Chapter 18: The Kraken's Looming Shadow and the Wolf's Sharpened Fangs
The visions, stark and visceral, lingered in Aelyx's mind with the chilling clarity of undeniable truth. The reek of salt and blood from the foreseen Ironborn raid was an almost palpable stench, while the distant, decades-off conflagration of Aegon's conquest cast a long, fiery shadow over his grand, eternal designs. The immediate threat, however, demanded immediate, decisive action – both seen and unseen.
Within hours of confirming the visions with Lyanna and Lyra, Torrhen Volmark was aboard the swiftest Skagosi courier ship, the Sea Wolf, its dark sails emblazoned with the snarling wolf's head of his house, beating a rapid course for White Harbor and the overland route to Winterfell. He carried not just his father's carefully crafted message, but also a heavy personal responsibility. This was his first true diplomatic mission of such consequence, a test of his ability to navigate the complex currents of Northern politics and convey a warning that could save thousands of lives.
His arrival at Winterfell, unannounced and with an urgency that brooked no delay, caused a stir. King Torrhen Stark (for so the Starks still styled themselves in the North, their ancient royal lineage unbroken by southern conquerors in this era) was a man as grey and unyielding as the granite of his ancient fortress, his father Cregan's stern pragmatism now weathered by decades of rule. He received his grand-nephew, the young Lord Heir of Skagos, with a mixture of familial warmth and kingly caution.
In the King's solar, with only Torrhen's most trusted advisors present, Torrhen Volmark delivered his father's message. He spoke not of greensight or paternal visions – such talk, even amongst Starks who revered the Old Gods, could be dismissed as Valyrian fancy when matters of war were concerned. Instead, he wove a narrative of disturbing consistency: unsettling dreams experienced by several Skagosi elders and wise women (a subtle nod to mystical sources without claiming direct prophecy), corroborated by reports from Volmark fishing fleets venturing further west than usual, who had sighted an unusual concentration of Ironborn longships gathering near the desolate isles beyond the Stony Shore. He spoke of whispers picked up by Skagosi traders in distant, salt-crusted ports, rumors of a new, ambitious Reaver King on Pyke, one Dagon Greyjoy, eager to etch his name in blood and plunder upon the shores of the green lands.
"My King, my great-uncle," Torrhen concluded, his violet eyes earnest and grave, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words, "my father, Lord Aelyx Volmark, holds grave concerns. These signs point to a coordinated raid of significant scale, likely to fall upon the western coasts from Sea Dragon Point to the lands of the Mormonts within the coming months, before the deep winter storms make such sea ventures impossible. He tasked me to bring this warning with utmost speed, and to offer the full strength of House Volmark in defense of the North."
King Torrhen listened intently, his gaze never leaving his grand-nephew's face. The Starks were no strangers to Ironborn depredations, but a raid of the magnitude Torrhen implied was a serious matter. The young Volmark's composure, the specificity of the potential targets, and the logical consistency of a new Reaver King seeking glory lent weight to the warning.
"Your father has always been a vigilant guardian of our northern waters, young Torrhen," King Torrhen said slowly, his voice a low rumble. "And House Volmark's eyes and ears often reach where ours do not. These are… troubling tidings indeed." He exchanged a look with his own Master-at-Arms and his wisest counselor. "What aid does Lord Aelyx offer?"
"Our Skagosi fleet, Your Grace," Torrhen replied promptly. "Twenty of our swiftest warships, fully manned and armed, stand ready to patrol the western approaches, to share intelligence with your coastal lords, and to engage any Ironborn reavers found in Northern waters. Furthermore, my father has ordered our Skagosi levies to heighten their readiness, should ground forces be needed to repel landings or pursue raiders."
The offer was substantial. The North's own naval strength was concentrated primarily around White Harbor on the eastern coast; the western shores were notoriously vulnerable. House Volmark's modern, well-equipped fleet would be a formidable deterrent and a powerful counter-strike force. King Torrhen nodded, a grim understanding dawning in his eyes. "Your father's loyalty and foresight do him, and House Stark, great honor. We accept this generous offer, nephew. Send word to Lord Aelyx: coordinate your patrols with Lord Mormont of Bear Island and the castellans of our western towers. Let the Kraken find the Wolf's fangs sharp and ready."
While Torrhen played his diplomatic role in Winterfell, Skagos itself transformed into a disciplined hive of preparation. Aelyx, moving with the calm, focused intensity of a master strategist, oversaw every detail. The public defenses of the island were ostentatiously strengthened, a clear message to any potential observers (and a genuine reinforcement against unforeseen complications).
Along Skagos's rugged western and southern coastlines, ancient, crumbling watchtowers were rebuilt and expanded into formidable stone bastions, their silhouettes stark against the grey sky. New forts sprang up at key strategic inlets, their foundations laid with astonishing speed by Skagosi masons (secretly guided and augmented by house-elf magic). Ballistae and scorpions, their designs subtly improved by Aelyx's knowledge, were mounted on their ramparts, their iron bolts capable of piercing the hull of any longship.
Shadowport itself became a veritable fortress. The existing harbor chain was thickened, new boom defenses laid. The city walls, already imposing, were heightened in sections, their gates reinforced with iron and heavy timber. The Skagosi levies, now a well-equipped and highly disciplined force of over twenty thousand men, drilled relentlessly in the training grounds outside the city, their movements precise, their loyalty to their Lord Volmark absolute. Coastal militias were armed and organized, a network of signal pyres and fast courier skiffs established to ensure rapid communication across the island. The forges of Shadowport glowed day and night, producing weapons and armor, the "Heir's Hoard" gold ensuring no shortage of raw materials.
But these visible preparations were only one layer of Skagos's defense. Within the hidden sanctuary of Mount Skatus, Aelyx, Lyanna, and their elder children wove a web of magical protection far more potent than any stone wall or steel blade.
Aelyx, with Aenar's burgeoning mastery of enchanting and ward-craft, personally oversaw the strengthening of the island's magical shields. Ancient Valyrian glyphs, interwoven with complex Potterverse protective spells and Flamel's alchemical warding principles, were inscribed on keystones buried deep within the island's bedrock. These wards, invisible to the mundane eye, would create illusions along treacherous coastlines, making safe harbors appear as jagged reefs, and calm waters as raging whirlpools to any uninvited, hostile approach. Subtle repulsion jinxes would nudge curious ships off course, while stronger, localized storm-calling enchantments could be activated by Aelyx or his most powerful children to batter any fleet that dared to directly threaten Skagosi shores.
Lyra, her greensight a beacon in the encroaching darkness, became the sanctuary's chief intelligence gatherer. From her quiet meditation chamber, surrounded by the trilling songs of the phoenixes, she extended her consciousness across the vast, grey expanse of the Sunset Sea, tracking the Ironborn fleet's assembly, their numbers, their sigils, the very temper of their Reaver King, Dagon Greyjoy – a man whose ambition, she reported, burned as hot and black as a pyre of burning ships. Her updates, relayed instantly to Aelyx, allowed him to fine-tune his defensive strategies and the patrol routes for the Volmark fleet.
The dragons within Mount Skatus, now magnificent, near-adult beasts, sensed the change in the sanctuary's atmosphere, the heightened alertness of their riders. While Aelyx had no intention of unleashing them publicly against mere Ironborn – such a display would shatter his carefully constructed façade – they were, nonetheless, on a higher state of readiness. Torrhen, Visenya, Maegor, and even Lyra and Aenar spent extra hours with their bonded mounts, their aerial drills within the vastest caverns becoming sharper, more focused. Should the unthinkable happen, should Skagos itself face an overwhelming, unexpected magical threat, the dragons were their ultimate, secret deterrent.
The Volmark fleet, the public spearhead of Skagos's response, was a hive of activity. Twenty dromonds and galleasses, their dark hulls gleaming, their wolf-and-kraken banners snapping in the wind, were prepared for war. Visenya, her violet eyes blazing with anticipation, oversaw the outfitting of her squadron, the Stormbringers, her voice sharp and commanding as she drilled her Skagosi marines and sailors. Her flagship, the Sea Drake, was a sleek, fast galleass, its forecastle reinforced, its ballistae crews the most accurate in the fleet. Maegor, roaring with enthusiasm, took command of the Ironclads, a squadron of heavier dromonds designed for close-quarters brawling, his own ship, the Skullram, aptly named for its massive, iron-reinforced prow.
Aelyx, while delegating squadron command to his capable children and trusted Skagosi officers (men like Kael and the female commander Lyra, veterans of the original Shadow Legion, now respected admirals in the Volmark navy), maintained overall strategic control. He spent hours in the Leviathan's chart room, poring over maps of the Northern coastline, Lyra's greensight reports providing an almost real-time overlay of Ironborn movements. His strategy was multi-pronged: aggressive patrols to deter attacks on key Northern settlements, rapid response to any confirmed landings, and a brutal interdiction campaign against any Ironborn ships attempting to flee north or east with plunder and captives. He also prepared "Q-ships" – heavily armed warships disguised as innocent merchantmen – to lure overly confident reavers into traps.
Lyanna, meanwhile, managed the home front with quiet, steely efficiency. She oversaw the stockpiling of resources, the organization of medical teams (Healer Elyn and her house-elf acolytes, along with mundane healers trained by them), and the maintenance of civilian morale. The women of Skagos, under her direction, were busy preparing bandages, salting fish, and ensuring that the families of the men sailing with the fleet were cared for. Lyanna's own greensight and warging abilities were a hidden asset, allowing her to sense the mood of the island, to anticipate shortages, and to subtly guide the flow of information, ensuring calm and resolve prevailed. Her presence, as the Stark Lady of Skagos, was a powerful symbol of unity and resilience.
The atmosphere across Skagos was one of grim purpose. The diverse peoples Aelyx had forged into a single Skagosi nation responded to the threat with a unity born of shared destiny and absolute loyalty to their Lord. The former slaves from the Free Cities, the Shadow Legion veterans, the Northern settlers, even the integrated native Skagosi – they were all Volmarks now, their island home threatened, their resolve hardened. The young warriors were eager to prove themselves, to blood their blades against the infamous Ironborn. The older veterans remembered past battles, their experience invaluable.
Aelyx moved through it all, a figure of absolute calm and unwavering command. Publicly, he was Lord Volmark, the vigilant vassal, his every action geared towards the protection of the North and the fulfillment of his duty to his Stark king. He made conspicuous visits to the shipyards, to the armories, to the coastal forts, his presence inspiring confidence, his orders precise and clear. Privately, in the depths of Mount Skatus, he was the Shadow Lord, the immortal sorcerer, fine-tuning his magical defenses, consulting with his seer daughter, preparing his dragon-riding children for any eventuality, his mind already calculating the long-term gains from this impending conflict.
The Ironborn raid was a test, a crucible. It would test the North's resilience, the loyalty of its lords, and the strength of its alliances. For Aelyx, it was an opportunity to further entrench House Volmark's power, to demonstrate its indispensability, and to remind the world – or at least, the Northern corner of it – that the wolves of Skagos had fangs of iron and a reach that extended far beyond their misty shores. The salt-stained shadow of the Kraken was looming, but the fangs of the Wolf, backed by the hidden fire of the Dragon, were being sharpened to meet it. The Shivering Sea would soon taste blood, and Aelyx Velaryon intended it would not be his.