allendalepharm Chapter 214 216: He Still Has Family
Chapter 214 216: He Still Has Family
"Seven hells! Look at all those heads!"
"Fifteen carts… sixteen… over twenty carts full of heads! How many men did the lord kill?!"
Back when Robert had only just taken the Iron Throne, Balon launched his rebellion. Even though it eventually failed, the ironborn won some early victories. They burned Lannisport and wrecked most of the Lannister fleet, then rampaged through the Westerlands.
Now Jon was bringing every single head of the ironborn who invaded the North back with him. It was both a show of force and a warning to keep the trade ships coming into Lannisport safe.
More than eight thousand heads were stacked into a giant pyramid in a special spot Jon had prepared.
To make it even more impressive, he'd ordered workers to build a twenty-foot-high rammed-earth pyramid first. Then they embedded the heads all over it.
Jon stood on a high platform overlooking the harbor, the massive pyramid of skulls and frozen faces right behind him. Thousands of pale, terrified, twisted expressions stared out like roof tiles from hell. It was the perfect warning to anyone thinking of causing trouble.
He raised his voice so every merchant from across the world and every local in Lannisport could hear:
"Pirates must be hunted down! Always! No mercy! A world without pirates is a better world!"
In Jon's vision, Lannisport could easily grow into a city of two or three hundred thousand people — maybe even four hundred thousand. The only thing holding it back was the constant threat from the Iron Islands. Once he fully conquered and absorbed the islands into the Westerlands, trade across the entire Sunset Sea would explode.
As Duke of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, Jon made his position clear. Then he prepared to head back to the Rock with Bran, Sansa, and the others.
Margaery had already come down to Lannisport to personally welcome the Stark children.
They were all still grieving Maester Luwin's death. To the Stark kids, the old maester had been family.
Even Arya was quiet and downcast.
Margaery was there both to greet them and comfort them. Her gentle words helped lift their spirits a little.
"Jon says you're pregnant," little Rickon asked, finally shaking off his sadness, "but why isn't your belly big yet?"
Margaery laughed softly while smoothing his messy hair. "Because he's still very small. All babies grow slowly inside their mothers. In another two or three months my belly will be huge."
Just then Jon arrived. Margaery kept her graceful smile perfectly in place, but her eyes burned with unmistakable heat when she looked at him.
Soon they all boarded the ship back to Casterly Rock. Once they were alone, the couple stole a few warm moments together. Margaery brought up something annoying:
"Alester wants to rename Lannisport. He wants to call it Stannisport."
"If we're changing the name," Margaery said, watching Jon carefully, "it should be Starkport. The entire Westerlands was won with our blood. What does the king in King's Landing have to do with it?"
"Call it whatever you want," Jon said generously. "Hell, call it Margaeryport if you like."
Margaery's face lit up with delight. She would've been even happier if his hands hadn't been wandering quite so boldly.
She caught his hand and continued, "You just won a huge victory. The Hand is going to be even more impatient. He'll demand a firm date for attacking the Iron Islands."
"You're right," Jon said. "We've got the ships and the men now. We can't keep stalling forever. I'll talk to him when we get back."
Meanwhile, inside Casterly Rock, Alester Florent had already received word of Jon's return. He'd even sent men to Lannisport to confirm the scale of the victory with their own eyes.
"Eight thousand ironborn annihilated, thirty galleys and three hundred longships captured," Alyn said. "Jon has crippled the rebels. Our next campaign should be much easier."
Since blood was thicker than water, Alester had summoned his son Alyn from Brightwater Keep. He wanted him close — both for military glory and for advice.
"Eddard Stark's two sons are both military talents," Alester said gravely, "but this Jon is clearly the better one. He's already divided the Westerlands into five counties and put his own people in charge. Do you understand what that means?"
"He's consolidating power?" Alyn answered, like a student being tested.
"More than that. He wants to completely erase the Lannister legacy and loosen the Iron Throne's grip on him!" Alester stood up suddenly. "He even let that Addam Marbrand keep the Lannister name. Mark my words — in time, when people hear 'Lannisport,' they'll think of the minor branch at Sarsfield, not Casterly Rock. Two hundred years from now, the Westerlands will still remember the name, but forget what it truly meant. This bastard's schemes are… unnatural."
Alyn looked genuinely shocked.
"So what do we do, Father?"
"House Florent cannot remain anyone's stepping stone," Alester said firmly. "We need our own victory soon. I want to see our banner flying beside King Stannis's on the walls of Pyke. Let Jon and his fleet take the lead. If he dies in battle… so much the better."
"Understood, Father."
Alyn agreed respectfully, though deep down he blamed his cousin Selyse. If she had given Stannis two healthy sons in three years, or three in five, House Florent wouldn't need to take these risks.
When Alyn first arrived at Casterly Rock, he couldn't hide the hunger in his eyes. He kept thinking how much better it would be if a Florent sat here instead.
Soon they learned Jon had returned. After preparations, Jon and Alester met once more.
"Lord Hand."
"Lord Duke."
After the formal greetings, Alester praised Jon's victory (while taking some credit as overall commander). Then he immediately pressed for a date to attack the Iron Islands.
Jon's answer disappointed him.
"Lord Hand, now is still not the best time to strike the Iron Islands."
"Why not?" Alyn burst out. "The Redwyne fleet is almost here. We outnumber them in both ships and men. The situation is clearly in our favor!"
"Because of sorcery," Jon said calmly. "Euron Greyjoy uses magic. I fear he'll set a trap for our fleet."
Before executing the ironborn prisoners, Jon had interrogated them. He learned Victarion had led the invasion. Yet no one had seen Victarion's body at Beheading Bay. Combined with what the warlocks told him, Jon was almost certain Euron had sacrificed his own brother.
That left Balon, Asha, and Aeron Greyjoy still alive on the islands.
"He still has family," Jon said. "If Euron sacrifices all three of them at once, he could summon a storm powerful enough to destroy our entire fleet."
"Magic? That's ridiculous!" Alyn shot to his feet, face twisted in disbelief.
He still remembered how Jon had coldly shut him down when he asked for the dragon egg for Selyse. He'd been waiting for a chance to push back.
Previously Jon had reasonable excuses — not enough ships, troops still gathering. But claiming "magic" now felt like an insult to their intelligence.
"Lord Duke," Alester said, smile gone, "serving the Iron Throne and putting down this rebellion is a great honor. I hope you won't use such… laughable excuses."
Jon remained perfectly calm. "When Euron attacked Winterfell, he used magic to create a blizzard. That's how he took the castle so easily. I'm telling you the truth. If he summons a storm at sea while our fleets face each other, we could end up like Stannis's fleet at Dragonstone. None of us want that."
"That was the gods' will!" Alyn snapped. "Completely different!"
"Enough," Jon said. "Lord Hand, you can write to King's Landing and ask Lady Melisandre herself. She may confirm my concerns."
The discussion about invading the Iron Islands ended in another stalemate. Alester was frustrated, but Jon had sounded so sincere he couldn't openly call him a liar.
"Father, should we write to King's Landing?"
"Of course not!" Alester growled. "His Grace gave us almost his entire remaining fleet. We can't go running to him for help before we've even started the war!"
"But what if Jon keeps refusing to move?"
"It doesn't matter," Alester said irritably. "He'll have to write to the king himself to explain. Then let His Grace decide."