Skyrim System In Westeros

Under the command of Lord Sawane Botley, the Iron Islands fleet deviated from their original plan, bypassing Sunspear to launch a direct assault on Lys.

As the sun began to set, the Ironborn fleet lingered near Lys, awaiting the cover of darkness.

Since their previous rebellion had been crushed by Robert Baratheon, many able-bodied Ironborn had been conscripted into the royal fleet. After relentless persuasion of the lords, Sawane Botley had managed to gather 300 longships and 10,000 Ironborn for this southern campaign.

Theon Greyjoy and his sister Asha were aboard the flagship of Dunstan Drumm, one of the few remaining lords with ties to their late father, Balon Greyjoy.

The longships, designed for raiding, were swift, maneuverable vessels equipped with two sails and a single deck. Their speed was twice that of standard flat-bottomed merchant ships.

Flanking Dunstan Drumm's flagship were the longships of his eldest son, Denys Drumm, and his younger son, Donnel Drumm. The three ships were anchored side by side.

In the sweltering heat, most of the Ironborn had shed their shirts, exposing their bare torsos. Only Theon and Asha remained fully clothed.

Dunstan Drumm sat by the railing, meticulously polishing Red Rain, his family's ancestral Valyrian steel sword. The blade, treated with a color-infusion process, was a deep, blood-red hue save for the hilt and crossguard.

His two sons leaped onto the flagship from their respective ships, joining the Ironborn in their drinking.

"You two, come over here," Dunstan Drumm called to Theon and Asha.

The siblings, leaning against the railing as they waited for the signal to attack, approached at his beckoning.

"Do you know the story behind this sword?"

The siblings shook their heads.

"Haha! One of our ancestors, Hilmar Drumm, won it with nothing but his wits and a wooden stick! He made a bet with a knight from the mainland and claimed this sword!"

Dunstan held up a single finger.

"A wooden stick! Ahaha!"

Asha chuckled. "Impressive!"

Theon, incredulous, asked, "Is that even possible?"

Dunstan grinned. "We also had an ancestor nicknamed 'The Father' — he sired a hundred sons!"

Asha and Theon exchanged skeptical glances, doubting the practicality of raising so many children.

Meanwhile, Dunstan's sons, still drinking, turned away, pretending not to hear. They were used to their father boasting about the family's "glorious" past to anyone who would listen.

As Dunstan continued his tall tales, night fell without notice.

Hoooonk!

A horn's blast echoed through the air.

Dunstan sprang to his feet, shouting to the Ironborn aboard, "Up! That's the attack signal! Prepare for battle!"

Denys and Donnel tossed aside their drinking horns, leaping back onto their respective ships. The Ironborn on board stirred, grabbing their weapons in anticipation.

Dunstan rallied the crew, "We will take every coin from Lys! Not a single piece of silver will be left behind!"

"Ho! Ho!" The Ironborn roared, raising their axes.

"We will burn their city to the ground! Those wretched slavers do not deserve their lavish lives!"

"Ho! Ho!" Their cries echoed again.

The longships sped forward, the city of Lys, illuminated by countless candles, now within striking distance.

"Kill the men! Take the women back to the Iron Islands to warm our beds! Loot it all! Slaughter them all!"

"Loot it all! Slaughter them all!" The Ironborn pounded their shields with their axes, chanting fervently.

Theon and Asha watched the scene, unease growing in their hearts.

Summoning his courage, Theon stepped forward and asked Dunstan, "We could just raid them, couldn't we? There's no need to kill."

The entire ship turned their glares toward Theon. Even Dunstan Drumm was furious, shouting at him:

"Have you turned into a fool from being raised by the Starks?"

Theon's voice caught in his throat, silenced by Dunstan's sudden change. The previously genial, middle-aged bald man had reverted into the terrifying Bone hand the moment the raiding began.

"You two are not Ironborn!" Dunstan snarled.

Asha stepped forward, wanting to defend Theon, but he held her back. Summoning his courage, Theon addressed the Bonehand directly:

"I am Ironborn! When my father led you to raid, revel, and rebel, it ended with my entire family destroyed. Asha and I were sent to the Starks not as wards but as hostages!"

Theon's voice grew louder, and his words more impassioned. "Without Asha and me as hostages in the North..."

Spittle flew as he bellowed, "All of you would have been executed by the King long ago!"

The ship fell silent. The Ironborn, familiar with the truth of those days, said nothing.

Dunstan finally broke the quiet, stepping forward. "And what gives you the right to tell us not to kill? Should we wait for them to pursue us? Or let their children grow up and seek vengeance? Coward!"

Crash!

The longship slammed into the dock. The massive Ironborn fleet encountered no naval resistance as they surged into Lys' harbor under the cover of darkness, shouting as they charged into the city.

Dunstan drew Red Rain and pointed toward the city. "Drumm warriors, advance!"

Each Ironborn who passed Theon looked at him with disdain. Some deliberately shouldered into him, nearly knocking him into the sea.

"I am not a coward! I am Ironborn!" Theon shouted, his face red with fury.

Dunstan heard the cry, glanced dismissively at Theon and Asha, then charged into the city with the others, sneering as he went.

"We do not sow!"

Enraged by their contempt, Theon let out a roar, grabbed his longsword, and leapt off the ship in pursuit.

Asha, worried her brother might cause trouble, followed quickly.

Theon, clutching his sword, pushed through the throng to catch up with Dunstan Drumm.

"Ahhh!"

He deliberately yelled as he surged ahead, positioning himself in front of Dunstan.

Though prideful, arrogant, and sometimes reckless, Theon was no coward. Courage came naturally to him, even if wisdom and experience were often lacking. Asha, on the other hand, was strong-willed, proud, and far more composed.

Years earlier, when Wright had stayed in Winterfell for nearly a month, he had subjected the siblings to a rigorous training regimen. Drawing inspiration from intelligence training methods from his past life, he had tested them relentlessly.

For two straight weeks, the siblings were pulled into illusions every day. These illusions included harsh interrogations, temptations by beautiful men and women, simulations of torture, and even confinement in filth while starving.

While these methods were bizarre and left no physical scars, they etched themselves into Theon and Asha's minds forever.

Wright left soon after, and without his magical skills, Eddard Stark could not continue such training. The siblings were finally relieved of their ordeal.

Over the next two to three years, they received rigorous instruction from knights in King's Landing. They trained in swordsmanship, spears, war hammers, daggers, archery, and horseback riding. They were later sent to Essos, relying solely on themselves for protection.

Though Theon sometimes shirked his duties and Asha's physical strength as a woman had its limits, both siblings had become formidable fighters.

Yet training was just preparation — an external influence. Now, as they began to navigate the world, the choices shaping their fates would be theirs alone.