Storming Pyke

It was no more than a week before we were preparing to attack; the curtain walls looked as if they could be knocked down by a strong breeze. We could've attacked much earlier, however the King was a rather nostalgic man and wanted to wait for Ned Stark to arrive before knocking the walls down. The Warden of the North showed up only a few days after I did, with some thousands of men in dire need of rest, apparently taking Orkmont was much more difficult than anyone realised.

Ned Stark was quite a frosty man, something befitting a Stark, though I imagine that he's only like that around Lannisters. I have met the man a few times, the King was very insistent on hosting large dinners with a lot of the great dinners and in every one of them Ned Stark probably spoke less words to me than the amount of fingers on my hands. Those dinners weren't all bad though, they gave me the chance to meet a lot of important and influential people, networking and all that.

Our army must be nearing 30,000 by now, far outnumbering the enemy, however numbers didn't matter too much in a place like Pyke, the defenders just have to defend the bridges to stop us and if desperate enough, even destroy them despite it meaning that the defenders would most likely die from starvation.

My men were camped on the west side, something which was quite ironic for the Westerlander host. We marched from our camp to the front of the army, directly facing the weakest part of the wall and where the siege engines would breach.

My Lionguards and I made up part of the Vanguard, which was made up of both Westerlander Stormlander soldiers, mostly because our forces were the least worn out of all the others. There were a few volunteers from the other armies, such as the North, but they were small in number. A few mercenaries, hedge Knights and other soldiers-of-fortune were with us, their bravery was in doubt but they would make good cannon fodder.

When the wall is breached, it should send the Ironborn into disarray, something we'll use to our advantage to climb across the rubble and run towards the Great Keep of Pyke. There was no other major defences between the curtain wall and the keep, other than a long, wide stone bridge, portcullises were expensive, especially for the Ironborn. The entrance of the Great Keep was apparently made of wood and would be vulnerable to a battering ram.

Now this was risky and depended on a lot of different factors working together, but even if the Ironborn weren't displaced by the breach then the constant flow of men behind us should be able to hold and overwhelm them.

"Cerion." I heard a very familiar voice call out, I didn't even have to look at them to know who it was.

"Jaime, why are you here." I asked, not in a rude way but a confused one, though Jaime displays a face of mock offence.

"I am truly hurt that you would say something like that, brother." Jaime gives up the hoax when he notices my unimpressed face, "I heard you were going to be in the van, didn't want you to fight alone and die to some little shit by making a stupid mistake."

"I didn't ask to be in the van. The King must have it out for me, probably wants to please Cersei." I replied, the corner of Jaime's mouth rises a little.

"Anyway." Jaime says, "Where's this new sword of yours then?, heard you threatened to kill someone's family for it, how very Tywin-like."

I roll my eyes, "It's not here, I would rather not go into battle with a weapon I've never used before, apparently Valyrian steel is very different from its non-magical counterpart. Besides, could you imagine what father would do if he finds out I've gained a Valyrian sword for our family only to lose it a few weeks later?" Jaime huffs in amusement, he knows how much father has always wanted a Valyrian steel sword and the methods he would employ to get one.

"Well, if you won't use it then maybe I-" "LOOSE!"

The booming shout and the loud sound of rocks crashing into the walls interrupt Jaime, we both turn our heads towards the wall, where the sound of rumbling emanates from as it falls down in a heap of rubble.

"GET READY!." I shout out to my men, putting on my helmet and unsheathing my sword, every other man around me did the same, preparing in their own ways. "CHARGE!"

Everyone started running, the first through the breach and over the rubble was a man with a flaming green sword, Thoros of Myr, and after him was a rather stocky man bearing the Bear of House Mormont, Jorah Mormont. My Lionguard soon followed, as did Jaime and I, and climbed over the mound of rocks, careful not to trip, you wouldn't be able to fight well if you rolled your ankle.

It really wasn't a long distance to the stone bridge, only around 40 metres or so. We faced no resistance in reaching it, most Ironborn were running around clueless, a few attempted to fight back but were drowned out by our sheer numbers.

Most Ironborn opted to retreat back to the keep, which led to the defenders within the Great keep facing a conflicted decision. They could either close the door to the retreating Ironborn and sacrifice the lives of what could be close to 200 men or leave the door open and risk the enemy entering the Great Keep.

It would seem that the Ironborn decided to go with the former, displaying that great Ironborn savagery that they were renowned for. Seeing that they had been shut out and left for the wolves, or lions in this case, they turned around, attempting to put up a fight and hold us off.

The Ironborn left outside were decimated, only those at the front could fight, though I could reach my sword over the shoulder of the soldier in front of me, managing to stab my sword through some unfortunate soul's neck. With the defenders having decided that those still left outside the keep were going to be slaughtered, they held nothing back, dropping rocks, pouring boiling water and hot sand on those down below, killing and maiming people on both sides.

The Ironborn numbers shrunk by the second, forming a small mound of bodies against the door. Thoros of Myr's sword was still burning, causing those he faced to back away in fear, creating an opening for my men to go through. It was only a matter of moments before every Ironborn warrior who was locked out of the keep were either killed or in the the process of being killed.

It would seem that the rest of the army had managed to take the curtain walls as more and more reinforcements came from behind. Some were firing on top of the keep's walls and others tried to get to the front, wanting to get involved in the fighting.

"Bring up the ram!" I ordered, making the men split to form a pathway for the battering ram to travel through. The battering ram wasn't that big, however it was capped with steel and had a wooden cover over it, making the thing way more than it looked.

Ironborn archers fired projectiles at the men who were carrying the ram, but when one fell, another took his place. I had my men try to to block the ram with their shields from the machicolations and brattices, fortunately the southern side of the keep and its entrance was small, meaning that there were fewer places for the enemy to attack from.

The sound of the door creaking as the ram repeatedly hit it was a good sign, I didn't want to stay any longer on this bridge, it posed a massive danger to my men who are exposed to enemy fire. The door was starting to give way; it was starting to dip in a little after each hit and the men were swinging it back and forth with more fervour.

"PUSH!" One of the men who were swinging the ram shouted out. The ram came in full force and collided with the door, emitting a loud cracking sound as the door flung open, revealing a large force of Ironborn on the other side.

I didn't need to give the order for the men to charge, they rushed forward to make contact with the enemy. I caught an Ironborn's sword in my gauntlet as he tried to swing it down, one of the advantages of plate gauntlets, and ran him through his midriff with my sword.

The fighting in that entrance hall was even more chaotic than the fight on the bridge. I deflected an axe headed my way before slashing my sword at his face, spraying his blood on another Ironborn, who failed to notice Orton's fist headed towards his face, knocking more than one tooth out of his mouth.

Jaime was killing one after another, his sword moved at different angles fluidly, some that might be a bit awkward for anyone who doesn't have the necessary proficiency with the weapon. He wasn't fighting at his greatest at the moment, the hall was too crowded for him to move around unhindered by allies and enemies alike, but even then he was making people afraid of crossing swords with him.

I pulled my rondel dagger from its sheath, before shoving it inside someone's armpit, nicking the axillary artery. My arming sword was getting slightly more awkward to use as the room was getting continuously filled up with bodies, my dagger was a good replacement though. I would get as close to the enemy as I could, almost hugging them, before driving my weapon into them.

Pain tore through my left shoulder. I looked down slightly to see a crossbow bolt that had managed to pierce me in the gap between my pauldron and breastplate, it wasn't a lethal wound, at least not at the minute, but it effectively made my left arm useless due to the significant pain of even moving it.

We were starting to gain ground. The reinforcements of Ironborn were dwindling, only a few at a time would help bolster them from behind, whereas we were a continuous flow, one man replacing another's place when they had died.

It was only a few minutes of more fighting until we had taken most of the entrance hall, the rest of the Ironborn were now fighting with every tooth and nail at the entrance to the great hall of Pyke, which was probably where Balon Greyjoy was. I had been moved further back amongst the vanguard, I wouldn't be able to fight properly and effectively with my injury and my guards weren't taking any chances of my getting killed.

I was covered in blood, so much of it that it seemed that my armour was painted red. I could feel the thick liquid on my skin as well, where it had managed to get in between the gaps in the armour and soak through my gambeson. It was beginning to dry up, making my body feel an unnatural stickiness that made it uncomfortable to move. Some of it was mine, the wound on my shoulder had bled quite a bit and would need treatment soon in order to not get an infection, a few grazes and cuts where some people had managed to nick me added to it also. However, most of the blood was not mine, belonging to both enemies and allies alike.

The formation of Ironborn was beginning to crumble, their numbers were dwindling and their morale was dropping swiftly. The continuous onslaught by my men were wearing them down, until the last man was killed, allowing entry into the great hall itself.

The hall was long and narrow, only a few small windows allowed natural light in and the many fireplaces lit around the edges made the hall smoky. At the end of the hall was a great structure of a kraken, made from a black rock and formed a seat, the seastone chair, a throne which Balon Greyjoy was currently sat on.

The King of the Iron Islands was surrounded by a couple dozen guards, enough to put up a fight but not enough to win. His children were by his side, or at least two of them were, as was his wife, Alannys Harlaw. I knew that I wouldn't be able to save Balon's second oldest, Maron, I remember the fact that he was apparently crushed by the collapsing walls.

Balon Greyjoy was not known as a large man, but he looked incredibly small on top of his throne. He had a slumped back and long greasy hair that was speckled with grey, his eyes were firm however, with a strong will behind them that juxtaposed with the heavy, black bags beneath them. His own personalised Driftwood Crown sat upon his head, an ugly thing made of rotten wood. By his side stood a large, stocky man, who possessed four lips instead of two and was decorated in many different items of jewellery. The Cleftjaw.

I didn't give the order for the men to charge, if Balon had any sense then he would surrender, saving the lives of his remaining men and also himself and children, however I doubted that, knowing his character.

"Hahaha, well done, boy." I heard someone shout, I didn't even have to look to know who it was, but I did anyway. The vanguard split to allow the King to walk past, who was dressed in large plate armour and wore a large helmet with antlers on both side. He also hefted a massive war hammer on his shoulders, one of its head was splattered in blood with small bits of flesh hanging on it. Slightly behind him was Ned Stark as well as his Kingsguard.

"Your Grace." I sighed heavily, I had wanted to deal with Balon Greyjoy before the King had arrived, lowering the chances of the King deciding to massacre his entire family if he surrendered. I know that it didn't happen in the books or tv show, however I couldn't take the chance when my existence can change what happened.

The only kind of reply I received from the King was a small nod, before he had rested his gaze solely on the King of the Iron Islands. I knew nothing good could come of it, especially when I noticed that small glint in his eyes through his visor.