Winter's edge had not yet dulled the salt tang of the Narrow Sea. As the first thaw traced silvery lines down from the mountains, Aryan Targaryen—king in the new dawn—stared from the battlements of Winterfell, his mind heavy not only with dreams of peace, but the fresh rumors carried on fast ships and frightened crows.
The Ironborn were stirring.
Storm from the Islands
Letters arrived thick as driftwood: the Greyjoys, unsatisfied in grudging alliance, had raised black sails. Pyke boasted of a new king—Victarion, some said, or Euron returned from exile, mad as the sea. Raids had already struck the western shore: Deepwood Motte sacked, a dozen fishing villages burned. Word reached Winterfell: Asha Greyjoy herself had slipped through Aryan's blockades and was gathering reavers whose oaths had grown thin as sea air.
Aryan shared the news with Daenerys and Lord Stark around a fire. "The Ironborn believe the realm's too changed to strike back. We must prove them wrong—not with terror, but with swift and certain justice. The dragons will not let the old ways rise again."
Steel, Sea, and Fire
Aryan acted before the Ironborn expected a true response. He summoned ships from Gulltown, reinforced the North's coastal defenses, and sent ravens south to Highgarden and east to Essos—he needed ships, coin, and men who'd leave old feuds behind. Daenerys volunteered for the western campaign herself, blue dragon at her command, eager to test her legend beyond courts and crowning ceremonies.
The king called his war council. "Our answer will not be conquest—it will be liberation. Any child or farmer taken will be freed. Any Ironborn turning from blood to peace may keep their lands. The rest will meet steel and fire. Verdantyr will lead the counter by air. We choose our own story."
Ser Willem and Missandei oversaw logistics; Aryan's new, diverse council dispatched lords and envoys, making sure the smallfolk saw this as a king's protection, not just vengeance.
Daughters of Flame and Salt
As Aryan prepared to ride south, a surprise visitor arrived—Asha Greyjoy herself, captured outside White Harbor by Aryan's rangers. Weathered but unbowed, she was brought before king and queen. "You wage your war well, dragonlord," she said with a shrug. "But salt never stays far from the shore. My brother listens only to prophecy and storm."
Aryan met her cold gaze. "And what do you want?"
She answered without fear. "The drowning ways die. Give me a chance to prove the Iron Isles deserve more than fear. Let me keep what I take—through justice, not raid. A seat on your council for my people's loyalty."
Aryan considered, meta-knowledge of Ironborn pride and broken history guiding him. "Prove yourself—bring me Victarion, halt the burning, and win your kin's loyalty by peace. Do this, and the Iron Isles will change with the world."
Asha accepted, oddly respectful, and Aryan recognized another future ally—forged not by birthright, but by choice in a new world.
Battle on the Coast
Daenerys led a force of Unsullied, Reach knights, and Stark archers west, dragons cutting lines of fire over the bay. The ironborn, fierce but unprepared for fire from above, faltered. Skywrath drove reavers from ships, Verdantyr's shadow fell like doom over wrecked longboats, and Asha—justifying Aryan's gamble—turned her own men to saving captives rather than burning villages.
In weeks, the coast was secured. Captured Ironborn were given a choice: bend the knee, or sail into exile. Only a handful chose vengeance. The rest, awed by dragons and Daenerys's steel-tempered mercy, became the seed of a new Iron fleet, one pledged to the crown.
A Realm Reforged
Back in Winterfell, Aryan announced victory without crowing. "The age of raids and burning is done," he said to northern lords. "No child will fear the sea again. Every house, even the old enemy, may find a place in peace—if they choose it."
He brought Asha to stand beside him, naming her Warden of the Isles, with the first Ironborn seat at council. Some murmured, some looked doubtful, but Aryan saw hope glinting in the crowd.
As snows melted and spring quickened the rivers, Aryan met Daenerys atop the walls, dragons circling in a sky scrubbed clean by rain.
"This is what change feels like," Daenerys murmured.
Aryan nodded. "Not a crown, not a dragon—this. Making choices no king dared dream. That's the legacy."
Below, banners flew. Children laughed without fear as Unsullied and Ironborn built new docks together. Above, Verdantyr roared to greet a new world.
The storms had not ended, but the tides, at last, were turning.
End of Chapter 26