Chapter 55: The Seat of Ashes

Rodrik Arryn sat heavily on the salt-stained throne of the Greyjoys in Dunlunce Castle. The wind from the sea whipped at the broken windows, carrying the stench of burnt wood and blood. The iron scent of war still clung to the halls. Around him stood his war council, their armor streaked with soot and sea-spray, awaiting his next orders. Jaymee, standing proudly beside him, was flushed with celebration. Yet, Rodrik's face was carved in still stone.

He knew better.

Victory had come, but not permanence. The Iron Islands were conquered, but not held. News would already be flying toward King's Landing, and Viserys would not let this action go unanswered. Annexing the Iron Islands into the Vale was not just logistically unsound—it was politically incendiary.

Rodrik's window of action was narrow.

He rose from the throne, eyes calm but voice like steel.

"We move swiftly. What we do in the next few days will define what remains of the Ironborn."

He began issuing commands with precision.

First, he turned to his bannermen and said, "Every noble family of the Iron Islands—every man of age—is to be executed. Women and children will not be harmed. They are to be sent to Braavos, given safe passage and coin. But their names are to be erased from these shores."

Lord Howland Torrent stepped forward, his face shadowed by months of anguish. "Gladly, my lord. I will see it done." The bitterness in his voice was fire ready to burn.

Second, Rodrik's tone darkened. "Find every priest of the Drowned God. Burn their temples. Destroy their relics. No more will their chants fuel raids and slaughter."

Shock registered on some faces, but no one spoke. Jaymee nodded solemnly.

Third, he raised his voice so all could hear. "All thralls and saltwives are free. Let those who wish to return home do so. Those with no home may stay here, or come with us to Vale. But they are free."

Cries of joy could be heard even beyond the war room, as word spread among the tents and courtyards.

Fourth, he turned to his quartermaster. "Strip the castles of all valuables. Treasures, coin, jewels—everything. It goes to the Vale."

Finally, his voice softened. "Bring me the Valyrian blades—Nightfall and Red Rain."

Moments later, the weapons were placed before him.

He picked up Nightfall, its dark steel catching firelight like an omen. Then he turned to Jaymee.

"Without you, I would not be standing. Take this. From this day, it is yours."

Jaymee stood stunned, eyes glistening. He took the blade reverently, bowing. "Thank you, my lord… my friend."

Rodrik turned to Red Rain, holding the blade high. "This blade will return to the Eyrie. Let it be known henceforth as Red Falcon. It shall be the pride of House Arryn."

The wind howled outside, and within the hall of Dunlunce, history turned.

The day in King's Landing had begun like any other—a meeting of the small council underway, with King Viserys seated at the head of the chamber. The room was filled with its usual occupants: Lord Lyonel Strong, the Hand of the King; Queen Alicent; Princess Rhaenyra; Lord Tyland Lannister; Grand Maester Mellos; and Lord Beesbury. Conversations around petty disputes in the Riverlands were interrupted when a young Maester arrived with a sealed letter, bearing the sigil of House Arryn.

He handed it to Lord Strong. With furrowed brows, the Hand broke the seal and began reading. The room slowly fell into silence as the weight of the letter became apparent in his expression.

"Rodrik Arryn has achieved a total and decisive victory against the Ironborn," Lord Strong announced. "He has crushed their fleet, stormed Pyke, and executed nearly all of the noble houses. The priests of the Drowned God have been exterminated. He has seized their treasures and destroyed their temples. And... he now sits in Dunlunce Castle, issuing orders."

Murmurs broke out. Tyland Lannister stood immediately. "This is unacceptable. He did this without royal sanction. He is looting the islands as if they were his rightful conquest. We must act swiftly—reclaim what he's stolen, including the Valyrian steel swords!"

Queen Alicent's voice was sharp. "He's growing too powerful. If this behavior is left unchecked, others may follow his example."

Rhaenyra leaned forward calmly. "Or we can recognize this as an opportunity. Rodrik has brought peace to the western seas. Perhaps we show leniency."

Alicent scoffed, "Of course you'd say that. You've always had a certain admiration for the Lord of the Vale."

"Enough," Viserys said, rubbing his temples. He looked at Lyonel Strong. "What is your opinion on this Lyonel?"

Lord Strong inhaled deeply. "We need to seize the narrative. Send word across the Seven Kingdoms that Rodrik acted under royal instruction. Have Lord Arryn publicly affirm it. That way, we claim credit for the victory without punishment. Then, let Rodrik keep the loot and even the Valyrian blades. That'll bind his loyalty to us. Support his purge of the Drowned God cult—it will win favor with the Faith of the Seven. But we cannot—must not—allow Rodrik to claim the Iron Islands for himself."

"So who then?" Viserys asked.

" Some one who is loyal to the crown & not to Lord Aryyn. We could concede some minor nobel territories to his persona but major Territories & title of Lord Protector of Iron Islands must go to someone you could trust" Lyonel said.

" Do you have someone in mind" Viserys asked.

"Your firstborn son. Prince Aegon," said Lord Strong. The room went silent.

Alicent blinked in surprise, then nodded slowly. "Yes. Aegon is suitable to this title."

Rhaenyra's face twisted in a storm of calculation and fury. This would shift the balance. Before she could voice objection, Alicent turned to Viserys, "He is your son. Your firstborn son."

Viserys looked at both women, sensing the tension rise. Finally, he agreed. "Very well. Prince Aegon shall be named Lord Protector of the Iron Islands."

Tyland Lannister smiled with satisfaction. "A wise choice, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra, still burning inside, searched for a path. "This message is too important to send by raven. I will fly to Pyke with Syrax. Let me deliver this myself."

Viserys looked hesitant. "You would go to the Iron Islands?"

"Let me speak to Rodrik. It will show our trust. And calm any doubts."

"Only if Laenor goes with you," Viserys said.

After a pause, Rhaenyra nodded. "Of course."

She turned her face away, hiding her true intent. She had no plan to simply deliver a message. She had her own agenda. One that involved securing an alliance, or more, with the Lord who now ruled the smoking remains of the Ironborn legacy.