Victarion

The stinging smell of fire is in the air.

The sea breeze carries embers from the destruction of Volantis into the Iron Victory's shadow. The massive war ship is one of the largest of its kind. The Kraken of House Greyjoy is displayed upon every sail and even the bow of the ship itself, structured in the sea monster's likeness with long, thick, wooden tentacles squirming their way down the length of the galley. It was carved this way to strike fear into its enemy's hearts. Volantis just three days past learned this fear when Victarion's fleet appeared on the southern horizon. The Commonfolk pleaded for mercy after a feeble attempt to fight them off. The people of Volantis had numbers, but the Ironborn had strength and fury and the Drowned God on their side. Victarion showed no mercy, declaring the city theirs and commanding anyone with information on the Dragon Queen to come forth. Not many stepped up to the call, and none had anything Victarion didn't already know.

So the city burns and he was done with the place. They sailed far from the south to come here and stop Daenerys Targaryen before she can reach Westeros, yet to no avail. She'd left Slaver's Bay, renaming it Dragon's Bay, with what some are calling the largest fleet of ships the world has ever seen. Victarion ignored such things. No fleet can stand against the Iron Victory's. Victarion is undefeated in naval combat, and plans on remaining so.

Victarion Greyjoy stands well over six feet tall, weighing in at over 250lbs, and his scar-streaked face would be enough to scare anyone let alone his size. His black beard is long and braided, his hair swept back and blowing in the wind. His armor he wears at all times, the kraken helm saved for combat is curled under his armpit while the other grips the railing. Behind him his motley crew of mutants are laughing and jesting with each other like children. Victarion disapproved of such antics, but after such a fortuitous invasion he felt they deserve some time to enjoy themselves. Ratfly has his gangly arms around two bruised saltwives who were once prostitutes in the city and are now his personal concubines. He laughs as he whispers perversions in their ears and when they try to fight him off he beats them with his iron fists down into his cabin, laughing nonsensically all the way about how much fun they are having. Jharax and Hulbert are locked in a game of cards, drinking every time they lost and getting rowdier by the minute. Jharax is a Dothraki, his skin as brown as his loosely braided hair, while Hulbert is an ex-Second Son, one of his arms mutated and shriveled, though still able to hold up a pair of cards. Then there is Strong Belwas. The massive eunuch is sitting near the mast of The Iron Victory with his legs sticking out over the edge, his fat fingers digging through a bowl of spicy honey-locusts. He wears little clothing, and has no shame in his rotund body, nor the tapestry of scars that covers him head to toe. Victarion had only recently picked the mute up, and he is still a mystery to him. All he knows of Strong Belwas was his inane ability to fight and win.

Then there is The Red Woman.

The High Priestess of Volantis Kinvara watches as the great flames waged by Victarion and his fleet burns high into the sky, clouding it with pillars of black smoke. From here he cannot see her face, and wonders if she is crying. With a sick smile, Victarion approaches her, crossing the deck of his ship while his men all holler with good cheer around him. As he comes upon her she turns to look at him and he sees that her face is dry and her expression cold. "How does it feel?" He asks undeterred, "To worship the fire all your life only to watch your home burn?"

"You would be mistaken in thinking you know anything about me. Volantis was never my home, Victarion Greyjoy." The Red Woman responds, her voice calm and unafraid. "My home has been gone for longer than you know."

"Well that sounds like a story." Victarion says, crossing his arms and leaning against the mast. "You convinced my men to spare you and bring you aboard my ship. What is it you can offer me? I have no need for another saltwife, even one as radiant as you. Your beauty will get you far with my men, but not with me. Can't blame them though, can yah? I can't imagine the last time Ratfly had a decent pair of legs around him." The Red Woman only stares at him, her face unchanging in its blankness. Victarion feels a stirring of unease all of the sudden he can't explain. "So tell me, what is it I need you for?"

"Tell me, Victarion, have you ever spoken with your Drowned God?"

Is this a trick? "No man can speak to a God. But I have heard the Drowned God's whispers when I was young. The Drowned God is the one true God."

"That is where you are wrong." She smiles then, and the uneasiness in his stomach squirms. "The Lord of Light is the one true God and he has chosen you, Victarion Greyjoy. I have seen you in the flames."

"What is this nonsense?" He asks, but she goes on before he can say more.

"You will find Daenerys Stormborn and make her your Queen. She will be your key to the Iron Throne, where you will rule The Seven Kingdoms." Lady Kinvara steps closer to him, "I have the Lord of Light's will, and can grant you great power and council in the wars to come. Allow me to join you, and let both the Lord of the Light and the Drowned God be one in the same as it should be, for those whispers you heard when you were a child are from the same God that has sent me here to you this day."

Victarion is quiet, considering her words with suspicious apprehension. "What power does a woman have that I can't?" He asks, and her expression changes to cold anger. "Tell me in plain words, or I'll throw you overboard myself and watch you race the sharks back to shore."

"I can see the future, Victarion Greyjoy, you fool." She says, getting close enough now to fondle his gnarled and war-beaten face. Her fingers are warm, almost burning to the touch. Victarion grabs her arm before she can pull away.

"Call me a fool again, woman, I warn you…"

"You will not harm me. I know where Daenerys is going, who she is with, how many she has, and I know what you will need to convince the Dragon Queen to marry you. But you will need me if you wish to accomplish any of these things. Without me, you and your fleet will burn in dragon fire before any of you can do a thing. Let me show you."

She leads him inside of Victarion's cabin. He follows her, feeling a strange sense of purpose in his steps. Something about this Red Woman infuriates him, yet entices him all the same. Inside his cabin, Kinvara lights several candles and lines them up on the captain's table, five in a row. Watching her, it seems as if she is able to light them with only her finger tips… yet such magic doesn't exist, surely. She beckons Victarion closer and he does so, the two of them peering into the fire.

Quickly Victarion feels like a fool and thinks to tell her this was a convincing trick but he would rather watch her swim than watch candles dance. As he opens his mouth, preparing to look away, the flames change, as if some wind is giving them a new shape. Victarion's mouth drops, his mind going blank. At his side The Red Woman smiles seductively and says, "There it is. The dragon that will burn you all to ash. There she is, riding atop it."

He can see it all. The great dragon in the flames is breathing down death upon The Iron Victory. It is all true. "This… this is magic…" He mutters in disbelief.

"This is what waits for you, Victarion Greyjoy, unless you let me help you."