Raiden's Storm (ASOIAF)

With the Westerlands under control, there remained only one kingdom which I was sceptical of causing real issues… the Iron Islands. I wasn't even going to give them the chance to rebel and attempt to bring back their Old Ways. Balon Greyjoy, especially, was untrustworthy and I knew he longed to be King again.

Alas… there can only be one King in this Realm.

~

It had been a supremely foggy few weeks where one could hardly see their hands throughout. It wasn't anything new to the Ironborn… though; the more prolonged this fog was, the more concerned they grew. Rumours spread of the Storm God's descent upon the Iron Islands. The occasional lightning, thunder and even increased prevalence of storms did not aid in the slightest.

Balon Greyjoy sat in his Seastone Chair, a throne made of oily black stone in the form of a kraken. He was a gaunt, thin, man with a hard face and long grey hair. The years of grief had not been kind to him.

"A raven was sent to Pyke, my lord. It has the royal seal of House Baratheon."

Balon Greyjoy fidget slightly, tapping his foot.

"Give me the damn letter."

The messenger stepped forward, kneeling down and giving the scroll to Balon. Balon stood up and snatched it, opening the seal and reading through it all. His face grew more and more troubled.

——————————————————————————————————————————

To the current Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy.

Your lack of assistance and action in the calling of arms by His Grace, my father, has been taken note of. If you were true to your oath, you would have sent your swords and sails to devastate the coasts of the Westerlands. Such an act would surely have been critically effective due to most of their banners being in the Riverlands. Alas, you did not. You sat on your little rock and waited… waited for an opportunity to rise again in the chaos.

That opportunity will never come.

You are a traitor to your former liege, to the Realm and even to yourself. If you believe that I will ever trust a worm like you, you are dead wrong. You could bend over backwards and speak the sweetest of words now, lower yourself as much as you'd like… but all you, Balon Greyjoy, will ever meet is my warhammer. 

I will trample you into the fucking ground so deep you will never see light again.

Sincerely, Crown Prince Edric Storm of the House Baratheon.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Balon Greyjoy ripped apart the scroll.

"The baby prince wants war… so be it! We will not cower and allow ourselves to be trampled!" Balon Greyjoy raised his voice, his words of fury echoing across the Great hall of Pyke. "We, the Ironborn, will fight till our last breaths. What is dead may never die!!!"

"What is dead may never die!" All of the ironborn present agreed, saluting in their own way.

"Call all the Ironborn captains and rally the Iron Fleet… it is due time we remind the Seven Kingdoms which fleet is the mightiest in the world!"

…

Lordsport, northern shore of Pyke.

The fog dispersed… only a few hours after Balon Greyjoy's rally was announced. An enormous fleet emerged from it, full of soldiers from various Kingdoms. The Ironborn mustered a last-second defence… but, from the moment the first ship docked, victory seemed slim if at all possible.

Edric Storm led the charge, having already shot down over twenty men over absurd distances. He drew his warhammer and carved a path through Lordsport, smashing through Ironborn one after the other. Barristan Selmy stood beside him, working like a painter… one who painted with Iron Islander blood. Dorian already killed half a dozen men with throwing knives alone, Arthur dispatched two combatants while Bryce held his ground against a brutish Iron Islander. Sandor Clegane was doing Sandor Clegane things.

BANG.

Edric smashed his warhammer against the head of Bryce's aggressor, giving him an instant concussion. The Iron Islander collapsed onto the ground and Edric raised his warhammer once again, smashing it against his head a second time… for good measure.

"You held your ground, that's good." Edric remarked, turning to Lordsport. "Don't get too confident though… I don't want you to die."

"Just… doing my part."

The surprise invasion certainly caught the Iron Islanders of Pyke off guard, with the royal army sweeping through Lordsport and gaining a great portion of the Iron Fleet. The royal army swept up all the local holdings, except for Pyke itself. The logical step was to march up the island of Pyke and besiege the Greyjoy's fortress… alas, Edric had other plans.

"We ought to take Pyke by storm, we certainly have the numbers for it." Lord Alester advised, stroking his beard.

"That is the plan, no?" Renly raised an eyebrow. "What other reason would we invade this island first?"

"... What are you thinking?" Stannis turned to Edric who grinned slightly.

"No… we will not attack them with these numbers. Though this attack has drastically weakened them, the Ironborn could still rally a force capable of putting up a good fight and even corner us on this island if the siege is dragged out. The Lannister fleet is simply not enough to conquer the Iron Islands with ease… but! With this attack, we have taken a great number of THEIR ships, which may be used to transport more of the royal army!"

"We will take all their ships and bring aboard more of our men for a second, greater invasion!"

"Ah… I see now." Renly Baratheon chuckled. "That is a sound plan. The genius of my nephew is understated more often than not! Truly, what boy is so brilliant in all of the Realm!? Though, it's no surprise as he was raised by me."

"You?" Stannis scoffed. "He has his father's mind and body for battle, something that cannot be taught."

…

"They… the fog dispersed and the royal army emerged from it, taking Lordsport by storm!" A messenger ran all the way to the Great Hall of Pyke, lowering himself as he took several deep breaths. "Thousands fell in battle and then they took ALL the ships… leaving Pyke without a single man being left behind!"

Balon Greyjoy stood up from his Seastone Chair, frowning deeply. "But… the declaration of war had only been sent a few hours ago. How could this be!?"

"Perhaps the message was ready to be sent right just as the invasion began, preparing some of our warriors… while the fog had concealed their fleet for all those days. That way, the difference between the warriors and unarmed men would be obvious. With the message and our rally, he also had the justification to attack us while we lacked the men to properly fight him." Germund Botley, the Lord of Lordsport, frowned deeply. "That prince… he is a cunning bastard."

"You speak of the damned fog like it served the boy!" Balon Greyjoy shook his head, his grey hair moving slightly. "It was luck… nothing more!"

"I've heard stories… of great rain, fog and lightning following Edric wherever he went. It is said that he has been struck by thunder twice, surviving both without a wound to show for it. I fear he may be a servant of the Storm God sent to punish us all… this fog is no mere coincidence…"

"A servant of the Storm God?" Balon Greyjoy scoffed. "Do you all accept being bested by a mere boy so easily!? How dare you call yourselves Ironborn! Those with the spirit to fight, the truest of Ironborn and believers in the Drowned God, heed my command! This bastard prince intends to strip us of our ways for the rest of time… if he succeeds, our faith, our ways, our traditions will be forever lost!"

"Since he has retreated from Pyke, he knows he cannot take this fortress… and so, we shall use this time to rally and reinforce our lands with every TRUE Ironborn man these Iron Islands have! He will never, ever, break us… this I swear as the King of the Isles!"

~

With an even larger fleet and thousands more in soldiers to go with them, the second invasion of the Iron Isles was just as brutally effective as the first. Balon Greyjoy anticipated that he'd focus his forces on Pyke… reinforcing it to the max. Alas, he was completely wrong.

Edric's second invasion began with the Island of Harlaw, his massive royal fleet of a little over two hundred ships landing on its shores en masse. Over ten thousand men surged across the island, butchering all the armed Ironborn in sight. The greatest form of resistance came from the Grey Gardens, where Harras Harlaw cut through a great number of men with his seemingly magical sword.

"Let me fight him." Selmy stepped forward.

"No need." Edric fired an arrow, piercing Harras Harlaw's knee. 

The tall man knelt down…

Pierce.

His other knee was pierced… and he knelt even further down, dropping his sword.

"You coward… fight me with a real… weapo-"

Then his head…

Right through the skull.

Edric glanced at Barristan Selmy, grinning slightly.

"I think I found you a new sword, Ser."

…

The royal forces took over the Grey Gardens along with the rest of the island's holdings except for the Ten Towers, House Harlaw's stronghold. 

"That is… Valyrian Steel, indeed!" Alester Florent remarked, raising it high. "So light and a blade sharp enough to cut a man's head by accident."

"As it is in the possession of House Harlaw, I believe its name is Nightfall." I stroked my chin. "A good find, certainly. I shall keep it for myself for now."

…

The royal army rallied at the Ten Towers, its forces surrounding the castle. 

"Surrender and bend the knee, Lord Harlaw!" Edric rode around, keeping away from effective arrow distance. "It is not my intention to butcher the Iron Islanders and I have done my very best in regards to sparing those who do not raise their arms against me. You needn't be one of the many prideful fools who perish!"

"What is it that you want, boy!?" Rodrik Harlaw, the reader, answered back from atop his walls. "What do you hope to achieve by invading the Iron Islands?"

"Lord Balon Greyjoy had not answered my father's call to arms, as I'm certain you would know… neither did you or any other of the Ironborn lords! What am I to make of that, hmm? Let me make this clear… I wish for the Iron Islanders to settle down and discard their Old Ways! As I see it, you should all be bound by the very same laws as the rest of the Realm. What makes you better? What makes you think that you should be allowed to reave, rape and pillage!?"

"I, Edric Storm, bring the complete death of the Old Ways and the birth of the New! That… requires the complete obedience of every lord under the Iron Islands. You may choose to bend the knee or die with the Old Ways, Lord Harlaw… but make your decision swiftly because I will not be waiting for long!"

"The death of the Old Ways…" Rodrik Harlaw muttered, lowering his head. "I agree! If you swear to spare the rest of my warriors, lands and treasures… I will bend the knee without hesitation."

"I am a prince of my word!" Edric nodded, speaking more than loud enough for all present to hear. "Let us take the path to a greater Realm, all of us."

~

After gaining even more ships and men from Harlaw, Edric did the same and rallied an even bigger navy. He continued this process, conquering each and every one of the Iron Islands one after the other. The experience which his soldiers had gained from the Golden Tooth in regards to siege engines had proved to be vital, allowing the army to swiftly advance from one holding to the other. He also freed any thralls and other slaves that had been kept in the Iron Isles.

Edric ran circles around Balon Greyjoy's strategy, collapsing a critical number of his forces. In the end, with the complete fall of every Island except Pyke, the last of the rebellious Ironborn warriors rallied in the Greyjoy stronghold. Along his conquests, Edric also had attained the Valyrian Steel sword known as Red Rain from House Drumm which he granted to Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard.

Balon had absolutely fallen prey to a divide-and-conquer masterclass.

…

"This is where the invasion ends." Arthur remarked, looking up at Pyke and then glancing at all the siege engines on their side. "The Ironborn are a tough people, I'll give them that. They have a deep distaste for surrender."

"It's not the people at blame, it's their foolish leader." I replied, shaking my head. "He is brave to the point of being absurdly stupid. He is a devout believer in the Old Ways, as well… so he has to be replaced for the Iron Islanders to know peace."

"That's why you attacked them." Arthur added, nodding. "Though… replaced by who? Theon?"

"A lord who would agree to carry out my wishes and change the Isles for the better. No one would respect Theon and it's likely that he would be overthrown by someone with greater support. No one would follow his commands… for he is more Stark than Greyjoy."

"Lord Rodrik Harlaw?"

"He's one of them." I drew Nightfall, which had become my sword for a short time. Though I found its stary black blade fascinatingly beautiful, it was not fit for me. I had taken a greater liking to my warhammer than any sword. "I've been thinking about who should wield this blade… and the answer has never been clearer as it is now."

"Hmm?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, taken aback by my statement. "You mean…"

"Yes…" I presented the sword to Arthur, holding it horizontally by the hilt. "Will you take it?"

"No… I am unworthy." Arthur shook his head. "Such a blade is befitting only of a great warrior… and I still have much to learn. I'm not even a knight yet."

"Yes, you have much to learn… so do we all." I smiled, nodding. "Alas, I have faith that you will grow into a great knight. No, not just a great knight… the greatest knight of our time. You hold all the principles of a true knight, abiding by them wholeheartedly. Your determination to improve can only really be compared to myself, your loyalty is unquestionable, your courage in battle is undeniable and your rapidly growing prowess in battle speaks for itself."

"... I am honoured to hear that, however-"

"As your Crown Prince, I order you to receive this sword and wield it as your own from this day forward until your last." I pushed it forward, until the guard hit him in the chest. "Use Nightfall to slaughter those who stand against me, to protect me from those who wish me dead and use it to pave forth a legend greater than all that came before! Even if you do not think yourself worthy as you are now… grow… and become more than worthy! So worthy that this brilliant sword grins from tip to pummel each time you wield it!"

"... I see." Arthur smiled, shaking his head. "How could I deny your direct command?"

He received the blade from my hands and bent the knee.

"I will do all I can to live up to your faith."

"Not too much pressure, my dear friend." I pat his head before helping him up from the ground. I turned to the fortress of Pyke, grinning slightly. "This is where you earn your Knighthood and White cloak."

"... I will not fail you."

"You don't even need to say it, I know you won't."

~

Edric began the siege with the usual sniping, tremendously lessening the number of men willing to hold the initial walls of Pyke. Once they were held up in their towers, the siege engines were moved forward. The trebuchets fired forth massive rocks, collapsing the walls further with each wave of stone. Their largest watchtower had collapsed soon enough, along with much of the wall around it. 

The royal army stormed forward, led by Edric himself and his companions. An intense battle broke out between the gathered Iron Islanders and Edric's royal army. The Ironborn did not fear death, but rather… Most of them seemed to welcome it, even. It was an honour to them… no surprise since they had their own idea of a Valhalla. Something about hot mermaids attending their every need in a watery hall.

Edric supported his men with his godly archery skill, shattering the morale of the ironborn with each prominent warrior killed. Eventually, they caved in and the royal army made short work of everyone that remained. 

"Push forward!"

Edric along with a division of archers dispatched anyone guarding the curtain wall which would lead to the stone bridge. Eventually… the gates gave in to the battering ram and the army crossed the large stone bridge, leading the battering ram to the final defence; the Great Keep. 

It, too, fell… though the resistance was greater than the initial walls by far.

Finally, the Great Keep had been breached… and the first to cross into the Great Keep was none other than Arthur Tudburry, wielding his new black blade. He cut a path of blood, killing several Ironborn… one after the other with grace, his new Valyrian Steel blade going through their armour like butter. Barristan Selmy was the same, leading the charge into the Great Hall. 

Among the brave fighters was a woman, screaming her lungs out as she killed several men. 

"Let me take care of her." 

Edric stopped Arthur in his tracks, grabbing his shoulder before readying his bow.

He fired several non-lethal arrows… stopping her from persisting in her fight.

"I believe that's Asha Greyjoy… seize her and let a maester tend to her wounds."

"Yes, my prince!"

The royal forces proceeded to swarm the Great Keep, eventually breaking into the great hall where Balon Greyjoy sat upon his Seastone Chair. Edric led the charge against the remainder of Balon's forces, using his warhammer to smash through several Ironborn.

Alas, Balon's guards focused on him… and used his act of inspiring bravery against him. One of the largest of the guards present had managed to smash his axe against Edric's right shoulder while he was distracted. After that, the warrior struck his chest with great force… causing tremendous blunt damage, which his plate armour hadn't been suitable against.

"Edric!"

'Damn…' Edric grew dazed, his eyes widening as he saw the projection of a massive axe striking his head.

Slash.

Arthur rose to the occasion, slashing right into the warrior's arm and slashing again to cripple his other arm… and another two slashes, gravely wounding his lega. With one final blow, he cut his head clean off.

Edric stepped back, no longer feeling his right shoulder. "Damned bastard…"

After that, he took a backseat role and watched as his forces shattered Balon's guards and swarmed the throneroom.

"Balon…" Edric went up the steps at his own pace, grabbing his chest. "Do you enjoy watching… the death of your people?"

"They are a brave people; they will fight for what they believe in!" Balon Greyjoy stood up from his throne. "If you wish to end the Old Way, you will have to burn this island."

"You're putting bad thoughts into my head… no, I won't do that. Your people were convinced that raiding, pillaging, raping and all of that… was their right!" Edric stepped forward, shaking his head. "For generations upon generations you Ironborn were raised this way… but you are not an inherently evil people. No one is born evil, for that matter. The Old Ways will change into the New under my reign, though… you won't live to see it."

"Your reign… will not ever begin!"

Balon Greyjoy drew his axe, throwing it straight for Edric's head.

He tilted his head slightly, seeing the throw perfectly and effectively evading it.

"Arthur… apprehend him."

"Yes, my prince."

Arthur stepped forward and knocked the old Balon onto the ground, leaving him at Edric's mercy.

"Let this invasion be a lesson to all the Ironborn lords who would not answer a call to arms from the King. A lesson for all who long for the Old Ways… they are called that for a reason. They are OLD… and do not belong in the Seven Kingdoms, my REALM, in any shape or form!"

Edric struggled to raise his warhammer with his left hand… though, lightning sparked and surged in his arm, propelling it upwards.

BANG.

He smashed Balon Greyjoy's head with one swift blow of his hammer, scattering his blood and brain juice all around the steps of the Seastone Chair. After that, he dragged his warhammer to the Seastone Chair and placed it at the side… before seating himself on the throne.

"They say only a devout follower of the Drowned God could ever seat this throne…"

"Only someone who is worthy."

Edric made himself comfortable, sitting back. A slightly proud grin appeared on his face as he observed all his supporters.

"Here, I sit."