A/N: I apologise for the delay in this chapter, I've been fairly sick the last few weeks and haven't really been in a state to string to coherent words together let alone a whole chapter. But I'm on the mend and as always, greatly appreciative of everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited. You guys rock!

ROBB

"Get up, Stark."

A sharp kick to the ribs cut through whatever vague dreams Robb may have been experiencing and woke him with a jolt. Gazing around with wide eyes, it took him a moment to comprehend where he was, before reality fell upon him like a cold shower of rain. He was in his usual sleeping spot; lying on a blanket on the cold floor of Asha Greyjoy's cabin, his wrist shackled to the nearby table leg. Oh yes, he thought bitterly, the very best possible accommodations that House Greyjoy can provide for me…

Asha looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do I need to kick you again?"

"Alright," he grunted. "Alright, I'm awake."

With a smirk, Asha knelt and unlocked his chain, giving him a single dismissive look before yanking him up to his feet and shoving him out the cabin door. He no longer felt uneasy about the swaying of the ship, and could more or less handle the various tasks assigned to him without issue, and as such, found himself walking with more confidence through the underbelly of the great ship. Yet, despite that, he felt a chill creep his spine when he realised where they were walking.

Walking into the captain's cabin, Robb wondered how strange they must look. Asha wasn't holding his hand as such, though she held the chain that connected to the shackle at his wrist in a way that the young Stark couldn't help but find oddly intimate. I suppose this is as intimate as the Ironborn get…

There were three others in the cabin with them that Robb recognised; the famed warrior, Nute the Barber, Wulfe One-Ear, and the Iron Captain himself, Victarion Greyjoy. Though neither of them shared much in way of appearance beyond the basic colouring of House Greyjoy, Robb could see a distinct similarity between Asha and her uncle, a fierceness that burned behind their dark eyes with the strength of a tempest. Those same dark eyes fixed themselves on Robb as he entered.

"You look like half-starved pup, boy" there was bluntness to every word that Victarion spoke, a lack of care or tact. He looked at Asha. "This is the troublemaker?"

Robb had to bite back his protests, knowing that it would only earn him a flogging for his insolence, or worse.

"He was the one who fought three men on his own," Asha replied with a shrug. "Decent enough work for a half-starved pup."

Victarion gave Robb another look, this time slightly more appraisingly. With a grunt he turned back to his niece and held out a small piece of yellowed parchment. Wordlessly Asha took it, unrolled it and scanned its contents. Robb caught sight from over her shoulder and glanced discreetly at the worn paper. It appeared to be a map, though the series of islands were alien to him.

"What's so special about the Stepstones?" she asked after a moment.

The Iron Captain grew solemn. "Your father wants us to stop by one of the islands, gather supplies and thralls, before heading on to join Aeron's assault on Dorne," he made a face. "We'll be setting course for one of the smaller isles."

"Corsairs and sellswords haunt those waters," Asha replied, never lifting her eyes from the parchment. "Not to mention the Targaryen loyalists."

Wulfe One-Ear turned and spat in the corner of the cabin. "Greenlanders and whore warriors. We can fight them one-handed and with our eyes closed."

"Be that as it may," Asha insisted, her dark eyes twitching with irritation. "The corsairs that roam these waters know the sea, and they know how to fight. With the war going on we can't afford to lose men to skirmishes that don't mean anything.

Wulfe and his companion Nute the Barber began to growl arguments with the young woman, looking freakishly big and more ugly than usual when put to the contrast of the slender and comely daughter of Balon Greyjoy. For all their harshness, Asha did not show even the slightest moment of hesitation as she spat insults and counter arguments to the hulking warriors. Robb couldn't help but watch the scene in awe. If it came to blows, I doubt she'd be afraid to sink her axes into their skulls at the first chance…

The mighty fist of Victarion Greyjoy came down against the wooden table, silencing them all. "You all make too much noise," he growled, looking like bear that had been woken from slumber. "Though I crave to turn the sea red with the blood of my enemies, we can't afford to waste time. We will find an island with food and water, timber too in case we need to make repairs," he glanced at his two shipmates, "And if the Drowned God wills it, we shall take thralls of any men we come across. But I do not mean to dally."

"You'll need to send an expedition out to the islands to search for supplies," Asha pointed out. "And to go ahead and make sure that we don't make land on some great pirates den."

Victarion snorted. "I'll not run from a fight."

"Regardless, you still need to send someone ahead." She stared up at her uncle coolly. "It'd be a waste making land on some rock with no fresh water for the men."

"If you're so eager," Victarion said, towering over her and everyone else in the room. "Then you can lead the expedition," his dark eyes flicked over to Robb. "You can take your dog for a walk while you're at it."

Asha's face only held a relaxed smile, even as she stared up at the brutish creature before her. If anything, Robb thought he saw her mouth twitch slightly into the makings of a genuine grin. "I am honoured to have the duty, dear Nuncle. I had best be off to gather my men."

With a nod to the Iron Captain and the other two warriors at his side, Asha turned and left the cabin, dragging Robb along without hesitation or second thoughts.

The motley crew that Asha had cobbled together for the expedition stood out in sharp contrast to the princess and her thrall. Not a single man was younger than thirty, and few had a head of hair that wasn't starting to grey. Each man looked scarred, irate, and incredibly upset that they had been chosen for such a task. The dregs, Robb thought. We're left with the dregs. Once they were actually together at sea, moving through the green waters towards the tiny speck of land, Robb realised that the dislike he felt for the men was utterly mutual.

He was thrown looks so ugly and hateful that it would turn most men craven, and despite himself, Robb felt it a struggle to meet their gazes. Yet once those dozens of pairs of eyes fell upon the one who held his chain and the throwing axe that sat upon her lap, they turned away like beaten curs. Watching Asha Greyjoy with other Ironborn brought to mind all the lessons Robb had been taught by his Maester on predatory beasts hunting together in packs. Much like how the wolves of his family's ancestral home follow the whims of a singer leader, as did this small group obey Asha and her capacity for violence.

The isle they settled upon was big, densely populated with green jungle, and held an air of harmony that was shattered the moment the Ironborn put their boots to the ground. Asha looked at the men with her dark eyes and did not hesitate to bark out instructions as she divided the men into three groups and marched them off in different directions searching for food, water and good timber. Robb was naturally dragged along in the group Asha led, and was forced to endure a constant and forceful tug as she and her men cut their way through the thick greenery. More than once he almost found himself tripping over some stray root or branch, only to be yanked up to his feet by one of the other men and pushed onwards ungently.

In all his life Robb had never known a climate as strange as what the jungle brought. The air was thick with sticky moisture, and the heat was somehow more oppressive than any he had known in the dry climate of Dorne. But mostly it was the insects that bothered him. Mosquitoes twice the size of any he had known and more aggressive than the deadliest viper. No matter how many he squished beneath his palm, or how often he would wave them away, still they would return with vengeance, determined to drink his blood.

Their journey was not without merit though, and soon enough they came upon a small clearing that held a single tree standing tall and proud, large mango fruit hanging low from the branches ripe for the picking. To Robb who had found his mouth quite dry from the long trek, the large fruits looked like some precious gift from the gods.

"Any sign of birds?" one of the men asked, squinting up at the tree. "Might be that we can still get us some meat."

"Focus on the fruit," Asha said bluntly, strolling a little closer and unconsciously forcing Robb closer by his chain. "In a long voyage, it's the fruit like this that'll be more precious to us." She frowned at a few of the bigger men and pointed at the sacks they held over their shoulders. "Fill it with as much as you can carry."

And so with a few sharp words from their warrior princess, the ironmen went to work. Some of the taller men plucked the orange fruit from the branches while others went about picking up fallen fruit that littered the ground at the base. Robb did his bit, as best as he could while chained to Asha, and gathered up a few armfuls of the stuff, their scent pleasing after days of only knowing salty grime.

When they had collected a decent enough haul, Asha ordered them to return to the beaches. With the collection of fruit they had gathered it would be proof enough that the island would be hospitable enough for them to use. They had filled two sacks full, and still there was enough fruit left hanging to feed a hundred men.

"Wonder if the others caught any game?" one of the men asked, scratching his grey beard thoughtfully as the group moved through the jungle. "I wouldn't mind some fresh meat. Some juicy pig meat would be a fine thing after having salty beef for the last few months."

"With our luck it'll be naught but monkeys on this bloody rock," grumbled another man.

The grey beard laughed. "I wouldn't mind monkey stew, now that you mention it."

They all had a chuckle at that, even Robb. Despite everything he knew and had seen from the Ironborn during battle, there were moments when the reavers would drop their guard and violence would be forgotten, and Robb would see them as men like any other. He never entirely felt safe, but he did not feel completely helpless either.

All manner of chatter was silenced by a single raised hand from Asha. The Ironborn princess was squinting up head of the tree line, a frown slowly settling across her face. Taking a few ponderous steps forward, her whole body grew stiff for a long moment before she turned and gestured for two of senior warriors to approach. Robb felt a tug at his chain and followed them. Wordlessly she directed them out beyond the tree line to the beach. Standing amongst their boat was a collection of men, all brightly coloured and wearing an assortment of weapons.

"Corsairs," Grey Beard said from Robb's side, his voice a disapproving whisper. "Tyroshi by the looks of them,"

"There's sure to be more of those bastards," the other old warrior added sagely.

Robb just looked at Asha. He could see something slowly move into place behind her eyes as she took in the situation, a way her body tensed with excitement, her fingers tapping against the axe on her belt and her mouth pulled back into a devilish grin. She hungers for the battle to come…

"Get the others ready," she told them in a harsh whisper as she took out her axes. When the two men hurried off to do just that, Asha turned to Robb, giving him a long and thoughtful look. "Don't get any ideas. Even if you could run off, we're on an island. There are only so many places for you to hide before we'd find you."

He frowned back at her. "I won't run, but perhaps I won't have to," he gestured out to the beach. "I count more of them than of you. Dead men make poor captors."

Asha's face grew stormy and with the speed of a snake grabbed him by the throat, her breath hot against his face. "You think you'll have better chances with the Tyroshi? They'd beat you, geld you, and sell you at some eastern market for less than the price of a good horse," for a moment she looked ready to hit him, but then cursed and let him go. "Like it or not, your best chance is with me and my men."

Asha took the end of his chain, and casually slung it over a low hanging branch before hurrying over to her men, axes drawn and body poised for violence. Robb stared at his chain and knew that he could easily reach it and run off, but it only took a short glance at Asha and her Ironmen to know that they were fighting to win. With a shrug, he sat down at the base of the tree and watched.

The beach was quiet, tranquil even from Robb's perspective. The Tyroshi were standing about, looking over the boat, while the constant sound of the tide provided a soothing rhythm. A moment later, chaos ruled. Just as Asha had planned, her Ironmen spilled from the tree line and took the Tyroshi in their backs, hacked them down where they stood and drove them witless into the shallows. Weapons swung and splinters flew, steel clashed and faces snarled and bodies dropped and were torn apart, all to that same rhythm of the tide.

He saw Asha hack the legs from under one man, slash another across the back as he turned to run, shove another arse over head into the water. His armoured form weighed him down as the tide came in, submerging his head whilst his arms flailed about in a hysterical attempt to right himself. Asha silenced him with a violent slash.

The fighting slowly pushed itself back onto solid land, and the Tyroshi gave back as much as they received. One man, painted green and purple in clothes and beard, thrust his sword what seemed to be half a hundred times, gutting more than a few Iron Islanders in his way. Another colourful warrior pulled out a bow and began shooting at random. Grey Beard caught an arrow through one cheek that emerged from the other, painting his beard a gruesome red. Another went down, clutching at an arrow in his side, still stabbing away at the foot of his enemy with one shaking hand.

It continued on like that for what seemed like only a few minutes to Robb, who watched in awe at how fierce the Ironborn were attacking, and at how fierce the Tyroshi were defending themselves. But in the end, as it always was, the Ironborn were successful, though not without heavy losses. More than half of their men were dead, and the remainder were red with blood and limping badly.

Asha was no different, covered in gore, clothes stained red. Unlike her companions however, she walked with a stroll and faint smile as she approached him, gesturing to the corpses with pride. Robb couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight. "Do you see now Stark? It was better that you didn't try and run."

Robb just rolled his eyes. "Are you seriously going to gloat over something like that?"

"I just cut down half a dozen men with my own hand," she replied, grabbing his chain from the branch she had set it on. "Your bloody right I'm going to gloat."

The Ironborn princess sat down, and removed one of her boots, shaking out a stone with a look of mild annoyance. Robb pulled himself up, and went to go relieve himself behind a nearby shrub. His captivity had taught him that his needs came second to his new masters' whims, and had to eat when he could, sleep when he could, and piss when he could. His closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back, the sound of liquid hitting leaves the only thing he was focused on. For a few joyous moments that was all he thought of, but then an accented voice spat a curse from behind and startled him back to the present.

Spinning around, Robb caught sight of man with bright yellow and blue hair holding a knife over Asha. The young Stark didn't even think about what came next, and with surge of mad speed he rushed out and wrapped his length of chain about the man's throat. In such moments of violence, thought would go out the window and base instinct largely controlled an unexperienced man's mind. Everything in Robb's mind and body was telling him to pull back as hard as he could for as long as he could, even as the corsair fell back onto him and thrashed about. He held and held and held, jaws clenched, arms tight and face red, until finally someone gabbed at his hands and forced him still.

Asha's face was blank, but her hands had gentleness about them as she wordlessly pried his fingers from the chain. The grove of the metal left a dent into the palms of his hands, and suddenly pain and rational thought returned to him. He glanced down at the corpse beside him, eyes bulging and face a deep purple.I did this?

"Well," Asha said, examining the corpse with mild curiosity. "I'd say this one won't be sneaking up on anyone else," her eyes flicked up to Robb with something like approval. "Not too bad Stark. We might make a man out of you yet."

Robb didn't have the energy to retort and instead glanced down at the corpse he had made. It is a strange thing, he thought, how quickly it stops being a man and becomes a corpse to the mind….

Asha went about digging through the various pouches and pockets on the body, coming back with mostly gold coins from the east and small wooden trinkets of no real value. A grin spread across her face when she pulled out a scrunched up piece of parchment, yellowed with age and stained with blood. She unfolded it to reveal a map that very much looked to be of the small island they now stood on.

"Why would he need a map?" asked Robb, caution lining his tone.

The Ironborn princess let out a long and lusty laugh. "Because he and his men obviously thought there was something on this island worth looking for."

Robb glanced over her shoulder, looking down at the roughly drawn piece. He could make out a few things, but was by no means an expert on the bastard Valyrian language that the people of Tyrosh used. "What could be worth all the fuss? It's a lot of danger for a few barrel loads of fruit."

Asha rolled her eyes, and took his hand within her own and drew his finger over a marked spot on the map that was approximately on the other side of the island. "You see that? From the way they've repeatedly used the word for 'precious' and how the spot is close to a reef, makes me think that perhaps they've came across a shipwreck. I'd wager that these Tyroshi have come to reap a long dead harvest."

"Do you think they got it?"

Asha grinned up at him. "There's only one way to find out."

With her forces reunited, Asha confided in a few of her most trusted men about the map and after a long discussion, it was decided that they would venture to the other side of the island in search of the possible gold. They moved with an added speed, cutting through the thick greenery, whilst at the same time keenly aware that there might very well be more corsairs crawling about.

They came upon the ship, such as it was, just as the sun began to set. It was an old vessel, long since rotted out amongst a large reef that had begun to grow into the decaying wood. The water around it was mostly shallow but many of the Ironborn were encumbered by their heavy armour, and a smaller party was sent out first, Asha and Robb among their number. More than once the young Stark flinched as he felt something brush past his leg.

"Scared of a few flounders?" Asha sniggered from his side.

Robb looked about the water dubiously. "I'm more concerned about the bigger things stalking the waves."

"What? like sharks?" Asha threw back her head and laughed. "You're a damned fool."

He said nothing to that and instead followed her and her men up to the damaged hull. The coral had scrapped a huge gash in the ship's underside, which stuck outwards like the intestines of some gutted animal. They wadded through inside the half flooded hold, squinting about in the gloom of the wreck. Moving carefully, they began to search the derelict an inch at a time with the keen eyes of vultures over carrion, searching through the massive cargo hold and crews quarters for any sign of the supposed treasure. They found little gold, but plenty of corpses. The crew had mostly died trapped within the massive vessel as the lower levels were flooded whilst the more lucky souls moved above deck. The years of decay and the various parasites had robbed the corpses of flesh, but they served as a grim reminder that some animals had found their way inside and perhaps even swam about the feet of the Ironmen at that very moment.

One of Asha's men gestured to a corpse that lay draped over a table, its skull turned to face them in a rictus grin. "This one has a knife stuck between his ribs," the burly man reached into the empty chest and came out holding a curved blade, covered in bone dust. "No man would gut himself to escape water."

A grim mood settled over them after that, and as they ventured closer to the captain's cabin, it became more readily apparent that they were not standing in a simple shipwreck. Corpses of increasingly grizzly display began to appear in greater number, lying sprawled out with swords inside them, heads crushed in from axe blows, arrow shafts wedged in between bone. All of them had mouths hung open, silently screaming in eyeless despair.

Asha went over to a pair of corpses that lay tangled together in some ghastly struggle that extended beyond death. "They killed each other," she said in a flat voice. "That's what caused them to hit the reef….a struggle broke out amongst the crew."

"Why?" Robb asked, looking over the bodies, feeling a knot form in his throat. "Why would they just start killing each other?"

"Who cares," Asha said absently as she dragged him further into the dim. "But whatever they wanted it's probably in the captain's cabin."

The cabin itself was surrounded by dead, all of them holding onto one weapon or another as though they were trying to defend it even in death. Asha strolled right passed them without sparing a second glance and went about trying to force the old door open. Robb knelt down, looking at the bodies. They still wore their old armour, which was in a somewhat better state than those in the lower decks that had been ravaged by the sea. Even their blades had been in good enough condition despite the odd spot of rust that lined the edges of one or two.Proud warriors all…

One of them was clutching something to his chest, a tiny object that was obscured by bony fingers. Curiosity got the better of him, and Robb reached out and gently pulled it free from the skeleton's deathly grip. It was a wooden horse, small and crafted by a loving hand, the perfect toy for a child. A realization struck Robb then, harsh and sudden. These were men, with hopes and dreams and family just like any other. Spending so long amongst the Ironborn, murder had become a second nature to him, a common occurrence that he quickly became apathetic too. All of a sudden he felt very sick.

With a grunt of victory, Asha shoved the door open and led them inside the captain's cabin. It was small, but remarkably well kept aside from the captain's corpse that lay in a mangled and stinking mess in the centre of the room. With a hand over her mouth, she examined his body, snatching away the various gold trinkets that covered his fingers and hung about his neck.

"Asha…"

The Ironborn princess barely looked up from her looting. "Hmmm? Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me find his vault?"

Robb put his hand upon her arm. "You should put all of that back."

"What?" Asha looked at him as though he had sprouted a second head. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

He frowned, struggling to find the best way to explain morality to one whom it was completely foreign. With a shaky breath, he forced himself to look at her, completely free of any other intentions. "You don't have any right to just strip his body of everything that he once held dear. This was a man, no different from you or me."

"There is a great difference," Asha replied, her face perfectly absent expression. "He's dead, and we're not. And rights? Where the fuck does that come into it? I am Ironborn. I take what I want, whether it is from a corpse long dead or one freshly made."

Robb shook his head. "Don't you see how….wrong that entire way of thinking is? You and your people kill men and women who have never once done anything to you, and then you burn their homes and steal their belongings. It's...it's not right"

Asha took a single shuddering breath and began clenching and unclenching her hands in a desperate attempt to keep herself calm. "So you're going to give me this speech? The son of a traitor is going to give me a lesson in morals?" a scowl crossed her face. "Explain to me how any of you Greenlanders are better than my people? You want to call us cruel, or violent, or savage? How is that in anyway different from the rest of you? House Lannister drowned the Reynes and butchered the Tarbecks, right down to the smallest babe. You Northmen like to flay people alive and hang their guts in trees just to impress your gods!" she was breathing heavily now, pacing in circles. "How many hands have House Wyl cut off in all their years? And what of the thousands who have burnt alive in Targaryen dragonfire?" She suddenly grabbed him by the throat and pushed him hard against the cabin door, so hard that the whole frame shook. "You people are just as monstrous as us, but at least we're honest about it."

She let him go and turned back to the captain's desk, running her hands over the oak, facing away from him. Despite not being able to see her face, the slump of her shoulders made Robb think she was crying. "Asha, look…I didn't mean…"

"You're a damned fool," she breathed. "And you have no idea how the world works, so I'll let this go," her voice grew hard, and when she turned to face him, her red-rimmed eyes were as dark and unforgiving as night. "But I'm going to say this once, the next time you decide you're going to tell me what's right or wrong, I'll kill you myself."

Robb was silent for a long moment as her eyes held his own, then finally gave a single nod. "Understood."

"Well in that case," Asha shrugged and leant over the captain's desk, coming up with a small chest in her arms. "Are you going to help me open this thing or what?"

He took a moment to look at her and the sneering grin on her face, wondering if it was just a mask she used to hide her pain. I have seen her wear that look often, he thought sadly before walking over to take the chest from her arms and setting it down on the floor between them.

"What's your plan?"

Her response was to hand him one of her axes. "We'll take a page from my uncle Victarion's book and hit it until it breaks."

Robb couldn't help but grin at that before hacking down at the tight lock with the biggest swing he could muster. Asha followed up with one of her own, and they took turns for a while until finally it gave. His hands were throbbing with force of the blows and he went about rubbing at them whilst Asha dove in to claim her prize.

"What is it?" Robb asked. "Gold? Diamonds? Sapphires? Or perhaps Rubies?"

Asha slowly brought up a large blue stone that was covered in what looked to be swirls. It took Robb a moment to comprehend what he was seeing, to look at the egg shape and the large size of the ancient rock and understand what she was holding.

"No," Asha responded, eyes entranced with the dragon egg. "I think we've found something much, much better."