Chapter 9

The Northern Army quickly repeated what happened in Harlaw, with similar ruthless assaults carried out on Great Wyk, Old Wyk, Orkmont, and Blacktyde. Each island fell to the might of the Northern Fleet, their strongholds reduced to ash and ruin. The flames of war engulfed the Iron Islands, leaving no doubt about the strength and resolve of the North under Cregan Stark's command.

In Great Wyk, the Northmen struck swiftly and decisively, catching the Ironborn off guard. The once-proud fortifications of the island crumbled under the onslaught, as the Northern forces showed no mercy to those who dared to oppose them.

At Old Wyk, the ancestral seat of House Drumm, Cregan Stark personally led the assault, laying claim to Red Rain, the Valyrian Steel Sword of House Drumm. The battle was fierce, but in the end, the North prevailed, and Red Rain was taken as a trophy of victory.

Orkmont, the island stronghold of House Orkwood, met a similar fate. The Northern Fleet descended upon it like a storm, overwhelming its defenses and leaving devastation in its wake. House Orkwood's power was shattered, and the North's dominance was undisputed.

Blacktyde, too, fell to the might of the Northern Army. The once-proud keep of House Blacktyde was razed to the ground, its defenders overwhelmed by the relentless assault. The Ironborn stronghold was reduced to smoldering ruins, a testament to the unyielding strength of the North.

As news of the Northern victories spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, the name of Cregan Stark became synonymous with power and ruthlessness. The Ironborn, once feared for their raids and piracy, now cowered before the might of the North. The Iron Islands had been brought to heel, and the North stood stronger than ever before.

In whispered conversations and hushed tones, the people of the North began to refer to Cregan Stark as "The Demon Wolf," a title that reflected his unyielding strength and cunning. It was a name whispered with respect and awe, signifying Cregan's fierce resolve to protect his homeland and his people. "The Demon Wolf" symbolized not only Cregan's prowess in battle but also his loyalty and devotion to the North.

—

As the royal fleet, under the command of Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone and the master of ships, converged with the Redwyne fleet from the Arbor and ships from Oldtown, the Ironborn found themselves trapped in the Straits of Fair Isle. The combined might of the loyalist forces bore down upon Victarion Greyjoy's Iron Fleet, striking with unrelenting force.

The clash was fierce and chaotic, with the sea boiling with the fury of battle. Stannis, a seasoned commander, orchestrated the attack with precision, his ships forming a formidable blockade that left the Ironborn with little room to maneuver.

The Redwyne fleet, with its skilled sailors and powerful warships, unleashed a barrage of arrows and catapult fire, raining death upon the Ironborn vessels. Meanwhile, Stannis's ships maneuvered with expert seamanship, encircling and isolating the enemy.

Caught between the hammer and the anvil, Victarion Greyjoy's Iron Fleet fought valiantly but found itself outmatched and outnumbered. The loyalist forces pressed their advantage, their superior numbers and tactics overwhelming the Ironborn resistance.

Amidst the chaos of battle, the sea churned with blood and wreckage as ships clashed and splintered against each other. The cries of the wounded and the clash of steel echoed across the waters of the Straits of Fair Isle.

In the end, the combined might of the royal fleet and its allies proved too much for the Ironborn. Victarion Greyjoy's fleet was shattered, its ships sunk or captured, and its commander forced to retreat in defeat.

The victory at the Straits of Fair Isle was a testament to the strategic prowess and martial strength of Stannis Baratheon and the loyalist forces. It dealt a significant blow to the Ironborn Rebellion and secured a crucial victory for the crown.

—

Captured during a fierce naval battle by the cunning tactics of Jaime Lannister's forces, Aeron Greyjoy, known as the Damphair, found himself a prisoner beneath the imposing walls of Casterly Rock. The stronghold, renowned for its impenetrable defenses, served as an inescapable cage for the defeated Ironborn lord. Confined to a dark and dank cell deep within the rock, Aeron's world shrank to the dimly lit confines of his captivity.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Aeron grappled with the harsh reality of his situation. Stripped of his freedom and separated from his brethren, he found solace only in the darkness that enveloped him, his once fervent spirit subdued by the weight of his chains. The relentless solitude gnawed at his resolve, wearing down even the most defiant aspects of his character.

In the depths of his confinement, Aeron was haunted by memories of battles lost and dreams shattered. The echoes of his past reverberated through the silence, a constant reminder of the price of defiance and the futility of resistance. Yet, even in the darkest hours, the ember of rebellion still burned within him, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the Ironborn.

As the war raged on beyond the confines of his cell, Aeron remained a forgotten figure, a silent prisoner trapped in the heart of enemy territory. Though his body was confined, his mind roamed the vast expanse of the sea, longing for the call of the Drowned God and the chance for redemption.

—

Stannis's resounding victory over Victarion Greyjoy's Iron Fleet near Fair Isle opened a crucial opportunity for Robert Baratheon's forces. With the Iron Fleet effectively neutralized, the strategic passage from the green lands to the Iron Islands lay open and unguarded. This presented a golden opportunity for Robert's forces to launch a decisive assault on the heart of the Ironborn territory.

With Stannis's fleet securing the seas, Robert's army, bolstered by knights, soldiers, and seasoned fighters from across the realm, prepared to embark on a daring campaign. Crossing from the fertile lands of the mainland to the treacherous islands of the Ironborn, they sought to strike a decisive blow against the heart of the Greyjoy rebellion.

Led by Robert himself, the royal forces set sail, their ships cutting through the waters with purpose and determination. The journey was fraught with danger, as the Iron Islands were notorious for their rugged coastline and fierce defenders. Yet, buoyed by the recent victory at sea, Robert's men remained undaunted, their eyes fixed on the prize that lay ahead.

As they made landfall on the Iron Islands, the full might of Robert's army was unleashed upon the unsuspecting shores. The thunderous sound of marching boots echoed across the rugged landscape as the forces of the crown advanced, their banners fluttering in the salt-laden breeze.

With Stannis's fleet controlling the seas, Robert's forces faced little resistance as they pressed deeper into enemy territory. Village after village fell to the might of the royal army, their defenses crumbling before the relentless advance of Robert's knights and soldiers.

As they marched, the green lands of the Iron Islands turned red with the blood of battle, a stark reminder of the cost of rebellion. Yet, with each victory, Robert's resolve only strengthened, his determination unwavering in the face of the Ironborn defiance.

The campaign to subdue the Iron Islands had begun in earnest, and with Stannis's naval victory securing their flank, Robert's forces pressed onward with renewed vigor. With the fate of the Seven Kingdoms hanging in the balance, they would stop at nothing to bring the Ironborn rebellion to its knees and restore peace to the realm.

—

As the decisive battle drew near, preparations for the invasion of Pyke reached a fever pitch. King Robert I Baratheon himself would lead the charge, marshaling the combined forces of the royal army and the gathered lords of the Seven Kingdoms. The nearby Botley castle, strategically situated overlooking Lordsport, became the focal point for the assembly of the allied forces.

Lordsport, nestled beneath the imposing fortress, lay in ruin, its once bustling streets now reduced to rubble and ash. The destruction served as a stark reminder of the price of rebellion, a testament to the Ironborn's defiance in the face of the crown's advance.

At Botley castle, banners of the great houses fluttered in the wind, signaling the gathering of the realm's most esteemed lords and knights. Beneath the watchful gaze of the ancient stronghold, war councils were held, strategies devised, and alliances forged as the leaders of the Seven Kingdoms prepared to march against the Ironborn.

However, the Northern Army had yet to arrive, their absence keenly felt as the rest of the allied forces made ready for battle. Amidst the clamor of preparation, the tension in the air was palpable. The impending clash between the might of the crown and the ferocity of the Ironborn loomed large, casting a shadow over the rocky shores of Pyke.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery glow over the western sea, the stage was set for the final showdown. The fate of the Iron Islands hung in the balance, and the outcome of the coming battle would shape the future of the Seven Kingdoms for generations to come.

—

As Robert, accompanied by his Hand, Jon Arryn, and a council of esteemed lords, including Tywin Lannister, Mace Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Jason Mallister, and Randyll Tarly, planned the siege of Pyke, a sudden stir rippled through the war chamber. The heavy oaken doors creaked open, and a messenger burst in, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Your Grace, Lords," the messenger gasped, struggling to catch his breath, "the Northern Army has arrived!"

A sense of anticipation filled the air as Robert Baratheon, flanked by his Hand, Jon Arryn, and the council of lords, leaned forward in his seat.

"Are you certain?" Robert's voice rumbled with excitement.

"Yes, Your Grace," the messenger confirmed, his chest heaving. "They've sailed in with their banners flying high. The Northern Fleet is now anchored in the harbor, ready to reinforce our position."

Tywin Lannister, ever the shrewd strategist, spoke up, "This changes everything. With the Northern Army reinforcing our position, we can launch a coordinated assault on Pyke."

Mace Tyrell, known for his bumbling manner, attempted to join the conversation but stumbled over his words. "Ah, yes, Your Grace! A splendid development indeed! With the... the Northern Army... um, reinforcing us, we shall surely emerge victorious!"

Jon Arryn, ever the voice of reason, interjected, "Let us not grow complacent. We must proceed with caution. The Ironborn are fierce fighters, and Pyke is a formidable stronghold."

Robert's gaze turned to Jon, his brow furrowed in thought. "You speak wisely, Jon. We must plan our approach carefully."

At Robert's command, Ned and his nephew, Cregan Stark, were immediately summoned to the war chamber. It was time to finalize their plans and prepare for the siege of Pyke.

—

As the doors to the war chamber swung open, Cregan Stark strode in, his presence commanding attention. Flanked by the legendary swordsmen Arthur Dayne, Ned Stark, and Benjen Stark, Cregan exuded an aura of authority and strength. His Valyrian steel swords, Red Rain and Nightfall, were strapped to his back, glinting in the dim light of the chamber.

Robert Baratheon, seated at the head of the table, regarded Cregan with a mixture of respect and curiosity. "Lord Cregan," he greeted, nodding in acknowledgment. "Your arrival is most timely."

Cregan returned the nod with a solemn expression. "Your Grace," he replied, his voice steady and firm. "We are here to lend our strength to the cause."

Jon Arryn, ever the diplomat, greeted Cregan with a nod of his own. "Welcome, Lord Cregan. Your presence bolsters our ranks."

Cregan inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Lord Arryn. I am ready to discuss our strategy for the siege of Pyke."

Before they could continue, however, Jon Arryn's expression turned stern, his displeasure evident in his voice. "I must express my concern, Lord Cregan," he began, his gaze steady. "The conduct of the Northern Army during this war has been... less than exemplary."

Cregan's brow furrowed slightly, his tone measured. "I assure you, Lord Arryn, our actions were necessary to secure victory," he replied, his voice unwavering.

Ned Stark stepped forward, his features reflecting a mixture of understanding and defense. "We faced a formidable enemy, one that required decisive action," he interjected, coming to his nephew's defense.

Jon Arryn's expression softened marginally, but his concern remained. "Decisive action, yes," he conceded, "but at what cost? We must not lose sight of the values that bind us together as allies."

Cregan met Jon Arryn's gaze evenly, his resolve unyielding. "The Ironborn have shown no mercy, and thus, they deserve none in return," he retorted sharply. "It is easy to speak of values from the comfort of the Red Keep, Lord Arryn. But in the North, we understand that survival sometimes demands sacrifice."

Jon Arryn was momentarily flustered by the sharp retort, but Cregan continued, his voice unwavering. "We have acted in the best interest of the realm, and we will continue to do so, regardless of the consequences."

The room fell into a tense silence as the lords contemplated Cregan's pointed rebuttal.

Robert Baratheon, eager to change the subject, cleared his throat. "Speaking of victories, I've heard tales of a new name given to you, Cregan," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The Demon Wolf, they say. Quite fitting, considering your recent exploits."

Cregan nodded, acknowledging the new moniker bestowed upon him. "It is an honor to serve the North and the realm," he replied with a modest nod.

Robert continued, his tone more animated. "And what of those Valyrian Steel swords you've acquired? Red Rain and Nightfall, was it? Impressive spoils, indeed."

Tywin Lannister, who had been listening intently, interjected, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and perhaps a touch of envy. "Congratulations on your victories, Lord Stark," he said, inclining his head respectfully. "However, I am curious about one thing. How did the Northern Army manage to travel from White Harbor, which is on the eastern coast of the North, to Harlaw, which is closer to the western coast, so quickly and without detection?"

Cregan's expression remained neutral as he replied, "A northern lord must know his lands well, Lord Lannister. We have constructed a canal connecting the Fever and the Bite rivers, allowing for swift passage across the North."

He continued, his voice firm, "This canal is part of the project to refurbish Moat Cailin. Currently, it is open for Northern use only. But once my uncle Ned, who has been named the Lord of Moat Cailin, has finished the refurbishment, it will be open to all. Its toll will provide a much lucrative income stream for Moat Cailin and the North."

Tywin Lannister's expression remained composed, but a flicker of surprise passed through his eyes as he processed Cregan's revelation. Mace Tyrell raised an eyebrow, impressed by the strategic foresight of the Northern lord. Brynden Tully nodded thoughtfully, recognizing the significance of such a feat of engineering. Jason Mallister leaned forward, his interest piqued, while Randyll Tarly remained impassive, taking in the information with a calculating gaze. Robert Baratheon looked pleased, his grin widening at the ingenuity of his vassal. 

The room buzzed with murmurs as the lords discussed the implications of this development. It was clear that Cregan's cunning had caught them all off guard, and the Northern lord's strategic advantage was now undeniable.

Jon Arryn's brow furrowed in contemplation as he raised a pertinent question. "Lord Cregan, if I may ask, how was the construction of this canal funded? As far as I know, the crown's agreement was limited to the refurbishment of Moat Cailin. The expenses for such a significant project would have been considerable." 

Cregan met Jon Arryn's gaze, his expression calm yet resolute. "Indeed, Lord Arryn," he replied, "the construction of the canal was funded by House Stark. We deemed it a necessary investment for the security and prosperity of the North."

Unbeknownst to those present, Cregan had quietly orchestrated the financing of the canal by overinflating the cost of raw materials for the refurbishment of Moat Cailin. Utilizing his knowledge of the Compulsion Charm, he ensured that any invoices sent to the Master of Coin would be unquestionably accepted, as he had cast the charm over the parchments. This strategy was not just a matter of practicality; it was a calculated move to outmaneuver a known swindler, Petyr Baelish. From his spies in the South, he had learned of Baelish's reputation, and Cregan saw no issue with outwitting the swindler at his own game.

Jon Arryn nodded slowly, considering Cregan's response. The implications of House Stark's independent initiative were not lost on him, and he made a mental note to discuss the matter further in private with King Robert.

As the conversation shifted back to strategy for the siege of Pyke, Cregan Stark stepped forward, his Valyrian steel swords, Red Rain and Nightfall, glinting in the light.

"Our first move should be to secure the coastline around Pyke," Cregan proposed, his voice commanding attention. "We need to establish a solid foothold before launching a full-scale assault on the castle itself."

Ned Stark nodded in agreement, his demeanor reflecting the seriousness of the task at hand. "I suggest we divide our forces into smaller units and send them to different points along the coast," he suggested. "This will allow us to cover more ground and prevent the Ironborn from regrouping."

Arthur Dayne, ever the strategist, added his input. "We must also be prepared for potential ambushes and guerrilla tactics," he warned. "The Ironborn are known for their cunning and their ability to strike from unexpected directions."

Cregan nodded, acknowledging the validity of Dayne's point. "We'll need to stay one step ahead of them at all times," he agreed. "We can't afford to underestimate their resourcefulness."

Robert Baratheon leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "How do we bring down the walls of the castle itself? We need to get inside and capture Balon Greyjoy."

Cregan considered the question for a moment before responding. "Bringing down the walls won't be an easy task," he began, "but it's not impossible."

He turned to the maester, who had been quietly listening to the discussion. "Maester, do we have any information on the structural weaknesses of the castle?"

The maester consulted his notes before responding. "The walls of Pyke are old and weathered," he explained. "There are areas where the stonework is crumbling, particularly along the eastern and southern walls."

Robert's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Then we'll exploit those weaknesses," he declared. "We'll focus our siege engines on those vulnerable points and bring the walls down stone by stone if we have to."

Tywin Lannister, observing the discussion with a calculating gaze, interjected, "Bringing down the walls stone by stone might take too long, Your Grace. We need a quicker approach."

Robert turned to Tywin, his expression expectant. "What do you suggest, Lord Tywin?"

Tywin's lips curved into a slight smile. "We could use wildfire we acquired during the Sack of King's Landing," he proposed. "It is a substance so volatile, it can burn through stone. If we can get it inside the walls, it would create havoc among the defenders and weaken the structure."

Robert's eyes widened with interest. "Wildfire," he repeated thoughtfully. "That might just work."

Cregan, ever cautious, raised a point of concern. "Using wildfire is not without risks," he cautioned. "It's highly unpredictable and could cause unintended collateral damage."

Tywin nodded in acknowledgment. "Of course, Lord Cregan. We'll need to proceed with caution and precision."

As Robert leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing with plans, he issued a decisive order. "Prepare the wildfire," he commanded. "We'll use it to bring down the walls of Pyke and put an end to this rebellion once and for all."

Jon Arryn, ever the voice of reason, raised a crucial question. "What will be the way forward after Balon Greyjoy is captured?" he inquired, his tone measured.

Robert's eyes gleamed with determination. "We kill him," he declared firmly. "He's caused enough trouble, and he'll never stop until he's dead."

Jon Arryn sighed, his expression troubled. "Killing him may only sow the seeds of further resentment and rebellion," he argued. "Perhaps there's another way, one that ensures the peace and stability of the realm."

Robert's patience waned, his frustration evident. "And what would you suggest, Jon?" he asked, his voice tinged with annoyance.

Jon Arryn remained composed, his tone unwavering. "Balon Greyjoy's capture presents an opportunity for reconciliation," he proposed. "We could offer him terms of surrender that allow for the Iron Islands to remain part of the Seven Kingdoms under our authority. It would be a show of clemency and a chance for lasting peace."

Robert scowled, clearly displeased with the suggestion. "Clemency for a traitor?" he retorted. "No, Jon. The time for leniency is over. We must show the realm that rebellion will not be tolerated."

Cregan, unable to hold back his frustration, responded with a sharp retort. "And what path to peace did Balon Greyjoy offer when he rebelled against the Iron Throne?" he countered, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Did he seek a peaceful resolution when he raided our shores and brought war to our lands?"

Jon Arryn's expression remained stoic, his conviction unshaken. "Killing Balon Greyjoy may only perpetuate the cycle of violence," he argued. "True strength lies in finding a path to peace, even in the face of conflict."

Cregan couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sentiment. "And how's that worked out for us so far?" he retorted, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Last time I checked, showing mercy to traitors only encourages more treason." His mind flickered to memories of his past life as Harry Potter, where he had come to realize, in his final year, that Albus Dumbledore was a manipulative old man who spouted about redemption but had no qualms about sacrificing him for 'the greater good'. Jon Arryn's words echoed those same hollow promises, and he couldn't help but draw the comparison.

Robert, sensing the tension in the room, interjected with authority. "Enough," he declared firmly. "We'll deal with Greyjoy once we have him. Until then, let's focus on bringing an end to this rebellion and securing the peace of the realm."

---

Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!

I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!

If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!

Click the link below to join the conversation:

https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd

Can't wait to see you there!

If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:

https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007

Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s

Thank you for your support!