Maekar returned to the ship with Theon bound and gagged. The crew and other soldiers looked at him in awe and respect. As he and Robb stepped onto the deck, they were met with thunderous cheers.
"Prince of Winter! Prince of Winter!" the crew chanted, their voices echoing across the water.
The cheers for Robb were equally deafening. "Bloody Wolf! Bloody Wolf!" they chanted, inspired by his terrifying appearance—covered in blood, not his own, but that of the Ironborn he had slain.
"Take this scum to the brig," he ordered, gesturing to Theon. The Ironborn prince was dragged away, met with jeers and curses from the crew.
"You look like you bathed in the blood of a thousand men," he said, turning to Robb.
"I did," Robb replied with a wink.
Maekar turned to the crew. "Now let us return to our home and celebrate our victory!" he yelled, raising his spear high.
More thunderous cheers erupted. Maekar looked to the sea and counted their ships; it seemed only a few had been damaged, and all were afloat. The Ironborn ships were either sunk or burning in frostfire.
The ships turned back towards Starkport, cheers and celebrations already starting. After a few hours, they sailed triumphantly into the harbor, the Stark banner fluttering in the breeze, signaling their hard-earned victory.
As they disembarked, the docks of Starkport were alive with activity. Townsfolk and soldiers alike gathered to welcome the victorious fleet. As Uncle Ned stepped on the docks, the people gathered around him, cheering.
"Lord of Greycliff!" "Hail to Eddard Stark!" "Long may he live!" "The Bane of the Ironborn!"
Their ship was docked, and as they were disembarking, Uncle Ned rushed to Robb and enveloped him in a big hug. He then proceeded to pull Maekar into a hug as well.
"Today, you have proven yourselves," Ned said, his voice filled with pride.
Around them, the men and townsfolk began chanting.
"Stark!" "Prince of Winter!" "Lord of Starkport!" "The Bloody Wolf!"
The air was filled with jubilant energy, the crowd's voices rising in a powerful chorus. Ned raised his hands, calling for silence.
"And now, we celebrate!" he declared.
The crowd roared again in approval, their cheers echoing through the streets. The celebrations began immediately, with musicians playing lively tunes and townsfolk dancing in the square. Fires were lit, and tables were quickly laden with food and drink.
Maekar and Robb stayed with the townsfolk while Uncle Ned left for the castle with Theon. After some time, some soldiers led them to a raised platform where they could address the crowd.
"Today, we showed the Ironborn that the North is not to be trifled with!" he declared, his voice strong and clear. "We fought bravely, we fought fiercely, and we emerged victorious!"
Robb stepped forward. "To the men who fought with us, and to those who supported us from home, this victory belongs to all of us!"
The cheering grew even louder, the crowd celebrating their shared triumph.
The celebrations continued long into the night, the streets of Starkport filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of mugs. The men and women of the North celebrated their victory, knowing that they had proven their strength and resilience to the world.
He watched the celebration with pride, knowing the part he played in it. His fame in the North was set in stone. In the future, he would need their support.
He looked forward to the months ahead. He would use the rebellion to gain glories and ensure that his name and fame would spread in the South as well. A small step in his ever-growing ambitions.
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.
He stood with Robb and Uncle Ned in the dungeons, ready to interrogate Theon. The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the smell of damp stone and blood. Theon, badly burned from the Frostfire, was brought before them, his face twisted in pain.
Theon glared at them, his voice hoarse as he spat out, "What monstrous weapon have you created?"
One of the guards struck him hard. "Do not speak, scum," the guard said, his voice filled with contempt.
Ned raised his hand, stopping the guard. "We know Lannisport has been sacked. Where else are you planning to attack?"
Theon spat at his uncle, his defiance unbroken.
Ned wiped the spit from his face, his expression unyielding. "I ask again. Where?"
Theon remained silent, his eyes full of hatred.
Uncle Ned nodded to the guard, who delivered a brutal blow to one of Theon's burns on his leg. Theon grimaced, but still, he said nothing. Another guard struck him again, the sound of the impact echoing through the dungeon.
Seeing it was not working, Maekar stepped forward, looking at Theon coldly. He drew a knife and held it up for Theon to see. "Take off his pants," he ordered.
Ned, Robb, and the others in the room looked at him, bewildered. "Maekar, what are you doing?" Robb asked, but Maekar ignored him.
He leaned in close to Theon, his voice a deadly whisper. "If you don't tell us, I am going to cut your cock off."
Theon's eyes widened in terror. The guards began to pull at his pants, but Theon yelled, "Stop! Stop! I'll tell!"
Maekar gestured for the guards to pause. "Then speak," he said.
Theon, shaking and terrified, began to spill everything. "We... We planned to attack the Riverlands and the Reach next. Maron and Rodrik were sent there. Victarion went to Lannisport, and Euron... Euron has a different plan. He's gone south for something... something secret. I don't know what it is."
Maekar sheathed his knife, stepping back.
"Take him back to his cell," Uncle Ned ordered the guards. "And make sure he's watched closely."
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Euron entered his cabin with a wide smile, his lips stained blue and wearing his Valyrian steel armor. The sight of him was enough to strike fear into anyone, but the woman tied to the chair near the table met his gaze defiantly. She was Elia Martell, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
"You may have captured me, but it won't matter," Elia said, her voice steady and full of resolve. "Your rebellion will fail."
Euron walked closer, his smile widening. He grabbed her head roughly, his fingers digging into her scalp. "I do not care for the rebellion. They can all die for all I care."
Elia's eyes widened in shock at his words. She had expected a madman, but this was something else entirely.
He let her go and went toward the table nearby. Her gaze shifted to the table as well, where a map of Westeros lay spread out. Skagos was marked with a large circle. She also noticed a large, ancient horn in the room, covered in Valyrian inscriptions.
"I did not abduct you for some futile attempt at winning this rebellion," Euron continued, his tone dripping with malice. "I did it to lure out your son."
Elia's shock turned to fury. "Leave my son alone! You will not lay a finger on him!"
Euron's smile turned cruel. "Do not worry. You will be meeting him soon enough. He is close; I can feel it. And when he is here, I will be one step closer to godhood."
He laughed maniacally, the sound echoing off the wooden walls of the cabin. Elia's defiance began to waver, replaced by a growing terror.