Chapter 18

297 AC, Conquest of the Stepstones.

Unexpectedly, Tyrosh and Lys chose to support our venture to, and I quote "banish those barbarian pirate scums out of the seas". Myr has settled with renouncing any responsibility from the raids.

A decade or two in the past, they would have most definitely banded against us and claimed the Stepstones for themselves, but the concessions we allowed them in the region as well as the Stark Family sigil along with the Iron Bank branded on the bottom of the letter of declaration quickly banished any thoughts of going to war with us over these islands.

So, the Royal fleet alongside 100 Northern Ships sailed away across the Narrow Sea for the Conquest of the Stepstones.

It wasn't all as simple as it sounded, almost three months of negotiations with representatives from Tyrosh and Lys to arrange our unified conquest and determine favorable terms for both of us were wasted before we could mobilize the fleets.

In the end it was decided that the 8 out of the 13 Islands on the Stepstones would be controlled by the Iron Throne and the North, while the eastern five islands would belong to Tyrosh and Lys. Some boring other arrangements that involved favorable trade agreements and a toll to safely escort ships through the Stepstones and we were ready to go.

The prince begged repeatedly to accompany us while Cersei screeched in the background about her precious Joffrey. In the end it took Joffrey unsheathing his sword and trampling three knights to convince his father to allow him to accompany him on his personal ship Robert's Hammer. The Kingslayer was practically glued to the prince's side following the Queen's orders and he seemed to be developing a friendship with Jon of all people.

The fleet sailed from Shipbreaker bay with the Great Wolf, the Fury and Robert's Hammer leading them.

For now, everyone was gathered at the Great Wolf discussing war plans.

At least, we were trying to.

Stannis gnashed his teeth, "You can't expect me to accept this!"

Brandon shrugged, "Would you prefer to sail through the Stepstones praying that half our fleet isn't lost to the sea and the pirates?"

"He should be tried for his crimes as a pirate!" Stannis yelled with spittle flying from his mouth.

Brandon sighed, "I understand, Lord Stannis. He is a pirate, yes. He may have raped and pillaged and stole. But now, he's our man."

Salladhor Saan stood in the corner flamboyantly smiling without a care in the world, "I would like to add that I am also a smuggler, trader and a banker."

Robert spread his hands and said, "See! It would be a shame to waste a man with many talents such as Sallabor."

"Salladhor," he corrected quietly.

Robert waved his hands, "Whatever."

Stannis asked angrily, "How do you know he's not going to betray us the moment we arrive at the Stepstones?"

Once again Salladhor, who seemed to enjoy infuriating Stannis said with a grin, "Lord Stark is paying me more than I could ever spend in ten lifetimes."

Stannis rounded on Brandon, "I thought Starks were honorable! Hiring Pirates now?"

Before he could continue on his tirade, Brandon interrupted, "Lord Stannis, like it or not, he's guiding our fleet. Now sit down and let us finish the gods-damned plan."

Stannis seethed and sat down silently, although the sound of his teeth grinding was audible.

Brandon hid a smile and said, "Now, Tyrosh and Lys will mobilize and hold the five eastern islands which happen to contain Grey Gallows. My half of the fleet is currently docked at Sunspear waiting to mobilize and join with Lys in subduing the southern islands."

He unfurled a map and indicated routes on it, "I propose that we attack and feign a retreat to make them follow us farther away from the Stepstones and into the open Sea where we can freely wreck their ships without worrying about the wreckage blocking our way."

Stannis looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, "I can take my fleet and force them out on the Narrow Sea and if Lys could do the same your ships could finish them off quickly and leave them with little to none naval strength."

"Exactly," Brandon nodded, "Any objections?"

"Where will our ship land?" Robert asked gruffly, not caring about prickly naval battles and more focused on fighting on land.

Brandon pointed to the largest island on the map, "Here, Bloodstone. Euron Greyjoy holds it as the King of the Stepstones."

"Good!" Robert said, "I'm going to spar with my boy for a while". Ever since the boy met Brandon, he became calmer and has grown some balls instead of being a prick hiding behind his mother's skirts.

In a surprising change of plans, upon reaching the Stepstones, the fleet found that every pirate lord has gathered his entire fleet and made a blockade to try and block us from landing our troops.

Foolish.

It was a short battle. The air afterwards was stale with the scent of salt and smoke from the still burning ships. Most of the pirates chose to retreat as soon as they saw the largest ship broken into pieces by the cannons but were picked off leisurely by the northern fleet.

Only a few ships have retreated with only fewer that chose to fight.

It was an annihilating victory. 240 ships of them destroyed for only 23 of the Royal Fleet.

Brandon stood on the hull of the Great Wolf watching the Stepstones approaching with every swing of the oars when he felt a presence besides him. An old figure wearing white with white hair and lined features took a seat on the hull looking at the islands with a mixture of solemnity and longing.

"Greeting, Ser Barristan," Brandon said with a slight dip of his head.

He looked over and nodded at Brandon, "Greetings to you as well, Lord Stark,"

They remained in companionable silence for a while just watching as the islands got bigger and bigger until Brandon broke the silence, "Brings back memories?" He asked.

"Aye," Barristan said sighing heavily, "37 years ago, I fought on these islands for King Jaehaerys the second for more than a year."

Brandon nodded, "You slew Maelys the Monstrous in single combat."

Selmy smiled at the memory, "Aye, I did," before shaking his head and telling solemnly, "Mayhaps new heroes and legends would be born today."

Stannis's voice broke out at that moment, "Prepare to land!"

Brandon donned his Wolf helm and shook Barristan's hand, "It will be an honor to fight beside you Ser Barristan."

The forces, which were mostly Stormlanders and Notherners, were quickly dispatched and what looked like the biggest melee in the history of Westeros started. Swords, spears, shields, maces, morningstars and other weaponry clashed against each other before any of the armies could take formation.

"Hold your ground!" Brandon yelled to the soldiers forming a phalanx at the front.

The battlefield the army was engaged on was flat semi-rocky terrain. No defensive positions of any kind to hamper our efforts or launch a counterattack. It was a single decisive battle, unlike the Ninepenny wars.

The ninepenny wars had generals and well-armed and trained troops along with the Golden Company. These were a crude mixture of pirates and Ironborn. They weren't soldiers; they couldn't hold their ground against a cavalry charge.

They were some odd fellows whose only advantage was on the sea. Here? They couldn't even penetrate our front lines.

"Sound the first horn. They're releasing the elephants," Brandon shouted over the chaos of battle.

The vanguard was now moving forward at a slow pace, with 3 rows of reserve following behind, pushing and stabbing at anyone in the way. The elephants were now approaching closer and closer now, with most of the pirates in the front lines retreating and electing to let the elephants stomp us to death.

The elephants were almost 2000 yards away now when Brandon yelled, "NOW!"

A huge booming sound exploded from the docked ships at the same moment, releasing large bolts that exploded on contact with the elephants, burning and tearing through the huge beasts. Whatever elephants survived, they clearly didn't like how this was going. Many of them fell on their backs from the explosion, causing them to crush most of their vanguard underneath them, while others retreated stomping over the archers as well.

In the midst of the chaos and confusion from the destruction of their trump cards, a third horn sounded, announcing the release of the cavalry. The left flank, commanded by Jon and Ramsay and the right flank commanded by Robert and Stannis teared through whatever remained of their numbers. Picking them off leisurly, while forcing the vanguard to either fall back to the northern vanguard or be crushed under their elephants.

After one bloody hour that had the sands of the islands turn into a pool of red, we were ready to take down the walls.

"How long till the walls come down?" Robert asked grinning.

Brandon answered, "Give it an hour."

Trebuchets and siege engines were continuously hammering the walls of the castle that was Daemon Targaryen's seat when he once conquered the Stepstones for himself.

Robert laughed loudly, "After we take down this pirate infested islands we're going to have a tourney that'll rival Harrenhall's!"

"I've already sent orders to prepare for the largest tourney in the history of Westeros at Winterfell," Brandon said grinning, "I hope you don't mind, your grace. But I wasn't overly worried about this conquest."

"It'll be good to visit the North after all this time," He shook his head somberly and said, "This is a disgrace not a battle. They have no supplies. No tactics, no reinforcements. Absolutely nothing!"

"The Wildlings beyond the wall fight in a more organized fashion than these men do," Brandon said grinning, "These men hold no allegiance to any lord. All they care about is their own personal fortune and wealth."

"Aye, they have no reason to fight."

At that moment a rock fired from the trebuchet tore down the wall and signaled for the vanguard to start taking the castle.

"Not joining, your grace?" Brandon asked.

Robert laughed loudly, "I'm not as young as I used to be. Leave the glory and honor of the vanguard to you youngsters."

Many leaders elect to issue commands from the back instead of standing at the front of the vanguard to be picked off by a lucky arrow. However, this wasn't a leader. This was Robert Baratheon, the man who personally leaded his troops in the rebellion and was at the front of every battle. He must have been really fucked up to feel tired after an hour of fighting.

I closed my visor, "See you after the battle then."

He laughed heartily and waved me off.

Most of the pirates that had rushed out of the broken wall had been already dead so Brandon faced no opposition as he casually strolled into the castle. As the men went to secure the rooms and fight off whatever remained of the parts. Brandon found his target, casually killing three Stormlanders with one slash of his axe, laughing maniacally.

As soon as Euron's eye landed on the Wolf helm he snarled, "You!"

Brandon unsheathed his sword and just stood waiting for the last Greyjoy to attack. As expected, his addled mind fueled with rage made Euron rush dumbly striking furiously at Brandon which he dodged and replied with one of his own.

Euron parried the strike and slashed while screaming at Brandon at which he parried and countered while occasionally slicing his exposed body.

The old Greyjoy has clearly wasted away whatever breath he had and stood snarling furiously with blood rushing out under his armor and with one last yell of rage he lunged at Brandon, which he sidestepped and allowed his sword to stab through Euron's armor causing him to fall limp with the look of rage plastered on his dead face.

Brandon wiped off the blood on the Greyjoy's cloth and muttered, "That was disappointing."

As the rest of his men ran away securing the remaining pirates and ending any form of resistance, Brandon allowed a self-satisfied smirk to appear on his face. It was a Gryffindor-ish victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Robert stood in front of the men, knighting soldiers for their valor when the last two finally arrived.

"I know the Northerners don't care much for knighting but perhaps there is something else I could do for you two," he said smirking, "Kneel."

Jon's eyes widened as he realized what the king was saying while Ramsay knelt clueless as always and asked, "Didn't he just say he won't knight us?"

"In reward for your service in the conquest of the Stepstones, I, Robert of House Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, announce you Ramsay Bolton and Jon Stark, from this day until your last."

Ramsay stood with a maniac smile on his face that usually told me that he was off to do a depravity or another but this time it was simply his happy face while Jon stood with grateful eyes and slightly swaying.

"Now!" Robert boomed, "Let's drink for our new addition in Westeros!"

The men cheered in acceptance and exchanged hearty slaps on each other backs, congratulating each other.

I would have much preferred to overtake it with a more Slytherin approach as it proved to be the most useful and less bloody but this wasn't one of the free cities, more of a pirate nest.

"Have you decided on what to do with the Stepstone's your grace?" Stannis asked as Robert fondled one of the freed servants who happily served us.

"Huh?" Robert asked befuddled, "Do what?"

Stannis hissed, "Who will rule the Stepstone's, Robert?"

"Oh that right!" Robert said straightening up, "Lord Stark suggested that it would belong to the Crownlands and you rule it."

Stannis had a ghost of a smile and nodded at Brandon.

Robert took no notice and continued, "This is your last chance, Stannis. You would be controlling trade between North and South the Narrow Sea. It doesn't have levies but it's a good trading point. Don't. Fuck. This. Up!"

Any memory of Stannis's smile disappeared as he bowed his head with a quickly reddening face and ground out, "Of course, your grace."

No wonder the brothers hated each other. Stannis was too strict to Robert's tastes, and Robert continuously humiliated Stannis over allowing the Targaryens to escape Dragonstone.

Robert looked around until his eyes landed on Jon and said loudly, "Here's the champ! Get your ass over here!"

Jon approached us with a smile on his face and Robert asked, "What are you going to do after we go back home, Lord Stark!"

"I'm going to act as a Steward in Winterfell for a while to train before assuming my new duties at Azkaban, your grace." Jon said, his smile widening at the Stark name.

Robert frowned, "Wasn't that supposed to go to your unlce, Benjen?"

Brandon interjected with a frustrated tone, "It should have, but he denied it, choosing to expand his ever growing empire of brothels.

Robert boomed out laughing, "Nothing like Ned then, eh?"

"Not at all, your grace." Brandon said.

"I have to say the whores' qualities have improved ever since Benjen took over," he laughed loudly, "I'm going to have to personally thank him when we visit Winterfell."

Brandon just smiled and said nothing.

Robert was getting a bit drunk and continued talking, "Your style in fighting reminds me of Ned," he told Jon, "Who's sword is that?"

"Ice," he said proudly, "Valyrian Steel."

"Ah," Robert said, "The Starks have a dozen of those now! Ned used to fight with that same one during the rebellion."

It seemed that Robert was falling back in the mood of the rebellion, "We lost a lot of good men. Your father and Grandfather and Lyanna…" he finished lowly.

"It was the will of the gods, your grace." Jon said, "We've took our revenge. Rhaeger and his mad father are dead."

"Not all of them, no," Robert said growling.

Brandon interjected quietly, "Perhaps we could have this conversation at another time, your grace. Now is the time for festivities and celebration."

Robert shook his head as if to clear his memories and nodded sagely. Needless to say his mood remained somber for the remaining of the festivities.

As our troops began boarding back on the ships, a messenger approached us and rasped out, "Your grace, the hand of the king has passed away a week ago."

Robert face fell quickly and I held back a sigh. Having Robert as a king meant that not much changed that his foster father was dead, sure he mourned, but Robert's solution for everything involved getting increasingly drunk and passing out. Instead of cancelling the tourney as I predicted, Robert announced that the tourney was going to be held in honor of Lord Arryn's services to the realm and the conquest of Stepstones.

This was going to be tiresome.

Moat Cailin, The North.

Catelyn thought she would be used to the North after her years of marriage with her husband but yet, she felt a stranger whenever she entered the Godswood.

She was a Tully of Riverrun, where the godswood was a garden not unlike the others. Tall redwoods grew spreading their shadows over the ground, birds sang from hidden nests and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.

Moat Cailin's godswood couldn't be more different.

At first, she was suitably disappointed that she wouldn't be the Lady of the North due to the appearance of Brandon's son, but as a Tully, she remained true her family's words. Family, Duty and Honor.

Almost two decades ago, Moat Cailin was nothing more than a deserted ruin in the middle of nowhere. Its towers have been broken and forgotten to the time. The smell of swamps and bogs filling the castle and barely a thousand souls lived in the castle and town surrounding it.

But that soon changed as well. Workers from Winterfell arriving with the new liquid rock that Ned's nephew invented. Ned was smiling softly the entire time. She knew her nephew made him proud and she was adamant that she would provide heirs that would make her husband even more proud. In no time, the castle grew and the swamps cleared from around the castle. The road was fixed and the new harbor that grew was soon landing ships from all across Westeros and Essos at the middle of the Great Canal at Moat Cailin.

Day by day, the castle changed. Its towers rose to their own proud heights. It's walls scrubbed clean and direwolf banners proudly displayed on its walls.

Where once the castle had less than a thousand souls, it now held 30,000 at any time, almost rivaling White Harbor. Ships that deposited its cargo at their port to deliver it to the far north and south, men seeking work and her husband even built her a new sept which had an unfortunate accident that caused it to break down.

And then the blasted Greyjoy rebellion happened. Her precious Sansa was playing happily at the port and the docks, seeing all the new wares that the foreign merchants delivered, when five Ironborn ships disguised as merchant ships set the port on fire and took whomever they could as thralls. Luckily, they recognized Sansa as a noble and took her as a hostage without actually harming her little girl. She didn't know what she would've done if they had harmed her.

Then her nephew through marriage happened. It's said that the Annihilation of Pyke was so terrible that you could still hear the screams of the Ironborn on the islands as they died within their own crumbling castles. But he proved more than a slightly intelligent child and he brought back her daughter unharmed. Till this day, Sansa won't shut up about her cousin.

She didn't know whether to be angry at him for insulting her father or elated that he took away the only thing that was murking her relationship with Ned. Jon Snow. After calming down, she figured that he was only doing his duty to his family, like any Tully would, so she couldn't hold him responsible but he hasn't won any love with her father after that incident but at least the bastard was gone.

Robb at first missed him, but quickly grew up and eventually got used to life without him. She was blessed with five beautiful children who were growing up to be great. Robb and his brothers Rickon and Bran who was named after his cousin and uncle, Sansa and her little sister Arya who would like nothing more than to wear a sword on her tiny waist instead of being a proper lady like Sansa.

All of that, didn't change the fact that whenever she entered the Godswood, she was freaked out and wanted nothing better than getting out of there as soon as she could.

Ned was there, praying to the Old Gods as was his routine every week, as he found peace in the creepy faces that were supposedly carved by the children of the forest.

In the south the last weirwoods had been cut down or burned out a thousand years ago, except on the Isle of Faces where the green men kept their silent watch. Up here it was different. Here every castle had its godswood, and every godswood had its heart tree, and every heart tree its face.

Catelyn found her husband beneath the weirwood, seated on a moss-covered stone, his eyes closed in content at the stillness of the godswood in comparison to the bustling port and city.

"Ned," she said softly as to not spook out her husband.

He opened his eyes softly, "Catelyn," and straightened up against the weirwood tree, "Are the children okay?"

She nodded, "The girls are with the Septa and Robb is practicing with Bran on his Archery."

He nodded in acceptance and waited for her to talk about the subject she came for, there was no way to soften the blow, so she told him straight. "I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead."

His eyes found hers, and she could see how hard it took him. In his youth, he was fostered at the Eyrie where Jon Arryn became a second father to him and Robert Baratheon.

He closed his eyes and pain and asked," Your sister? And her boy?"

"She's well, and has returned to the Eyrie," She said softly.

"They're still holding the tourney?" Ned asked distantly.

"Aye," She said, "In honor of Lord Arryn's services and the victory of the Stepstones."

He chuckled dryly, "Robert always found a way to keep his tourneys going."

"It's not his tourney though," she said, "your nephew is the one who's holding it."

He shook his head in exasperation, "A waste of money and time that is. How long till we depart?"

She stood up and brushed her dress from the leaves that lingered on it, "A week more, until we move. Sansa is excited to see the fancy banners and has been dying to go everytime a party passes through crossing, while Arya and the boys are excited for the melee and the jousting."

Ned smiled softly, "She has the wolfblood in her cat, just like Lyanna and Brandon."

Catelyn has asked Maester Luwin before what the Wolf's blood was and he told her that it was a myth from the Age of Heroes. That some Starks had wolf blood in them, causing them to be adventurous and have fast tempers, she supposed that fit how Arya was exactly.

"What's in the other letter?" Ned asked, noticing the other scroll in her hand.

"A letter," she said sighing, "From your nephew."

Ned frowned at her picking up her changed mood, "What does it say?"

"Just making sure you'll come to the tourney and informing you about the success of the Stepstones," She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, "Also about Jon Snow."

"What of him?" Ned asked with a slight edge in his voice, "Has he been harmed?"

She shook her head, "No, my love. He has been….legitimized for his services and actions in the conquest, as well as appointed the future lord of Azkaban."

Ned smiled and his eyes softened, "That's wonderful news."

"Wonderful?" She snapped, "Why not one of our children? What if the bastard tries to usurp Robb?"

Ned as usual spoke calmly with a raised eyebrow, "Robb is going to be the Lord of Moat Cailin when I die and Bran is going to be the Lord of Riverrun. Rickon can have a holdfast anywhere in the North if I asked Brandon. Why would Jon usurp Robb when his fief is the largest port in the North as well as being on the other side of the North?"

"Isn't one of our children more worthy of such an important fief?" She asked angrily, "Why would a bastard have it?"

Ned's eyes hardened and she could feel he was getting slightly angered, "He is a Stark now, by the orders of the King, and he's of my blood. Drop the subject, Cat."

She huffed angrily and left, "Very well, my lord."

Ned just shook his head and closed his eyes, resting back on the weirwood tree to enjoy the renewed calmness after his wife left.

Typical Tully's, all the sense of a fish in boiling water.