Robert walked towards the body, his eyes fixing on Balon's head, unmistakably severed from the body.
A smile crept onto his face as he raised his eyes to meet Damian, who approached from the raised dais. "Impressive work, Damian!" Robert praised, clapping Damian on the shoulder. "You've brought a swift end to Balon's rebellion, sparing countless lives out there. Today, you've served the realm well."
"Thank you for your kind words, your Highness. It was my honor to serve the realm," Damian replied, graciously accepting the commendation.
"Take Balon's head outside, let them witness the fate of this treasonous squid," Robert instructed a Baratheon soldier, who nodded, picked up Balon's head, and made his way outside.
Turning towards Ned and Tywin, Robert's voice echoed through the hall, "Send a raven to every castle in the Iron Islands. Make it known that Balon Greyjoy lies dead, and every Lord who remains beyond our grasp must come to Pyke. Kneel before their King and the new Lord of the Iron Islands, who shall replace House Greyjoy."
"New Lord? Might I inquire as to whom you have deemed fit to rule these turbulent isles in place of the Greyjoys?" Lord Tywin questioned, his gaze steady.
"I'm not pondering, Lord Tywin," Robert asserted with unwavering resolve. "I've made my choice for the new Lord. Ned, fetch our captive with any semblance of authority in the Iron Islands to this hall."
Robert further commanded the mainland Lords present on the island to assemble and bear witness to his proclamation.
Lord Tywin's gaze remained fixed on Robert. In a deliberate display, Tywin shifted his attention towards Damian, a subtle acknowledgment, perhaps, of his intuition about the person Robert sought to place at the helm of the Iron Islands. The air thickened with unspoken understanding, though neither Robert nor Damian betrayed a hint. Robert, seated upon the unwelcoming Seastone chair, roared for a splash of ale, while Damian, turning his back, engaged in conversation with the Mormont girl.
'Handing the Iron Islands to the North, Baratheon?' Tywin's thoughts churned with a mixture of skepticism and disdain. The prospect of the territory falling into the hands of those he deemed as "barbarians" from the North unsettled him. Below the neck, no one harbored an eagerness to witness the expansion of the lands inhabited by these perceived savages, even if confined to a few modest islands inhabited by what many considered little more than pirates.
In the intricate web of Tywin's strategic mind, gears turned, evaluating the potential consequences for the Westerlands. He pondered whether it necessitated the formulation of a contingency plan to prevent this perceived threat or if it could be manipulated to the region's advantage in the long term.
Tywin harbored deep skepticism about the young Stark's capability to subjugate the masses of the Iron Islands, fervently devoted to their pagan Drowned god. The daunting challenge of bending the will of a people steeped in a tradition as ancient as the sea itself seemed, in Tywin's estimation, a near-impossible feat.
However, a glimmer of strategic calculation flickered in Tywin's thoughts. If Damian could secure backing from the King, Lord Stark, the Hand Lord Arryn, and the neighboring Lord Tully, who shared the waters with the Iron Islands, perhaps this alliance could become the linchpin for unprecedented change. The notion of uniting such influential figures held the promise of unlocking doors deemed impassable by the weight of history.
But this was a conditional hope, contingent on Damian marshaling the necessary support.
While Tywin delved into his own labyrinth of considerations, Robert's voice thundered within the hall, addressing Damian with a question that had lingered in his mind.
"Damian Stark, I'd fancy hearing how you managed to get that gate open for you and your men," Robert declared, downing his ale-like water in a gulp.
Robert, who was on the verge of commending Damian for his plan, had his smile interrupted by Lord Tywin's jarring words.
"Why keep such a pivotal strategy shrouded in secrecy, young Damian? Had we been apprised of your intentions, we could have better prepared and perhaps suffered fewer losses. Or was it your intention to use our men as mere bait to ensure your plan's success?" Lord Tywin's inquiry carried a sharp edge, accusing Damian of cunning tactics that sacrificed allies for victory.
Eddard's displeasure was palpable, and Robert's furrowed brow indicated his discontent. However, before either could come to Damian's defence, he addressed Lord Tywin with a calm yet firm tone.
"My Lord Tywin, rest assured, there was no design to cast our men as bait. The choice to veil the intricacies of our plan was a tactical one, a safeguard for the surprise that proved pivotal in our success. As the old adage holds, 'The fewer people who know, the better for the plan,'" Damian interjected, his voice maintaining a calm yet unwavering tone. "In the theater of war, the element of surprise is a cherished ally. My aim was never to subject your men to needless peril but to ensure the triumph of my strategy. I trust the outcome stands as its testament."
"It does indeed. You've brought a swift end to this war in a manner unforeseen by many. Your mettle and intellect warrant applause," Robert proclaimed, quelling the controversy before it could catch fire. His voice resonated just as a throng of notable nobles entered the hall, witnessing and learning of the unfolding events.
"Come and kneel before me, Damian, son of Rickard Stark," Robert commanded.
With a premonition of the significance, Damian descended to one knee before Robert, who held his hammer.
"Ned, may I borrow 'Ice' for a moment?" Robert inquired, turning to Eddard.
"Your wish is my command, your grace," Ned acquiesced, unsheathing House Stark's famed Valyrian sword, Ice, and presenting it to his royal friend. In exchange, he received Robert's hammer, allowing the king to knight Damian in the midst of the gathered audience.
Robert Baratheon, with solemnity matching the weight of the Valyrian steel in his hands, touched the sword, Ice, to Damian's right shoulder and then his left. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave," he intoned. Moving the blade to Damian's right shoulder once more, he continued, "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just." Shifting it to the left shoulder again, Robert declared, "In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent." Finally, the sword returned to Damian's right shoulder, and Robert concluded, "In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women."
"Rise, Ser Damian Stark, The Swift Wolf " Robert declared and dubbed Damia, signifying the completion of the sacred ritual.
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