Chapter 29: The Kraken's Fall, The Hawk's Shadow Deepens
The royal fleet, a vast conglomeration of Westeros's maritime strength, bore down on the Iron Islands with the promise of fire and retribution. Lord Admiral Stannis Baratheon, his face a mask of grim determination, commanded from his flagship, Fury. Among his squadron commanders, Lord Ellys Vorant, the Hawk of Stonefang, stood apart. His black-sailed armada, fresh from its brutal subjugation of Old Wyk and the extermination of House Drumm, radiated an aura of chilling efficiency. Vorhax himself, now openly wielding the crimson-rippled Valyrian steel sword Red Rain, was a figure of both legend and profound unease amongst his fellow lords.
The immediate aftermath of the Old Wyk "pacification" had been a storm of its own within the command structure. Stannis, incandescent with a cold, righteous fury, had confronted Vorhax directly upon his return to the main fleet.
"You were authorized to neutralize a threat, Lord Vorant, not to engage in the wholesale slaughter of a noble house, however rebellious!" Stannis had ground out, his voice tight with barely suppressed rage. "Your actions are a stain upon the King's justice, a descent into barbarism!"
Vorhax, impassive, Red Rain sheathed at his hip, had met Stannis's glare without flinching. "Lord Admiral, the Ironborn are barbarians. They understand only strength and the iron price. I paid that price on Old Wyk to ensure its rebellious heart beats no more. It was a surgical removal of a cancer, saving the greater body of this fleet from future infection and costly attrition. My methods are… direct. And they are effective."
King Robert, when apprised of Stannis's formal complaint, had merely laughed, already buoyed by the news of a key Ironborn stronghold falling so swiftly. "Gods, Stannis, still harping on that? The Hawk did what needed doing! Fewer squid bastards to fight, I say! Vorant gets results, and that's all that matters in war!" This royal dismissal further embittered Stannis, deepening the chasm between the brothers and solidifying Stannis's conviction that Vorhax was a lawless tyrant whom Robert was too blind or too pragmatic to properly constrain. Jon Arryn, the Hand, had looked deeply troubled by the reports but was preoccupied with the overall strategy of ending the rebellion swiftly.
Now, the full might of the Seven Kingdoms (or at least, those loyal to Robert) was arrayed against Pyke, Balon Greyjoy's jagged, sea-swept fortress. The island was a maze of towers perched on stone stacks, connected by swaying rope bridges, a nightmare for any conventional besieging army.
In the King's war council aboard Robert's flagship, King Robert's Hammer, Vorhax offered his characteristically insightful, if unsettling, counsel. While other lords debated the merits of a prolonged naval blockade versus a direct, bloody assault, Vorhax, using maps drafted from Nyx's daring aerial surveys and intelligence gathered by his agents (some of whom had even infiltrated Pyke itself disguised as common Ironborn), pointed to specific structural weaknesses in the causeways and the lesser-defended sea caves beneath the main keep.
"Lord Balon believes his fortress impregnable due to its fragmented nature," Vorhax stated, his voice cutting through the din. "He expects assaults on the main gates or a siege to starve them out. But his true weakness lies here," he tapped a point on the map indicating a series of lesser sea-towers connected by older, less maintained bridges, "and here," pointing to a network of sea caves that, according to his intelligence, led close to the foundations of the Great Keep.
He proposed a multi-pronged assault: a feint by the main fleet to draw defenders to the primary harbor, while a detachment of his Obsidian Guard marines, using his swift longships, would launch a surprise night attack on the western sea-towers, severing key bridges and creating a beachhead. Simultaneously, another elite unit, perhaps utilizing the experimental "alchemical breaching charges" he had developed (crude but potent black powder devices), could attempt to penetrate the sea caves and strike at the foundations of the Great Keep itself, sowing chaos from within.
Robert, eager for action and glory, and always appreciative of Vorhax's aggressive, unconventional thinking, readily approved the plan. Stannis, though meticulously planning the naval blockade and bombardment, watched Vorhax's briefing with a hawk's own intensity, his mind no doubt dissecting every detail for hidden motives.
The Siege of Pyke was a brutal, grinding affair. The royal fleet bombarded the castle relentlessly, catapults and trebuchets hurling massive stones that smashed against Pyke's ancient towers. Ironborn longships, sallying from hidden coves, fought with desperate ferocity but were systematically hunted down by Stannis's organized patrols and Vorhax's swift, black-sailed hunters.
Vorhax's part in the main assault was executed with terrifying precision. Under the cover of a stormy night, his Obsidian Guard marines, their black armor making them phantoms against the dark sea and stone, effected a near-impossible landing at the base of the targeted western sea-towers. Using specialized grappling gear and scaling techniques Vorhax had drilled into them, they ascended the sheer cliffs like monstrous insects. The fighting on the towers and swaying bridges was desperate, Ironborn defenders caught by surprise but selling their lives dearly. Vorhax himself, Red Rain a crimson whisper of death in the darkness, led the assault on the largest of these outer towers, his Force-enhanced senses guiding him through the chaos, his Valyrian steel blade cleaving through Ironborn axes and armor with contemptuous ease. By dawn, several key bridges were cut, and black banners bearing the Hawk and Dragonglass flew from three captured sea-towers, providing a critical foothold for the main assault.
Meanwhile, a small, handpicked team of Vorhax's combat engineers, protected by a detachment of Brandon Snow's Wolf Brigade, had navigated the treacherous sea caves. Their "alchemical charges," though crude, were potent enough to cause significant structural damage to the foundations of a lesser section of the Great Keep, creating a breach far from the main gates.
It was through a different breach, however, created by the relentless bombardment from Robert's siege engines on the south wall of the main island, that the final assault came. Thoros of Myr, the red priest, his flaming sword a terrifying beacon, was famously first through the gap. But close behind him poured the men of the Stormlands, the North, and the Vale, among them Jorah Mormont, who won his knighthood that day, and the indomitable Robert Baratheon himself, his warhammer crushing all before him.
The fighting within Pyke's walls was a savage, bloody horror. Ironborn, fighting for their homes and their king, met the invaders in every narrow passage and windswept courtyard. Vorhax's forces, having secured their western foothold, now advanced methodically, clearing tower after tower, their disciplined shield-walls and devastating volleys of crossbow bolts cutting down Ironborn resistance. Vorhax, Red Rain in hand, moved like a dark angel of retribution, his presence alone often enough to break the spirit of the defenders. He sought out and personally slew Harrag Hoare, one of Balon's most feared champions, in a brief, brutal duel atop the Bloody Keep.
Finally, with his castle crumbling around him, his two eldest sons, Rodrik and Maron, slain in the fighting, and his Iron Fleet shattered, Balon Greyjoy bent the knee. King Robert, standing amidst the ruins of Pyke's Great Keep, accepted the Iron King's surrender, stripping him of his crown but, in a surprising display of calculated mercy (likely on Jon Arryn's counsel), allowing him to retain his lordship of the Iron Islands, provided he swore unbreakable oaths of fealty. Balon's last surviving son, the young Theon Greyjoy, was taken as a ward and hostage by Lord Eddard Stark, a guarantee of his father's future compliance.
Vorhax observed Balon's humiliation with cold detachment. The Kraken had been declawed, its tentacles severed. His own objectives had been largely met. His forces had once again distinguished themselves, suffering proportionally fewer casualties than many other contingents due to their superior equipment, discipline, and his own tactical direction. Red Rain had tasted Ironborn blood and proven itself a peerless weapon.
In the division of spoils and honors that followed, Vorhax was handsomely rewarded. King Robert, in his expansive victory mood, granted Lord Vorant formal lordship over Old Wyk, recognizing his "valiant conquest and pacification" of the island. This gave Vorhax a strategic naval outpost in the Sunset Sea, a watchtower against any future Ironborn resurgence, and access to the island's meager but symbolic resources. He also received a significant share of captured Ironborn gold and several seaworthy longships, which were quickly repainted black and absorbed into his growing fleet. He even "recruited" several score of captured Ironborn warriors, men known for their seamanship and ferocity, offering them a choice between a swift death or service under his hawk banner. Broken by defeat and awed by his terrifying reputation, most chose service, their loyalty to be forged in the crucible of Vorhax's harsh discipline.
With the Greyjoy Rebellion crushed and King Robert's authority now absolute across the Seven Kingdoms, an era of peace – or at least, an absence of open war – descended once more. Vorhax returned to his domains, his power, wealth, and reputation further magnified. He was now Lord of Stonefang, Crow's Nest, and Old Wyk, his influence stretching from the Stormlands to the Iron Islands. His name was whispered with fear and awe in equal measure from the frozen North to the deserts of Dorne. The Hawk Lord was no longer a rising power; he was an established, formidable force, a dark pillar in King Robert's realm.
Stannis Baratheon, though lauded for his victory at Fair Isle and his diligent command of the fleet, remained deeply embittered by Robert's continued favor towards Vorhax and the Hawk Lord's blatant disregard for the traditional rules of warfare. Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark, while acknowledging Vorhax's crucial contributions, harbored their own grave reservations about his methods and ultimate ambitions. The fear Vorhax inspired was a potent weapon, but it also bred deep-seated enmity.
Back in his sanctum beneath Stonefang, Vorhax examined Red Rain. The Valyrian steel seemed to almost sing in his Force-sensitive grasp, its ancient energies resonating with the Dark Side. He had felt its power in battle, the way it seemed to guide his hand, to cleave through lesser steel as if it were paper. He began to spend hours meditating with the blade, seeking to understand its secrets, perhaps even to further imbue it with his own dark will.
His children were growing. Edric, his heir, was now a boy of seven, Lyra five. He began Edric's "true" education, a brutal regimen of physical training, strategic studies, history (as Vorhax chose to present it), and the cultivation of a ruthless, disciplined mindset. He searched for any sign of Force-sensitivity in the boy, any spark that might make him a worthy legatee of his hidden Sith power, but Edric remained distressingly, stubbornly mundane, albeit increasingly obedient and fearful of his enigmatic father.
Years passed. The "King's Peace," as it was called, held. But Vorhax knew it was a brittle peace, a gilded cage built upon festering resentments, royal debt, and the King's own declining vitality. He continued to build his strength, his unseen hand shaping his domains into a model of dark order and industrial might. His intelligence network kept him appraised of events in King's Landing, of Stannis's brooding on Dragonstone, of the exiled Targaryens in Essos, and of the growing discontent in the North over the King's long absence from Winterfell.
The War of the Five Kings was still some years distant, but Vorhax could feel the currents of fate quickening. The Kraken had fallen. The Stag King grew complacent. The Lion of Lannister watched and waited. And the Hawk, his shadow deepening across the land, sharpened his talons, his gaze fixed on the ultimate prize: a realm remade, an empire forged in iron and darkness, under the absolute rule of a new Sith Lord. The next great storm was gathering, and he would be ready.
(Word Count: Approx. 4400 words)