295 AC
~YARA~
Yara sat in their bedchambers staring at the gifts she had made for Harry while he sailed to Dorne. She had the best blacksmith in King's Landing travel all the way to Dragonstone to make it for him. Well, her too.
Harry had long since grown out of the armor he had used during her father's rebellion. She knew he had been meaning to get another one made, but their fleet and business still required a lot of care. Harry knew that she much rather be sailing and handling the ships than the paperwork and dealing with the advisors, so he had gracious volunteered to handle it. Even though they gave him headaches, robbed him of his patience and strength, Harry had done it for her. She grudgingly called it sweet, but only to herself and only in her own mind. Yara had made sure to show him properly what she thought of it when they retired. The word would just never leave her mouth.
That was why she had sent a ship full of men to find the man who was proclaimed as the best blacksmith in King's Landing, a man from Qohor by the name of Tobho Mott. She had offered him quite a bit of gold for his travels and offered him a nice place to stay at the inn they had just built. Tobho was the best, so they said, and Yara would not settle for anything less.
She had commissioned two sets of armor, two swords, and a shield for herself.
It was a nauseating sweet idea, Yara admitted. One that her good-mother had inadvertently given.
Selyse wanted to have Yara and Harry tailored for clothes, something so they could compliment each other at great feasts to show their new status as successful merchants. Yara knew it was the woman's excuse to put her into a dress, but the idea had given her one of her own.
Yara had commissioned Tobho to make them matching armor, better armor than the one Harry had. It was to be simple, as neither she nor Harry was prone to extravagance. She had tried to think of the design herself; Harry liked sappy shit like that. But, ended up having to collaborate with the blacksmith as her imagination came up empty.
For something supposed to be simple in design, nothing seemed good enough.
The armor was gray or matte steel and consisted of a breastplate, pauldrons that were solid at the shoulders with grey scales to cover the upper arms, gauntlets, and greaves. Yara had done her best to draw the scales on Harry's face so Tobho could replicate them for the scale of the armor. The only adornment was the charging stag heads on the visor of their helmets in copper.
She had thought of having a kraken on her helm, but realized that she did not really hold any more loyalty to her old House. Her father had all but disowned her when Yara had started to work for her gold rather than take it. She might have cared, if not for the fact the merchant fleet had earned her more gold in a year than her father currently had. Due to all the war reparations the lords of the Iron Islands had to pay for their part in the rebellion, it was likely Harry and her had earned more gold than all the Iron Lords on the island of Pyke.
It was hard for Yara to hold any loyalty to them, when her own father had held none for her when she 'asked' them to help in their start-up business. He had tried to shame her instead.
But, it mattered little.
She had a fleet of ships, on its way to being larger than his, more gold than he ever had and loyalty of four Houses from the Iron Islands. Yara would wait. Wait until the sight of his other lords carrying greater spoils home brought him to her. And she would make him crawl and beg on hand and knee before she said, 'yes'. Well, maybe not even then depending on what Harry had to say on it. Her husband still held a grudge against her father for rebelling at all.
The swords she had commissioned were similar to what Harry had, but longer to compensate for his added height and the steel no longer blued at the base. Yara found the look ridiculous. Steel was beautiful on its own; it did not need to be colored like glass. She also changed the steel circle for one of ivory; a small showing of their success, with the words engraved and melted iron poured into the crevices made.
Yara had Tohbo only make one item that was specifically for her, a steel parma that could be wielded in hand as well as slung over her shoulder. She did like swords. That was why she told Tobho to make her one exactly like Harry's in the length of an arming sword, but Yara preferred the axe. And a shield was necessary to offset the axe's small reach. The thought of buying another axe from Tohbo had crossed her mind, but her husband gave the one she had to her. It was made of weirdwood, the same as the handle of his sword, with a sharp bearded steel head that was fitted and then secured by strips of leather.
Not a common gift for husbands to give their wives, but Yara had appreciated it regardless.
Okay, so maybe Harry wasn't the only that liked sappy shit.
She had done all of it for him; to show her appreciation for the life he had given her. He had not delivered on the ship he had promised, but that was not completely his fault. The most important was that Harry had kept his word. He did his best to see her happy. And she was. Yara had everything she could have hoped for. More than most women had from their husbands.
But, something had irritated her when he husband had gone to Dorne yet again. Every few months he would go and stay for weeks at a time. And every time he came back he would pay more attention to her. It would level off the month he was to leave, before picking up again a week or so before he left. Yara appreciated the attention and inclusion in everything he did, but it nagged at her. She knew that Dorne was one of the places that they traded, but nowhere else had demanded his personal attention as much as Dorne.
It took a while for her to put everything together. The constant attention, the frequent trips, the change in him before he left and when he came back.
Harry had a woman.
But, that was not why she was bothered. She had grew up around men with saltwives and while Harry would never take a saltwife, sailors were known to take whores on their stops back home. She could have cared less if he stuck his cock in some whore.
No, what bothered her was that he was trying to hide it.
They had done many things together, overcome the barrier that had been put between them because of the part their Houses played in the rebellion. Yet, despite what her family had done Harry had never treated her with anything but kindness and some semblance of affection. Because of that, there were many things she was willing to tolerate and accept.
But, his lying to her, his hiding things from her was not one of them.
The door to their chambers opened and Yara knew that fate was on her side of the matter. Her husband walked in, a small smile on his face, his hands behind his back.
"I have a present for you." Harry said, bringing up his hands to reveal a beautiful necklace of delicately worked iron with yellow diamonds. Seeing his smile only served to heighten her ire. His lips curled into a smile, but she could see it did not reach his eyes. It may have just been her minds playing tricks on her, but Yara saw guilt in his eyes.
She snapped from her seat and swung her fist at his face. He was clearly not expecting it, because she could feel her knuckles skin across his flesh. It wasn't direct contact, as she would have wanted, his reflexes where to good for that. But, whether she hit him didn't matter. Yara just wanted to swing at him. If she did make contact, then all-the-better for her.
Harry stepped to the side and threw the jewelry on the table.
"If you didn't like it, you could have just said so." He tried to joke, but Yara wasn't falling for it. His stupid grin would not save him from her ire.
"I don't give a fuck about the necklace, Harry!" She shouted, lashing out again. And again, Harry stepped out of the way and circled her.
"Well, then what is it? Use your words! Use your words!" Harry elbow blocked a punch to his ribs, and then brought his other arm to deflect a shot to his face. He slipped under her follow up hook and pushed her to the wall.
"I will tolerate many things, husband," she spat out, "but, not you hiding things from me."
"Ask your question, then. I have never lied to you." Harry placated. Yara stalked to him furiously, her face only inches from his.
"Fine. Why do you go to Dorne so often?" His face fell at the question. He wore the same look he did every time he left. Yara knew it was not her imagination. Harry felt guilty about something.
"Is it a woman?" She carried on, annoyance lacing her voice. Yara made to ask the question again when he was silent, but he beat her to it.
"Yes." He sighed, looking down at the floor in shame.
"Why the fuck would you hide that from me? I don't care if you fuck some whore-"
"She's not a whore." Harry growled, steel in his eyes. He looked as if he made to come at her, but Yara would not back down.
"If she's not a whore, then who in the hells is she? Some homemaker? Is that why you-"
"Arianne Martell."
Yara was brought up short. Out of all the names she had been expecting, it was never one that she thought to know. And the Princess of Dorne was the last gods-damned name she had ever thought to come from his lips.
Worse than her surprise, it made her angrier.
Whores she could understand. They were just like pints of ale or skins of wine at a tavern. It was a business transaction, certainly more civil a matter that Ironborn and their saltwives. There were no feelings when whore were involved.
You paid. You fucked. You left.
But, to hear him say he was sleeping with the Princess of Dorne, Yara was of two minds. On one side she was impressed that Harry had managed to bag himself a princess. Stories had said that Arianne Martell was a buxom and beautiful. On the other, she was not a proper whore. Harry didn't pay her for sex. That meant he had feelings for the Dornish girl. Why else go half ways across the world for her when he had a warm woman in his bed waiting and willing for him?
Yara did not know if she wanted to hear him say it though. Not because she loved him, but because to hear him say it meant she was lacking.
She had given him Ironborn lords and helped him build their business. He had given her things in return, things that she probably would not have had if she married anyone else. She knew she was far from perfect, but there was one thing that Yara would not find herself. That was to be found wanting.
"I am sorry. It was not meant as a slight to you." Harry said softly, taking her silent contemplation as anger.
"Would you stop seeing her if I asked you to?"
Harry looked genuinely surprised by her question. She could see the brief struggle inside of him. It danced plainly all across his face. He sank into a chair rubbing his face vigorous before he spoke the words that Yara could see hurt him.
"Aye. It would pain me greatly. But, yes, I would." He admitted reluctantly. It robbed Yara of the wind that had been as her sails. She wanted him to fight her one it, to give her more reason to be angry. But, he had done the opposite and her fury ebbed, if only a little.
"They are all whores to me. Anyone you lie with that isn't me is a whore, Harry."
He turned away with a snort, clearly not liking it. But, Yara didn't care. It was the truth.
"Would it make you more agreeable to this conversation if I called the Dornish girl your mistress instead?" It was meant in sarcasm, but Yara took it seriously when Harry glared at her before nodding reluctantly. There was very few differences between a whore and mistress, but apparently Harry cared for those differnces.
"Very well then, I don't care that you have a mistress," Harry looked a bit suspicious, but she ignored it and powered on, "You can fuck whores up and down the coast. You want to go to Dorne and fuck the Martell girl, then go ahead. Hells, I'll go with you and we can fuck your princess together, at least we show strength in our unity,"
That certainly got a positive and badly hidden expression from her husband.
"What I will absolutely not tolerate is you hiding things to me. Lying to me. We are supposed to be partners. Our marriage was built around our business partnership. That is supposed to be stronger than relationship between husband and wife. Especially, for people of our station."
"How do you figure?" Harry asked with a queer look on his face. Yara plopped on the chair across from him.
"Business partners can go out drinking and whoring and neither one of their wives would be the wiser. Sailors do it too. I am not stupid enough to believe that men are chaste when they go on voyages." She explained.
"Does that mean you wish to take a lover?" Yara snorted at his question. So like a man. He expected it to be okay for him to have a mistress, but not her to be a mistress to someone else. But, that was the world they lived in. She was not stupid to believe otherwise.
"As fair as that would be, no." Harry looked at her to explain, something that Yara rolled her eyes at. He was normally smarter.
"If you go whoring around no one will bat an eyelash. If I do it, not only will our House suffer for it, but our business will as well. People will think you weak for not being able to keep hold of your wife. When I get caught, because it is always a matter of when not if, then we will be the ridicule of the Seven Kingdoms. In short, you get caught having a mistress no one suffers. People learn I am a mistress to someone else our business goes into the privy. That's why you tell me these fucking things. So I don't get blindsided. Any show of surprise, any show of weakness, and we can kiss what we have built goodbye. If I know, I have a chance to play it. I can say we both fuck her, that I don't care you have taken a girl I consider to be a saltwife, or any other manner of excuses. But, if I'm surprised I can do nothing! I'm some stupid woman who does not satisfy her husband. I will be pitied. I will not stand for their pity. Their derision I can handle, their disgust that I would lay with another woman and my husband, but their pity will get my axe!" She finished, removing her axe and slamming it on the table between them.
Yara took a deep breath to calm herself, taking small pleasure in Harry's surprise. She was still irritated about him hiding about such things so she did not show it. But, as he had said, it was not a slight to her. Yara knew it was to spare her feelings now that her anger had been leaked. It was stupid, remarkably stupid of him to do so, but she could understand it.
"You are being remarkably lenient about this…" He stated, still a little skeptical. She could understand that too. Many wives, especially ladies, turned into shrews when their husbands slept with other women.
They were stupid.
What could they actually do to stop their husbands short of killing every woman they sleep with?
Nothing.
It was not fair. But, whoever believed that life was fair was an idiot and should have drowned themselves long ago. Life wasn't fair. Life was cruel and harsh. The only good things in life were what people made of the cruelty. That was the way the world was and so long as people inhabited it, that would never change.
She could have turned into a bitch when Harry had admitted his 'infidelity' or she could turn it into something positive.
If she played nice with the Dornish girl, Yara could ensure that Harry's loyalty was never divided. He might have said he would have left the princess if Yara asked and she believed him, but it was better to be sure. Plus, it would serve to put her above the Martell. Harry would always know that it was Yara that had 'given' him the princess. That she did not put him in a position he had not wanted.
"What's that?" Harry asked, finally noticing the large area covered by a sheet. Yara walked next to him and unveiled the armor and swords.
"We needed armor, so I had us made armor."
Harry looked at the presents, marvel written on his face and in how he touched the steel and copper. He saw her helm, the smaller of the two. He traced the sigil on it before turning to her.
"You bare the stag."
"Aye." She said with a nod, finding herself amused with his shocked expression.
Harry turned to her fully, taking her hands in his. Yara thought him to kiss them, but he seemed hesitant. Most likely due to the words they had exchanged previously. She had no idea why; she had said he could keep going on with the Dornish girl. Yara could see the brief spark of enticement when she mentioned them having at the princess together. So it irked her that he did not kiss her.
"Are husbands not supposed to kiss their wives when they come home?"
"Well-" Yara raised a brow daring him to speak anything other than the answer she wanted. He was going to make some quip about being unable to because she raised her hand to him. Well, not only was it was his fault, but Yara did not care for his excuses.
"Yes, of course." Harry said coming closer to her.
"You have given me many things today," She knew he did not mean the armor, "I will never forget it." He decreed.
Yara just smirked and put her hand on the back of his neck, dragging him so close their lips a hair's width apart.
She spoke the word that caused the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand on end.
"I know."
296 AC – Stepstones
~MUIRGEN~
The sun was high as was morale. The men were ragged and tired, but the thought of gold and treasure drove them on. It was to be the first permissible raid on the Stepstones. Lord Stannis had said that pirate activity along the Narrow Sea was at an all time high, probably thanks to Harry's growing business. Harry's merchant fleet had increased two-fold in number in almost twice the amount of years, coming to a hundred ships strong and Muirgen didn't mean cogs. They were Ironborn longboats, carracks, and newly built galleys with good men to sail them.
When Harry had built the ships, his advisors had said they would have no men to sail them. But, Harry had scoffed at them. He offered work to the smallfolk of King's Landing, gave them a decent living and good wages. People flocked to Dragonstone in droves. If Harry and Yara hadn't already started rebuilding the infrastructure of the island, they would have had to, to support the influx of people. Men, seven hundred and fifty in total, and their families new residence of the small island. There was still plenty of room, as Harry had been advised against overcrowding, but the island was more full of life than it had ever been.
She helped patrol the bazaar that merchants has setup their booths and the business had been established to make the stay more comfortable and enjoyable. Muirgen had walked those streets for a year and was always still amazed. There was a street for everything any merchant or sailor could want. The market was in a cross pattern with North and South streets being the longest.
The bazaar was rightly named 'Bazaar Street' and was far the largest, stretching completely from North to South. Merchants rented spaces and setup their wares for coin or trade. People could buy steel, wine, ale, brandy, exotic produce, horses, gems, and even the occasional dragonbone. Because of all the activity it was also the heaviest guarded. There was an armed guard every six stalls and a two roving patrols from sun up to sun down when everything on Bazaar Street was ordered closed. Most of the guards were men who had served with Harry on the Prayer or young men vouched by one of the crew. The guards knew they weren't a City Watch, they were private security and were paid well for the cushy job, so they did it well. They did carry swords, but their weapon of choice was a mace or bludgeon. Harry didn't want them killing anyone more than necessary, but they would keep the peace. There were a few squabbles at first, merchants who disagreed over prices, but they all learned that crossing the Market Guard was just as severe as crossing Harry himself. They weren't just beaten black and blue, but a fee for disturbing the peace was issued and they were taxed heavily on their wares. Men may fear death, but the loathed losing coin even more.
The street from center to West, which was closest to the dock was 'Spirit Street', a long stretch of land that was covered in taverns and inns. Some of the taverns had room above that could be rented as well. Spirits and ales and wines from the world over, from Arbor and Dornish wines, to pear and plum brandy of Tyrosh and the Summer Isles, to the stout ales of the North, Spirit Street had it all. Because it was so fueled by liquor, it had the second highest presence of Market Guards and many of the establishments had a small contingent of bouncers. Large men that looked like their mothers had mated with a bear kind of men. There were more brawls there than on any other street, but the small army Harry kept there ensured that everyone behaved. There were always a few cuts and bruises, with the perpetrators being sentence to the rest of the crew's stay on their respective ships. The penalty was to be paid by the ship's captain. It ensured that men who came ashore knew that they were business guest, and rules applied. The first and only captain to question such a rule had to answer to Yara, who 'accidentally' dropped her axe on the man's foot. He lost a small toe and a few teeth when he 'had the nerve' to curse at her.
The final street was the smallest, but the most decorative. The buildings on Red Street were made of the finest marble and had silk drapes and stained glass windows. It was the equivalent to the Street of Silk in King's Landing. It was not as big, but grander in its opalescence. A regular passerby could have mistaken the pillow houses for fancy inns. Harry and Yara had personally selected the Madams who would manage the brothels, the guards who would monitor the inside, and a medicine man to prove healthcare such as moon tea. Girls had been hired, because all the whores were free women, from all over Westeros and Essos, only the most beautiful being selected by the Madams. They were whorehouse; there was no cleaning it up, but all the establishments were very up scale. Whore not only slept with customers for coin, but also sang and danced and served them dressed scantily. It was a way for the women to display their wares, attract customers that would always come back, even if the trip were across the sea. Customers were not only charged for the women, but entrance, food, and drink. They could even board there if they had the coin to buy the girl's time and room. That way the girls kept most of the coin they earned and were able to keep all the gifts or tips they were given. The house would have been paid well before customers made it through the first doors.
Lord Stannis had not been happy with Harry for approving the building of brothels and was even more displeased to be informed that Harry and Yara actually owned the brothels. The inns and taverns, he could live with, but to hear his son was a peddler of the flesh…Muirgen swore that if people were able to spew fire Stannis Baratheon would have turned into a dragon. Lady Selyse hadn't been pleased either, but she had been easier to placate that Stannis.
Harry had explained that with him and Yara owning everything, there was no room for corruption. The worse case scenario would be the managers of the businesses embezzling and that was easily handled. Since Harry and Yara owned everything they could enforce the standards, keep everything in order. Seeing her son so in charge had Lady Selyse practically gushing. The woman would not shut up about her son being a good knight and a respectable businessman. Muirgen had never heard the term used more loosely, but was not surprised. Selyse was nothing if not the doting mother. As far as she was concerned Harry shit gold and farted rainbows. Stannis had not been so easy. The man wanted several policies in place; from medical experts to provide moon tea and ensure venereal diseases did not spread to setting a legally binding law that there would be an age limit that women could work.
It was Harry's turn to hit the ceiling. Her lord had been beyond offended that his father did not think he had thought that far ahead. When Harry had lashed at his father, his mother had joined in, while Stannis did his best to look like a tomato in embarrassment.
As entertaining as Stannis's predicament was, the best part of the Market was that neither sector was doing better than the other. It was small, but had everything sailors out at sea and traveling merchants could want. They did not need to venture far to find what they looked for. They could pay their fee at the dock, walk into a tavern for a drink or look for a room at the inn, setup their wares on either side of Bazaar Street, head to Red Street, and hit their stall on the way back to the docks or to go grab another drink before they went to their inn to sleep. Every part of the very small city was prosperous and Harry and Yara were getting richer by the moons that went by. It had done so well, Harry had asked his father permission for the Ironborn who had helped in making Dragonstone a success to raid the Stepstones. Stannis had agreed, saying that Harry had already given his word that the Ironborn could, but Stannis was to approve when. It would not do to raid constantly, lest the pirates and smugglers become too prepared. Attacking infrequently and sporadically would confuse the pirates, as they would not be able to spread word to others of scheduled attacks.
The Ironborn had not liked taking orders from Stannis, but knew there was intelligence in his plan. Reavers the Ironborn might be, but they were not stupid. It helped that Harry and Yara reminded them that it was because of the support from the Master of Ships they had all made a lot of gold.
That placated them enough.
Their small raiding party was a league from the shore when Harry came to sit beside Muirgen, his trademark grin on his face. They had used three Ironborn ships, as they were some of the fastest ships to sail with, and no more than three hundred men to include Muirgen, Mya, Yara, and Harry.
"Nervous my friend?" He asked jokingly. Harry already knew the answer to that.
"They are pirates and smugglers my lord. Not exactly men trained to fight warriors like us."
It was true. Pirates and smugglers weren't Ironborn. They did fear drowning at sea, so normally kept to lighter armors like leather. And not wanting the Ironborn to think them fearful, Harry had told them to wear full armor when they set sail. Men clad in leather fighting against a small army in full plate were hardly a troubling thought, or even a fair fight.
"When we reach shore, all the hells will break loose. If Mya keeps to our training, she will know that we are to stick as one. But, if she manages to break off and you see her, go with her."
"My lord, I am your Sworn Shield. What good is a shield if not at the wielder's side?" Muirgen asked, not liking the idea of not having Harry's back.
"You've done an outstanding job of protecting me, but I can handle myself better than Mya can. She has only been training for a few years. You have been teaching me to make corpses for over a decade and I have made plenty of them. Mya trains hard, is a good fighter, but has not killed anyone yet. She may hesitate and we both know what happens when you hesitate." Muirgen nodded at his explanation.
They did not know how Mya would act when she took her first life. Even if the men were pirates and smugglers, everyone reacted differently. Muirgen had thought nothing of it her first time. It was a way of life on Bear Island. Reavers would come, wildings would come, and the people of Bear Island had to kill to survive. Harry had taken it pretty well considering, serving justice to those that would do others harm. She wondered if Mya would be the same.
"But, as I said. That's if she wanders off or falls behind. We fight as you and I fought at during the Greyjoy Rebellion. We move as one. The Ironborn already know Yara and I are taxing them so the four of us will all get an equal share from that."
"Don't forget you can keep what you kill." A broad woman said with a grin.
"Aye, let's not forget the Lady Blacktyde." Harry agreed with a charming smile, one that had the older woman thinking Harry a minnow and her a shark, if her own smirk was any indication. If the woman only knew…
Muirgen had no doubt that if Harry were not already married to an Ironborn the older woman would have tried to take him as a…salthusband?
She remembered the rather crude joke Lady Blacktyde had said when Yara had introduced Harry as Ironside.
'Which side is the iron? Front or back?' she had asked cackling, before giving Harry's arse a smack. Muirgen expected her lord to be offended and for Yara to bury her axe in the woman's sternum. But, they all shared a laugh instead with Yara insisting it was both.
Needless to say Yara and Lady Blacktyde had gotten along famously after that. Yara bragged and Lady Blacktyde eagerly listened. Muirgen was sure that was as close as Yara had ever gotten to acting like a proper lady. Sitting and drinking rum while bragging about their amorous activities was their version of Ladies in Waiting needling and sharing gossip.
"Well, Ironside," The woman leered, "you and your Grey Knights may want to gather your wits. We hit shore in moments and when we do, we hit the first few crews we see, before heading back to the boat. Hit them and we sail off before the sun even thinks of setting. We can head to Lys to sell the wares we don't want." Lady Blacktyde had informed them. Muirgen did not like the idea of the woman thinking she was in charge. No matter how entertaining she was.
Grey Knights. What the Ironborn called them. Muirgen did not really know who thought of the idea, but it went somewhere along the lines of greyscale, Greyjoy, and grey armor. It was meant as a jape, condescension to their skill. Ironborn did not believe in knights after all. Still, it was a name Harry had taken a liking to and if it was good enough for her lord, then Muirgen took the name with pride. They did wear grey armor and at least two of them were knights. Muirgen hoped that after the raid, Mya would have proven herself enough to earn the title as well. The girl was still brash and uncouth, but she was a good girl.
"No," Harry stated plainly, standing until he towered over the big boned woman, "We sail past and land on the eastern side. Half the crew will unload the first ships we find of cargo and the other half will taking care of any land parties they may have. Then we head straight for Dragonstone. Yara and I will take our cut. Only then can you sail to where ever you will fetch best price for your wares and sail back to the Iron Islands to show off your riches."
Lady Blacktyde had a frown on her face at being told what to do by a green-lander. She turned to see Yara had stood beside Harry in a show of force. Her frown quickly evolved back into her shark-like grin.
"Ha! Seems you got a front and back of iron, but your tongue is steel," she punched him in the shoulder with a nod.
"You ever grow tired of him girl, you let me know. I'll have him. Always good to have a man with good, long iron." Lady Blacktyde said reaching for Harry's front. To his credit he didn't back away, just raised a brow. Yara grabbed the Lady's wrist before she could touch what she wanted.
"Maybe I will, Lady Blacktyde. But, until then, the iron's already got a sheath." She said.
Two really, Muirgen thought to herself.
The Blacktyde matriarch just cackled before striding towards the head of the ship to give out the orders. Muirgen saw Yara grab Harry's 'iron' with a grin and wink. Her lord shook his head in exasperation, but his lips curled into a small smile.
Muirgen was not one to judge people their customs. Especially, if they did her and her charge no harm. But, even she could only shake her head at the display. No one had ever said that Harry was normal, that the Ironborn were normal, but even Muirgen would have agreed with anyone who said that they were beyond abnormal. They were a very, very strange people. She decided to just stop trying to understand them.
Or, she might become just as insane as they were.