A Dragon Kissed by Sun

Jason

He was shaken awake suddenly. Snapping open his eyes, he saw that it was only the young maester, Willem. He had a frantic look upon his face. Turning to the window, Jason saw that it was just past dawn.

"What is it, Maester Willem?"

"My lord," he said out of breath, "it's the coastal villages. They're being raided."

Jason sprung upward in his bed, "raided? By whom?"

The maester shook his head, "we can't be sure yet, my Lord, but a raven sent from one of the villages would suggest it's the Ironborne.

"The Ironborne?" Jason was puzzled. "This can" t be."

"I'm afraid it looks that way, at the moment."

Jason Mallister swept his legs over the edge of his bed and climbed out of it. He had not yet married, so he occupied his chamber with nobody, and perhaps that was for the best, as his bedchamber was round and small, the walls solid stone and only one window, with gave a commanding view of the town of Seagard and the sea below. This was the main reason Jason had commanded this be made up to be his bedchamber, as he had no time for style or comfort.

"Leave me, Maester Willem, I shall be down soon."

Willem bowed his head and hurried off out of the room.

Ironborne, thought Lord Jason in disbelief; how could this have possibly happened?

The Greyjoys had remained neutral during King Robert's rebellion which had ended six years ago, a fact few lords forgot. Of course, once the Targaryans were gone and Robert named king, the Greyjoys bent the knee like everyone else.

Jason changed into something lordly yet bland and exited his bedchamber, passing down the winding steps at a fast walk, taking them two at a time. Once he reached the bottom of the staircase, he flung open the heavy wooden door and entered the main hall.

Standing in the middle of the sparse hall was Maester Willem and Patrek, solemn looks on both their faces. Patrick was young, only ten and seven, but he carried an air of confidence and intelligence about him that made Jason proud. He will make a good lord one day.

Morning light poured through the tall windows high above, and a chill was in the air.

Jason approached the two men, "you are certain of this?" he asked, looking from both Maester Willem to his son Patrick.

Willem nodded solemnly. He was always quite serious and grim for his age of five and twenty, a young age to be considered a maester. "Reports indicate as much."

Jason rubbed his brow and closed his eyes. Damn the Greyjoys! The sons of whores they are!

"If this is indeed true, than the Iron Throne must know about it immediately. Maester Willem, send two ravens to King's Landing informing the king of this. I don't want a raven getting lost. This may not be as serious as it seems, but in the case that it is, I'd rather the king know of it."

"As you command," the maester answered and strode towards the staircase leading up to the rookery.

Jason turned to his son, "Patrek, take three ships and investigate this matter. If you do happen to come across any Greyjoy fleets and they are more in several sizes to your own, do not take the risk. Turn back for Seagard immediately. If you can handle it, however, destroy the bastards" ships."

"Yes, father," said Patrick gravely.

"While you're gone, I'll muster the rest of our strength to defend the shores of Seagard. These bastards won" t take it without a fight; you can be sure of that."

Aeron

It was near dusk when the ships pulled into Lannisport. There was a mild breeze, and the sun was beginning to lower on the horizon, casting shadows all across the city. Waves crashed lightly against the hull of Aeron's ship, the foam spraying up to the deck.

Towers of cream and orange brick rose up from the city's walls, its ramparts patrolled by men in chainmail and golden cloaks. The reflection from the sun glistened off their helms. The city's gates were open, with townsfolk and fisherfolk steaming in and out of the city. Carts and wagons clacked over the smooth stone streets outside the gates, and whores and soldiers alike walked it.

But the only concern of Aeron and the Iron Fleet was the royal fleet, a total of sixty large ships lining the port, its crew coming on and off the galleys carrying barrels and crates.

Of the entire Iron Fleet, made up of one hundred ships, Victarian had commanded fifty to go the Lannisport to set fire to the royal fleet of the Iron Throne. Only had the entire force of the Iron Fleet been needed for the task, as Victarian would have the element of surprise on his side.

The shouts of "steer into port!" could be heard from the ships closest to Aeron's, so Aeron echoed this to his own crew as well. The forty oars on his ship adjusted the course to the where the royal fleet was docked, following the lead of the Iron Victory, Aeron's brother Victorian's ship, which was at the head of the fleet.

Another few minutes and all sixty ships of the detachment of the Iron Fleet had entered the port, and we're quickly approaching the unmoving royal fleet. Shouts could be heard from land by the City Watch and townsfolk alike as they spotted the invading fleet. From where Aeron's fleet was, bringing up the right flank, his brother's Iron Victory was the first ship to engage the fighting.

Arrows were let loose from the deck, striking the City Watchmen closest to the edge of the port. They fell to the ground, their pikes clattering to the ground next to them. The remaining City Watchmen turned and ran to the city's gates, shouting out either orders or pleas.

The black-sailed Grief, captained by Rodrik Sparr, which was bringing up the left flank just behind the Iron Victory, joined in with a volley of arrows, bringing down anybody that was still outside the city gates. By this time, the Iron Victory had docked, and its crew were streaming off the ship, swords, axes, and flaming brands being wielded above their heads. Cries of Greyjoy! and Iron Islands! were let loose.

When Aeron's ship was close to as close as it could get to land, he ordered his crew to throw grappling hooks over onto the nearest ship of the royal fleet. As he walked the deck, men ran back and forth, taking up arms and preparing to board the other ship. Aeron himself took up a flaming brand in one hand and a dirk in the other.

When the two ships collided with a light crash, Aeron shouted, "Board it! Board the bitch!"

His crew began vaulting the rails and running aboard the ship of the royal fleet. The only onboard crew were loading on stock and provisions, so they were unprepared for combat, but that meant nothing to Aeron or Victarian. The Ironborne crew cut them down all the same, sword and axe and dirk stabbing and slashing.

An ageing, long-haired fisherman tried to dart past Aeron and dive into the sea, but one swift slash from his dirk and the man's throat was opened from ear to ear, blood spurting out and the fool collapsing to the deck.

The Iron Victory and Grief crews had now boarded other ships as well, but from the ground, not from their own ships. Victorian's crew had already set the ship they were burning, and they were now leaving that ship to board another.

Aeron turned back to his own crew. "Burn it!" he shouted, "burn it all!"

Stannis Baratheon

The small council had been called on an urgent matter, so Stannis had wasted no time in attending it. He was not the first to arrive, finding the king, his Hand and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard already seated.

"Your Grace," Stannis Baratheon bowed his head.

"Brother," answered Robert, not in any particular fondness, "be seated."

Stannis found his seat next to Ser Barristan Selmy, nodding in greeting as he sat.

Robert was visibly impatient; his eyes were narrowed, and he was breathing heavily. "Where are the rest, damn 'em?"

"I recall Lord Renly saying he had business to attend to," said Jon Arryn.

"Business?" repeated the king, "whatever business he's attending I can guarantee you it's not more bloody important than this business!"

The Hand of the King shrugged and grimaced.

It was another five minutes before the rest of the council arrived, led by Lord Petyr Baelish, with Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys following. Renly took his seat last next to Stannis and had an easy grin on his face. "This must be an matter if you've attending, Your Grace," he joked.

Robert was not amused, "The royal fleet stand afire in Lannisport and you jest with me?"

Renly lowered his eyes and said nothing more.

When Robert didn't continue speaking, Jon explained the situation. "At dusk yesterday, a large force of Ironborne ships arrived in Lannisport. They proceeded to cut down anybody in sight on the port and set fire to the entire royal fleet."

Stannis heard Varys sigh, "terrible, these Ironborne..."

Robert eyed Varys before saying, "the sons of whores have taken it upon themselves to launch some sort of surprise attack on us. Lord Jason Mallister sends word from Seagard that he's spotted smaller raids along the coast. He's dispatched his son to deal with them, but he thought we should know."

For a short while, nobody at the table said anything until Stannis broke the silence. "What is your command, Your Grace?"

Robert sighed and answered, "if it's war these fools want, it's war they'll get."

"Perhaps, said Jon, "we may command Seagard to hold the forces and deal with them."

"No," answered Robert firmly, "these Greyjoy's think they can rebel? I'll serve them what all rebels get."

Stannis suppressed the urge to tell his brother that he once was a rebel as well. He dare not challenge his elder brother and the king like that.

"Perhaps it would be best to learn more about these assaults first, Your Grace," suggested Baelish. "If we throw all of our forces at them at once blindly, we may not know what it is they have planned."

"We'll learn that soon enough, Lord Baelish, believe me," said the king. "One way or the other."

Lord Baelish nodded curtly and said no more.

Varys decided now was the time to speak up. "Your Grace," he intoned, "my little birds suggest that the reason behind this violence may be because Balon Greyjoy, lord of Pyke, has been crowned King of the Iron Islands."

Robert did not look pleased. "Yet you wait until now to say anything about, Lord Varys?"

Varys raised his powdered hands in hopelessness, "I'm afraid I was not sure how much stock to put in it, Your Grace."

The king rubbed his brow, "if this is true, he'll have to be crushed right away, him and his damned rebellion."

"Your Grace," Stannis spoke up, "give me command of our fleet, and I'll bring the Iron Throne" s wrath upon the traitors."

Robert seemed to approve, "very well, you shall have command of it." He turned to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Ser Barristan, you will have command of a force to subdue Old Wyk. I admit I know little enough of the Iron Islands, but I do know that Old Wyk is key to holding the Islands."

Ser Barristan nodded solemnly, "as you command, Your Grace."

King Robert finally turned to the Grand Maester, "Pycelle, you'll send ravens to the Houses Stark, Lannister and Tully. I want them alert of this and told to rally their forces and their bannermen's forces near Seagard."

"Yes yes, very good Your Grace," sputtered Pycelle, stroking his long beard as he answered.

"Very well," finished Robert. "This council is over. Get to it."

The Small Council stood and dispersed.

Jorah Mormont

He wrapped his dark wool cloak tighter around him. A light rain had started to patter down, and the growing wind made him cold to the bone. He walked among the tall pine trees, the dark green leaves rustling gently above him. It often made him feel at peace to simply walk among the trees and undergrowth, listening to the calm, quiet sounds of nature. Bear Island was the only home he had ever known, and he loved it, despite all its shortcomings.

A small stream ran between the trees from one end of the island to the other. Tiny fish jumped and swam in it while rabbits darted between trees and bushes. Jorah Mormont stood motionless for a few minutes, looking around and taking it all in. Despite being Lord of Bear Island, he often had a lot of time to himself. Usually, he spent much time wandering the island and being by himself. Bear Island was a large island but sparse, mainly filled with forest. The cold and location also made it somewhat undeliverable for travellers. Most people who came to the North often went straight to Winterfell, not bothering with any other Houses or their seats.

When the cold became more intense and the rain heavier, Jorah decided to turn back and head to the hall. It was a simple hall, made of massive logs and little else. Despite this, it offered warmth and a place to shelter from the harsh conditions.

Jorah passed the carving of a woman in a bearskin with a babe suckling at her breast in one arm and a battleaxe in the other. It often made him think of his aunt, Maege Mormont, who had five daughters and was known as short-tempered and stubborn.

Going through the simple stone and wood gates, Jorah entered the hall to be greeted with a gush of warmth. There were several hearths lit along the walls. The long oak benches and tables stretched down the length of the hall, where the Lord of Bear Island" s seat was situated at the back wall. Only a couple of people sat on the benches having quiet conversations.

As Jorah walked down the hall was heard his name shouted. He turned to see his aunt Maege approaching him. "Jorah, a word, if you would."

"Aye," he answered, meeting her down the hall.

"We've just got a raven from Winterfell, where they also got a raven, but from King's Landing."

This piqued Jorah" s curiosity. It was pretty rare to get word from Winterfell, let alone words passed on from the Iron Throne itself. "Tell me, aunt."

"Balon Greyjoy's crowned himself King of the Iron Islands. He's started raiding the villages off the coast of Fair Isle and has burnt down the royal fleet in Lannisport."

Jorah looked at her alarmingly, "surely the crown is doing something about this."

"Indeed they are. The king's called forth the Great Houses Stark, Lannister and Tully. Each House was to inform their bannermen of this and call them forth to action."

"And that's what was in the letter from Winterfell?"

"Aye, they're summoning us by the word of the king to amass near Seagard."

A battle. A chance for glory.

"Then Bear Island shall go," answered Lord Jorah Mormont.

Jason

"M'lord!"

Jason Mallister turned to see a soldier with a grey eagle printed on purple, the sigil of House Mallister, rushing towards him. He was wearing his sword at his waist and was panting.

"What is it? What's happened?"

Between gasping breathes, the soldier answered, "a... force of... Ironborne ships... have landed... at the shore below... my Lord..."

Seven hells, so soon.

"What are their numbers?" Jason demanded.

"Allan reckons... about ten ships... maybe three hundred... footmen."

"Have our forces engaged in battle with them as of yet?"

"Our archers have managed to hold them back for now, but soon they'll be in the town."

"Gather the rest of the garrison and tell them to head down to the shore to assist the archers in holding the Ironborne."

"Yes m'lord."

"Where is my son? Has he returned to Seagard yet?"

"Your son is the one commanding the archers at the moment, m'lord."

"Good, go do as I have commanded now."

"Yes m'lord." The soldier turned and ran back the way he had come.

Jason had at least hoped that Patrek's counterattack on the Ironborne would hold them back for longer, but that seemed to be not the case. Seagard" s garrison numbered to five hundred, nearly a third more than the invading Ironborne, but Jason knew better than to underestimate them.

Leaving the main hall, he found Maester Willem in his chamber, hunched over his desk and scribbling on notes. He looked up when Jason entered. "My lord."

Jason cut to the point. "The Ironborne have landed earlier than I expected. Three hundred of them. I need you to send a raven to the king or whoever" s closest that they must hurry here."

Willem dropped his quill and stood up, "right away." The maester rushed up the narrow winding stairway at the side of the chamber that led to the rookery.

Jason Mallister left the chamber and hurried along the hall, desperate to reach his son and the garrison before it was too late.

Aeron

Aeron sat in Crumbling Rock, cursing Stannis Baratheon. Victarion and Euron had just destroyed Tywin's fleet and had started raiding the Reach. Rodrik was on his way to Seaguard, but they had been forced to turn back because of House Crakehall's forces.

Stannis had been waiting for the Royal fleet near Fair Isle, and he and his brother were shocked by how quickly he had made it. He had just jumped from the Iron Victory and made a move on the Golden Storm.

One of his men was killed, while the others were sent away. The force of the spearmen had destroyed his ship, and it had also fallen through one of the new holes that had been added to it. He had also fallen through one of the beams that connected his ship to the mast.

His brother would sell him out if it meant winning the Iron Islands. Even though his brother had already lost a third of the fleet, they still had the advantage of having Euron raiding the Shield Islands.

Aeron pointed at the man, who had been sent from the Islands several years. Balon had been gathering great-grandchildren and other relatives of the Greenlanders to create a spy ring. Many spies and saboteurs had been sent from the Islands to gather intelligence.

Several weeks ago, three people from Lannisport went back to the Islands, claiming that they had a family. A man and another individual stayed in the cell to report the old lion, who had already left.

Aeron rubbed his wrists as he smiled at the man. "What is the plan now?" "We are to switch to plan three, My Lord." That caused Aeron to raise his eyebrows; preparing three was only supposed to be used if they had failed on multiple fronts.

"Why are we switching to plan three?" The man bowed his head before giving him a look of sympathy. "Your nephew, Lord Rodrik, had been slain at Seaguard by Lord Jason Mallister."

"WHAT!!"

"My Lord you must be quiet." Aeron calmed himself, as much as he could, and asked the question again. "Why did he not withdraw, he knew that if me and Victarion were unable to reach the Oldstones he was to return to Pyke."

"What the survivors say is that he believed he did not need to wait for help from the other Lords. He ordered his entire force to attack in broad daylight; the Booming Tower was able to see them several miles out and rang it's great bell. Jason Mallister was able to form a defence that your nephew was unable to break. He lost over half his forces on just the beach; almost two-thirds of his men were dead by the time the retreat was sounded, with nearly half of the remaining captured. The few that we're able to escape have set course for the Cape Kraken and Blazewater Bay; they await your arrival to attack."

"What other drawbacks have we suffered?"

"Soldiers of House Umber caught our raiders; they were unable to make it to Winterfell and take Starks daughter hostage.

"Can we not just send another force?" At that, the man grew angry. "Those damn fools didn't listen to your brothers orders. While they wore patched furs and came from towards the wall they brought steel weapons with them." Aeron rubbed his palms into his eyes at that; the plan had been to make it look like a Wildling kidnapping to waste the Starks man and time on a fruitless search. "I assume he has increased the guards around his children?"

"They each have four guards with them at all times, and they have been forbidden from leaving Winterfell's walls. Their preparations have been completed, and the Northern host marches for High Heart with over ten thousand men."

"Is there anything good to hear?" The man smirked at him. "Actually, Lord Eddard announced while his Lords were gathered.

"His nephew rides for Moat Cailin to inspect it."

"And this matters why?"

"He is taking only a small amount of men my Lord, in order to travel fast. They will also have Barbrey Dustin, what's better than a defenseless woman." Aeron smiled at the man's words, it might not have been their first choice in hostages, but they would make it work.

"Then we best get on our way, by this time next month we shall have Benjen Stark's heir and wife at our mercy and the North shall be forced to behave themselves." "Perhaps we can finally take back Bear Island, it was made for Ironborn after all."

"It was indeed." The pair laughed as they both donned their black cloaks; they had a boy and woman to capture.