Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

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I will be brief, thank you all for your support.

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POV: The Eel;

Royal Hall, Sea Tower, Fortress of Pyke.

A few minutes after two words in an unknown tongue were spoken...

The King of Salt and Stone scrutinized the trembling messenger, a lowly apprentice cook in the Tower who had been forced to harness weapons he had never handled.

"Say that again... and don't leave out any details this time, or I'll feed you to the sharks. What's going on in the main corridor of the bridge?" Balon asked in a tone that was quiet but full of ire ready to erupt at any moment...

"Y-yes, y-your majesty... T-the captain Rubert has ordered me to report to you that armed enemies have taken control of the p-passageway to the bridge... W-we are suffering heavy... heavy casualties in the fight, m-my King..." The poor apprentice took a deep breath to recover from his state of panic.

Balon mistakenly thought it was his death threats that were instilling fear in the fifteen-year-old servant...

"How many men?" Balon asked.

"M-my king?"

"How many enemies have infiltrated the tower!? Speak!!! In the name of the Drowned God, if I hear one more flicker of teeth or babble from that mouth of yours, boy... I will personally drown you with my own hands!" Thundered the King, losing his patience. All the voices in the room fell silent...

"Here... they should... just over twelve, my King," the messenger forced himself.

"Twelve men?! You dare lie to me?"

"No, Your Grace! I swear by the Drowned God!!! The lookouts on the walls have reported to us that there are no other enemies crossing the bridge at this time... We... do not know how they got through, my King.... ", the messenger's words were cut short.

"Rubert is in command of fifty ironmen! Go back there and don't come back until you have twelve heads with you!!!" Roared the King.

"My King... There are eleven of us left... Only eleven of those fifty men survived... N-not... we managed to break through t-the enemy front line... a-and the passage is nearly blocked by the b-bodies of the fallen, my King." The boy resumed shaking involuntarily as he thought back to the hell he had witnessed just minutes before.

'No. I will not re-enter that hallway... Fuck the King! Fuck the whole thing! If I must die, I'll die here... That monster... That Abominable Demon!!! NO!!! Let the Drowned God drag me to the abyss himself instead! I'm not going back in there!!!' Decided Ben, the apprentice cook nicknamed 'Ben Eel broth', responding to his survival instincts.

Balon remained in disarming silence. At first, he seemed to want to accuse Ben of perjury, but something held him back. The King rose from his throne and stared for a moment at something shiny he held tightly in his hand.

"What do they report to us from the Guest Keep?" Balon asked the commander of his guard a short distance from the throne.

"Nothing, my King... The last communication came from Captain Warryn asking for a hundred archers to reinforce the defence of the bridge. There has been no other communication from the walls." Ardan, one of the King's best-trusted axes, replied promptly.

From Sea Tower they had no view of the first bridge, with no direct communications or light signals, Sea Tower did not know how Pyke's second line of defence was progressing...

Balon seemed plagued by doubts and thoughts.

"What did you see? Weapons, armour, identities of enemies, peculiar signs... I want to know everything." His attention shifted back to the messenger boy.

Young Ben braced himself and obeyed the command.

"In the corridor about sixty feet from the bridge... Twelve enemies arranged in five rows. Two archers in the last, six crossbowmen in the middle rows, three men armed with pikes and shields in the second, and...a mons...a swordsman wielding two blades on the first.

They wield shields and armour with the banner of your House, my King, indeed at first the captain thought those men were deserters... but they cannot be ironmen." Ben paused to choose his next words carefully. He knew that if he described what he had actually seen, no one in this room would believe it.

"A swordsman only on the front lines? What did you mean by 'they can't be ironmen'?" Balon asked quickly.

"The boy... The swordsman is a boy no taller than I am, and he has white hair, Your Grace... White hair soaked in blood... He has single-handedly killed more than half of my comrades." Fragments of events narrated in the kitchens redolent in the head of the garrison.

[Ships full of smiling corpses, and in the midst of them... a single ship... with snow-white sails and red masts... masts painted with the blood of the men of House Drumm!]

"We've all heard the rumours about him... the boy who defeated Denys Drumm in a duel... it's Bloody Snow!"

End POV

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POV: Jaws;

Royal Hall, Sea Tower, Fortress of Pyke.

A few seconds after a name was spoken...

The hall was not very large, the true throne of salt and stone was positioned in The Great Keep, the first tower of the Greyjoy fortress.

The whispers of the court echoed with less discretion. Sighs of fear, the name 'Bloody Snow' repeated, and small inappropriate comments from noble members of the Iron Islands court reached the King's ears.

Balon was petrified for a moment, then foamed with rage, clenching the braavosian gold coin in his fist with more ferocity. Tiny rivulets of blood seeped through his fingers.

"Commander Ardan..." Balon called to him.

"Yes, your grace." The commander of the King's personal guard replied without delay. Ardan was a veteran son of Pyke's former master-at-arms who had earned the nickname 'Shark's Tooth' by his intrepid exploits. In his heyday, Ardan managed to catch and kill a shark single-handedly with nothing more than a lifeboat, a rope, a harpoon, and an axe.

The longboat in which he served, renamed the 'Scourge of Bonaccia' at the time, successfully survived a month of inclement weather in the Sunset Sea. The crew, exhausted by the lack of food and water, had almost reached the height of their madness and would soon be at each other's throats, tearing each other to pieces...

That twelve-foot shark caught by Ardan saved the ship. The shoulder straps of the ironman hero's armour were adorned with shark teeth when Lord Quellon, former Lord of Pyke and father of Balon, learned of that heroic feat.

"I want a hundred more-armed men in the corridor. Remain in a defensive position until my further order... Tear down the bridge, cut the ropes, set it on fire, or use any other means at our disposal. The bridge must be destroyed as soon as possible." Ordered Balon shocking half the people in that room.

"But Your Majesty!!!" shouted some members of lesser lineages.

"Silence you! So, I have decided..." Shushed Balon immediately afterwards.

Ardan understood the reaction of the small court. Many children and family members were still stationed in the second tower, knocking down the only link of salvation for all the residents of Guest Keep had to be the last card to play for the defence of Pyke.

"If I may, my King... I would recommend signalling Captain Druxe and his garrison to attack the intruders from the south. They may be strong defending one side of the bridge, but I doubt that formation can withstand an attack on two fronts." Ardan was the only one in that room to whom Balon would listen. Nineteen years of loyal service protecting the Greyjoy family had granted him that and other privileges.

"The Drowned God has already welcomed them into his halls, Commander. As we debate, Robert's forces will already be making their way into the second tower. The Guest Keep is already lost... What is dead may never die!"

"...What is dead may never die." The court's response was not as lofty.

Only after that response did Ardan understand the 'why' of those orders.

King Balon had guessed before anyone else. How had Bloody Snow and his men reached the second bridge?

Even if they had disguised themselves as ironmen, Drux and his garrison of fifty good axes, crossbows and pikes, until further notice, should have prevented anyone from passing...

Drux was already dead and buried, and if Bloody Snow was really attacking the second bridge, who was to say that he hadn't managed to attack the first one as well? Thus, allowing Robert's forces to get through.

"Do not despair, the key to our salvation is about to be trapped in the jaws of the Kraken. Before long I will also have a valuable hostage that will force half of Robert's forces to lower their weapons and bow down to my terms." Announced the King.

A few minutes later...

"Commander! We can't get the fire going... We're firing hundreds of flaming arrows, milord... but the target is too difficult, and the few arrows that do take root are quickly extinguished by the enemy." Reported an archer reporting to the commander-in-chief of the garrison.

"Throw barrels of oil on the base of the bridge then and throw the flashlights!" Roared Adran in frustration.

Only now did he realize that the enemy was much better prepared for that eventuality than they had thought. There were hundreds of gallons of emergency water near the bridge doors and even a well that could collect water directly from the sea...

"We've already tried, milord...but they concentrate buckets of water in the only places we can hit...they even pour sandbags on the wood. We're even filling amphorae, wineskins, and bottles for long-range launches, but nothing!" Adran wished he could smash every single skull on those fucking walls in frustration.

Every minute that passed was decisive. If enemy forces crossed the bridge, it would be the end.

The walls were not equipped with boulders or stones to throw below. Only bows, crossbows and spears defended the suspension bridge.

"Get hammers, clubs, chisels or whatever the fuck you want. Shatter the lace of the walls and throw boulders on that bridge that can damage it! Get someone to find the heaviest items in the tower and throw them down below! Move!!!" Shouted Ardan.

"Aye, Commander!" The archer sprinted towards the stairs obeying orders.

"Aargh!" Another of his men was hit by an arrow. The enemy had a clear shot beyond that wall of corpses, but they didn't... They had tried to find elevation points to face the archers on equal terms, but the corridor was too narrow, three shooters at most could rise and the archers on the other side wouldn't allow it so easily.

That nearly six-foot wall of piled-up corpses could act as a barrier against enemy marksmen... but no one seemed fearless enough to approach, and now Ardan understood the reason.

Even at that forty-foot distance from the pile of bodies, with no view, he sensed it... It was a murderous presence that gave him goosebumps, even to him, a veteran of dozens of raids and bloody confrontations on the open sea. With each step toward that malevolent presence, the aura intensified.

The few survivors of the first raid, some of whom managed to get close enough to see their comrades torn apart, trembled like shrivelled leaves and looked lost.

The stench of piss and wet spots on their breeches besmirched the name of House Greyjoy and that of their fearless ancestors, as well as greatly weakening overall morale.

All of Ardan's instincts roared to get as far away from that claimed lair as possible. A den that was home to a 'Fierce and Ravenous Beast' that craved blood! Those glistening diamond-like jaws and predatory black eyes that he found himself less than an inch away from on that epic day seemed nothing in comparison...

'We're over two hundred and they're a little over a dozen, damn it! Then why do I feel like we're the ones trapped!' Ardan couldn't give voice to those thoughts. The men's morale was already in shambles as it was... but they couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

The commander knew it would take too long to bring the bridge down from the walls, the only real possibility left was to directly assault the enemy and shear the ropes with swords and axes.

"Boy! Come here!... I said come here!" Ardan ordered henchman Ben to approach.

"Y-yes, m-milord..." Now the man understood why the boy stuttered like an idiot even in the face of Balon's death threats.

"Run to the King and communicate to him...

End POV.

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POV: The Kraken;

Royal Hall, Sea Tower, Fortress of Pyke.

About two minutes after a commander finished communicating a message...

Balon had just given orders for Meron to be transported from the cells to the bedrooms. His wife and children would remain safe in the safer rooms of the tower. Although hard and unyielding, Balon was plagued with regret and guilt for beating his second son Meron in such a way...

As with his mother Annalys, the loss of their firstborn Rodrik in Seaguard was a terrible blow to his father, but the King could show no sign of weakness. He only regretted not having the opportunity to avenge his beloved son and honour his sacrifice.

The Lord of Pyke yearned to be able to deal a severe blow to the enemy, as well as to at least claim the title of Lord Protector of the Iron Islands. Yes... Although Balon repeatedly sang the ditty to his bannermen that the war was not yet lost, he knew full well what the ironclad, inclement truth was...

They had lost this war at the exact moment when they communicated to him, within a short interval of time, the two tremendous defeats they had suffered since Seaguard.

The most tremendous blow was undoubtedly the expedition to Bear Island... not because of the number of men or ships lost, but because of how they lost. A tidal wave of doubts, fears, and second-guessing invaded unstoppably throughout Pyke after the symbolic message from House Lannister and House Tallhart...

Balon had not yet surrendered not only out of pride or thirst for revenge but because he needed to cut his losses for House Greyjoy. If they surrendered too soon the name, reputation, and titles of his House would sink to the depths of the abyss.

His trump cards were his brothers Victarion and Aeron. Balon hoped that he could still strike fear into the hearts of his enemies with the divine magic of the Drowned God, but even those cards were now lost...

The burning harbour... the devastating defeat on the beach... and now it seemed that his walls built of solid stone were made only of sea sponges. The enemy was penetrating his defences as if they were fucking the hottest, most compliant whore in a brothel in Lys!

'It's not over yet!' Balon thought as he sat on his throne, weighing up all the remaining options in his possession.

Before the attack on the fortress began, Balon had given orders to have every ounce of unneeded dried fish, flour, or drop of ale transported to Sea Tower. Hundreds of barrels of water, beer, and wine were well guarded and guarded in the pantries. Even if it hadn't rained for three months straight, they wouldn't have been plagued by thirst.

Provisions could be rationed for at least a year and, just as importantly, every ounce of gold, silver or copper, as well as any other item of value in the entire island was kept in the dungeon coffers...

Even if Robert had threatened to bury them alive with catapults (after the bridge had been knocked down), Balon would have responded by threatening the crown and his greedy bannermen in his retinue, to throw every single coin into the ocean before it happened...

No... war is an inclement leech that claims a golden tribute, Robert could never have afforded such a loss. Every single day of siege was an unsustainable expense to deal with without a financial return.

Time, gold, and a valuable hostage... Balon would have used any weapon in his possession. He still had some means of pressure in his possession, it wasn't over.

Giving up half, or perhaps two-thirds, of the royal treasury, and perhaps sending one or two of his sons as hostages... If he had managed to keep the title of Lord Protector under these conditions it would have been a victory. A bitter victory of course, but a victory nonetheless.

Euron was a prisoner in Casterly Rock, Victarion and Aeron were missing; dead or prisoners of House Baratheon for all he knew...

He would redeem his blood with The Hero of the North and whatever other noble scion had followed him on that suicide mission! Of course... not before personally chopping off a finger or two and locking him in the most degrading and cramped cell in the tower.

Iron chains, brackish water and rotten fish... Balon would have responded to Bloody Snow's insult by savouring every second of sweet revenge.

For the first time in weeks Balon smiled at the very thought. He would teach the way of Iron and make that brat give up his tree-gods with his fist as soon as the Kraken's tentacles imprisoned him!

Soon Ardan would return with his prey in chains.

'I will renounce the crown for a few years... I will swear allegiance to the Stag and the Wolf, and when the time is 'ripe', the Iron Islands will rise again harder and stronger than before!' Inwardly exulted the future Lord Protector Greyjoy.

"My King! My King! Anf... Anf..." The stupid coward of a henchman came again to importune him.

"What else do you have to report to me? Speak, and pray that it is important."

"Commander Ardan wants you to give him the order to attack the enemy lines frontally, Your Grace!" Quickly communicated Ben after gathering enough breath.

"So the bridge has been taken down and the prey has no escape?" Balon asked for confirmation.

"... N-No, my King..."

"No? And for what crazy reason Ardan would send you to ask this?" Balon, like his father Quellon before him, had full confidence in Ardan Sharktooth. A true ironman to the core on a par with Dagmer's Split Jaw.

"No, y-your Grace... The commander wants your permission to assault the enemy to shoot him down... The men on the walls cannot destroy the bridge." Reluctantly admitted the boy.

"WHAT! Are you telling me that a hundred men on the walls can't set fire to simple hemp ropes tied to wooden sticks?! Bunch of clueless idiots! What's going on down there?!"

About four minutes later...

Balon himself with his axe in hand, commanding the last twenty ironmen of arms, arrived on the scene.

"Commander, Ardan! Explain to me what the fuck is going on! Why is that bridge still standing?" Roared the King furiously.

"My King! Down!!!" Ardan leapt with his shield protecting his body. An arrow ran into the oak tree. Balon instantly washed off the rage that distracted him from the deadly danger and returned to rational thought.

"Those bastards are throwing water on all the fire we throw, my king! We're running out of time... We need to attack them head-on and cut the tops off!" Ardan explained.

"But then we'd let Bloody Snow slip through our fingers!!! Throw all the whale oil reserves we have on that fucking bridge if you have to!!!" Thundered Balon in response.

"... We're already doing that, Your Grace... but the enemy is throwing water and sand into the flames! There is no other way, Robert's forces will soon arrive! There is no other way..."

"Sand?! They even brought sand?!" The enemy seemed to have thought of everything. That attack no longer seemed as suicidal as it first appeared...

'That bastard! The attack on the harbour was also his work then?!... So be it then, I will personally come for your head!' Balon decided with swiftness.

'Ironmen, Follow me! Let's go kill those godless bastards!!!" Only the King's Guard cheered in response... The others chose silence.

"I said follow me! By order of your King!!!... Why are you backing away cowards! Are you or are you not men of the Iron Islands?!" Screamed Balon with more vigour.

The fury, the confusion, and the short time that had passed concealed the presence of danger that gripped the fearless hearts of the men who had time to experience it. Balon and his twenty men were still completely unaware of what awaited them beyond that wall.

Ardan braced himself and even managed to spur a dozen frightened men into formation. There was no time to flog every single insubordinate coward.

The King of Salt and Rock picked up a shield with his left hand and gripped his axe tightly with his right. Fortunately, Balon was wearing his ceremonial flake armour.

He was hardly a fighter equal to Victarion, and his seafaring ventures had been eclipsed for years now, but he still remembered well how to drive an axe into a man's skull.

"Attack!" Balon ordered.

"By King Balon! Follow the King! Charge!!!" Roared Ardan supporting him.

"FOR THE KING!!!" Eight men armed with shields and axes charged first, Balon, who entered the corridor with his trusty guard at his side, was at the head of another twenty or so fearless volunteers.

The ironborn in the lead began to climb through the pile of corpses, the first two to reach the top were instantly riddled with darts and arrows as they fell backwards.

Balon was unaffected by the tremendous stench of shit and death that emanated from that pile of over forty soiled bodies. Finally, with no small amount of difficulty, four of the original eight vanguards made it through.

"Uraarg!", "Die you bastard!", *Claang!!*, *Stiiingh!*, "Arrghh! You filthy monster!!!"

A cacophony of fighting noises came over the wall.

Balon and Ardan began to scale the pile of dead making sure their shields covered their vital points well. No arrows or darts got in their way.

Finally, the moment arrived... For the first time, King Kraken looked with his own eyes at the Nordic brat who was the cause of all his woes.

A not very tall figure, white-steel-stained hair, soaked in gaudy bloodstains plunged a long blade into the chest of the last opponent still standing, killing him. The four ironmen who had entered the fray a few seconds before were at his feet, motionless.

And then... ravenous eyes glittered green with brighter silver streaks, resting their sights on the two new preys.

Balon froze in place, shortness of breath, goosebumps, sharp pressure on his bladder, a thundering urge to run away and... a myriad of danger signals instantly unsettled him.

The Kraken no longer knew 'WHO' in that sea of blood was the real Prey and who was the Predator.

End Chapter.

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