Baelor
The days went by and Baelor Blacktyde did the bidding of his master, just like the rest of the Euron's tongueless thralls. He had helped take care of the Silence and the Crow's Eye would not settle for a ship that was anything less than the finest in the entire Iron Fleet. The warlocks would oft mock Baelor and his fellow mutes as they constantly re-painted the deck red. Had he been able to speak, even Blacktyde would've had to admit that the Silence was among the most fearsome ships he'd ever seen. Others take the Crow's Eye. Him and his damned warlocks. I won't forget who I am like the rest of the bloody mutes...no more than I'll ever forgive the one-eyed bastard for what he did to me. I won't forget that Victarion knelt before the Crow's Eye either. He grovels before that madman like a whipped dog hoping for scraps from its master's table. Even after what the beast did to him...
Victarion became one of Euron's loyalist followers after the King of the Iron Islands promised him Oldtown. I never knelt before the Crow's Eye. Not even after the son of a whore cut out my tongue...
Death would have been better than this, Baelor thought to himself bitterly. There is still honor in a clean death. There is no dignity in serving as a mute slave aboard a madman's ship. I will not forget who I am! Someday I shall have my revenge and when that day comes, I'll have Euron's other bloody eye out. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New!
Every one of the bloody Iron Born have seen me painting this wretched ship's deck. Even if I outlive that one-eyed cunt, I'll still be nothing but a mute slave on some other bastard's ship. I will kill the Crow's Eye, but I must needs be slain by an enemy as soon as I have so. It will be my last chance at an honorable death.
Suddenly, he saw a dragon flying high above the ship. Seven Hells, the Crow's Eye was right. There are dragons flying over the narrow sea. He was right about ... Without wasting another second, the mute raced towards the deck. The dumb bastard keeps the horn on display, he...
"Halt," snapped one of the warlocks. "You are not allowed up here, slave." Try and stop me you blue-lipped cunt.
For all of their supposed might, the warlocks were useless in hand-to-hand combat. The mute sent the blue-lipped bastard tumbling to the ground with a single blow and didn't even bother trying to hide the body. He simply ran to the dragon horn, took a deep breath, and blew into it.
Aaaarrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Aaaarrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Aaaaarrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
The ship itself seemed to shake as cracks began to appear in the wood. The mute's chest felt as though it were about to burst into flame. I will not die! Not yet. Soon it will all be over, but not yet...
"It's over Blacktyde," Euron shouted from somewhere on the deck. "You've only doomed yourself. You may have blown the horn, but I am its master. The dragon still belongs to me, you dumb bastard."
Both men heard a loud roar and turned to see an enormous beast racing towards the Silence, flapping its wings. They were staring at a dragon...Balerion the Dread incarnate.
"He is mine, Blacktyde," Euron snapped. "Dragon, take me away from the Silence and burn this son of a whore."
The dragon simply stared at the Crow's Eye and Baelor knew that he had won. The horn answers to the power of blood and blood alone. The mute slowly raised his right hand and used the last of his strength to point his index finger at Euron, commanding the black beast for the first and final time. The dragon opened its mouth and turned the Silence into a flaming hell.