are making fun of him. You don't know anything about war or battle or strategy. It was Randyll Tarly who defeated me at Ashmark and you took the credit for it. Did you think that I will not know about that? If it wasn't for Jon trying for peace and his second chances, I would have turned your head into a paste with my hammer. Watch what comes out of your mouth you fool or next time someone will chop your head off."

Mace Tyrell whimpered while many Lords were smiling at Tyrell's foolishness.

Robert said, "You all heard about what Ned said. Let us go to Lannisport tomorrow to wait for the Northern fleet. Dismissed." And he went out with the Kingsguard following him.

Sometime later Tywin was sitting in his solar meeting his brother Kevan and Jaime.

"What do think father, will the wolf pup return alive. The young wolf must have gone to the war with hope of glory like many other young men these days." Jaime said.

Tywin glared at him, "Like you did in your time and now you are just a glorified bodyguard to drunk King, instead of ruling the Westerlands like you should." That shut him up and Jaime looked away from Tywin's eyes.

"I don't think so nephew." Kevan said. "The Northerners are not stupid or idiots like many others. Like Eddard said, they are hard people seasoned by the harsh conditions of the North. Aryan Stark has single handedly changed the North. That too when he is yet to come of age. Even though Eddard Cailstark is the regent in name, he has given his nephew full freedom to do whatever he wants. And righteously too, as the boy is doing a good job at it."

Tywin said, "Whatever it is we must be careful. If Eddard Cailstark was the Warden of the North, we could have the support of North for Joffery when he becomes the king, using his friendship with Robert. But it is not the case. It is someone else. Brandon Stark was said to be unpredictable. So when it is his blood that is ruling the North we can expect some of that unpredictability in his son too. Also remember he is half dornish who is raised by a dornish too. The winds of change are flowing announcing the North's new power. We must have him bound with us to avoid any clashes with him in the future."

"Perhaps a marriage alliance. One of our nieces Cerenna or Myrielle. Or princess Myrcella maybe." Kevan stated.

Jaime scoffed, "I doubt Cersei would agree on sending her precious child among those Northerners."

"We will discuss this later. Perhaps after the war." Tywin said. They then began to discuss their family matters then.

The Pyke, Iron Islands

Sitting on the black Seastone Chair, the self-proclaimed King of the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy, was deep in conversation with his brother Aeron and a priest of the Drowned God. The priest, an old man with sunken eyes and a wild beard, spoke with conviction. "Your Grace, the Drowned God has shown me visions of our victory. Soon the greenlanders will tremble before us. We will regain our lost glory of the Old Ways. The ironborns shall rule the seas once more."

Balon smirked, pleased with the words. "What is dead may never die."

"But rises again, harder and stronger," Aeron responded with zeal.

Turning his sharp gaze on his younger brother, Balon asked, "How is our campaign progressing?"

Aeron nodded. "It goes well, Your Grace, by the Drowned God's blessings. Euron is reaving along the Reach. We have captured the Shield Islands. He has decimated half of the Redwyne fleet, their proud galleons sinking into the depths. Most of their ships were merchant vessels hastily converted into warships—no match for Euron's cunning. He has brought back riches, thralls, and salt wives in abundance. After burning Lannisport, Victarion now attacks the Banefort, Crakehall, and Fair Isle. Last we heard, Prince Maron was laying siege to Seaguard, though the Mallisters put up fierce resistance."

Balon allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. "Good. Our victory is at hand. And Rodrick? I saw him at the harbor weeks past, but he sailed away without even speaking to me. How fares his campaign against the North?"

Aeron hesitated, and that hesitation sent a ripple of unease through Balon. "There have been... complications, Your Grace. Our initial raids along the North's western coast met with unexpected resistance. The boy lord—Aryan Stark had anticipated our attacks and fortified his shores. Rodrick then attempted to capture Moat Cailin and seize Eddard Cailstark's wife for his salt wife, but he was discovered. He returned to gather more men and ships for a renewed assault, he is determined to burn the North."

Balon's lips curled in disdain. "And? Has he brought me the head of this green boy yet?"

Aeron swallowed before replying, "Your Grace, we have lost contact with Rodrick. The last reports suggest that his fleet engaged the Northmen somewhere near the Sunset Sea. Since then, there has been no word."

Balon Greyjoy's fingers dug into the armrests of the Seastone Chair, his knuckles whitening. "No word? Are you telling me my heir is missing?"

"The Drowned God tests us, Your Grace," Aeron said quickly, trying to placate his brother. "Rodrick is strong. He will return in glory."

Balon's jaw tightened. He wanted to believe Aeron's words, but a dark premonition settled in his gut. He stood abruptly, striding toward the window of the Pyke's tower. Far below, the waves crashed against the jagged rocks. On the shore, his children, Yara and Theon, played in the sand, their laughter carried away by the wind.

Balon narrowed his eyes. "He had best return soon. Or the boy Stark will know the full wrath of the Iron Islands."

Lannisport, Westerlands

The remnants of the Ironborn's attack still scarred Lannisport. Burnt shops and shattered buildings bore testament to the devastation. The acrid scent of ash and death lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the destruction wrought by the krakens. The harbor, once bustling, was quieter than usual, the docks lined with ships that had come to ferry the army to war.

Word had arrived two days ago—Benjen Seastark was coming with the Northern fleet. The Manderly fleet had already begun to arrive, their sails bearing the sigil of the Merman. Eddard Cailstark stood at the docks, accompanied by Jorah Mormont and Greatjon Umber, waiting for Benjen's arrival.

The Northern army, assembled and eager, stood ready. Many had grown restless, eager for vengeance after waiting so long. Among the thralls and freed captives brought by the fleet were women and children, their hollow eyes speaking of horrors they had endured. Some wept openly, praising Aryan Stark for their salvation. Eddard, watching them, understood for the first time why his nephew had chosen to exterminate the Ironborn men. One island alone had held so many captives—how many more suffered across the entire archipelago?

A shout broke his thoughts. "Ned!"

Eddard turned as Jorah pointed toward the approaching ship. "My lord, it is Lord Benjen Seastark."

As the ship docked, Benjen strode onto the pier, grinning. "Brother, I bring good news."

Eddard grasped his arm. "How has it gone? How fares Aryan?"

Benjen's smile widened. "All is well. Blacktyde has fallen. The squids were slaughtered, their ships taken, and the thralls freed—without a single Northman lost. And guess who we captured?"

Eddard's brows furrowed. "Victarion?"

Benjen smirked. "No. Your nephew kept his word to Lady Cailstark. We have captured Rodrick Greyjoy."

Eddard stiffened. "Rodrick? He lives? Where is he? I want his head."

Benjen raised a hand. "Patience, Ned. He is alive, but barely. Aryan did a number on him. Right now, he rots in one of the cells of Marauder. We intercepted his fleet when they tried to raid the North again. It wasn't a battle—it was a massacre. Rodrick challenged Aryan in single combat and was crushed. The boy shattered him. By the time I left, Aryan was sailing for Orkmont."

Eddard exhaled, eyes dark with satisfaction. "Rodrick Greyjoy will answer for his crimes."

Benjen unsheathed a sword and handed it to Eddard. The blade shimmered with dark ripples, its hilt gleaming. "Red Rain," Benjen said. "House Drumm's ancestral Valyrian steel sword. It now belongs to House Seastark."

Eddard ran a thumb over the blade before nodding. "A worthy prize."

Their conversation was interrupted by Kevan Lannister, who led them to the King's tent, where Robert and Jon Arryn waited. Benjen bowed before the King and detailed the North's campaign. When he described the slaughter at Blacktyde, Jon Arryn paled.

"What? You killed all the men? You cannot do that—it is not honorable! Ned, what have you been teaching that boy? Robert, this proves Aryan is unfit to be Warden of the North!"

Eddard met Jon's gaze evenly. "Once, I would have agreed with you. But today, I saw the freed thralls, their eyes hollow, their bodies broken. I saw women sobbing in gratitude that my nephew saved them when no one else did. And I remember that Rodrick Greyjoy tried to take my wife as his salt wife. So no, I will not speak of honor here."

Robert's expression darkened. "They tried to take your wife? Those fucking squids dare? We will wipe them out. I want to meet this nephew of yours, Ned—the Bloody Wolf indeed. We march on Pyke."

Jon Arryn looked scandalized. "Robert, we cannot slaughter an entire people. It would set a dangerous precedent."

Robert scoffed. "We'll discuss it later, Jon. Right now, we have a war to finish. Let's set sail."

With that, the King led them toward the ships, ready to bring the full wrath of Westeros down upon the Iron Islands.