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Sitting in his makeshift throne, Balon fixated his gaze on the barred door on the opposite end of the hall from him. Beside him stood his daughter Asha, wearing leather armor and holding an axe. 'If only you had been born a man instead,' Balon lamented and sneered at her. 'Perhaps then I would've actually had a son I could be proud of. But no matter…she will serve her purpose here. I didn't summon her here to fight, as amusing as that would be to see. No. She's here for one reason only. To serve as a woman should serve: on her back or on her knees. And if that's what it takes to delay this…sorcerer, that I need to offer my want-to-be-son of a daughter to this fucking man, then so be it!'
On his other side stood Victarion, his stump of an arm wrapped in layers and holding an axe in his remaining hand. And beside him was Euron, who was standing on his feet but still under the effects of the milk of the poppy. 'A lame brother and a second dulled by the milk of the poppy, pathetic,' he thought, casting a look around the room at what was left of his men. 'And a dozen fuckers left. That's all I have. All I have left of my kingdom now. But all is not lost. Not yet. We may not have been able to buy as much time as necessary during the siege. But my men should've completed at least one of their tasks by now. I may have to be humiliated before Robert…But, in the end, he will come back to me, on his knees, begging for me to take back my crown!'
Just as the thought passed through his head of Robert on his knees before him, the screaming started. Screams. Pleas for mercy and for help as fists banned on the door from the opposite side. 'He got here faster than I thought,' Balon sneered, watching as his men cranked their crossbows and aimed them at the door. 'Perhaps there actually is something to the fucking farfetched tales that Euron and Victarion spun to excuse their failure in stopping him.'
All too soon, the screaming and pounding on the door abruptly ceased, leaving only silence. "Fucking deep hells," his daughter cursed, her stance fidgeting as she reaffirmed her hold on her axe. "He…He killed them so fucking quickly."
On his other side, Euron chuckled as he swayed in place. "He's the fucking avatar of the Storm-fucking-God. Simply…amazing. What secrets he holds…I need to know!"
Before Balon could reprimand his brother and daughter, the strangest sight happened. A red…glowing blade jabbed clean through the wood and steel of the door. Then the blade traveled down, slowly, cutting through every brace that was sealing the two doors shut. 'What fucking sorcery is th—?'
Without warning the blade retracted, disappearing as it reached the bottom of the doors. Then, the doors flew open without warning. The sudden force of them opening tossed the tables, chairs and wooden beams that'd been holding the doors shut across the room as if they'd been shot out from a scorpion. Balon ducked, as did his brothers and daughter. But some of his men were not so lucky as the wood and steel from the door and its braces impaled or knocked back over half his remaining men.
"Kill the fuc – ahhh!"
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it. But lightning and thunder shot forth out of the now open door, striking the man who'd shouted in the chest and throwing him back into the far wall with the force to break every bone in his body.
Two more of his men managed to recover and made to charge, but both stopped in their tracks as they suddenly grabbed their throats. Then they rose into the air, clutching at their throats as if they were being lifted by an unseen force. The sounds of their necks snapping hastened Balon's breath while he watched on helplessly as their limp bodies dropped back to the ground were, they lay motionless.
By the time Balon managed to get to his knees, his men were all but gone, leaving only himself, Asha, Euron, Victarion and two others. Then he saw him. And his breath caught in his lungs as he did. His boots echoing against the stone floor with each step he took. Cloaked in black, with black armor and gauntlets and mask that completely obscured his face from view. But it wasn't just his appearance. No. It was…his presence. It felt as if Balon was staring into the deepest abyss in the land. He never been one to admit his fear, but in this moment, Balon had never been more scared in his entire life.
"Fucking deep hells," his daughter gasped, her hand visibly shaking. "Die, you fucking sorcerer!"
Before he could stop her, his idiot daughter charged head long at the sorcerer. 'Stupid fucking cunt!' Balon wanted to scream as he watched his daughter run head long to her death. 'That isn't why I brought you out of your fucking room!'
When she was just a few paces away, Asha swung her axe, throwing all her weight behind it as the steel aimed straight for the man's neck. But just as Balon predicted, the steel never connected with flesh. But strangely enough, the man didn't use his magic to stop her. No, he simply caught her arm by the wrist, stopping her cold. "Interesting." The man's voice came from beneath the mask as if he were examining some strange oddity. "You have strength, girl. More than you know. But you are not ready to challenge me yet."
In the next instant, his fist flashed out, slamming into Asha's gut and doubling her over and sending her to all fours as it drove all the wind out of her lungs. "And if you stay as you are, then you never will be."
Balon had to give his daughter credit as she held onto her gut and glared up at the sorcerer. "You…killed my…brother."
The sorcerer's head tilted to the side. "Oh, I see. So, you are a Greyjoy. And your brother…Maron, yes? He did not survive the wounds he received then. But should you really be so surprised? Your brother tried to kill me first, after all."
"Enough!" Balon shouted, finally finding his voice. Standing up to his full height, Balon took a moment to straighten his robes as well as swallow his pride. 'I need this to work…' "You have clearly bested my men, sorcerer. You have made your way through the labyrinth that is the Pyke unscathed. That is commendable and impressive. So, let us make a deal."
The sorcerer stilled his hand, which Balon took as a good sign. "A deal?" The man questioned, his stance relaxing, which in turn made Balon relax ever so slightly. 'Good, he's open to the idea. This is the opening that I need.' "This should be interesting. Alright, Greyjoy, let's hear it. What kind of deal could you possibly offer me when I'm a few seconds away from ending your pathetic excuse for a rebellion?"
Straightening his clothes to buy himself a moment to collect his words, Balon made sure to look the man directly into his…well, where he assumed the man's eyes were located based on his helm. "The deal is this, sorcerer. We cannot beat you, that much is certain. But neither can Robert and his allies. All of whom are conveniently located here in my keep. Ripe for the pruning. You kill all of them, which I am sure you can do, then together we can wipe out the few straggling ships they have left, and the mainland will be ours to take."
The helmed sorcerer said not a word. He just stood there, silently. 'He hasn't outright rejected the offer,' Balon thought with hope. 'Which means he's considering it! And who wouldn't take the offer? This will raise him far above his status that he currently has as a Stark lapdog. Of course, the moment he finishes off Robert and the mainland lords that are here in the Pyke, I'll simply kill him while his back is turned, but he doesn't have to know that.'
"I see what you get out of this offer, Balon," the sorcerer rumbled. "But I fail to see how such an offer benefits me. Especially as I would have to be the one to do all the work, and you would be the one to reap all the rewards. Why should I even begin to entertain this offer from you?"
"Because, through me, you will raise far above your current station," Balon said greedily. 'I have him; hook and line. Now I just need to add the sinker and it will be done.' "Once the mainland is under my – our – control, I will name you Warden of whichever plot of land you wish. And I will give you my daughter at your feet to do with as you wish. Be it a salt wife, rock wife, or just something to take out and play with once and a while. She will be yours to do with as you please."
The sorcerer's head turned down towards his daughter, who was glaring back at Balon with anger and betrayal written across her face. "Your daughter doesn't seem pleased with your offer, Greyjoy."
Balon merely shrugged. "She is a woman. She has a good head on her shoulders, it is true. And she can fight as well – or almost as well – as boys her age. But in the end, she is still a woman, and this is her purpose. Well, sorcerer, what do you say? Do we have a deal, so—?"
Coughing, Balon reached up to rub at his throat. But as he did, his throat closed. It felt as if something invisible had taken hold of him and was squeezing his throat. Gasping desperately for air, Balon fell to his knees, clutching at his throat as he tried to remove whatever it was that had a hold of him. Looking around the hall, he tried to call out for help, but no one came. His brothers were both standing completely still as they watched him struggle to breathe. The men around the room were refusing to meet his eyes as they tried to stay as insignificant as possible. Lastly, his eyes desperately sought out his daughter. But Asha… Asha was just watching him struggle with the slightest of smiles on her face.
Lastly, his eyes went to the sorcerer. Who had his hand held up, cupped as if he were gripping something? 'How?!' Balon thought desperately as he struggled to get even the smallest amount of air into his lungs. His vision was quickly starting to darken as the world around him began to get fuzzy and incoherent. 'How is he doing this?!'
"Be careful that you don't…choke on your ambitions, Greyjoy." Somehow, the sorcerer's words managed to pierce the darkening fuzzy of his mind. Then, finally, the pressure let off of his throat, and Balon collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, greedily sucking in air.
"What…the…fuc—"
Balon had been flogged in the past. He'd been beaten bloody by the Captain of the first ship he'd served on for overstepping his bounds. But never had he felt anything like what happened next. There was a flash of light, and then pain shot through every part of his body. He could hear…someone screaming. Someone…that turned out to be himself. A scream he didn't even realize he'd given because the pain was so overbearing.
Without warning, the pain stopped. Gasping for air and trying to fight through it, Balon slowly tired to scoot backwards away from the sorcerer. Glancing around, he desperately sought out someone – anyone! – to help him. But all fight had left his men in the face of the sorcerer. 'By the Drowned God…He has been blessed by the storm!'
"You forgot something very vital when trying to make a deal, Greyjoy," the sorcerer's voice was deep and menacing as he advanced on Balon. "You need to have an advantage to hold your position. Right now, you have none. The only thing you can offer me is a plot of a land and your daughter to basically be my sex slave. The first I can get on my own. I need only ask. And the second… Well, I have never been one to force someone into my bed. I never will take someone against their will. And, quite frankly, I find those that are willing to sell their daughters into such a life to be the lowest scum imaginable. Unworthy of the very air they breathe."
He felt something grab him around the chest, but when he looked, he found nothing. Even as he was hoisted up into the air like a sail on ship with his feet just barely off the ground, Balon still couldn't figure out just how this was happening. Or even what was happening to him.
The claw-like gauntlet of the sorcerer grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to stare into the unseeing eyes behind the man's helmet. 'Impossible! How, how can he see?!' "Luckily for you, Balon, King Baratheon ordered me to bring you to him alive." Balon felt an undeniable surge of relief for a moment, but that moment passed quickly as the sorcerer's grip, both visible and invisible, tightened. "However, he failed to specify in just what shape you were to be in when I brought you to him. So, my advice to you, Balon, is to pray to your gods. For that is the only thing that you can do now."
Standing on the bridge on the mainland side of the Pyke, Ned Stark stared up at the fairly imposing sight of the Great Keep of the Pyke. It wasn't the structure itself that made it imposing, but rather it's layout. The only way to reach the Great Keep was to cross the large stone bridge that connected the keep to the mainland. The problem was that the bridge had no cover and the Great Keep had more than a few places that Ned could spot that could easily hide archers or scorpions.
"Well, the gatehouse fell quickly enough," Robert sighed, almost seemingly disappointed with just how…simple the siege had been to this point. "I expected better of the Ironborn than this pathetic showing."
"I believe we have the sorcerer to thank for the low morale of the krakens, your grace," Lord Tywin said, standing on the other side of the Robert as the three men surveyed their next target. "If not for him and his initial assault, the fight would've been significantly more difficult. However, without him with us, the taking of the Great Keep will be costly."
"Yeah, you're right on that one, Tywin," Robert grumbled, spitting off the side. "Well, Ned, where the fuck is that fucking sorcerer of yours? I'm sure he could take this fucking keep just as easily as he took the damned gatehouse."
Ned felt something, a stirring of the wolfsblood. Something—no, someone was coming towards them from within the Great Keep. And Ned only knew of one individual that could cause such a sensation within the blood. "I do not believe we will have to worry about that, your grace," Ned stated, pointing towards the Great Keep. "If I am not mistaken, I believe that the Greyjoys have already fallen."
Before either Robert or Tywin could question him, one of the shuttered windows over twenty feet directly above the stone bridge flew open as one, then another, and then a third body were thrown out of the window and down to the stone bridge below. Looking back up towards the open window, the two Lords and King watched as Nox's frame filled the opening. Then, as if he didn't care about the distance, Nox simply stepped off the edge and dropped down to the bridge, his fall slowing unnaturally at the last possible moment and allowing him to land as gracefully and quietly as a cat.
"Well…pay me a gold fucking dragon and call me a whore," Robert grumbled, shaking his head. "The fucker apparently did it. Well, what the hell we waiting for, eh? Barristan! Kingslayer! Get your useless fucking asses up here already!"
At the name, Ned saw the quick look of contempt Tywin gave him before the Lord of the Westerlands focused forward and proceeded to ignore him. Ned regretted many things in his life, and one thing he mildly regretted was giving Ser Jamie the moniker that had stuck with him. The man had killed the king he was sworn to, so he'd earned the title. But at the same time no one, not even Ned, had ever actually questioned why the man had done what he did. Not that Kingslayer even seemed of mind to tell them even if they had. The man didn't seem to simply care what he had done nor what people called him behind and in front of him. And his uncaring attitude, not to mention Ned's feeling of being robbed of the justice that he was due, was what stayed his tongue.
With the two Kingsguard in front of them, along with over two dozen knights of House Baratheon forming a shield wall in front of the King, he, Lord Tywin, and Ned made their way across the stone bridge towards the sorcerer. As they drew close, Ned noticed something strange about Nox. He had a sword pummel sticking out over his right shoulder. A sword that Ned knew full well Nox didn't have at the start of the battle. 'Nox never carried a sword before. He has no need of one with the…lightsaber he carries. So, why does he carry one now?'
"Well, sorcerer," Robert called out, pushing his way past the Kingsguard and his men to stand before Nox and his three prisoners. "Where the fuck have you been? And who the fuck are these three sods?"
Reaching up, Nox disengaged his mask from his face, the metal making a strange hiss as it released, revealing his face to all. 'Gods, he doesn't even look tired after all of this? Just how powerful is he?' "Your grace," Nox responded, bowing his head slightly in a show of respect. "I've been winning this war for you and your men. And as for these three, may I present to you Balon, Euron and Victarion Greyjoy. Alive and in one piece, as requested… Well…mostly one piece."
Looking down at the three prisoners, whose arms were shackled with what looked like metal rings that'd been repurposed and bent around their arms, Ned took note of their condition. Each man was not in good shape. Euron had a seared slash across his face that had clearly destroyed one of his eyes, the wound more than likely from Nox's lightsaber. Victarion was battered and bruised and was missing an arm. And for Balon, the Lord of the Pyke's neck was starting to bruise and was twitching periodically as if he couldn't fully control his body. 'Gods…Perhaps Robert should've been more specific about what condition he wanted the Greyjoys to be delivered to him in. Although, I can't find it in myself to pity them. Not after all of the innocent deaths they've caused in this ill-conceived rebellion of theirs.'
"Fucking hells, sorcerer," Robert chuckled, looking the three prisoners over. "If you keep this shit up, I might just have to find a spot for you in my council, despite your Valyrian looks."
Nox merely nodded as he took a step back. "I gave you my word that I would see this war over quickly, your grace. And I'm a man of my word."
"That you are," Robert nodded before stepping up to Balon Greyjoy. The Lord the Pyke was still twitching slightly as Robert squatted down in front of the would-be King. "Well, Greyjoy, here we are. I would love to know what possibly made you think that you could say 'fuck you' to me in a such a fashion. But truth is I don't care. You've fucked up, and now you're going to pay for it."
Balon glared hatefully at Robert for a full minute, and then he started chuckling. A low growling noise that quickly grew to a full laugh. "You think you've won? Ha! What a fucking joke!" Balon spat. "This victory is not yours, Robert! You had nothing to do with it! This is all because of…him. The sorcerer fuck that your pet dog has on a leash! And, even then, you still haven't won! Because before you leave my island, you will come to me on your hands and knees begging for me to take my fucking crown back, you whore-mongering drunkard!"
Ned cast a quick look towards his King and friend. Robert's face was starting to turn red as he glared at Balon. "Sorcerer…this piece of shit is talking. Shut him up for me."
"As you wish."
The moment Robert gave the command, Nox idly pointed a finger towards Balon. A small bolt of lightning, almost insignificant compared to the bolt he'd summoned at the start of the battle, shot forth out of his finger and hit Balon in the chest. The Lord of the Pyke screamed in agony, an ungodly sound that Ned was sure would haunt his dreams for nights to come. The torture, for that was what it was, lasted for only a moment before Nox let go of his attack and Balon slummed forward, his body twitching.
'So that is why…How many times did Nox use that…magic against him before he brought him to Robert?' As a rule, Ned despised torture, especially after what happened to his father and brother, but he wasn't a fool. He knew that as a Lord – and especially a King – sometimes you needed to go to extreme lengths. He himself had ordered a few men tortured since his ascension to Warden of the North. But while he might understand its usage, it didn't mean he liked it in the least.
Robert seemed surprised, but even more than slightly pleased at seeing the Lord of the Pyke and leader of the Greyjoy Rebellion suffering so. And as for Lord Tywin, the man was completely stone faced. But Ned could see the interest clear as day in the Warden of the West's eyes. 'I cannot let Nox fall into his hands. No doubt Tywin will offer him something in the future to try and tempt him into his service. But I cannot let that happen. I'll need to think of how Tywin might approach him, and what I can do to counter any offer that Tywin will give him.'
"Huh, well, that's one way to shut him up," Robert chuckled, leaning over the twitching Greyjoy. "Now, Balon, kneel. Your fleet is destroyed, and your army scattered. You have nothing left. Kneel, and I will show you and your family mercy."
Glaring up with hate-filled eyes, Balon spat at Robert's feet. "I will never kneel to you! You've already lost! You just don't know it yet! But soon…oh, so soon, you will know! Perhaps I'll order you to kill this fucking sorcerer first before you give me back my crown!"
Scoffing, Robert stood back up. "I don't fucking play games, Greyjoy. What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Oh, how forgetful of me," Nox suddenly spoke up as he began patting at the outside of his clothes and armor before reaching into the inner recesses of his robes. Ned may not have known him for long, but he did recognize when Nox was doing something for performance's sake. And this was such a time. "Ah, here it is!"
Withdrawing his hand, Ned saw he had a raven's scroll in his hand. He couldn't make out the emblem on the scroll as Nox handed it off to Robert, but Ned had a feeling he knew what contents of the scroll were. "The night before our forces arrived at the walls of the Pyke, I made a trip back to Lordsport. When I arrived, the Maester of Lordsport informed me that he'd just received a raven from Dragonstone, and I offered to take the message to you."
Breaking open the seal, Robert unrolled the small scroll and read its contents. His eyes grew wider and wider with each word read, and by the end his eyes were as wide as Ned had ever seen them and his face was an impressive shade of red. "Kingslayer!" Robert bellowed. "Get my brother Stannis here now!"
Ser Jamie, sensing Robert's clear displeasure, immediately set off to do as commanded. While he did, Balon's smile grew even wider and Ned could swear he could feel the sensation of victory coming off the man. "Are you going to beg ye—?"
"Sorcerer," Robert cut in, making Balon quiet with the one word. "He opens his mouth again, do that lightning thing again. Only next time hold him under for twice as long. And each time he opens his mouth again, hold him under for even longer."