lotsstoryinpatre** : CaveLeather
Game of Thrones: Rune Bastard
Game of Thrones Wizard Dothraki
Game of Thrones: Knights Life
Game of Thrones Prince of the Rhoyne
The fleet that landed on the Iron Islands was a monster: Redwyne ships, the royal fleet, Oldtown galleys, and what was left of the Lannister navy. Once the Iron Fleet burned at Fair Isle, nothing the ironborn had left could stop it. Warships crushed longships like toys. Balon's men got shoved back to Pyke while the big fleet split up and started landing troops.
Harlaw came first. Closest to the mainland, second-biggest after Great Wyk, and by far the richest. It had the most people and the famous shaggy Harlaw ponies. The place also dug up lead, tin, and iron. War horns screamed across the water. Redwyne catapults started chucking burning pitch barrels onto the docks. Flames jumped from ship to shore in seconds.
Harlaw had built some defenses, but they didn't have many fighters left. Lord Rodrik the Reader wasn't stupid. He knew throwing more men into the fire wouldn't change anything. The fleet hammered the docks with pitch and big rocks that smashed heads and necks like melons. "Long live King Robert!" the men roared. "Long live Winterfell! Long live the Eyrie! Long live the Bat!"
The vanguards led the charge. Thoros of Myr screamed like a madman and took the center with Jorah Mormont. Arthur and Lyn Corbray split the flanks. "You take left, I take right?" Lyn asked. His Vale knights sat tall in full plate on strong warhorses, lances leveled, surcoats bright with their house colors.
"Good," Arthur said. He pulled on the bat-wing helm. In that moment he looked like something out of a nightmare. Swallow One's hooves hammered the ground. Three hundred black-armored Whent riders thundered behind him like a storm. "House Whent—ten thousand hearts as one!" Arthur shouted, sword high. His men answered with a roar and wheeled left.
"Shoot the greenlanders!" the ironborn yelled. They loosed arrows and threw axes, but it didn't matter. Ironborn fought hard and believed they'd dance in the Drowned God's halls when they died, but they had no warhorses and too few men. Arthur's riders smashed through the defenses. Dark Messenger rose and fell, and heads flew. The smoky Valyrian steel cut through armor like it was nothing.
Jorah swung Longclaw. Lyn danced with Lady Forlorn. Thoros burned men alive with his green-flame sword. All four vanguards were killing machines. Behind them came Robert himself, warhammer in hand, Ned Stark and the white cloaks at his side. Nothing stood in their way. The defenses cracked. Ten Towers waited ahead.
Then Arthur heard hooves. A small band of ironborn cavalry came charging out from behind a low hill near the docks. Too few to matter, but they came straight at him. The leader wore a black scythe surcoat and screamed, "Arthur Whent! I'm going to kill you!"
"Who the fuck are you?" Arthur called back.
"Ser Haras's father. Ser Theon." The man's voice cracked with rage.
"Your boy was shit with a sword. I killed him clean. Ride away now and you live. My blade doesn't cut old men." Arthur's voice was ice.
Theon didn't listen. He spurred his horse and charged with the last of his riders. Arthur sighed. "Old fool."
Swallow One was faster than anything the ironborn rode. Arthur's men, fed on good alfalfa and trained hard, hit like a hammer. Theon swung wildly. "Give me back my son! Give me back my sword!"
Dark Messenger met his blade. The Valyrian steel didn't care about strength or anger. Arthur pressed forward, then ripped upward in one clean motion. Theon's sword arm flew off at the shoulder in a spray of blood and meat. Another slash drove the blade straight through the ironborn's open mouth and out the back of his skull.
Arthur yanked the sword free. The body hit the dirt hard. Rolly rode up, cut off the head, and handed it over without a word. Arthur looked at it for a second. This father had more balls than Balon ever did.
Lyn Corbray rode over, laughing. "Vicious sword. Vicious man. I take back every word I ever said about you being too young."
"Dark Knight! First of the Trident!" the Riverlands riders howled. The sound rolled across the burning docks like thunder.
Robert wiped blood off his warhammer and grinned when he saw Arthur. "Your Grace," Arthur said, kneeling and offering the head. "Ser Haras's father. For you."
Robert took it, still grinning. "Keep it safe. When we reach Ten Towers I'll give both heads back to the ironborn." He clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "Good lad. I don't hand out compliments easy, but you're something else."
Lord Tytos Blackwood stepped forward, face tight. "You're too cruel, Lord Arthur. You killed the son, then the father."
Arthur turned on him, eyes cold. "Cruel? When the ironborn burned Lannisport and raided the Trident, I didn't hear you call them gentle. Those dead farmers and sailors were people too. I didn't torture anyone. I fought. Self-defense in a war they started."
Lord Jonos Bracken snorted. "You're a coward, Tytos. The vanguard was Arthur, not you. You could've fought. You didn't."
"This is war," Jason Mallister added flatly.
Tytos looked at Arthur standing there in blood-stained yellow, the Riverlands knights cheering around him like he was their new god. For the first time he understood why the old order felt so fragile. Men like this—highborn, ruthless, and loved—were the ones who broke kingdoms.
No one was listening to him anymore. He was just an old fool shouting into the wind.