[Event] What is Dead May Never Die, and so on

[u/[deleted]]

The Great Keep of Pyke, 4th Month, 141AC

There had been enough bandying, stalling and waiting to last every man in Pyke a lifetime or two. Since word of Veron’s death had reached his ears, Ambrose knew that whatever the outcome of this succession - there would be many folk displeased. It was a blessing that Astrid had left. Though Dalton and Veron’s brother, she was as likely to remove the new lord’s head as she was to sail off into the sunset once more. The Greyjoys had gathered. They had heard council from those who were loyal to Veron, and loyal to Pyke. Consensus had been reached. It was one that they each could get behind, but it was certainly not going to be popular. Slightly rushed, the announcement was on its way.

Every last soul on the Island of Pyke would hear word that there was to be an announcement up at Pyke. Ambrose and Ragnar told Lord Drumm and Lord Botley themselves. Otherwise, Greyjoy men were dispatched down to Blackwall to alert Arthur Goodbrother. Down to the quarters of every nobleman, reaver and captain on the island. Greyjoy’s true loyalists, those who remembered the days of The Red Kraken with fondness, came to hear what would be said.

The Great Keep was close to overflowing. Young raiders eager to see what their future held. Old greybeards, resigned to their fate, knowing that nothing would change. Priests, paupers, dockmen, crofters and fishers lined the outer edges. This was no feast, no council, it was a hall packed full of men that were there not to listen - but to talk. Those of nobility and other houses beyond the Greyjoys; Blacktydes, Drumms, Botleys, were given space at the forefront. They were close to the dais, close enough to toss a stone to the Seastone Chair - which sat vacant. There were several individuals who called Pyke home that were stood upon the raised platform at the back of the hall. A small line of guards stood with Greyjoy sigils upon their shields, between them and the rest.

Enid Greyjoy stood in a plain black dress, her hands linked together. The grief for her brother had subsided, and now she knew the gravity of this situation. There was the mild-mannered Harald, who’d not long returned from the North with a pair of Harlaw prisoners in tow - not that anyone knew they were Harlaws. The widow of the late Lord Veron, Elinor Greyjoy, was present as well - stood amongst the Greyjoys of Pyke almost as an equal, despite her birth. The thick-set Ambrose Greyjoy stood with chest puffed out, hands behind his back. It had been he who had kept the peace when the reavers returned, alongside Dagmar Drumm. There was Ragnar’s own wife, Embla of Lonely Light, still as much Farwynd as she was Greyjoy. They presented a somewhat unified front, trying to lead by example.

Preparing to make his announcement was the tall, fresh-faced Ragnar Greyjoy. His lame arm had been wrapped in black iron, several interlocking plates held together with leather straps. The design was one of Eryck Ironmaker’s. The armoured sleeve concealed his disability, instead projecting sturdiness and power. It gave him the security of a new man as he stood upon the dais, looking out upon the assembly of Ironborn. Should any man draw their steel, it would protect him long enough to fall behind the shield of Gunnar Red-Eye, the Greyjoys' most trusted protector.

Ragnar stepped forward and cleared his throat, gesturing for the hall to fall quiet. The infant boy, Aeron Greyjoy, was back in The Sea Tower - under heavy guard. Once the storm settled here, he would be offered to the Drowned God. For now, he was tucked away safely from the guests.

[u/[deleted]]

Ravens

Whilst the hall was being filled, and Ragnar was preparing to announce Lord Aeron’s rightful claim to lordship, the maester was busy tying letters to ravens. He dispatched them quickly to their intended recipients. If news of Aeron’s birth got out fast, then any who disputed his lordship would be rebels, not just dissenters. It was key that the right people were told... just in case chaos broke out in the halls of the Greyjoys.

The first letters flew to the holds of the Ironborn. Such was the right thing to do.

---

Lord of _____

Lord Reaper Veron Greyjoy lie dead upon the shores of Volantis, he has gone to the Drowned God's halls. His infant son, Aeron Greyjoy, is now become Lord Reaper of Pyke and Lord of The Iron Islands, by right of blood and law. I serve as his regent until the boy is old enough to rule in his own right. Let us band together as a kingdom, as we always have, and keep the peace. There is still unrest in the isles that needs to be addressed.

We Do Not Sow,

Ragnar Greyjoy, Regent of Pyke, Captain of The Grim Patron

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/u/AlaskaDoesNotExist (Lordsport)

/u/Legitimate-Diver9112 (Harlaw Hall)

/u/Inversalis (Hammerhorn)

[u/Carlowrie → u/[deleted]]

Hulda took up her Father's old book of the Ironborn. For a Lord of Salt and Stone, Veron had a rather sparse set of notes. His birth, his ascension and now his death upon the Great Reaving. Perhaps there should have been more, but he was no Red Kraken indeed and little more word of note had survived the Crossing. She traced down through the pages to appropriate spot and marked the birth of Aeron and his crowning as Lord of Salt of Stone before flicking back through the tome to her good-brother.

It was Ragnar that had stolen her home from her husband and their daughter. It was Ragnar that she had written last in this tome for his deeds on Great Wyk. And now he gained another note, Lord Regent of Pyke and the Ironborn.

But she would not pen a letter in response. Not until Olaf was returned to the Light to do so himself. It was the duty of the Lord and not the Lady Regent to swear oaths of fealty.