Quellon I
Oh, gods, no, not like this, Quellon thought as he felt his life slipping away from him.
There's still too much to do.
Why, oh why had he let his sons talk him into this foolhardy raid against the Reach? Now the arrow in his gut would spell the end of him. Quellon grasped at the maester's robes, trying to hold onto something, anything that would keep him from slipping into the darkness.
He couldn't leave the Iron Islands to his sons, not after he had invested so much in repairing their relations with the greenlanders. Quellon had almost succeeded, too, but Balon would squander that, Quellon could see it now. The boy had grown into a bitter, proud man, and Quellon's other sons were no better. Victarion was a good warrior but had no thoughts of his own, Euron was cunning but cruel, and Aeron too brash and eager for glory.
Oh, Drowned God, please, if I live, I'll set things right. I'll make the Iron Islands great again, I swear to you...
But the darkness closed over his head like a wave. Quellon sank into the darkness...
But still, he felt. He was floating, surrounded by nothingness. It felt like being under water, but there was no light to be seen.
If this was the Drowned God's hall, Quellon Greyjoy was singularly unimpressed. He looked up, wherever that was.
He saw a light. He swam towards it, arms and legs thrashing wildly. As he felt himself move towards the surface, he felt his lungs begin to burn. Panic gripped him.
No, don't let me drown, not when I'm so close!
He broke the surface. Light was everywhere, blinding him...
"My lord?"
The deck of a ship moved beneath his feet. He heard the creaking of ropes and the crash of waves, and distantly men shouting orders to one another.
"My lord, did you hear me?"
He raised a hand to block the bright light, and saw a hand younger than his own, but still calloused by years of wielding oars and axes alike. As the light faded, he saw the deck of a ship, ropes...and the distant coast of the green land.
"I said your father has died."
"My father?" Quellon asked, hearing himself speak a different voice than his own. And as he recognized the voice, he knew what the answer would be.
"Yes. Lord Quellon Greyjoy is dead. You are now Lord Balon Greyjoy, Lord Reaver of Pyke, and Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands."