Game of Thrones:Dawn of Ice and Fire.

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

_________________________________________

Chapter Thirty-Four: Ripples Across Westeros

The Seven Kingdoms were vast, but news traveled fast when it carried the weight of war.

And the Battle of White Harbor was more than just another skirmish. It was a warning. A declaration. The North is not to be trifled with.

Word spread like wildfire. From the icy North to the sun-drenched shores of Dorne, from the halls of the Red Keep to the islands of the Ironborn, the tale of the North and House Stark's victory against the pirates echoed across Westeros.

And everywhere, men whispered of what it meant.

King's Landing

In the small council chamber of the Red Keep, King Robert Baratheon sat slouched on his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, only half-listening as Grand Maester Pycelle droned on about the latest reports.

It wasn't until Pycelle mentioned the North that Robert's attention sharpened.

"…a most unexpected turn of events, Your Grace. Lord Stark and his forces successfully repelled a force nearly four times their number, with minimal losses."

Robert frowned. "What?" He sat up, motioning for Pycelle to continue.

"The pirate fleet, led by none other than Euron Greyjoy, attempted to sack White Harbor. The northern fleet forced them to land at a single entry point, where they were slaughtered."

Robert chuckled, shaking his head. "That madman Euron bit off more than he could chew. I hope Ned put his head on a spike."

Pycelle hesitated before continuing, "It was not Lord Stark who slew Euron Greyjoy… but his bastard son, Jon Snow."

The great hall went silent.

Even Queen Cersei, who had been sipping her wine with disinterest, raised an eyebrow.

Robert grunted, setting his goblet down. "Ned's bastard? Hah! Didn't know the boy had it in him."

Varys, standing off to the side, spoke in his soft, measured tone. "The whispers say the boy shot Euron through the eye from atop the Seal Gate. A near-impossible shot, even for a master archer."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Aye? Maybe the lad's got some of his father's blood after all."

Cersei scoffed. "He's just a bastard, Robert."

Robert ignored her, his grin widening. "Gods, I would've paid to see Balon Greyjoy's face when he hears about this. Ned always was too soft with the Ironborn."

Varys smiled thinly. "Speaking of Lord Balon…"

Pyke, The Iron Islands

Balon Greyjoy's face was like stone as he read the message brought to him by his saltwives. The great hall of Pyke was silent, save for the howling winds outside.

His men, the captains of the Ironborn, shifted uncomfortably.

Euron was dead.

Slain by an arrow through the eye.

The men muttered among themselves, cursing and swearing vengeance, but Balon remained still.

After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"The Crow's Eye was no true Ironborn. He was a madman and a kinslayer." He tossed the letter into the fire. "His death is no loss to me."

Yet, deep inside, Balon was furious.

Euron may have been an exile, a disgrace, but he was still of his blood. His failure at White Harbor made the Ironborn look weak.

"We do not waste time mourning the dead," Balon said coldly. "We set our sights forward. The North will know our wrath when the time comes."

But even as he spoke, he knew this was a heavy blow to their reputation.

The Starks had not just beaten them.

They had humiliated them.

Casterly Rock

At Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin Lannister sat in his solar, reading the reports with a calculating expression. Across from him sat his brother Kevan, awaiting his response.

Tywin read the parchment slowly, taking in every word. It's seems that they wasted their gold by throwing it at those worthless pirates.

White Harbor had been attacked.

The Starks had held.

Jon Snow had slain Euron Greyjoy.

Tywin set the letter down, his face unreadable.

Kevan spoke first. "A decisive victory for House Stark. A costly defeat for the pirates."

Tywin steepled his fingers. "Yes. But there is something more concerning here."

Kevan frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tywin exhaled through his nose. "The North should not have been able to hold White Harbor. They were outnumbered nearly four to one. And yet, they not only survived, but won with minimal losses. That does not happen by accident."

Kevan considered this. "You think there's more to it?"

Tywin tapped his fingers against the table. "Perhaps." His golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Or perhaps Euron Greyjoy was a greater fool than I thought."

Dorne

At Sunspear, Prince Doran Martell sat beneath the shade of his palace gardens, the sound of trickling water from the fountains filling the air.

The letter lay in his lap, its contents already burned into his mind.

The Starks had won a great victory.

Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, had killed Euron Greyjoy.

Doran sipped his wine, deep in thought.

His daughter, Arianne, lounged beside him, reading her own letters.

She glanced at him. "You're brooding, Father."

Doran smiled faintly. "Merely considering the shape of things to come."

Arianne raised an eyebrow. "And what do you see?"

Doran folded his hands. "I see a storm rising in the North."

Dragonstone

At Dragonstone, beneath the shadow of the great castle, a ship docked in the blackened harbor.

Aboard it, Queen Rhaella Targaryen stood with Ser Arthur Dayne at her side. Viserys lingered behind them, scowling at the cold air, while Daenerys looked out at the distant castle with wide, uncertain eyes.

They had arrived in Westeros at last.

And the first news they received upon their return?

The North had won a great battle.

Jon Snow had slain Euron Greyjoy.

Rhaella did not react outwardly, but her heart pounded in her chest.

Her grandson was making his mark on the world.

And soon, it would be time for him to learn the truth.

Winterfell

At Winterfell, the great hall was alive with voices. Lords and bannermen had gathered, all discussing the battle and its aftermath.

Benjen Stark leaned against the wall, watching the chaos unfold.

Rickard Karstark spoke loudly, praising Ned's leadership.

Maege Mormont nodded in agreement. "The Young Wolf and the White Wolf," she mused. "Fitting names."

Benjen smirked. "Aye. Fitting indeed."

Across the hall, Ned sat silently, watching his people, his men.

He had defended White Harbor.

He had protected his family.

But he could not shake the feeling in his gut.

Something was coming.

The Battle of White Harbor was over.

But the dark winds are coming to the seven kingdoms.