Starkport

Dacey screamed out in pleasure, her body trembling as Maekar fucked her from behind. The sensation was overwhelming, and she felt herself losing control. His rough hands gripped her hips tightly, guiding her to meet each of his powerful thrusts. With every movement, a rush of intense pleasure coursed through her.

As he increased the speed of his thrusts, her moans became more and more desperate. "Yes... yes... Maekar... don't stop..." she gasped between breaths. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably, and she knew she was close to the edge.

"Cum for me She-Bear," he whispered in her ear. That was her limit. A powerful wave of ecstasy washed over her, and she cried out his name one last time before collapsing onto the bed. She felt the warm sensation of his seed slowly making its way down her back, tracing the contours of her spine before dripping onto the bed beneath them.

"Gods, that was great," she said, breathless.

"That was the last one before I leave. Had to make it count," Maekar said, equally breathless.

They laid on the bed in silence for some time too tired to talk.

"I have to go. I've delayed the ship long enough," he said, getting up.

Dacey lay on the bed, exhausted, watching him dress. "Be careful, Maekar. If this is a rebellion…"

"I promise I'll be careful, as long as you promise to be careful as well," he replied.

He leaned in to kiss her forehead softly.

"I'll see you when I see you," he said with a wink, walking out of the room.

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He left Bear Island on the Mormonts' fastest ship, part of a small fleet they were building with the help of Winterfell. He sent word to his uncle about the happenings on Bear Island and the information they had gleaned from the captured Ironborn after the beach battle.

The Ironborn had been ferrying thousands of wildlings past the Wall in the last week alone. He knew Uncle Brandon would soon be inundated with ravens from the houses near the Wall as the wildlings wreaked havoc.

These actions from the Ironborn meant only one thing: rebellion. He knew about the Greyjoy Rebellion from the books but had hoped it wouldn't happen here, given the vastly different circumstances with Rhaegar winning and the realms still being ruled by the dragons. Yet, it seemed the rebellion was inevitable, just delayed.

Now, almost a week after he left Bear Island, he was nearing Starkport. He was excited to see Robb again and hoped that the Ironborn hadn't attacked their new port on the west coast, as he knew it and the new fleet Uncle Ned was building would be their first target in the North.

He heard the sailors above announcing that they were approaching Starkport. He walked from his cabin onto the deck, where he was greeted with Starkport in all its glory. The port town was a bustling hub of activity, with a maze of wooden docks extending into the bay, filled with ships of various sizes and designs. Fishermen, merchants, and sailors moved about the place. The town itself sprawled from the shoreline, a mix of sturdy stone buildings and wooden structures, with narrow streets winding between them.

Overlooking the growing town was Greycliff Castle. Named for the grey cliffs it was perched upon, it provided a commanding view of the entire bay. The castle was an impressive structure, built of grey stone and featuring tall, crenelated walls. Its towers reached high into the sky, and banners bearing the direwolf of House Stark flapped in the wind.

He also noticed a large number of ships, more than he had seen on his previous visits. War galleys, dromonds, and smaller vessels were lined up, their crews busy with preparations. It was clear to him that Uncle Ned was preparing for war.

The ship docked, and he disembarked, immediately seeing that he had a welcoming party. At the forefront was Robb Stark, his cousin. Robb had the classic Stark look: the long face, grey eyes, and solemn demeanor. But unlike the other Starks, Robb had violet eyes, a striking inheritance from his mother, Ashara Dayne.

Robb rushed over and pulled him into an embrace, which he returned with equal warmth.

"Good to see you again, Maekar," Robb said, his voice filled with genuine affection.

"I wish it was under better circumstances," he replied, a note of seriousness creeping into his tone.

"Yes, we heard what happened at Bear Island. Ironborn and wildlings together... what's the world coming to?" Robb said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Where is Uncle Ned?" he asked, looking around.

"He's at the cove," Robb replied.

"Ah, I forgot you had a hidden cove here," he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Yes, we've been building the new ships there, away from prying eyes," Robb explained.

"Let us go there. I want to see my ships," he said eagerly.

"Your ships?" Robb asked with a playful frown.

"Yes, my ships. I designed them. Now take me there," he insisted with a grin.

Robb laughed and clapped him on the back. "Oh, how I missed you, cousin."

They made their way through the bustling streets of Starkport. As they walked, Maekar couldn't help but notice the air of readiness that hung over the town. The preparations for war were evident everywhere he looked, from the blacksmiths working tirelessly to forge weapons and armor to the groups of men training in the open fields.

The town was a matter of pride to the Stark family, and they would not let the Ironborn touch its soil.

"Bring the horses," he heard Robb order.

One of the guards nodded and soon returned with two sturdy steeds. They mounted them, and Robb began leading him to the hidden cove. After a few minutes of riding, they arrived at the natural harbor, surrounded by steep cliffs that provided excellent cover from prying eyes. Several new ships were docked there.

These ships were designed by him with the help of the Manderly shipbuilders he had asked his uncle to bring to Winterfell two years ago. They were similar to galleons, much better than the carracks that already existed here.

They were also supposed to be outfitted with a special weapon.

"So, have the new ships been outfitted with the new weapon?" he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

Robb laughed. "Yes, Maekar, and it's glorious. I hope the Ironborn come," he added.

They arrived at the hidden docks in the cove after a few minutes of riding, where he saw five impressive galleons anchored. The sight was magnificent. As they dismounted the horses and walked down to the docks, he saw Uncle Ned standing near the edge, his face lighting up with a warm smile upon seeing him.

"Welcome, Maekar," said Uncle Ned, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I see that you have been busy, Uncle Ned," he replied, returning the hug.

His uncle nodded and turned his gaze toward the galleons. "We named the first one after your mother," he said, looking proudly at the nearest ship.

He looked at the ship; it was everything he imagined it to be—reinforced hull, larger sails, larger size. Along the sides, he could see the ballistae being installed. The ship itself had a formidable appearance.

His eyes were then drawn to the complex mechanisms on the deck. "I see that you have managed to install the weapons," he remarked.

"Yes, the weapons with Frostfire have been put in all five ships," Ned confirmed.

"Frostfire, eh? Nice name," he said with a smile.

"Well, nephew, you did tell me I could name it," Ned replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Frostfire, as Uncle Ned named it, was actually Greek fire—a more stable and safe version of the notorious wildfire. He had managed to make it and it was sent to Starkport in secret, a potent weapon capable of devastating enemy ships with its intense, inextinguishable flames.

"Come, nephew, let us return to Greycliff. You look like you could use some rest," Ned said, leading him and Robb back to the castle.

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Theon stood on the deck of his ship, the Iron Bitch, a fierce smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the churning waters. He had been planning and waiting for this day for months, ever since his uncle Euron had begun whispering of the rebellion that would free them from the mainlanders. His mind raced with dreams of glory and conquest. Perhaps he could carve out his own kingdom in the North, where he was now leading the fleet.

The Starks had built a port on the Stony Shore and even had the gall to create a fleet of their own. He intended to teach them a harsh lesson about who truly ruled the seas. He did not expect much resistance from the Northerners. They were landlubbers, after all.

Didn't the Lord of Starkport have a daughter? Perhaps he should take her as his salt wife when he took the port. The thought brought a twisted grin to his face.

Victarion, his uncle, had gone to Lannisport to attack the heart of the Westerlands. His brothers, Maron and Rodrik, had been dispatched to the Reach and the Riverlands respectively, spreading their assault across the continent. And Uncle Euron, the man behind it all, had sailed south on some secret quest.

Yes, Theon could see it clearly—the future of the Ironborn seemed bright. He envisioned the Ironborn reclaiming their ancient glory, raiding and reaving from the North to the South, their power unquestioned.

It was going to be glorious.

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