Chapter 62: The ironborn entrance.

Five days later.

Robb Stark.

As the saying goes, man makes plans, and the Gods laugh. I was required to stay in Riverrun instead of supporting Uncle Edmure against Jaime. The main reason for that was something my grandfather told me.

If my aim was to be a king, I needed to delegate even these kinds of actions, since there would be a moment when I would not be able to be present in all conflicts. My generals or trusted people needed to learn how to act without my presence. It was true that my power gave me an edge no one else in Westeros had, but that meant if my generals got complacent with my presence, they would be defeated without me.

For that reason, I had to work on something in the castle—the bane of all rulers: paperwork.

Looking at the stacks of parchments my grandfather had in his possession, I shuddered at the thought of the future. If this amount of paper was for a single kingdom, I could not even imagine what it would be like when all of them were under my rule.

For now, I needed to focus. War was something that took time, and for that reason, I needed to learn about the lands that were under me, even if the Riverlands had not bent the knee yet. I was not worried about it, since when Edmure defeated Jaime's host, my grandfather assured me they would do so.

It was the best course of action for them since if I left the Riverlands untouched if they didn't bend the knee, they would be open to different reprisals. That alone made it worth it for the Riverlords. The extra security I would need to implement when they made me their king would be enough for them.

The lands of the Riverlands were fertile and vast, making them one of the most agriculturally productive regions in Westeros. Due to their network of rivers, such as the Trident and its tributaries, the land had the opportunity to be well irrigated, allowing for a wider range of crops and food production compared to the North. If my special fertilizer made the North flourish, I was giddy to find out what it would do to the Riverlands.

With my powers and the help of the lords, I was sure we could make the Riverlands a better place to farm than the Reach. And when I was in control of the Tyrells, I was sure I would be able to stop famine in Westeros.

I knew that an abundance of food could be problematic, even if it sounded perfect. First of all, the price would drop, and while that would be advantageous to customers, it would be bad for the farmers and producers by reducing their income, making it difficult for them to recover their costs. This, at least, could be worked on in the future. If I managed to make it almost trivial to plant food with the help of learned men, we could solve this.

But that was not the only problem that an overabundance of food brought—storing food would be almost impossible in these lands. However, since I was already controlling the North, I was sure we could do something.

Shaking my head, I tried to focus on the map. All these problems were for the future me. The Riverlands needed to be secured first, and for that reason, I needed to close the borders, just as I did in the North.

The Riverlands were in the middle of Westeros, and they had borders with six of the Seven Kingdoms, if you counted the Iron Islands.

The Vale was not a problem, at least for now, but the Reach, Crownlands, and Westerlands could be. For that reason, we needed to move fast.

While King's Landing was weak, they could make some trouble on the King's Road. The Reach would take at least a month to mobilize if they even managed that. I knew from experience that Renly had a hate boner for his brother Stannis, so I was sure he would try to attack him now that he was weak. I didn't know how that would end, probably with Renly's death, but what would happen next was the problem.

If the Reach lost Renly, the Queen of Thorns would move to the next claimant for the throne who could help her. And while I was an option, I doubted I would be lucky enough to gain their allegiance. No, I was sure they would ally with Aegon. Even if they doubted his legitimacy, I was certain Olenna would try her best to get him married to Margaery.

That did not worry me much, though. No, the thing that scared me the most was Melisandre. She was a hard counter to me. Her shadow creatures were dangerous, but her fire scared me. If she had a buffed-up version of what she showed in the series, she could make my insects trivial.

While I could order my insects to attack, they would be burned to cinders, and I would lose them instantly. I didn't know if the insects I created to snuff out the wildfire would work on her flames since she was connected to her Lord of Light.

The Old Gods called him a monstrosity, and that scared me. Since the Old Gods were almost eldritch beings to me, I did not want to imagine what something had to be for them to call it that.

"Why are you so preoccupied, Robb?" asked my grandfather, who had just entered my solar.

Giving him a tight smile, I replied, "So many things, grandfather."

"Do tell," he smiled, and I huffed.

"Everything. The war, the lands, my people," I continued. Hoster Tully had been helping me a lot these past few days, and while he was still sick, some of the Green Men had been able to alleviate his sickness a little bit. He was still ill, and I doubted he had much longer to live, mostly because of his age, but he was better—at least enough to move around the castle.

"I know what you feel, grandson," he replied, putting his hand on my back as he sat next to me.

"The weight of responsibility," he continued. "Let's go one by one. Tell me, what is the most pressing problem?"

"I want to close the borders. We are way too vulnerable in the middle of Westeros," I replied, wondering how many men I would lose to do so. While my army sounded big, I didn't have enough men available to guard all the keeps on the borders, and I also needed to continue my campaign.

"Aye, it is needed," he nodded. "First of all, we need to man Wayfarer's Rest. I'm sure Lord Vance will be capable of that with little support, but even so, there is more to do. House Vypren will have to guard that side of the Westerlands."

"Aye, I was thinking of sending Lord Vypren back home with a thousand men to take care of that."

"I'm afraid that is no longer an option, grandson," he shook his head. "The last Vypren died during the battle, and his wife fell ill during captivity by the Lannister men."

"Fuck," I grunted, banging the table. "If it's not one thing, it's another."

"What do you propose?" I asked.

"We can send some of the lords of the northern part of the Riverlands for that," he waved his hand. "I'm sure Lord Darry would be up to it. He was really sad that he could not reach you before you marched here."

"If he manages to survive the battle against Jaime," I replied. "I should be there, helping."

"You need to trust Edmure, Robb," he laughed, and I knew it was true, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

"I trust him," I snapped. "I trust my people, but my presence would make everything go more smoothly."

Before he could continue, our conversation was brought to a halt by the entrance of Jon. My cousin had been busy these past few days visiting the Mountain, who was paralyzed thanks to my venoms. He had been in his cell doing all kinds of things to him. While he hasn't harmed him much besides a punch to the head, he has been depriving him of sleep, visiting him with Ghost.

Jon was pissed, but Father had taught him well. He would not succumb to vengeance.

"Robb," he started, "a raven arrived from Seagard."

I noticed that my grandfather's eyes tightened at Jon's presence, but that was not important for now, even if I made a mental note to fix this before it became a problem. I was sure he saw Jon as a threat, or maybe just an annoyance as my father's proof of "infidelity." And while I would not disclose Jon's true parentage, I thought it would be good to tell him that he was not my father's bastard.

I could not have problems within our ranks, even less so from people who were "high-ranking" in my command. Petty squabbles would have to wait until the war for the throne was over.

Focusing on Jon, I replied, "What happened, Jon? What does Patrek say?"

"The Ironborn made their first move," he replied with a sigh, and my head hit the wall with a bang.

Wonderful, just what I needed. Another variable joining the scuffle. I knew that they did not aim for the Iron Throne, at least, Theon's father did not. But how long would that last? How long until Euron Greyjoy took control of the Iron Islands? I still did not know anything about him apart from his apparent madness. I was hoping for the best, ignoring the teleportation show in the series (A/N: lol). He was dangerous but beatable, but I prepared for the worst. If he was like the books, my conquest would meet the first hurdle in him, probably.

In both characterizations, he was a sadist and cruel, being famous for that, either physically or psychologically. His own crew aboard his ship Silence had their tongues cut out, and he was known for his horrific acts. I did not remember well if this happened in the shows, but I knew he had molested his brothers since they were young, one of the reasons they all were afraid of him.

But his brutality was the least of my problems; it was the mysticism and dark knowledge. Euron in the books had experimented with dark magic, along with traveling to a LOT of dangerous places, like Valyria and Asshai, gathering arcane knowledge. He possessed a Valyrian steel suit of armor, making him almost impenetrable, and was said to be interested in becoming a god through magical means.

Having spent almost five years in Westeros, a lot of my memories were blurred, but I remembered this well. If he was like that, I hoped I would be capable of defeating him. And if I did? I knew the loot would be glorious.

Hiding my inner gamer self, I thought about what Jon had said. Since he came at a sedate pace, I knew there was not much to worry about since Seagard was manned to the brim and had the support of Robin.

"What happened, Jon?" I tried to ask calmly, still dreading the implications that Euron would come soon.

"They were repelled," he replied simply, and I heard grandfather letting a breath out at hearing that.

"But not without losses. None of those were of note, but Patrek lost five hundred men defending his lands," Jon continued. "The Ironborn assault was led by Victarion Greyjoy and his niece, Asha Greyjoy, Theon's sister apparently."

"Tell me the contents of the raven," I ordered.

Seagard

Asha Greyjoy.

The air was thick with the smell of salt water, and I felt at peace. Here, in the ocean, with my crew members preparing to attack the Greenlanders in Westeros, this was what life was meant to be—paying the iron price.

For now, our ships were directed to Seagard, House Mallister's home, and a blight for the Ironborn. Seagard was created with the sole purpose of defending the Riverlands from an Ironborn invasion, and it deserved to burn under our might. Uncle Victarion was in the lead, but ten more ships were behind us. Everyone was filled with excitement to reave through the keep, hoping to find salt wives or thralls to work in the salt mines.

Everything was going well for us. Lord Mallister had left Seagard to support his liege lords, leaving his green son in charge of the defenses of his ancestral home.

But I had a nagging feeling at the back of my head. We had stopped receiving news from Seagard a while back, and we didn't know why or how. Did they find our spies? If they did, would they be prepared for us? I did not think so, but it was a possibility.

I tried to talk to Uncle Victarion about this, but he did not want to hear me talk. Once again, my opinion was being ignored just because of what I had between my legs. For everything I did, my crewmates got the praise and were often mocked for following a woman.

I snorted, attracting the attention of my second-in-command. Edd was a young Ironborn from Pyke, whom I had known since childhood. Losing Theon when we were younger, thanks to the foolishness of my father, made it hard for me to enjoy my childhood in the castle. And here we were again, going against the rest of the kingdoms for my father when we had no hope of winning. At least now the rest of the mainlanders were occupied with their petty squabbles for the Iron Throne, so they would not be able to mount a significant defense.

Our main objective for this attack was to burn Seagard to the ground, or at least debilitate it enough so that a future incursion would be easier. The Riverlands were occupied by the Lannister forces as of the last report, with Riverrun being sieged by Tywin Lannister himself.

Thinking of Theon brought a weird feeling to my chest. I did not know how our reunion would be. Would he be infected with the North's cultural differences? Or would he still act as an Ironborn? I didn't know the answer to this, but if he was weak, I would not hesitate to take the Seastone Chair for myself. I had paid the price; I was the best option for now, discounting my uncles, of course.

But Victarion was not meant to lead. He was way too headstrong for that and would seek more trouble than it was worth. Theon, I did not know, but he wouldn't receive the support of the Ironborn for being a ward of the Starks. The less said about Euron, the better. He was scary from what I remembered, and he was still exiled, doing whatever, and Aeron was a priest of the Drowned God.

No, I was the better option for ruling. I understood enough to know that we could not oppose all the kingdoms at the same time, unlike Father. Our best bet would be to reave through the North and take enough timber from their forests to increase our naval power, making it strong enough so that the rest of the kingdoms think twice before attacking us.

But for now, here I was, leading my crew against Patrek Mallister.

"How long until we land?" I asked Edd.

"We can already see the harbor, Asha," he replied. "Some minutes until arrival."

"What about their defenses?" I asked, wondering how manned the keep was.

Usually, Seagard had three to four thousand soldiers, but that was calling the sword houses and knights that lived in their territory. Whenever the Ironborn attacked in the past, if they managed to reach it secretly, they would fight less than two thousand soldiers. But now that Jason Mallister had left for Riverrun, following the Young Wolf to help his family, it was possible that there would be fewer.

"They've already spotted us, Asha," Edd said, shaking his head. "With all these longships under your Uncle Victarion, it would be impossible to go incognito. I can see the soldiers helping the merchants out of the harbor."

"How many men, Edd?" I asked urgently. If they knew we were coming, we would fight as soon as we docked, and they could mount defenses before that.

"Around a thousand," he said uncertainly before nodding seriously, "I think a thousand men."

That was good. We had twelve ships with us, each carrying around a hundred soldiers. If the thousand men Edd said were correct, we had the upper hand in numbers alone.

"It is a shame they are waiting for us," I murmured. "We would have an advantage at sea."

"Aye," Edd smirked. "There is no one as good as an Ironborn at sailing."

I smirked back at him. "I will go and talk with my uncle before we disembark. Make sure every axe is sharpened; we have Mallisters to kill."

"Aye aye, Cap," he saluted mockingly.

Walking around the deck, I observed the soldiers preparing for battle. The Ironborn always wore their armor even at sea since the best way to die was to drown, according to our religion. But they were checking their equipment one last time before the battle.

We, the Ironborn, fight with a fierce and ruthless style, and it was true, that we favored surprise raids and ambushes to catch our enemies off guard. But that didn't mean we were weak on the mainland. Our fierce style made our attack chaotic enough so that no one knew what to expect. Since most Ironborns didn't follow orders, and the commanders did not usually give them, we all attacked differently. Some may prefer to charge from the front, while others try to sneak around and jump when someone least expects it.

For now, I believe we have the advantage. If we were fighting in open quarters, I would be nervous, but the harbor of Seagard had a lot of buildings, forcing the Mallister men to fight close to us as we favored.

As soon as I got closer to my uncle, I could hear him scream.

"Ready the men!" Victarion barked, his voice carrying over the sound of a hundred men preparing for battle. "Tonight, we burn Seagard to the ground!"

The crew surged with fervor, and I was sure their shouts could be heard from the other longships. I watched as my uncle's presence ignited a primal urge for bloodshed in our men. I felt the same fire in my belly, but I was intelligent enough to have a tinge of caution. Seagard was not an easy target, even when the men and lord weren't present. The Mallisters were seasoned warriors, and I was sure Jason had left someone with experience just in case something like this happened.

As we approached the harbor, the silhouettes of Seagard's tall towers loomed ahead. The first line of defense was already in place, something I hadn't seen in all my life.

The soldiers were grouped up, which would be good for us since many of them would die from the first volley of arrows. However, they had some strange shields made of something not metal, gray-colored, and larger than normal. The bad feeling intensified, but we were so close that retreating would only hurt our reputation.

I raised my hand, signaling the archers to prepare.

"Once we land, we hit hard and fast," I instructed, trying to keep my voice steady. "We split their forces to the buildings and seize the gates before they can react."

Uncle Victarion nodded, his eyes narrowed in anticipation. "Remember to grab their women! I will only take a small sum of what you find."

This was something some of the captains did: while the crew plundered, the captain directed, and at the end, a percentage of the loot would be his. I didn't do this, as I liked to fight on the frontlines, so my crew got to keep what they found. One of the reasons they followed me, I guess.

With a roar, we beached the ships, and our men poured onto the sand, axes raised and swords drawn.

Looking in awe, I saw the strange shields protect every single one of the soldiers huddled together, and I clicked my tongue. "This started bad," I murmured.

The Mallister men ran toward us, and the clash of steel rang as we met their first line of defenders. I fought at my uncle's side, my dagger flashing in the moonlight before it was painted crimson with the blood of my first victim.

They were better prepared than I expected, but nothing insurmountable.

The battlefield quickly devolved into chaos, and our men were happy to reciprocate with violence inside the buildings. We had the advantage here, as our axes were small enough to fight in cramped spaces, while their spears and swords were too large to swing without risking injuring their own.

I could feel my excitement soar through the roof—this was the life. Slashing the neck of another Greenlander, I roared before attacking the next. Men always doubted my prowess in battle, but while my strength was not comparable to theirs, my agility surpassed them easily.

Uncle Victarion was also cutting through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. "Push forward!" he roared, cleaving through their ranks with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed from our enemies, soaking the floor with its crimson color.

Yet the defenders were prepared. They fought with desperation only those defending their home could muster, and I was confused as to why there were some Northerners here. Their physical characteristics were easy to spot after attacking their shores for so long.

They fought with more brutality than I expected, and the biggest surprise was how they fought. I had always heard about the cohesion the Unsullied troops had, and I imagined it was something like this. They fought together as a unit—whenever someone was overpowered, another took his place in the battle, saving their lives while the defeated one caught his breath. While not all of them survived, the death of their companions only burned their spirits stronger than ever.

Before long, I could hear the sound of horses approaching, and I knew this was going to turn into the worst possible outcome. The number of hooves I could hear was alarming, and it didn't make any sense. If Jason Mallister had taken a large part of his bannermen to support the Tullys, why were there so many defenders in place?

"Regroup!" I shouted, but it was too late. Uncle Victarion, driven by rage, pressed forward, leaving our flanks exposed. I, on the other hand, tried to regroup with my crew, taking any Ironborn we could find while dodging a swing by a hair that nearly took my head.

The bastard who dared to do that was dead, of course, but that didn't mean we were safe yet. Our men were being flanked from all sides except our rear, giving us the option to retreat back to our ships, something I hoped we were capable of doing even with the heavy losses we would suffer.

"Uncle, we need to fall back!" I shouted, but it was for naught. Victarion, so lost in his element, either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me. We were running out of time. Desperately, I ran toward him, helping him against a particularly tough opponent before pushing him to the ground as my uncle cut his head off.

"Uncle, we are surrounded. We need to retreat. NOW!" I repeated myself, smacking him on the head to clear his thoughts of the bloodshed.

He still had the gall to hesitate, so caught up in the thrill of battle, but at least my slap did its work clearing the fog in his head. With a fierce growl, he turned, rallying the rest of the Ironborn. "We're not done yet; we will take this hold!"

I was so stressed I wanted to scream. Once more, this situation made me realize the problem of my sex. When I shouted, trying to rally our men for retreat, only some of the remaining Ironborn followed my lead, besides my crewmates who were still alive. None of the others even tried to follow me, even if I was saving their lives. But when Uncle Victarion shouted? Everyone heard him and followed his orders, even if it meant their deaths.

I wasn't even capable of counting the number of defenders that came from our flanks in such a short time, but they were turning the tide of the battle, and I could do nothing but huff in frustration at the situation we found ourselves in.

Slashing my daggers through the air, I killed some of the soldiers attacking us, but it was for naught. We killed one, and three more took his place, fighting with renewed vigor after seeing their brothers die.

I watched in abject horror as our ranks began to dwindle, their bodies making it difficult to move without tripping. The smell of shit and blood was all-encompassing, and I swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in my throat. The tide had turned completely, and we were being decimated. We had killed so many men, but it was for nothing.

When an arrow flew past me and I heard Uncle Victarion scream in pain, I knew it was my time to act. "Retreat!" I shouted with all my might, grabbing Victarion's injured arm, an arrow sticking out from his shoulder. Since we did not use metal armor, preferring to have boiled leather as defense, arrows were particularly dangerous to us. "We lost too many men. We will regroup and return another day!"

Uncle Victarion scowled at the thought of running away, but even with his small brain, he could see that if we stayed, they would kill us all. The battle was lost. With a grimace, he nodded, leading the retreat as we fell back to our ships, and the cries of the wounded being helped would make my nightmares particularly fun in the future.

Not all of them could be saved, and I hoped they received a fast death. Some of our men were held hostage, while others lay on their backs or stomachs, bleeding out and hoping for death.

As we boarded the Iron Victory, I tried to take stock of our losses. Over six hundred men lay dead on the sands of the harbor, and many more did not make it to our ships. The thought of the Riverlanders and Northerners keeping them did not sit well with me, but there was nothing I could do about it. I didn't even have fire to light them up.

Victarion's eyes were dark as he surveyed the battlefield, a mix of anger and regret crossing his features. That did it for me. Marching up to his face, I shouted, "I told you we needed to retreat before we lost so many men! Now the Mallisters have access to our ships, and many Ironborn are held hostage!"

Victarion snarled and raised his uninjured hand to strike me. Thankfully, he was weakened by the arrow, and I was able to move out of the way. Getting closer to him once more, I punched him in the stomach, making him double over in pain. "This is your fault, Uncle. You let your anger get the better of you, and see where it got us? We lost so many men! Don't you see? We lost! And now they will be better prepared for future attacks."

Sighing, I helped him stand up. I was pissed at him, but I didn't want him dead.

He looked at me with murder in his eyes, but the regret came back in full force. "Aye, you are right, Asha," he admitted, lowering his head.

Before I could answer, his eyes locked onto mine. "It was my mistake, and I will make up for it. But remember niece, I am the Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet. I control the largest and most powerful fleet of the Iron Islands. I'm sure you know why it would be unwise to strike me again. I will let this one pass since tension and stress can do things to people, but if you do so once more, I'm sure I will make you regret it. Balon won't be able to stop it."

My tirade was cut short, and my body tensed before giving him a firm nod. "I apologize, Uncle," I admitted. "I lost many of my friends in this raid, and I cannot take it out on the Mallisters."

Victarion simply nodded before looking out to the shore, where the defenders were taking care of the wounded and the hostages, and taking control of the ships we were forced to leave behind.

"We will return," he vowed with a fierce voice, a scowl back on his face.

"Next time, we will attack with the full force of the Iron Fleet, and they won't be so fortunate."

"They won't know what to expect next. We will be victorious," I nodded resolutely. This insult won't stand; they will pay for the blood they shed, and we will defeat them—I was sure of that.

"But where did all those soldiers come from?" I asked the most important question. If Jason Mallister took a large part of his forces, it didn't make any sense what just happened.

Victarion shook his head. "Northerners," he scoffed. "I would know; they speak the same way the people of Bear Island do."

"We need to make sure they pay for this," I replied simply. "Maybe we should focus on them before coming back to the Riverlands. I'm sure all that timber would be enough to double the fleet."

"You know what?" he asked. "I think you're right, niece."

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