Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 60: Siege of Harlaw

—The Iron Islands—

At Harlaw...

Several hours had passed since Lord Roose Bolton and his bannermen stormed the beaches of Harlaw, the wealthiest archipelago of the Iron Islands. Reinforced by the combined Lannister–Glover men-at-arms and Redwynes ships, the Bolton army had gained a strong foothold in the region despite the loss of over 3,000 men. Beyond the horizon, Roose could see the Ten Towers keep, the seat of House Harlaw – dominion of Balon Greyjoy's wife's family. And according to the latest intel, they had been keeping Lord Galbart Glover's brother Robett prisoner. As such, Galbart himself had taken to the field in the hopes of rescuing his brother.

Roose folded his arms as he watched from the hillside as the scene below him unfold: the screams and shouts, steel clashing against steal, and the fires and smokes that littered the battlefield as Bolton soldiers raised their banners in triumphant as the Harlaw banners depicting a silver scythe on a black field being torn down and burned. Riding up to his side was his bastard son Ramsay.

"The scouts report that Harridan Hill and Grey Garden have been put to the torch, father," Ramsay announced. "Locke and his men are already set on demolishing the Tower of Glimmering."

Roose remained stoic as ever. "That leaves only the Ten Towers to remain. We can expect Lord Rodrik Harlaw to mount a strong defense around his lands before our forces charge into his holdfast."

"If I may, father, I believe I have a suggestion for inflicting warfare intimidation."

Roose looked at Ramsay as he pulled out a small piece of skin and three fingers hooked onto a chain around it from his pocket. The Lord of the Dreadfort observed the flesh-ridden trinket before meeting his bastard son's gaze. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

"A few dozen ironborn we've captured were... slow learners, but I've trained them, took some pieces off before making an example of them. The ironborn who saw it pissed themselves before running away with their tails between their legs. They didn't make it far though. Not that any of it matters in the end."

"You mean you flayed them."

"Only a few bits," Ramsay nodded as he smirked. "A few others, too, but like I said I made sure the ironborn got the message in the end. They're well aware of their fates now that we've come ashore."

"A choice of instilling psychological fear on the battlefield, but I did not give my consent for you to do so. Your lack of discretion with Bolton practices is becoming rather infamous as of late."

Ramsay frowned. "We've been flaying our enemies for a thousand years, father. The flayed man is on our banners!"

"My banners, not yours," Roose calmly yet harshly corrected him. "You're not a Bolton, you're a Snow. I can only hope you've done nothing to Balon Greyjoy's surviving son and heir; we need him whole for the final push."

Ramsay felt his lips curl into an angry sneer upon being reminded of his bastard status. While most bastards content themselves with life, Ramsay had larger ambitions: he considers himself a true Bolton despite his birth and is highly resentful of his bastard status and will violently correct those who refer to him otherwise.

Lord Bolton stepped away, shaking his head. "The King's directive was clear: lay siege to the Iron Islands, one by one, and when the time comes... the Iron Islands are to be utterly destroyed, every holdfast torn down and its archipelagoes washed away beneath the waves. Our armies were to drain away any and all resources Harlaw had. Our prisoners were not your personal playthings."

"I know what the Oathkeeper's instructions entailed, father. Perhaps we should've demanded that Theon be—"

"I thought I made myself clear. I need Theon Greyjoy whole. I need his mind intact, meaning you are not to touch him."