Chapter Twenty Five: Hope Endures

It was not long before news of the Royal Army's maritime victories at Seagard and Fair Isle reached the mainland. Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lord Tywin Lannister informed King Robert that they had successfully neutralized Lord Balon Greyjoy's heir and killed the Crow's Eye. The stag king was quite pleased by his brother and goodfather's respective actions.

Now that the west coast of the Riverlands and the Westerlands was secure, there was nothing standing between the Royal Army and the Iron Islands. As such, King Robert amassed the rest of the Royal Fleet and set sail directly for the Islands.

Of the seven islands, only three presented any real challenge for besiegers. Harlaw, Saltcliffe, Orkmont, and Blacktyde had little defensive capabilities when they stood alone. However, Old Wyk, Great Wyk, and Pyke were far more formidable, and none of them would fall easily.

With that in mind, King Robert kept his armada divided into three smaller fleets. Each one would lay siege to one of the three strongest islands. Lord Stannis' forces would take Old Wyk, Lord Tywin's forces would take Great Wyk, and the king's forces would take Pyke.

Victarion Greyjoy was among the last company. He had not been at Seagard or Fair Isle. At the king's request, he had remained in the Westerlands to counsel the King on how to seize the Iron Islands with minimum loss of life or resources. Nonetheless, in the final stage of the war, Robert had decided to allow the Iron Captain to join into the fray.

Victarion now stood on the bridge of the Iron Victory. Before he and his fellow Legionnaires left Moat Cailin, he had arranged for the ship to be brought to Casterly Rock. In the meantime, he had ridden by horse to the Westerlands.

He was not as averse to travelling by land as he had been once, but he would always choose sails over horses. He never felt more alive and at peace as he did when standing on the deck of a ship.

As the king's fleet sailed towards Pyke, Victarion reflected on the present scenario. He had not been home in years. The only contact he had had with his people were the friendly interactions he shared with his fellow Ironborn Legionnaires. Victarion had always intended to return eventually.

Who would have thought I'd be returning with a host of greenlanders?

Victarion had very mixed feelings on what was happening at that time. On the one hand, he was on the winning side in this war. On the other hand, his family was on the losing side. Based on how easily the Iron Fleet had fallen at Seagard and Fair Isle, the Royal Army's triumph was all but guaranteed.

But at what cost will victory come?

In front of his fellow top officers of the Legion without Banners and the leaders of the Royal Army, Victarion Greyjoy had sworn his fealty to Robert Baratheon. He had meant those words when he spoke them, and he still did at that time. Even so, he could not help but wonder what consequences his oath would produce for his family.

His eldest nephew had already been maimed, one of his brothers had been imprisoned in the bowels of Casterly Rock, and another of his brothers had been killed. Only Victarion's eldest brother, niece, and younger two nephews remained free and unharmed.

Will they remain such for very long?

The uncertain fate of the rest of the Greyjoys was not all that troubled Victarion. He also thought on what would become of his name and reputation. On the mainland, they would probably hail him as a brave hero who willingly defied his traitor kin and protected the country from them. But in the eyes of the Islands… he would be the traitor. Not only that; he would be seen as a disgrace to everything the Ironborn stood for.

It was no secret that the Iron Islands were viewed as the most savage and unruly of the nine regions of Westeros. All the same, even they had principles and standards. On the voyage, Victarion realized that he was about to violate a great many of those policies.

He had told himself he could live with that. That was true enough; he had no reservations about breaking a few codes for the greater good. The king and his subordinates would surely understand and sympathize with him. As for the other Ironborn… they might understand, but they would never show any sympathy. Worst case scenario, they would ostracize him completely.

Whenever I decide to leave the Legion… I may not be able to return to the Islands. Moat Cailin may be the only home I have left.

That was the worst aspect of it all.

As trying and disconcerting as these mediations were, Victarion decided to push them out of his mind. He could not afford to have doubts. Not at such a crucial moment. He needed to stay focused on his current assignment. He would worry about his status in the Islands later.

When Victarion came out of his reverie, his ears detected something. Between the noises of wood creaking, waves breaking, and voices calling, he heard a soft buzzing sound. It appeared to originate from behind him.

Victarion looked over his shoulder and saw Nute the Barber standing a few feet away. He was leaning against the port rampart and gazing out to sea. His lips were quivering slightly; the buzzing sound was coming from his mouth. Victarion listened closely, and there actually seemed to be a melody to that sound.

"What is that you are humming, Barber?" Victarion asked him.

Nute turned to his commanding officer and answered him with "A song, my lord."

"What song?" Victarion murmured curiously.

"I heard it from the Mountain," Nute apprised him, "He claimed it's an old navy song where he comes from?"

"I didn't know the Westerlands had navy songs," Victarion commented.

"Neither did I," Nute admitted, "Perhaps he mistook its origin."

"Are there words?" Victarion queried. He was genuinely interested. While the Iron Captain had little taste for music, songs about the sea always intrigued him.

"I believe so," Nute the Barber replied, "However, I only picked up a handful of them."

"Indulge me, if you would," Victarion bade him.

Nute the Barber nodded and stood up straight. Then he cleared his throat and softly sang in a rather pleasant voice: "Anchors Aweigh, my boys, Anchors Aweigh. Farewell to foreign shores; we sail at break of day. Through our last night ashore, drink to the foam… that's all I can recall off the top of my head."

"Fascinating," Victarion remarked, rubbing his temple, "I must remember to speak with Lord Gregor on this later. I'd be interested to hear the whole song."

"Oh, he'd be delighted to share it, my lord," Nute proclaimed, "He mentioned that he's hoping to teach it to more people. Particularly those of us who are more comfortable on water."

"What happens today will certainly be worthy of a song," Victarion pronounced.

"Indeed," Nute conceded, "In any case, it would definitely be a good distraction."

"A distraction?" Victarion repeated, bewildered.

"Yes…" Nute affirmed, a little apprehensively. After a pause, he sighed and muttered "May I speak plainly?"

"Yes, but be mindful of what you say," Victarion cautioned him. Even from his own men, he did not tolerate any slights.

"I believe in what you are doing," Nute declared, "Working for the Legion without Banners has accomplished far more good for us than raiding Essos ever did. I also admire you for openly siding with the King over your own countrymen."

"Every man here has done the same," Victarion debated.

"True," Nute stated frankly, "The difference is that your family reigns over the Iron Islands. But it may not remain that way for long."

Victarion was confused. "How do you mean?"

"After the Rebellion, the King may remove your family from the seat of Pyke," Nute contended.

That statement gave Victarion pause. He had not considered that concept. Now that he had, he noted there was in fact a great possibility of it. Despite his loyalty to the Iron Throne, all the rest of Victarion's family had revolted against Robert Baratheon. For that reason, the king had legitimate grounds to take Pyke away from House Greyjoy and bequeath it to another house. Probably not even a house from the Islands.

"You could be right," Victarion glumly admitted.

Nute leaned against the rampart again and uttered "If you will permit my asking, how does that make you feel, my lord?"

Victarion spent a good minute contemplating the idea of House Greyjoy being severed from Pyke. Ultimately, he looked the Barber in the eye and firmly declared "I am willing to accept that. If I must sacrifice my family's ancestral home for the sake of Westeros, so be it."

Nute merely nodded his head and said quietly "Very well. If that is what you believe, then I shall support you."

I just hope you will not be the only one who does.

A day after King Robert Baratheon's fleet departed from Casterly Rock, his company met up with Lord Stannis' and Lord Tywin's. The Iron Islands were nearly in sight of their rendezvous point.

When they met up, the King took some time to evaluate the composition of each company. In several instances, he chose to reassign certain units to a different armada.

Namely, he transferred the Cleganes and the Mormonts to his company. Since they had been instrumental in the battles at Seagard and Fair Isle, he wished to have them present at the fall of Pyke, as well.

Victarion was aware that it was Jorah Mormont who had crippled Rodrik Greyjoy, and Sandor Clegane had killed Euron Greyjoy. He did not hold those actions against either men; they had simply done what needed to be done. Apart from that, Victarion felt his cocky nephew could afford a harsh lesson in humility, and there had been little love between him and the Crow's Eye.

Once King Robert finished reorganizing the Royal Army, he launched the invasion of the Iron Islands.

The offensive began in the early morning, when the Sun was barely peeking over the eastern horizon. Before noon, Old Wyk and Great Wyk fell. After receiving a signal in the sky from both Lord Stannis and Lord Tywin, King Robert's forces advanced towards Pyke.

The siege of Pyke was conducted in a very methodical fashion. First, there was the conflict at sea.

Half of the king's vessels – led by Lord Paxter Redwyne, Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord Hoster Tully – engaged the majority of what remained of the Iron Fleet occupied out in Ironman's Bay. Only a select few ships were still garrisoned on the coast, and all of them were at Lordsport.

While the sea battle raged on, the other half of the king's ships made for Lordsport with the intent of docking there.

To Victarion's surprise, when they reached Lordsport, the town's residents put up little resistance, if any. In fact, when Robert's flagshipentered the harbor, Lord Sawane Botley sailed out on his Swiftfin to meet the stag king under a banner of peace.

Robert was skeptical, but he agreed to meet with the lord of Lordsport. After Lord Sawane was brought on board King Robert's Hammer, he declared that he and his family were prepared to bend the knee.

When Victarion heard this, he was surprised. His astonishment was shared by many others. This sort of move was uncharacteristic of the typical Ironborn.

Ironmen usually did not give in to foreign power very readily. Even if they were faced with overwhelming odds, they were normally too stubborn to accept defeat. As such, Lord Botley's motives for surrendering were brought into question.

Initially, his bravery (or lack thereof) was suspected to be the reason. But Victarion was certain Lord Sawane had not yielded out of fear. Cowards and cravens did not last long on the Islands, and House Botley was not known for siring any.

It was discovered that Sawane Botley's true reason for yielding was that he no longer believed in Lord Balon's cause. As it happened, he did not have very much faith in it to begin with. Apart from that, his eldest son Harren was currently serving in the Legion without Banners. Lord Sawane had no desire to risk doing harm to any member of his family, particularly his heir, and Harren Botley's involvement in the Legion had brought about great things for their house.

At least some Ironborn have a bit of sense.

After some thoughtful deliberation, Robert Baratheon accepted Lord Botley's surrender. The rest of the king's vessels were allowed entry to the harbor of Lordsport. Once they were docked, the crews hastily disembarked.

It took over an hour for the king's forces to regroup on land. Over ten thousand units from all over the realm were gathered. They were complemented by an additional few hundred that Lord Botley was able to spare them. Once they were all assembled in an orderly manner, they began the trek for Pyke.

The castle of Pyke was only a short way away by horse. Alas, there were not enough horses for all the king's men. The king himself was mounted, as were his generals (which included Victarion). Everyone else had to proceed on foot.

Two hours later, they arrived at the front gate of Pyke. Victarion had been born there, he had been raised there, and he had lived there for a good part of his adulthood. In spite of that, the magnificence and vastness of the castle still amazed him. He was not alone in that sentiment; he could actually hear some of the soldiers mutter their awe.

Just wait until we're on the inside…

Pyke was composed of five towers built on a group of islets. The gatehouse was the only one that could be accessed directly on land. If one wished entry to the Great Keep, the Bloody Keep, the Kitchen Keep, and the Sea Tower, they would have to be a fair climber. The king had no intention of sending his units to scale the cliffs of Pyke, so they would have to enter through the gatehouse.

At this time, the gatehouse was sealed. The portcullis had been lowered, and the walls' six defensive towers were fully-manned. Evidently, Lord Balon Greyjoy would not give in as easily as Lord Sawane Botley did.

Fortunately, the king's forces had come prepared. A number of siege engines had been brought ashore by the Royal Army. These included scorpions, catapults, battering rams, and other fearsome machines. Robert called for all of them to be rolled out. Once the engines were within proper range of the gatehouse, they were unleashed on the walls.

The bulk of the king's forces were able to merely stand by and observe as the siege engines ravaged the nearest wall of the gatehouse. Most of them did not have to worry about retaliation from the men in the towers. The only units who did were those of them who operated the engines. Most of them managed to duck for cover at the appropriate times, but more than a few of them fell to an arrow, a large stone, or a stream of boiling oil.

The Ironborn on the walls were determined to hold them, but they were too few and too slow to stop the king's siege engines. A few minutes into the assault, they had to be wary of enemy archers who returned fire on the ground below.

Within twenty minutes, the siege engines broke through. The southern part of the gatehouse buckled and swayed, and then it collapsed. The southernmost tower descended with it. The men stationed in that tower screamed as it vanished over the adjoining cliff.

Once the wall was breached, King Robert gave the order to advance.

Victarion Greyjoy managed to be the second man to climb the walls of the gatehouse. Lord Jorah Mormont was the first. He was immediately met by one of the crossbowmen posted on the wall. The guard attempted to shoot the bear lord at close range. Lord Jorah evaded the bolt and sank his Valyrian steel blade into the man's chest.

At approximately the same moment, Victarion engaged another of the wall's guards in combat. The Ironborn was initially stunned to see him, and then he sneered and mumbled angrily "Traitor…"

Victarion would not let that go unchallenged. He took out his axe and clashed it with his adversary's sword. After parrying blows for ten seconds, he delivered a fatal slash to the Ironborn's upper chest. His opponent sputtered and dropped listlessly to the ground.

All around him, similar deadly encounters were happening. Between his own bouts with other Ironborn, Victarion made a note of several of his companions' bouts.

Gregor Clegane was easy enough to spot, due to his massive height and impossibly heavy armor. He carried a shield in his left arm, and he wielded a greatsword in his right hand. There were few men alive who could balance a greatsword in one hand. Gregor Clegane did so perfectly. He moved about here and there, cutting down any Ironborn who dared come near him.

His lady wife Dacey Clegane was close-by. She bore a longsword in her right hand. With her left, she swung a Morningstar. If that was not quaint enough, her imposing size made it so. Anyone who attempted to challenge the Bear Islander did not last more than twenty seconds.

Victarion remembered when he had first met Lady Dacey. That was long before she had married Lord Gregor. But even back then, the Mountain did not allow anyone to slander her. Victarion had done so, and the Mountain had nearly struck him for it.

In time, Victarion had come to admire the Bear woman in many ways. He had accepted her as a soldier and as a leader. This was the first occasion when he saw her in full-fledged combat. From what he saw, no one could deny that she was an excellent warrior. For a woman.

No, not just for a woman. She's a fine fighter even for a man.

At one point, Dacey was approached by a tall man with a spear. He seemed amused to discover that his opponent was a woman. As he sparred with her, he commented derisively "You wish to resist my spear? Very well. It happens I've got a longer one. Put away your weapons and I'll show it to you."

That's not going to happen, you poor damn fool.

Victarion lightly scoffed at the Ironman's bluntness. In a strange way, he somewhat pitied the man, as he could predict how Dacey would respond to that lusty slur.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later, Dacey took her Morningstar and threw an underhand blow at the man's lower body. The spiked ball struck the spot directly between the man's legs. Almost straightaway, his hands let go of his steel-tipped spear and shot towards the one on his body. He fell to his knees and let out a shriek that was eerily reminiscent of a banshee.

Dacey smirked and remarked "It's not so long now."

Then she took her sword and plunged it into the area between the man's shoulder blades. Just like that, she made him a corpse as quickly as she had made him a eunuch.

If Victarion did not fully respect Dacey before that moment, he undoubtedly did then.

Not long after, something bright caught Victarion's attention. He paused to get a better look, and at first, he assumed it to be a line of fire. It was in fact a line of fire. But it was moving. Moving very erratically, at that.

Soon Victarion realized that the fire was really a burning sword. The blade was encompassed in the flames, but the damage to the steel seemed minimal. It cut down opponents as easily as any normal blade, and it struck much more fear into anyone who clashed with it.

Victarion then turned his attention to the man holding the sword. He was a plump man clad in red robes, like those of the priests of the R'hllor, the Lord of Light. It only took him a moment to recognize the man. He was indeed a red priest. He was Thoros, a follower of the Lord of Light from the Free City of Myr.

Thoros had arrived in the Royal Army's camps a few days before Robert Baratheon's company set sail. He had joined as a freerider, but he had requested to be on the front line when the king laid siege to Pyke. All it took was a single demonstration of his flaming sword and its abilities to convince Robert to grant his request.

Victarion had heard of Thoros' flaming sword, but he had not believed it to be true until that very moment. Now that he saw it… he was legitimately impressed.

I never would have thought that fire could be harnessed for melee combat.

Just then, a shout of anguish was heard from further up the walls. Victarion turned to the center of the disturbance, and he saw Jacelyn Bywater, a men-at-arms from the Crownlands, on the ground.

A moment earlier, Jacelyn had engaged three Ironborn at once. He had dispatched two of them quickly enough, but the third had managed to trip him. When he was on his back, his last opponent hacked at his right side. As a result, Jacelyn's hand was severed at the wrist, disarming him in both ways.

Victarion rushed to intercede. As the third Ironborn prepared the killing blow, Victarion waved his axe at the man's torso. He succeeded in burying it deep into the man's chest. The Ironborn dropped his sword, slouched, and fell. Victarion grinned in satisfaction as he pulled out his axe.

After getting Jacelyn Bywater to safety, Victarion reentered the fight. As he fought, he continued to observe his colleagues' performances in the battle.

Twenty feet away, Sandor Clegane and his intended, Obara Martell were dueling with a pair of swordsmen. Victarion had heard of the mark his brother had left on the Hound before he was slain. The scar was very conspicuous, even on the field of battle. It had gained Sandor a fair amount of unwanted attention, but he had given little mind to it. Victarion had to praise him for that. Ironborn generally cherished their own scars of war, but even the Iron Captain would have dreaded to be deformed as the Hound had been.

There had been some debate on whether or not Sandor was well enough to return to active duty. Ultimately, Lord Tywin Lannister and the King had deemed him fit. Indeed, despite the temporary partial blindness in his right eye, Sandor was just as adept with a blade as before. Furthermore, his scar made him seem even more intimidating than Thoros of Myr's burning sword. On that note, Victarion noticed that Sandor was making an effort to avoid going near the read priest.

After his last experience with fire, I cannot blame him.

Sandor and Obara's duels ended with his bastard sword in his opponent's throat and her spear in the abdomen of hers.

By now, nearly all of the guards on the walls of the gatehouse had been eliminated. The few that were left began to retreat to the Great Keep. Unfortunately for them, the entrance to the Keep had been boarded up from the inside. Some of them pounded frantically on the doors, pleading to be let in. But the doors did not budge an inch.

Before too long, the soldiers of the Royal Army caught up to the Ironmen stuck outside the Great Keep. Those Ironborn were vanquished very quickly. Once they were all put down, the king's forces concentrated on breaking down the entrance to the Great Keep.

A score of strong men brought a large hewn log up the walls of the gatehouse. Together, they carried it to the doors of the Great Keep, and they used it as a battering ram.

It was quite a while before the log even had an impact on the Keep's sturdy entrance. The doors were made of ironwood pilfered from the wolfswood of the North. This wood would did not split easily, so neither would the door.

The Royal Army's problems were not limited to the door itself. As before, they had to deal with threats from above. Volleys of arrows, clusters of stones, and streams of boiling oil rained on them from the top of the outer wall. There was no canopy or covering for the battering ram, so those who held it were left extremely vulnerable.

Every minute, several of them fell to the dangers from overheard. Many of them had to be replaced, and the replacements were themselves replaced frequently. But they never panicked; they heaved and struck at the king's command.

Finally, after ten minutes and close to a hundred replacements, the battering ram smashed through the entrance of the Great Keep. After that, only a dozen more blows were needed to cast the doors aside. The Great Keep was breached.

The Royal Army poured in like the rapids of a flood. This time, the first man to enter was Dunsen, one of Lord Gregor Clegane's personal men-at-arms, and one of his longest-serving retainers.

He did fare as well as Lord Jorah had on the walls of the gatehouse. Almost the exact instant he stepped inside, Dunsen was intercepted by an Ironborn with a huge double-sided axe. The Ironman swiftly raised his axe and gave a hefty swing.

A moment later, Dunsen's head tilted backward. So far backward that it almost fell off his neck. Only a few strings of cartilage prevented him from being totally decapitated. Alas, those strings of cartilage made no difference in the long run. Dunsen collapsed dead right at the entrance of the Great Keep.

He was avenged very soon after. Gregor Clegane let out a roar of fury and strode over to the Ironborn. Before the Ironman had a chance to even lift his weapon, Gregor delivered a powerful blow from above with his greatsword. He succeeded in opening up the man's head and much of his torso. Dunsen's killer was almost cut in half vertically.

All around the room, more skirmishes were breaking out. Soon enough, the fighting had resumed full-pace.

Victarion hurried to dodge this blow or parry that blow. He hastily moved to meet any foe that hoped to best him. None of them could.

Of course they can't. Only a kraken can beat a kraken.

Right then, he turned abruptly to the left and came face-to-face with a young man. This young man happened to have a kraken imprinted on his hauberk. Victarion recognized him immediately.

It was his nephew, Maron Greyjoy. He was armed with a longsword, which was pointed at the Iron Captain.

Maron smirked wickedly and muttered "So, Nuncle, I see you've forsaken your oaths to the Ironborn."

"I have done no such thing," Victarion crossly refuted, "Your father is the only oathbreaker."

"My father is simply executing his authority as Lord Reaper of the Islands," Maron disputed, a note of confidence in his voice, "You rose up in defiance of him. That makes you lower than the greenlanders."

"It is still higher than Balon," Victarion snapped back. He gripped his axe in both hands and murmured sternly "Maron, this is over. Your father's rebellion ends today. Your only option is to surrender. Yield, and I will ensure that no harm comes to you."

"I do not take advice from one who would stab me in the back," Maron heatedly countered.

He was about to raise his longsword and attack his Uncle. Right before he could, he was grabbed from behind. He struggled against his attacker, but he was speedily overpowered. This third party was clad in white enameled armor and a long white cloak. Victarion saw that he was Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of Robert's Kingsguard.

"Now would be a good time to start," the middle-aged night cockily suggested, placing the tip of his sword against the backside of Maron Greyjoy's chest.

Victarion snickered at the knight's clever jape and looked to Maron for his nephew's response. Within five seconds, Maron grudgingly threw down his sword and gave in. His hands were bound and he was led away, glaring hatred at his uncle.

Soon, Ironborn reinforcements appeared. However, a corresponding number of royalist soldiers entered the Great Keep to counter this new strength. For the better part of an hour, the two armies fought for control of the Keep, replenishing their numbers as needed. In a little over an hour, the Ironborn began to run out of backup units. That was when they were forced out of the front room. After that, they were consistently pushed further and further back into the Keep.

Twenty minutes later, the fighting reached the Keep's long smoky hall. This was the very same hall where the Seastone Chair was found. Balon Greyjoy himself was seated in that chair, his hand firmly clasped around the hilt of his own sword. A makeshift crown of driftwood was upon his head, symbolizing his status as the self-proclaimed King of the Iron Islands. The crown was planted so deeply that Balon's eyes were hardly visible.

Scarcely two score of the castle's soldiers now remained. Most of them moved to surround their liege lord protectively, in case anyone made a move toward him. The rest fought on against the royalist units and perished.

For the moment, the fighting stopped. What happened next would determine if it had ended permanently or temporarily.

King Robert Baratheon stepped forward quietly. Lord Eddard Stark, Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Gregor Clegane, and his other highborn warriors moved behind him and kept close. His warhammer was caked with blood, as well as bits of bone and brain. He had slain no less than half a hundred of the Ironborn soldiers. He was prepared to slay more, if need be. Nonetheless, Victarion could see that even the stag king was hoping to avoid additional loss of life.

When Robert was halfway to the Seastone Chair, he halted. Then he steadfastly proclaimed "Balon Greyjoy, Invader of Westeros and False King of the Iron Islands, I, Robert Baratheon, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, order you to surrender your crown and put an end to this insurrection."

The surviving Ironborn looked to their lord. He did not respond to the king's demand right away. Instead, he remained situated firmly in his chair, staring at Robert dispassionately.

Come on, Balon. Even you know when you've been beat.

Eventually, the Lord Reaper rose. When he was on his feet, he started walking towards the king. Some of his men-at-arms moved with him to function as his guards. Simultaneously, Ser Barristan Selmy and a few other royalists came closer to Robert to guarantee his safety in turn.

Balon Greyjoy ceased his approach when he was nearly within arm's length of the King. His eyes were finally visible then. They were full of spite and malice. When they fell on Victarion, they bore an expression of utter loathing.

Victarion did not quiver. He had to make his position abundantly clear to his brother. It was the only way he could get him to surrender without any more deaths.

After a long, tense silence, Balon Greyjoy dropped to one knee and dipped his head. He pronounced in a hard yet steady voice "I relinquish my throne to you, King Robert."

Robert grinned, obviously pleased by the Lord Reaper's decision. He reached out his hand, took ahold of Balon's crown, and roughly removed it from his head. He tossed it to the side, not bothering to see where it landed. Then he stated in acknowledgment "I accept your surrender."

That denoted the official moment when the war which would be known as Greyjoy's Rebellion ended.

The rest of the day was spent negotiating the terms of the Ironborn's surrender.

Robert had considered allowing Balon Greyjoy to continue to rule in exchange for a renewed oath of fealty and a political hostage (one of his sons, most likely). Just before the siege, he had informed his generals of this tactic. Most of them found it to be an effective solution. However, a few of the bolder ones had counseled the king to be much more severe with his chastisement of House Greyjoy. Chief among them had been Gregor Clegane.

Victarion had been present when Lord Gregor had advised King Robert. The Mountain had recommended that Balon Greyjoy be made an example of. As such, he debated that the Lord Reaper should be sent to the Wall for rising against the Iron Throne. Robert saw the logic in his Master of Order's words, and he agreed it would be the safest and most practical course of action.

Furthermore, to ensure the Ironborn's loyalty to the crown, Gregor proposed that Balon's children serve as hostages of the throne. Robert Baratheon was quite content with this suggestion. Doing so would help to prevent retribution on the part of the Ironborn. He himself decided what would be done with Balon Greyjoy's brood.

His daughter Asha would be allowed to remain at Pyke. But his sons would be sent away. Rodrik would be taken to King's Landing, Maron to Moat Cailin, and Theon to Winterfell. They would serve as wards to Lords Arryn, Clegane, and Stark in turn.

Rodrik and Maron had voluntarily joined the fight alongside their father, but Theon was still an innocent boy.

Normally, Robert Baratheon was not of a mind to completely separate a family, and Gregor Clegane was not one to threaten the life of a child, but they both had to make an exception in this instance. Still, to prove that they were not without empathy, they would not force Balon's sons to remain wards for the entire year. Once, on a predetermined date each year, each son would be permitted a week-long furlough to return home to Pyke. The furloughs would be arranged by the King and the respective lord who watched each Greyjoy, and only one of them would be allowed to return to Pyke at any point in time. After the furlough ended, they were to resume their position as political hostages.

Needless to say, Balon was not pleased with these terms when he first heard them. But he was forced to consent to them, as his only option other than the black was the block.

His wife Alannys Harlaw was deeply distraught over the loss of her sons. Interestingly, she did not seem even remotely troubled by the fact that her husband was to go north and never return.

Either she's already given up on him, or… they've had some "disagreements" since I was here last.

After Balon accepted the conditions of his surrender, he and his wife and children were led away. It was then that King Robert Baratheon made an announcement. An announcement that would change Victarion's life.

He declared to his subjects: "It has been brought to my attention that not all Ironborn resort to raiding simply because a thirst for conquest. Many of them raid because they are short on food. While that is still not a justification for pillaging and plundering, it is a sentiment that can at least be understood. Every man needs to eat. If a man does not eat, he starves. He will go to great length to avoid starving. Normally, when he is hungry, he will grow or buy crops. Those options are always present in the Seven Kingdoms. Alas, they are missing in Iron Islands. It is very difficult to cultivate crops in the soil, and the market here is quite poor. The Islands' unstable relations with the mainland make trade rather difficult. Fishing is an excellent resource for sustenance, but no one can live on fish alone. With all that accounted for, the only remaining method a man of the Iron Islands would use to gain his daily bread is if he takes it by force. Hence, the raiding."

You are rather observant, Your Grace. Did you arrive at that conclusion all on your own?

A moment later, Victarion Greyjoy spotted the smug expression on Lord Gregor Clegane's face, and he knew the answer to his question right away.

Robert continued with: "The raiding was what led to this rebellion in the first place. Although we now have assurances that the Iron Islands will not revolt again, I say more can be done to improve relations between the Islands and the Seven Kingdoms. Therefore, I shall take steps to make food more accessible to the Ironmen."

That gained the interest of everyone there, especially Victarion and the other Ironborn.

"How will you manage that, Your Grace?" Eddard Stark queried curiously.

"By making the Islands productive, Ned," Robert Baratheon notified his best friend and every other person there, "Most of the landscape is barren and eroded, but with proper tending, it can be made fertile. Once it is fertile, fruits, vegetables, and grains can be cultivated here."

"That's never been done, Your Grace," Jorah Mormont pointed out.

"Because no one's ever bothered with trying," Robert claimed, "Nothing is impossible if it's never been attempted."

"A very good point, Your Grace," Gregor Clegane conceded, "I for one believe fertilizing the Islands is an excellent idea. If the Ironborn are capable of feeding themselves, they will be much less inclined to seek food from others."

"But you are neglecting one thing," Dacey Mormont told her husband, "House Greyjoy's words are We Do Not Sow."

"Then it is past time they were changed to We DID Not Sow," King Robert debated.

That produced a long round of laughter from the assembled people. Even Victarion could not hold back a mild chuckle.

After the last of the giggles died, Robert Baratheon stated "When I return to King's Landing, I will have the small council draft the appropriate motions for farmland to be cultivated on the Islands. I will also push for better trading networks between the Islands and the rest of Westeros. That should ensure that no further disputes arise between them."

It will be difficult to undo the traditions of millennia, but then again, no one's ever tried THIS. And who knows? It just might work.

There were mutters of agreement all around the room. Robert Baratheon then gazed around and stated "We are nearly finished here. But before we return to the Westerlands, there is one last matter that must be resolved. Victarion Greyjoy, come forward."

For the duration of this meeting, Victarion had stood still as a statue, not uttering a single word. Now all eyes were fixed on him.

He fearlessly stepped up to the stag kind and tilted his head, saying "I am yours to command, Your Grace."

"Indeed you are," Robert coincided, "When this war began, I questioned where your loyalties truly lay. Since then, you have proven many times over that you serve the throne first and foremost. Such devotion is commendable, and it merits reward. Now you shall receive a reward; one fitting of your actions and deeds. Kneel."

Victarion slowly dropped to one knee, keeping his head inclined towards the stag king. Robert placed his hand on the Iron Captain's shoulder and announced "Victarion of House Greyjoy, for your unwavering allegiance to the crown and for your valiant efforts in purging the insurrection precipitated by your own family, I bestow upon you the lordship of the Iron Islands."

That declaration left many individuals in that room stunned. None was more stunned that Victarion Greyjoy himself. He gradually looked up at the stag king and murmured haltingly "Your Grace…?"

"No, you have not misheard, Lord Victarion," Robert cheekily remarked, "The Seastone Chair is yours now."

"But my nephews…" Victarion began.

"Cannot rule the Islands as captives," Robert finished for him, "Especially in their current predicaments. To remove all questions of inheritance, I'll have them removed from your house's line of succession. Or, I could have them placed in line behind you, if that is what you wish."

"I would prefer the latter," Victarion disclosed, "At least until I have an heir of my own."

"Very well," Robert conceded. He then extended his hand and bade the Iron Captain, "Rise, my lord."

Victarion took the king's hand, allowing him to full him back to his feet. Robert then turned to face everyone else there. He held Victarion's hand high in the air and pronounced resolutely "I give you the new Lord of the Iron Islands, Victarion Greyjoy!"

That declaration was met with almost unanimous approval. All the Ironborn present drew their weapons and bent their knees to Victarion. Everyone else loudly and energetically cheered for him. As for Victarion… he just stood absolutely still, as if paralyzed in disbelief.

He had always wanted the Seastone Chair, but never once did he think it would ever be his. Now it was.

Some good came from this rebellion, after all.

Although he was now the Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, Victarion still wished to remain in the Legion without Banners for a while longer. Of course, it would be extremely difficult for him to rule the Islands from the mainland. Fortunately, Lord Gregor Clegane offered a solution. He suggested that Victarion appoint a steward to run the Islands in his absence.

Victarion found that strategy a favorable one. He spent the better part of an hour determining who would be his steward.

I'll need someone highborn, obviously.

Although he had been away for years, Victarion still knew the names of the heads of all the families on the Iron Islands. Several of them, such as Lord Baelor of House Blacktyde, Lord Sawane of House Botley, and Lord Gorold of House Goodbrother, had long yearned for peace between the Islands and the Seven Kingdoms. Many of them had served since the days of Quellon Greyjoy's reign, and they still believed in his policies just as strongly as Victarion did.

In the end, Victarion chose Lord Rodrik of House Harlaw. Known as the Reader by his compatriots due to his profound love of books, Rodrik Harlaw was an intelligent, reasonable, and cautious individual. He was also the brother of Balon Greyjoy's wife, which made him Victarion's brother-by-law. Lord Gregor Clegane had also taken steps to ensure that Lord Rodrik's sons were captured alive and returned to Harlaw unmolested.

Victarion was confident he could trust Rodrik Harlaw to maintain the peace and uphold the integrity of the Islands while he was gone. He sent a raven presenting this offer to Lord Rodrik, and before the day was out, he received a response. To his satisfaction, the Reader had accepted the responsibility eagerly and with grace.

Soon after this, the Royal Army returned to their ships and departed from the Islands.

Lord Gregor Clegane and the other Legionnaires sailed back on the Iron Victory at Victarion's personal invitation. Victarion met with the Mountain in secret and thanked him profusely for all he had done for the Ironborn. Gregor asserted that there was no need for thanks; he had simply acted out of the best interests of everyone in Westeros.

Just like he always does.

Victarion also approached Lord Gregor on the subject of the song Nute the Barber had picked up from him. He revealed that he was curious to know more lyrics of that song. Gregor Clegane claimed that he was more than willing to share the full song with him. He claimed there were a few verses that needed to be "tweaked," whatever that meant. He needed a few minutes to do this, and when he was finished, he presented the abridged song to Victarion and everyone else on the ship.

The song proved rather popular with the crew and the passengers. As a matter of fact, every single person onboard the Iron Victory sang the full, modified version of "Anchors Aweigh" for the entire voyage back to the Westerlands.