I: Reflections on War, Part 1
AndrewJTalon
Explorer
Rather than the epic length SIs that plod through stories and the numerous changes, I'm focusing more on short vignettes of a self Insert in Theon Greyjoy's life. He follows many similar trappings, bringing more advanced technology and changing certain outcomes... But the focus is more on feelings and reflections than how clever the SI is being. And each is in no particular order.
That said, sourced from gladiusone's excellent "A Game of Kings and SI's", I present... "Greyjoy alla Breve".
Enjoy.
I: Reflections on War, Part 1
Most stories about people ending up in a fantasy world and saving it have happy endings. And while my story hadn't ended, yet, there was a hell of a lot of bad things that still happened no matter how hard I tried to prevent it. From the day I ended up in Theon Greyjoy's body, an eight year old hostage/foster son at Winterfell, I had struggled to change the future and make the world a better place. In that respect, I'm not too different from anyone else I suppose. And I had had many successes, make no mistake.
It had taken time for Ned Stark and Maester Luwin and dozens of other men to recognize my plans as more than child's fancies, but when they did pay off I was given more and more. I had industrialized the North-Ned Stark had built watermill powered sawmills, textile plants, meat processing factories, and other industries powered by rivers to make the North prosper. I had used my name as a Greyjoy to welcome dissidents from the Iron Isles, and given Ned Stark the impetus to form a Fleet of the North. Maester Luwin was known far and wide for "inventing" canned foods, anti-biotics, vaccines to a few plagues, and other wonders from my fertile mind. Gunpowder had led to primitive dynamite, muskets, cannons, flintlock weapons and other marvels of technology that made the North fearsome indeed.
And people stayed people, stubborn and foolish. No one more than I.
The Night's Watch had cannons, muskets, scatter guns, grenades, land mines, flamethrowers... And they were still barely three thousand men. The Wildlings were still coming, and I couldn't very well tell them the White Walkers were returning. I'd look like a mad man... But now Wildlings were being killed, their bodies torn apart by Bolton shotguns for sport.
The Winterfell Granary threshing machines, that had ensured no one would starve in Winter ever again, had broken and I was sent out to look at it... The same day Bran Stark was shoved out a window. I couldn't save him, save the boy I had found a little brother in. One I shared views of the stars with through a telescope, and talked about the planets with. A boy who had such dreams, and I... I had failed to change his destiny.
Ned Stark had gone South to become Hand of the King. I had tried to come with him, but he had insisted I was indispensable to the North and had to stay. I had convinced him and his men to take pistols, gas grenades, and a few other precautions just in case... And Ned Stark still lost his head, though Arya had at least escaped. Sansa was still a prisoner to a monster king.
And now the War of the Five Kings was underway. I had at least managed to convince Robb Stark to cut off all lumber and other trade with the Iron Isles a few months beforehand, citing "secret issues". That would keep my father's conflicts limited, especially given the North's naval power. And we had managed to avoid dealing with Walder Frey entirely-The Fleet of the North allowed Robb Stark's armies to move about the Riverlands at will, and kept supplies flowing. Logistics was the key to any war, and expanding the North's trading fleet let us do that.
I had made a few changes, small, minor ones... And yet, here we still were: Ned Stark dead, Joffrey holding Sansa, Renly and Stannis fighting in the South, and Daenerys Targaryan in Essos, building her army. Three victories to the Young Wolf's name, Jaime Lannister our prisoner, but no closer to victory.
Maybe the North was better fed, better armed, and better prepared for the dark days to come... But the people in it had not changed. We had to end this war. We had to stop it, as quickly as possible, and turn our attention to the Wall. I had tried so hard to avert this conflict, this useless and destructive war... And I had failed.
All I could do then, was see just how much more I could get away with. Before the gods decided I'd pushed my luck too far.
Robb Stark, my brother and my king, was studying a map intently with the rest of his head bannermen in his tent. "He's been fighting a defensive war from Harrenhal," Robb said, pointing to that ancient ruin on the map. "Using the Mountain to raid and burn the Riverlands. He's content to keep that up, exhaust us..."
"We need to draw him out," I said bluntly. Brynden Tully looked over at Theon, and smiled.
"Aye, that we do Lord Greyjoy, but Tywin Lannister's not going to just come out for us," he said. "If he won't commit all his forces to a strike fer his son, what would he?"
I grimaced. "I don't know," I admitted, "but the longer the war goes on, the harder it gets. We can't afford any major sieges, Winter is coming."
"House Stark's words, but meaningless for us," Roose Bolton stated. I managed to look him in the eyes, no matter how much he made me want to look away and shudder. "And with your... Esteemed father raising havoc in the North-"
"He hasn't made landfall with any great host," I said earnestly. "And unless he can load up more timber on those longboats of his, he can't replace the ships we sink. And we are sinking a lot of them," I reminded Robb. My king nodded, and Bolton conceded the point with a shrug.
"Balon Greyjoy is a limp old man trying to relive his glory days," I said fiercely, "and it's only the War of Five Kings as a courtesy to that withered old cunt."
"Well said, yet you keep the name," Greatjon Umber said. I shrugged and smiled at Robb.
"Well, I'd like to take Stark, but I'll leave the timing on that to my King," I said. Robb smiled back. "Besides, I don't have a wolf."
"You don't have a kraken, either," Bolton noted. I scowled.
"That's because they'd be too much of a hassle to cart around on land," I emphasized. "Can you imagine having to tow that with me everywhere?"
"We'd laugh at you no less than whores do now," Lord Karstark jested, as everyone (including myself) laughed. Robb got his laughter under control and shook his head.
"Fact of the matter is though, Theon's right," Robb said. "We do need to end this conflict, and fast." He studied the map. "We could make raids into the Westerlands, draw him into a trap there-An assault on Casterly Rock would sting his pride fiercely. He sends the Mountain after us, we trap him around the Stone Mill and crush him."
I recalled the marriage Robb made with that Westerling girl, and while he was not beholden to Walder Frey, I was still reluctant to put my friend into such a position. Besides, I had sent a few of my people along with Catelyn Stark down to the Stormlands-Who would "innocently" suggest a marriage between Robb and Maergery Tyrell just in case something terrible happened to Renly. No, of course I wasn't expecting anything to happen but it would be a good thing to keep in mind, just in case, and by the way since Petyr Baelish was there why not bring up the idea with him and how happy it would make Catelyn...?
"We could," I agreed carefully, "but we'll have to make sure everyone's coordinated-One screw up and we're all fucked."
"Yer firesticks have been a great help on that front," Greatjon Umber said with a grin. "Why not let loose with 'em, right in the open field?"
I sucked in a deep breath. "Because while your knights and cavalry are well trained, disciplined soldiers, my Lord," I said, "the majority of the army armed with my firesticks are farmers, millers, iron workers, spinners and the like. The most shooting they've done before this war was of geese or deer, or the occasional shooting contest."
Ned Stark had sponsored many of those himself to promote the ownership of firearms. Many of the noble lords had objected, at first, but Ned Stark's commitment to being kind to the small folk had at least assuaged most of them that a rebellion was not inevitable. And those same houses had purchased many weapons of their own, just in case they didn't believe the Starks.
"They tore through the Lannister flank at Whispering Wood," Greatjon emphasized. I nodded.
"That we did," I said, "but that's because we were able to shoot from cover. Even with bayonets, without men at arms to protect them most of our musketeers will flee in the face of a charge."
"That is why I've focused on hit and run tactics with them," Robb said with a nod.
"We can use guns and hold our ground just fine!" Lord Karstark huffed.
"Yes, but the sheer majority of the army are smallfolk," I said. "And our tactics have to take that into account." I studied the map, and rubbed my chin. "Striking Casterly Rock is something Tywin Lannister would expect," I said. "He's betting on us doing that... But I'm thinking we need to try something more galling."
"And what would that be?" Bolton asked, tilting his head curiously. I smiled.
"We need to bring down the Mountain... We need to lure him into a trap. But it needs to be one of our own making-One that will decisively crush the Lannister army. We need a place that will let us bring all the fire down on them... And use our mines to the best advantage. We need to take the Golden Tooth, or circumvent it. We need to take Sarsfield. And we need to hit Oxcross, or even Lannisport itself to draw the Lannister forces into the mountains." I looked around at them. "A good avalanche launched by dynamite, and our troubles are over."
"Or you could bury our army just as easily as the Lannister army," Lord Karstark pointed out sourly. I grimaced.
"Well... Only if we weren't careful-"
"No avalanches," Robb said sternly. I sighed.
"You never let me have any fun..."
More to come.
That said, sourced from gladiusone's excellent "A Game of Kings and SI's", I present... "Greyjoy alla Breve".
Enjoy.
I: Reflections on War, Part 1
Most stories about people ending up in a fantasy world and saving it have happy endings. And while my story hadn't ended, yet, there was a hell of a lot of bad things that still happened no matter how hard I tried to prevent it. From the day I ended up in Theon Greyjoy's body, an eight year old hostage/foster son at Winterfell, I had struggled to change the future and make the world a better place. In that respect, I'm not too different from anyone else I suppose. And I had had many successes, make no mistake.
It had taken time for Ned Stark and Maester Luwin and dozens of other men to recognize my plans as more than child's fancies, but when they did pay off I was given more and more. I had industrialized the North-Ned Stark had built watermill powered sawmills, textile plants, meat processing factories, and other industries powered by rivers to make the North prosper. I had used my name as a Greyjoy to welcome dissidents from the Iron Isles, and given Ned Stark the impetus to form a Fleet of the North. Maester Luwin was known far and wide for "inventing" canned foods, anti-biotics, vaccines to a few plagues, and other wonders from my fertile mind. Gunpowder had led to primitive dynamite, muskets, cannons, flintlock weapons and other marvels of technology that made the North fearsome indeed.
And people stayed people, stubborn and foolish. No one more than I.
The Night's Watch had cannons, muskets, scatter guns, grenades, land mines, flamethrowers... And they were still barely three thousand men. The Wildlings were still coming, and I couldn't very well tell them the White Walkers were returning. I'd look like a mad man... But now Wildlings were being killed, their bodies torn apart by Bolton shotguns for sport.
The Winterfell Granary threshing machines, that had ensured no one would starve in Winter ever again, had broken and I was sent out to look at it... The same day Bran Stark was shoved out a window. I couldn't save him, save the boy I had found a little brother in. One I shared views of the stars with through a telescope, and talked about the planets with. A boy who had such dreams, and I... I had failed to change his destiny.
Ned Stark had gone South to become Hand of the King. I had tried to come with him, but he had insisted I was indispensable to the North and had to stay. I had convinced him and his men to take pistols, gas grenades, and a few other precautions just in case... And Ned Stark still lost his head, though Arya had at least escaped. Sansa was still a prisoner to a monster king.
And now the War of the Five Kings was underway. I had at least managed to convince Robb Stark to cut off all lumber and other trade with the Iron Isles a few months beforehand, citing "secret issues". That would keep my father's conflicts limited, especially given the North's naval power. And we had managed to avoid dealing with Walder Frey entirely-The Fleet of the North allowed Robb Stark's armies to move about the Riverlands at will, and kept supplies flowing. Logistics was the key to any war, and expanding the North's trading fleet let us do that.
I had made a few changes, small, minor ones... And yet, here we still were: Ned Stark dead, Joffrey holding Sansa, Renly and Stannis fighting in the South, and Daenerys Targaryan in Essos, building her army. Three victories to the Young Wolf's name, Jaime Lannister our prisoner, but no closer to victory.
Maybe the North was better fed, better armed, and better prepared for the dark days to come... But the people in it had not changed. We had to end this war. We had to stop it, as quickly as possible, and turn our attention to the Wall. I had tried so hard to avert this conflict, this useless and destructive war... And I had failed.
All I could do then, was see just how much more I could get away with. Before the gods decided I'd pushed my luck too far.
Robb Stark, my brother and my king, was studying a map intently with the rest of his head bannermen in his tent. "He's been fighting a defensive war from Harrenhal," Robb said, pointing to that ancient ruin on the map. "Using the Mountain to raid and burn the Riverlands. He's content to keep that up, exhaust us..."
"We need to draw him out," I said bluntly. Brynden Tully looked over at Theon, and smiled.
"Aye, that we do Lord Greyjoy, but Tywin Lannister's not going to just come out for us," he said. "If he won't commit all his forces to a strike fer his son, what would he?"
I grimaced. "I don't know," I admitted, "but the longer the war goes on, the harder it gets. We can't afford any major sieges, Winter is coming."
"House Stark's words, but meaningless for us," Roose Bolton stated. I managed to look him in the eyes, no matter how much he made me want to look away and shudder. "And with your... Esteemed father raising havoc in the North-"
"He hasn't made landfall with any great host," I said earnestly. "And unless he can load up more timber on those longboats of his, he can't replace the ships we sink. And we are sinking a lot of them," I reminded Robb. My king nodded, and Bolton conceded the point with a shrug.
"Balon Greyjoy is a limp old man trying to relive his glory days," I said fiercely, "and it's only the War of Five Kings as a courtesy to that withered old cunt."
"Well said, yet you keep the name," Greatjon Umber said. I shrugged and smiled at Robb.
"Well, I'd like to take Stark, but I'll leave the timing on that to my King," I said. Robb smiled back. "Besides, I don't have a wolf."
"You don't have a kraken, either," Bolton noted. I scowled.
"That's because they'd be too much of a hassle to cart around on land," I emphasized. "Can you imagine having to tow that with me everywhere?"
"We'd laugh at you no less than whores do now," Lord Karstark jested, as everyone (including myself) laughed. Robb got his laughter under control and shook his head.
"Fact of the matter is though, Theon's right," Robb said. "We do need to end this conflict, and fast." He studied the map. "We could make raids into the Westerlands, draw him into a trap there-An assault on Casterly Rock would sting his pride fiercely. He sends the Mountain after us, we trap him around the Stone Mill and crush him."
I recalled the marriage Robb made with that Westerling girl, and while he was not beholden to Walder Frey, I was still reluctant to put my friend into such a position. Besides, I had sent a few of my people along with Catelyn Stark down to the Stormlands-Who would "innocently" suggest a marriage between Robb and Maergery Tyrell just in case something terrible happened to Renly. No, of course I wasn't expecting anything to happen but it would be a good thing to keep in mind, just in case, and by the way since Petyr Baelish was there why not bring up the idea with him and how happy it would make Catelyn...?
"We could," I agreed carefully, "but we'll have to make sure everyone's coordinated-One screw up and we're all fucked."
"Yer firesticks have been a great help on that front," Greatjon Umber said with a grin. "Why not let loose with 'em, right in the open field?"
I sucked in a deep breath. "Because while your knights and cavalry are well trained, disciplined soldiers, my Lord," I said, "the majority of the army armed with my firesticks are farmers, millers, iron workers, spinners and the like. The most shooting they've done before this war was of geese or deer, or the occasional shooting contest."
Ned Stark had sponsored many of those himself to promote the ownership of firearms. Many of the noble lords had objected, at first, but Ned Stark's commitment to being kind to the small folk had at least assuaged most of them that a rebellion was not inevitable. And those same houses had purchased many weapons of their own, just in case they didn't believe the Starks.
"They tore through the Lannister flank at Whispering Wood," Greatjon emphasized. I nodded.
"That we did," I said, "but that's because we were able to shoot from cover. Even with bayonets, without men at arms to protect them most of our musketeers will flee in the face of a charge."
"That is why I've focused on hit and run tactics with them," Robb said with a nod.
"We can use guns and hold our ground just fine!" Lord Karstark huffed.
"Yes, but the sheer majority of the army are smallfolk," I said. "And our tactics have to take that into account." I studied the map, and rubbed my chin. "Striking Casterly Rock is something Tywin Lannister would expect," I said. "He's betting on us doing that... But I'm thinking we need to try something more galling."
"And what would that be?" Bolton asked, tilting his head curiously. I smiled.
"We need to bring down the Mountain... We need to lure him into a trap. But it needs to be one of our own making-One that will decisively crush the Lannister army. We need a place that will let us bring all the fire down on them... And use our mines to the best advantage. We need to take the Golden Tooth, or circumvent it. We need to take Sarsfield. And we need to hit Oxcross, or even Lannisport itself to draw the Lannister forces into the mountains." I looked around at them. "A good avalanche launched by dynamite, and our troubles are over."
"Or you could bury our army just as easily as the Lannister army," Lord Karstark pointed out sourly. I grimaced.
"Well... Only if we weren't careful-"
"No avalanches," Robb said sternly. I sighed.
"You never let me have any fun..."
More to come.
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