11th Moon, 8025

City of Lannisport, the Westerlands

The Lord of Pyke sat upon his destrier and watched the Iron Kraken collide once more with the heavy gates of Lannisport, the men pushing the battering ram forward under constant fire from crossbows, stones, and boiling oil.

Vickon Greyjoy watched as one his Ironborn in the breaching party was taken by flames, wildly waving his arms and screaming, steam coming from his head as the black tar set fire to his fur armor.

The red priestess, mounted by his side, uttered some words under her breath quietly, watching the burning man slowly go still, her crimson robes blowing in the wind.

‘’What was that….some sort of spell?’’ Vickon grunted at the priestess of R'hllor.

‘’No my lord, only a prayer….that man should consider himself fortunate….not every soul is blessed with the purifying flames of death..’’ She replied.

Vickon nodded as he continued to watch the breaching party pound on the heavy gates of the city. Some years prior he had taken her captive from a Lysene galley in the Shivering Sea, her red robes and pale gray eyes making her stand out among the prisoners.

Vickon had been prepared to throw her overboard with the other survivors to appease his men's wish to sacrifice to the Drowned God, he had no use for fanatics, but as she had been led to the side of the ship, she had scratched and clawed, begged and demanded an audience with the captain.

The Lord of Pyke, intrigued, had allowed them to bring her to his cabin as the other unfortunate survivors were tossed overboard. As he expected, she bargained for her life with her flesh, which the Ironborn captain had no qualms about, he could always throw her overboard after they were done.

Instead, she insisted that she be given a chance to show her power, and stubbornly persisted that Vickon set the captured galley alight in the middle of the sea. Vickon had laughed at that, but after more showcasing of her other more base skills, he had finally relented, though not without a warning that if he was not impressed that she would join her former companions at the bottom of the sea.

Vickon had given the order for the ship to be set aflame, not expecting much to come of the whole affair, but he had been wrong. He had seen shapes in the flame, dancing from bridge to mast, images within the tendrils.

He saw his youngest son in the flames, Germund, fighting an unseen enemy before falling to the ground, his lifesblood leaving him. He saw a host of Ironborn attacking a city of Gold, a lion banner burning in the flames, and finally he had glimpsed himself, kneeling as a man placed a crown upon his head.

He had been intrigued of course, but had warned the priestess that if this was some sort of trick he would punish her most painfully.

But when he arrived back in Pyke months later, he received word that his youngest son Germund had been slain in a skirmish, fighting as a mercenary in the many feuds and wars that frequently assailed the islands.

Over the next few years, he gradually put more stock into the Red Priestesses counsel, though at her own behest their intimate encounters stopped, she was a red priestess after all, not a common salt wife.

Eventually Vickon had allowed her to anoint him in the name of R'hllor, he made no attempt to convert his other followers, who, while understandably perturbed and angry of their lieges conversion eventually accepted it, though there had been some trouble with the Blacktydes, who had to be convinced through the ax. Vickon was further helped by the fact that from time to time, he was known to still sacrifice the odd prisoner to the Drowned god, though whether the priestess knew or didn't know of this deception she kept hidden.

Another resounding thud came from the Iron Kraken ram as it hit the heavy gates, this time shaking and pushing inwards slightly.

Vickon gave a smile, he would have preferred to be at the front with his men, but he had developed gout in his feet in his old age, though when the gates were opened he would join the assault on horseback, a most uncommon position for an Ironborn warrior but he meant to take advantage of every battle he had left.

‘’This is the city of gold I saw in the fires…..’’ Vickon said, images of piles of golden coins and bars coursing through his mind.

‘’The Lord of Light does not lie my Lord…..he has given this victory to you as gift for your conversion…but just as our Lord gives, he also demands…he must be given a great sacrifice, you know of what I speak.’’ The priestess said, her pale gray eyes studying him.

Vickon nodded ‘’Aye….he shall have his due, but it was the men of the Iron Islands that will win this victory…..and I still have not been given the crown I saw in the flames….the Lord of Light is running out of time.’’

She touched his shoulder, clad in boiled leather and seal fur ‘’Patience….my King.’’

He felt the heat from her fingers even through his armor and nodded.

Suddenly, the gates of Lannisport swung open with a final decisive crack from the battering ram, and the Ironborn began to swarm in.

Vickon pulled his ax from its belt, a magnificent weapon with a golden hilt with onyx runes, its axehead made of hardened silver, while one of his men handed him a heavy shield, freshly painted in black and gold.

He waved the ax over his head and spurred his horse forward to join the assault, his personal retinue, also mounted by necessity of their lieges speed followed him towards the breach.

The city of Lannisport was the second largest city in Westeros, behind only Oldtown, though the capital in Kings Landing was rapidly gaining on that claim. To take the city they would have two tasks, first the keep of Lanns Hall, situated within the city walls, and the seat of Lady Sarya of Lannisport would need to be stormed, the city streets would also need to be cleared of the guardsmen.

Vickon meant to leave the former task to Denys Drumm, the lord of Pyke would find himself of little use storming a castle with a gouty leg.

He would content himself to deal with the city watch of Lannisport who would no doubt be protecting the city streets. Even in the Iron Islands the city watch was known to be one of the most disciplined and effective foot levies in the Seven Kingdoms.

Vickons scouts reported the city watch was undermanned to less than half its original strength however, numbering less than a thousand men as many of them were used as common foot soldiers as the war grew more desperate for the Lannisters, while others had fled when nearby Casterly Rock was put under siege.

1000 or 10,000 it makes no difference Vickon thought as he thundered through the breached gates of the city, riding over corpses of kin and foe alike. He saw that Denys Drumm had already set to scaling the small keep of Lanns Hall with wooden ladders and was making good progress.

Fighting was well underway in the city streets by the time Vickon and his retinue arrived, his Ironborn fighting the city watch of Lannisport, wearing their distinctive heavy boiled armor and red cloaks, small units of them forming shield walls and attempting to hold whatever strategic points they could, narrow streets, city circles, and even buildings, with a particularly fierce melee taking place in the cities tavern.

Vickon rode forward through the cobbled streets, making his way towards a melee in one of the town squares, where a unit of the city watch were holding a circle around a well, spears and shields desperately working to push the Ironborn back.

He saw an old man running with a few bolts of cloth through the streets, making for shelter, so desperate was he to make for shelter he did not notice Vickons ax flashing down at his spotted pink scalp, and soon he noticed even less.

Continuing on towards the fight, one of his retinue tumbled from the saddle, a Lannisport guardsman behind the circle putting a quarrel in the center of his head.

Vickon roared and collided with the shield wall in a clash of horse and shield.

Hacking and slashing his ax, he forced his way deep into the melee, his retinue and other Ironborn following him into the breach. A dismounted Ironborn axeman at his side shouted a war cry to the Drowned god, which was quickly silenced by a mace to the nose.

The maceman tried his luck with Vickon, but the old Ironborn patiently knocked away two strikes with his ax and another with his shield before 2 quick hacks to the man's neck ended the melee.

The small unit of city watchmen was quickly overwhelmed once their shield wall broke and quickly laid down their weapons, some being butchered by the more zealous Ironborn in their bloodlust while others were being forced to lead the Ironborn to gold and silver.

The city watch of Lannisport may have been efficient in dealing with drunken brawls and tavern riots, but undermanned as they were, they had no chance against the Ironborn assault, and after only two hours of fighting most of the city was theirs. While scattered fighting continued in some districts, the assault was beginning to transition to the looting phase as Vickon ordered his reavers to plunder the countless silver and gold shops, along with the jewlers, the Ironborn would no doubt gain a fortune from capturing such a large city.

Vickon looked up towards Lanns Hall, and saw that his men had gained the keep, and had set the Lannister banners alight, much like the vision he had seen in the flames.

The victory had been remarkably decisive, Vickon had expected to lose near 1000 men, but the reality was that the assault only cost them just over 400 men, much of the cities populace had fled the city when nearby Casterly Rock, which was visible from the city was placed under siege, and taken with them much wealth, but taking the second largest city in Westeros with the lost of 400 men was an admirable feat, and the spoils put those taken from Sunspear years earlier to shame.

While his men looted the vast city, Vickon and his captains drank and feasted in one of the taverns, the bodies of several dead watchmen and Ironborn still littering the floor.

Denys Drumm had taken a wound in storming Lanns Hall, but seemed hale enough to Vickon, quietly drinking with the best of them while Eerl Stonetree amused himself by playing at finger dancing with a few unfortunate captives, the practice of throwing an ax at an opponent who had to catch or dodge it, though Eerl thought it amusing to have his captives blindfolded, much to the merriment of the other Ironborn who shouted advice to the terrified captives.

A throwing ax took one of the captives in the forehead with a meaty thunk.

‘’Well I suppose he caught it….in a way.’’ One of the reavers quipped earning a raucous response of laughter.

The mood in the room suddenly seemed to shift, and grow hotter as the tavern doors swung open.

Vickon turned and saw the red priestess striding inside, the other Ironborn gave disapproving glances, but she paid them no mind.

‘’It is almost sunset my lord….and just as the Lord of Light has given you and your men a great victory…you must reciprocate….it is time for the nightfire.’’ The red priestess said.

‘’We don't serve your god woman…..its the Drowned God that gave us victory today, and to him we will sacrifice too.’’ Eerl Stonetree drawled, pulling his ax from the dead captive.

‘’Perhaps you don't, but your Lord does.’’ The Red Priestess said, her gray eyes trained calmly on the young Lord of Harlaw.

‘’The drowned god will have his due you can be sure of that Eerl, but you will mind your tongue in my priestess presence or i'll have it off.’’ Vickon said, causing Eerl to spit on the ground but in the end he relented.

‘’There is but one god.’’ The red priestess cautioned and Vickon waved a hand in acknowledgement.

He then turned to one of his Huscarls ‘’Bring the prisoners to the town square.’’

He finished his drink in silence before he made his way to the town center, the daylight giving way to a sunset of red and gold over the Sunset Sea and the town of Lannisport, almost making the town peaceful, if one could ignore the dead bodies littering the street and the cries in the distance.

The assembly for the night fire was small, while Vickon had agreed to take the Red God as his own but his own people were not so eager to abandon their ways, nonetheless the Red Priestess had a small number of followers she could rely on.

The spectators to the nightfires were outnumbered by the almost 100 surviving members of the Lannisport City Watch, as well as a few dozen peasants mixed in for good measure. They were bound hand and foot to a large pyre of timber logs, wooden doors and whatever else the red woman's followers had found that would burn.

Vickon made his way to the red woman's side, upon seeing his approach she nodded greeting ‘’It is time my King.’’

Vickon gave a curt nod and the priestess lit a torch with nothing but her hands, muttering a prayer as she ran her hand over it as the torch took flame, causing a whisper between the few Ironborn in attendance who had witnessed it.

‘’Lord of Light…..accept these offerings into your Kingdoms….they that have lived in darkness shall die in light….cleanse them lord.’’ She chanted, her voice quiet and loud at the same time as she approached the pyre, red robe dancing in the wind.

Her followers echoed her chant.

Cries for mercy sounded from the Pyre, but Vickon ignored them, at the war's beginning he had landed near Lannisport, but Loren Lannister had driven him off, leaving some 6000 of Vickons Ironborn dead, captured or wounded, he meant to have his revenge today.

The screams from the pyre as the Red Woman set the flaming torch of the pyre were immediate and would chill the heart of even the most grizzled warrior, but the Lord of Pyke simply smiled as the red woman went on about light and darkness, his defeat at Lannisport was avenged.

Screams of fear soon turned to screams and coughs of pain, and even some of the most veteran Ironborn abandoned the ceremony to go and drink, but Vickon stayed for the entirety, listening as the screams of the burning men echoed into the orange skies of the Sunset Sea until they were at last drowned out by the waves.

While the burning of the City Watch would constitute the most renowned atrocity in Lannisport, the pillaging of Lannisport would go on for several more days before the Ironborn finally left the city with the wealth of the city with them. Maesters would be in agreement years later that the sacking of Lannisport would be the most brutal and savage event in the entire war.