There were plenty of different cultures in the Seven Kingdoms and Bradley had gotten to know most of them through experience. The North? He was married to one of their highest nobility. Riverlands? Plenty. Charltonall were right next door and still very much liked him, not to mention he was currently in the Riverlands helping to defend against an attack. Crownlands? Technically helped conquer it. Stormlands? Friends with the highest nobility. Westerlands? He had quite frankly spent enough time around Tywin Lannister to last him a lifetime, not to mention fucking his daughter, which did far less to undermine the intimidating aura than one might think. Dorne?
… He didn't like to think about Dorne nowadays. They had quite the dislike for him and Bradley saw no way to fix that.
But the Iron Islands? Not a single word exchanged with them. They might technically be part of the Seven Kingdoms, but in nature the more he heard about them the more they seemed like outliers. Even the other isolationists, the North, were practically political and social butterflies by comparison. Culturally, politically, the Ironborn just seemed to prefer to be off doing their own thing. He supposed he now knew why if this kind of behaviour was bubbling under the surface. A tiny part of him wondered why they didn't take the opportunity to do this during Robert's rebellion. They might have gotten away with it then, just been a problem to deal with when the war was done. Everyone would've been too tired from the war to want to continue it on the winter seas and an uneasy peace would be secured.
But now? Attacking now? Bradley knew how this would end. He knew Robert personally. Knew his temperament, the change that had been occurring within him as he whiled away his time as a King who couldn't be bothered to rule. In short, Robert was spoiling for another fight to recapture his glory days. Now the Iron Islands were giving him the perfect opportunity and they may not live to regret it.
Especially if Bradley's experience of them today was the norm. He remembered the war too. Knights, armed and armoured for battle. Armies of thousands and the rings of steel against steel. The Iron Islanders? Rabble. That was the only way he could describe them. The royalist and rebel forces in the war weren't exactly up to par of modern military precision but these Ironborn were just cutthroats rampaging in the streets. Their only strategy seemed to be sowing chaos wherever they went, setting fires, robbing, killing, no rhyme or reason. Just for the fun of it as much as for whatever they were taking.
Of course, much like those in the war, these men seemed to be indulging their darker impulses.
"No! Stop! No! NOOOOOO!" A woman screamed, bleeding from her head as one of the raiders dragged her, meaty paw wrapped around her wrists as she futilely tried to struggle free. She tried to get her legs under her, get leverage to wrench her hands free but her struggles didn't do anything to make his pace stop or slow. She couldn't get her feet under her. All she could do was scream as he dragged her back down to the docks.
The street rumbled beneath them, a series of metallic stomps growing ever closer, ever louder. The raider let her arms loose for just a moment to grab the shield on his back as he drew a sword with his other hand and turned–
It really was quite considerate of the Ironborn raider to let the girl go first. Meant she didn't get splashed with his gooey bits when Bradley's sledge scattered him over the street. To her credit, she didn't scream at the sight. She had seen much more grisly things that day. Though admittedly not many. "Can you make it to the castle on your own?"
She shakily nodded even as she clung to the wall of a building for support.
Bradley pointed back the way he had come from. "That way is clear."
"Th-Thank you, milord!" she stammered before running unsteadily in the direction he pointed. Bradley meanwhile headed in the direction the raider had been heading. They were taking prisoners? Civilian prisoners? So Mallister was right. The Ironborn really were getting up to their centuries old tricks. Well he would make sure they wouldn't take anyone under his watch.
-(-)-
Rodrik Greyjoy's head had been planted on a stake hanging from the watchtower, condemned to an eternal watch of the waters he had raided. The Lord Mallister had killed the leader of the raiders, the heir apparent to the Lord of the Iron Islands Balon Greyjoy. With that, any notions that this attack was just some fool Ironborn doing something stupid was gone. The Iron Islands were rebelling. And as if to give further confirmation, they received word from the Westerlands that they too had been visited by the Ironborn. The Lannister fleet had been burned. It seemed the victory against Rodrik's forces would be crucial for the survival of Seagard. The royal fleet was mobilising as was the Redwyne fleet from the Arbor but neither would come to their aid quickly. Lord Stark was raising what ships he could from Bear Island and would be joining them on their way south.
The routing of the Ironborn from Seagard's shores would buy them much needed time before the next assault. If there was one. Perhaps the Ironborn would target easier prey now that the Westerlands were effectively defenseless and Seagard was clearly not.
Oh. They also received another missive. From Lyanna. Informing him that he had gotten someone pregnant and immediately gotten embroiled in a war. Again. Which... He really didn't have a defense for beyond 'whoops'. Still, at least this one would be quick! These dumbass viking wannabes barely knew what they were doing! Once the fleets are gathered and converge on the Iron Islands the war will be done with in weeks!
And so the planning begins.
And the waiting begins.
… Bradley still hated this part.
-(-)-
The fleets had arrived!
Finally!
Not that Jason hadn't been the perfectly gracious host while the nearby River lords helped fortify Seagard. Bradley got to watch the man at work as he set the coastal defenses to a wartime condition. The local craftsmen were all directed towards shipbuilding efforts in hopes of a more capable naval defense. In the end, they managed... Two new ships. In a month. Was that impressive? Bradley didn't know if that was impressive. When he asked, Jason just grumbled incoherently without answering.
Either way, the ships from Bear Island had arrived in the vicinity of the Iron Islands and were blocking off their path north. And on their way past the Westerlands the Royal and Redwyne fleets had done tremendous damage to the Ironborn fleet a little ways south, effectively clearing a path to the Iron Islands for everyone involved. It seemed it was time to press the attack.
Bradley joined Lord Mallister on his ship. He had been watching and listening to Lord Mallister for a good month as he went about doing things, but that in no way translated to skills he would need for commanding a ship. Better to just let the more capable man do the job.
Not that Bradley didn't try to be helpful! He was just... Well, he could admit. When it came to seafaring, he was pretty inept. He was intelligent to start with and the FEV had only enhanced that, but somehow whenever someone would start speaking in ship jargon his eyes would glaze over like he was back in literature class learning about Shakespeare. The jibs and jobbers and bonwaffles, it all just went in one ear and out the other. It was about the time the sailors started joking he would be a big help if he went down to the hold to act as ballast that he decided to just give up. Just stand around being imperious and lordly. And maybe a little menacing when the crew would snicker at him.
God, why did he even stay for this? He could be back at home playing with Jocelyn or playing with Lora. Err, that is, in two very different ways. Or maybe he could see about giving Lyanna another child. But no, he wanted a cool pirate adventure! Little did he know it'd just be the same hurry up and wait bullshit that Robert's war was. At least he had a stake in Robert's war. Here he was just moving by inertia.
Not that that kind of thinking helped him now. What was he going to do, jump off the ship? It would be a long walk on the ocean floor to get back to shore.
So... Instead, he endured the waiting game once again. The North's forces would be taking on Orkmont and Old Wyk, the Royal and Redwyne fleets taking Great Wyk and blockading what few ships were left to guard Ten Towers. While the Seagard ships just... Bloody... Waited.
But then! Finally! Mercifully! An order was received by raven! Their ship, specifically their ship, was to join the vanguard of the Royal Fleet in their assault on the undefended Pyke! Finally Bradley would be able to do something!
As if he shared in Bradley's restlessness, Lord Mallister followed the order swiftly, taking the galley onward to the west to meet Robert's handpicked assault force.
Naturally... That included Ned. "Hello Ned."
Lord Stark gave him a quick once-over, before responding with a curt "Bradley."
Yeah, he... He might still be displeased about how the whole thing with Lyanna shook out.
Not that Robert seemed to take any notice. "Look at us, eh?" he cheered, grabbing both Ned and Bradley about the shoulders and shaking them. "The three of us together again, about to put boot to arse of some wrong-headed twats! Just like the old days, eh?!"
Well at least someone was having fun. "How is your wife, Robert?"
"Ah big as a house again," he grunts with a dismissive wave, "Good to know I've still got it but she turns into a right cow when she's expecting. Looks like one too!" he guffaws.
Bradley's mind drifts off to pleasant memories of his own cow back home... Before a concerning thought strikes him. "How... Far along is she?" Please don't say seven months, please don't say seven months, please don't say seven months–
"About seven, eight months, Pycelle says." Dammit! "Hopefully the kid'll have popped out by the time we get back and I won't have to deal with her moaning anymore. Or make her moan in a different way, eh? Eh? Hahaha!"
Well, for better or worse, Robert was still Robert.
Now all Bradley had to worry about was whether this kid would have his eyes too. Oh, and the battle.
… No, on second thought, just the baby thing.
Stupid fake Vikings just surrender already! You aren't as cool as the real Vikings!
-(-)-
The battle went as one might expect for a small island forced to fight a land battle after losing the majority of their naval forces. That is to say, not very well at all for the Iron Islanders.
First Botley Castle and Lordsport were taken, isolating the Castle Pyke with no supplies coming in, expecting to settle in for a siege.
Then Bradley approached with his sledge.
It was a very short siege. Not many castle walls can stand up to a hammer with enough kinetic force stored up to make a wrecking ball blush. Bradley had been saving for this moment and he wanted to be done with these Greyjoy pricks as soon as he possibly could.
Brad watched befuddled as some muppet with a flaming sword was the first to crawl through the hole he had made. Shaking his head, he followed in after the familiar bearded scruff of Jorah Mormont. The fighting only continued for a little over an hour before enough of the defenders' innards painted the walls that they surrendered.
The hulking sulking lord more or less sat out a lot of the mopping up of any recalcitrant Iron Islanders. As far as he was concerned, he had done his part. That is, until Ned came and fetched him on Robert's orders. Apparently he wanted Bradley present as King and rebellious Lord hashed out the terms of surrender. Not that they waited for that, based on the shouting Bradley heard as he approached the audience chamber of Castle Pyke. "I'm not having this shit happen again, Greyjoy!"
"You're not satisfied just spitting on our ways, your grace?" Bradley could hear the sneer from out in the hall. Either Balon had no interest in self-preservation or he was crazy, talking to the guy he was surrendering to like that.
"They're not your fucking ways, you damp-haired sea-addled squid!"
Bradley sighed. "He still has a way with diplomacy," he lamented as Ned pushed open the door, the two men entering without announcement.
"Your lot haven't pulled a stunt like this in near on a hundred years, and then a hundred before that! Now tell me what happened both times." Silence. And a glare. "What fucking happened, Greyjoy?!"
The sneering Ironborn lord just continued to glare, his chest swelling with angry breaths.
"Fine, I'll tell you what happened you cloth-eared cunt! You and your fucking 'old ways' got you a hiding from the Westerlands and had you running back to your little rocks with your tails between your legs. Were you expecting it to go different this time, Balon? Eh? Eh?!Say something you shithead bottom-feeder!"
"Fuck off with your sanctimonious shite, your grace!" Balon snarled, spittle flying from his lips along with the words, "How did fighting for you work out for us, Baratheon?! My father, Quellon Greyjoy died for your rebellion, so you could wear that fucking crown on your head! And what did the Iron Islands get for it?! Fucking nothing! Ignored like always happens! Well you're not ignoring us now, are you?!"
Robert, again the master of diplomacy, laughs coldly. "Aye, I suppose we're not. Suppose we best get the Greyjoys more involved in the rest of Westeros, hadn't we? Ned, Greyjoy has four kids, aye?"
"Two, your grace," Ned answered with propriety. "Rodrik was killed in the attack on Seagard, Maron was found earlier today, fell off the wall during the siege."
"Two! Well isn't that something, Balon! Looks like both your kids will have their heads emptied of that shite you've been feeding them! Theon, wasn't it? Your other lad? I think it'd be good for him to foster with the Starks, don't you Balon? Teach him something about honour, dignity, not killing and raping wherever he goes." Robert seems to stop for a second. "What was the name of the last one, Ned?"
"... Asha. She's... quite a bit older than her brother, your grace."
"Never too late to learn how to not be a daft cunt like her father, Ned. Aye, I think we'll have her learn to be a proper lady. And I've got just the Lady in mind to teach her!"
Bradley wondered why Robert was looking at him.
Then it clicked.
And he groaned inwardly. Ohhhhh shit.