Euron

"The scale of possibilities with his blood is limitless," Euron thought giddily, "and it may surge the progress of my ascension further. There is ancient power in his blood, from both fire and ice. Used as it should be, the world will be shaped by my hand." He stood on the docks with his crew and watched. But it was with his eye where he can really see.

The colorless mist blocked every eye from seeing afar. It was akin to wandering blind. A fog that has not been cleared for centuries surrounded his fleet like a lover's embrace. It was silent too. It was the silence of eerie they roamed amongst. The smoking sea was as dangerous as comes. It was not an unfamiliar sight for Euron, for he had made this expedition once. This is where he had gotten his valyrion armor and sword and his eye. He will always remember the heaviness of dark energy, the creatures, and the treasure that still remain unfound. And he only had a taste of it, just a drop. With Jon, anything he wants he shall have.

"And sacrificing does not have the same flare any longer," Euron thought sadly. "When the bloodshed loses its spark it gets tiresome."

It was only a short while ago he made five sacrifices. It was two males and three females, all coming from the town he recently raided. They were stripped naked and had their throats slit and thrown to the waters. The water eagerly absorbed the fresh blood. Then the wind whispered to him and blessed his sails with speed unknown to man. There was magic here, a vassal if you want to call it that. It was eager to reunite with the magic and spells that left its place years ago. And it awarded him that no place can. It recognized him as their true god.

Euron can feel them watching them from the depths of the sea. He can see them. They are aware that he knows their existence, yet they do not strike. They know a threat when they see one. Nonetheless, he saw far ahead, brief and vague glimpses of what could come ahead and changed the course of his fleet accordingly. The shade of the evening told him what he needed to know also. He knows what's coming ahead, always.

"You think you can tiptoe upon my ship," Euron said, not turning around, "and try to murder me?" He chuckled. "The bad part is not you managing to kill me, it's the fact you think you can kill me without me knowing it's going to happen." Euron then slowly turned around, all eyes drawn to him. The rowing stopped. The ship slowly moved to a motionless position. The other ships took noticed and followed suit. "The world is in the palm of my hand."

His mutes and followers stood at attention, obediently staring ahead. "It might be satisfying that you spied on me for gods know how long." Euron walked by each one, not even looking them in the eye. His mind did it for him. He delved into the mind of each mute, taking possession of them and knowing their thoughts. Their minds easily permitted his entry as he molded them how he wanted. "You took one of their faces. But I am their face. I live in their skin. They all belong to me."

"Your 'cult' is talented but nothing but a fickle to my capabilities. You wear faces during the day and kill during the night. I do not need faces, as I can easily murder during both with just my own. You beings judge whose faces are best for your many-faced god. I judge the souls that need to be purified."

"I don't want you to live. That's where you lose." Euron's sword flashed and whirled in the air and was met with another sword. The man who clashed swords with him looked like one of his mutes, absence of a tongue and an ugly scarred. But his eyes were dead, no hint of life in the dark depths. If it was surprised that it was exposed it did not show.

The other mutes sprung to action, hands, and clubs descending with fury. The intruder was quick like a ghost and struck as fast as a shadow. Bodies were dropped easily as blood flies. The intruder moved like vengeful wrath as it slaughtered Euron's crew. Euron stood smiling at the bloody carnage. The being cleared a bloody path and made a beeline for Euron, dashing and moving side-to-side, quicker than any normal man. Not even Euron can track its travel. The thing was on him, it's killing strike hitting before Euron can even muster a flimsy defense.

The sword struck…only to be met with the lost chest plate of old Valyria. Meanwhile, Euron's Valyrian sword crashed into the man's chest. The chest was split like a knife would do to bread. Two halves of the man's body detached from the other and fell to pieces on the deck with a shower of blood. The head shook. Its skin peeled in the very eyes of Euron. The very skin on the head disintegrated as death rushed. It was a grueling process that lasted a couple of heartbeats. All that was left was a bloody skull. It was just as Euron predicted. "They've wanted to have my face for a verrrryyyy long time."

Euron laughed in its blood. "I've seen your death and I have it!"He scooped the skull and admired his bloody work. "You faceless men are very beautiful especially when y'all don't have real faces. It's awfully enduring." He took the bottle of the shade of the evening and poured it into the bottom of the skull like a cup. He drank the essence and it started whispering.

Jon

"What is he?" Jon asked in his sleep. Images of Euron's slaughter played out in front of him on a seemingly endless loop. It was an ever nightmare with his greatest defeat being played before his eyes without an end in sight. Jon watched the innocent die. He watched Euron in all his evil glory, his shiny armor and sword, tear apart and torment him. Euron was unstoppable. He squished Jon like a bug. All Jon felt was a shame. He prided himself on his swordsmanship. That was all he had. He was weak here.

"Look at him," the fake Jon answered. It came behind him to his ear and said, "He's a god."

"No, he's not," Jon answered. "He's not and will never be. That ego of his will tell him that, but I see the truth."

"Do you really?" The fake challenged. "You don't see the truth when you deny the truths that come out of his mouth. He is the one true God."

"That man…is a beast." Jon's voice wavered with raw emotion. "Whatever comes out is mouth is vile and full of lies. He kills whoever opposes him. He tortures and torments me for fun, and yet he is a god? No god will do that."

"What type of god are you looking for, Jon? The fake gods that are the seven, the many face gods, the lord of fire, the drowned god, the old gods, you believe in those gods? They are not real. You need to wake up."

"I do," Jon agreed wholeheartedly.

The fake Jon looked at him and laughed. "Reality will keep hurting you until you welcome it."

"Oh you mean Euron Greyjoy," Jon said sarcastically.

The other smiled. "Yes, Euron Greyjoy. He is reality."

"Why is he reality?" Jon asked. "Is he reality because he says he is? That's horseshit."

"Has he said something he never delivered on?"

"No," Jon admitted.

"If he says that this person will die, won't that person be food for the crows in the next hour? If he said he wanted somebody's tongue to keep silence, wouldn't silence be brought?"

"Yes," Jon whispered. "It doesn't mean he is not mortal like the rest of us."

"If a god wants something he shall have it. Euron grabs all that his heart desires. He kills, rape, and even murdered his own brothers. Why has he not been stopped if he is as mortal as you say he is?"

"Luck, it's just dumb luck."

"There is no coincidence in this world of magic. There is only Ice and fire. There is only Euron.

Jon woke up from hell only to be awakened to it. Awake, he can feel his wounds and most importantly, his failures. The slaughter that transpired hovered in front of his eyes. The fathers, the cookers, the workers, the mothers, and the children, were all the people Jon let down. Jon's chest compressed as he called to mind how dark the bodies made the waters get. It was terrifying how loud the air became because of the screams. Jon still has the shivers.

"He is a monster," Jon thought. "He kills for sport, treats the body as an experiment. He is a being with no remorse or consciousness. The Greyjoy is a savage with no honor. Theon is just like him. It must be in the blood like the Targaryens," Jon thought angrily. "They are all mad. He is…he is…"

"He is otherworldly."

Jon paused. The thought came unbidden and unwelcomed, but he dwelled on it. The essence of him considering this felt wrong on a different plane. The wrongness was met with wonder. Jon saw Euron's sword and armor. They were not normal. They were beautiful as they were dangerous, otherworldly. Jon's scar on his thigh throbbed with the remembrance of its cut. "I have not seen another sword with an edge like that. It was just a glance, but it was the worst cut I can ever experience." Jon closed his eyes and trembled as he remembered the sword split the air with deadly intent. "The armor was no armor made in Westeros. It was a Valyrian set." Jon was sure. Euron wore it and moved with it like it weighed nothing. There were no scratches or slashes on the plate whatsoever. The hard scales were as much a weapon as Euron's sword. It was impenetrable and sharp. Jon still has the marks. "How can someone so evil wear something so precious?"

"He has been to Valyria. And he is returning with me," Jon thought with awe and fear. The old city of Valyria was the land of the original dragon binders. They had exceptional sorcery and power, enough to conquer the lands they thirsted for. They were the most feared of their time. It was said their dark magic was frowned upon by the gods and was therefore wiped out along with their dragons. The dark magic still remains among the ashes, and every person that seeks to enter has never been heard from again.

"No, what is he doing." Dread was beginning to slither into Jon's stomach. "He might have made it into old Valyria. But he cannot do it again, cannot. It had to be luck the first time. He is going to send us to our deaths." The dead bodies in the room stared at him like they always do. We are already dead, they said.

Just when Jon was starting to lose his mind, the door to his room opened. The figure dashed forward with speed that jerked Jon upright in his chains.

"A-," was whatever Jon was about to say before bloody and hard calloused hands wrapped around his throat and wrestled him to the floor. Jon's head slammed to the floor and the grip around his neck grew and grew. Jon squirmed with all his might, flapping his hands, kicking out with his legs, but the man did not budge. Jon struggled to peer up at his strangler. The man was one of Euron's mutes. The man's dead eyes said nothing and showed nothing. Black spots began to dot across Jon's eyes. He was gasping but the air was never exhaled. He shook his head but still grew red. His body protested but still grew numb. Jon's eyes were now popping out of his head.

A sword abruptly pierced through the man's mouth. Jon blinked stupidly away the blood that was dripping on his face. "Don't lose your marbles, Jon!" Euron said with a loud joyful laugh. "No need to strain your face like that. It's ugly and very unbecoming of you." Another laugh and Euron yanked the sword out from the other side. The body twitched violently. Its head started to shake like a whore's ass. Jon watched with his own eyes as the head peeled and changed into different skins. They were all different from each other, young and old. It wasn't until it was nothing but a red skull did start Jon screaming. His scream got muffled as the red skull landed on his face.

"Shhhh, shush now. Why is there a need to fret?" Euron palmed the top of the skull and lifted the body off him. "Especially when it's something so delicious." Euron then slowly dragged his tongue across the width and length of the skull, tasting the unique red coloring. Jon closed his eyes in disgust and got the time to draw a breath.

"What…what is that thing?" Jon asked.

Euron wiped the corner of his mouth and smirked. "It's the facelessmen, Jon. They want you. They're coming to get you."

Jon's heart spiked at the same time his body did. "The facelessmen?!"

Euron's smirk turned into a grin. "Yes, it is the enemies that you can never see as they can take the faces of which you love and kill you with them. It is the enemies who can kill during the day and night. They've been killing kings since the day the sun dawned." Euron's smiling blue eye peered down at him. "They have come for you, Jon Snow."

"Why?!" Jon asked desperately. "Why is this happening to me?!"

Jon saw Euron shrug and knew at once he knew. "Somebody must've hired them to bring them your head." Euron's eye gleamed. "I wonder which highborn with that amount of coin and power enlisted their help."

"Why!" Jon asked. He didn't understand. "I'm just a bastard."

"Well, what to do when the bastard of a lord runs away." Euron lazily strode around the room, bending down to peer at the dead bodies in the eye. He stood upright in a flash. "You kill him," Euron announced cheerfully.

"What?" Jon asked stupidly.

"You're a smart boy. You are a bastard."

"Yes," Jon grunted out, anger and shame lacing every word. "I've known that for a very long time."

Euron walked to him and pointed a finger in his face. "YOU! You are a bastard of a well known lord. And it's not just a lord, it's fucking Eddard Stark!" He hurried to take his finger out of Jon's face when he tried to bite it.

Euron chuckled. "Oh, you never learn do you?"

Jon looked and gave him a look of utmost loathing. It earned him a scathing slap across the face that left a stinging hand print on his cheek.

"You are a bastard," Euron repeated. "You are a bastard of a man that's so revered across the lands that him having a bastard made them hate you instead of thinking less of him. Everyone is thinking 'how dare this bastard sully the honor of our poor Eddard Stark?' They never thought about you and how you feel. It's like that because you are nothing."

Jon bowed his head to somehow lower the sting but nothing can ever lessen the sting.

"And imagine how this looks," Euron said. "Eddard Stark is the best friend of Robbert Baratheon. It is known. Then the bastard bested the heir of Winterfell in front of the whole north and fled to Essos," Euron said knowingly.

It instantly clicked for Jon. For, a bastard is known to another bastard. "That's not what I was trying to do," Jon protested stubbornly. "I will never usurp my brother's right."

"That's not what they believe," Euron said. "In their mind, you are the blackfyre come again. You are the last in the line of succession, bested the heir in combat, and possibly in Essos right now to gather sellswords in your bastardly name. I would have the itch to crush your bastardly head in with the heel of my boot too."

"Lord Eddard is not the king. This is entirely different."

"Is it?" Euron questioned. "He is the best friend of one. It might not be very different at all. You can cry all you want. It's clear that they view you as a threat to this realm."

"What can I do?!" Jon cried out, not wanting to believe anything this crazy man was saying.

"As I said before, you can gather your little group of bastards and form a company." Euron then grinned deviously. "Or even…join forces with the Targaryens."

"You are mad. And you are a liar."

"History doesn't always have to repeat as we remember it. All they have to do is rhyme. The rebellious bastard of Eddard Stark, seeking his brother's claim, travels to Essos to ally himself with the Targaryens and take over Westeros. It's a compelling story to them, so they will repeat it until everyone swears it is the truth. And that's where the facelessmen comes in, to wipe out the next Blackfyre."

"All you have been feeding me is lies," Jon said, but his doubt was saying another.

"I might be false. I might be right. What is correct is you wanting your brother's claim."

"That is horseshit," Jon spat, venom coating his words. It was in the next instant that Euron's valyrian sword was in hand and by Jon's cheek. Jon froze, not moving a muscle. By his face, Jon can feel the sharpness of the weapon.

"You felt the kiss of this blade before," Euron whispered, lowering the sword, drawing blood from Jon's cheek with just the slightest touch. "You know how much the kisses hurt. Lie to me again and there will be nothing of you to kiss."

Euron can see the confirmation in his eyes and spoke. "Didn't you always want to be more than a bastard?"

"Yes," Jon said without hesitation. "I've always had…"

"Weren't you jealous of your siblings' birth status?"

"Y-yes." "I've always been jealous. I tried to be distant so they wouldn't see it. But I was close to them regardless and so was my jealously.

"You wanted to be lord of Winterfell instead of Robb. You wanted to take his claim."

Tears were brimming in the front of Jon's eyes. His lip trembled, but so did the sword by his face. "Y-y-yes." "I'm sorry, Robb. I've always wanted to be you. I wanted to be better than you. I wanted to take your claim."

Euron leaned closer. "And you wanted to damage them."

Jon opened his mouth and got stuck there. His childhood flashed by his eyes. He saw all the happiness they had but spared him none. They were not mocked. They were not shunned. They were not shamed. They were not different. He was different. He was shunned. He was shamed. Jon had dark thoughts at night that never resurfaced in the day. But he had them.

"Well?" Euron threatened. Jon felt the blade press against his cheek. Blood easily slid down. The tears slid down easier.

"I've wanted to hurt them," Jon admitted, his breath heavy. Euron's smile almost broke his face. "I wanted to hurt them for being so happy when I was so sad. I loved them for what they are, and I hated them for what they represented. They represented something I can never be: a legitimate child that Lord Stark can truly love and for the lords of the north to respect as one of their own. No matter how often they played with me or hugged me, I always knew I was not one of them. I wanted to harm them so I can have what they have." Jon closed his eyes as his heart throbbed. He was full of hurt and anger. He felt the blade ease away from his face.

"Why have you not carried it out?" Euron asked.

"I love them as I do hate them. And I was afraid. I've forever wanted to do the right thing Lord Stark preached. I was afraid of disappointing him. I was afraid of being a kin slayer. I was afraid of being punished by the gods."

"I've murdered and raped my brothers and ascended to a plane where no godly men can touch. That is a foolish notion designed to hold man back. You are going to be a disappointment to everyone, Jon. But I'm here to fix you, to better you, and you will not be punished. Your true side should not be stowed away," Euron said.

Two mutes came in, unlocked his manacles, and forced him on his feet. Jon did not know why they were heading to the deck. He couldn't get himself to care. "I've told someone my darkest secret. What does that make me? Does that make me a monster like Euron Grejoy? I deserve to be killed by the facelessmen and be another face."

They made it out to the deck. It was the eerie feeling that pulled Jon's head up. All around them was a dark-grey mist that extended as far as the eye can see. Jon can barely see the outlines of Euron's fleet. Smoke hung low by their hulls. Jon can see the waters, but he couldn't see what was in them. They were dark, unusual. "That cannot be water."

Jon's hair on his arms stood up. Goosebumps were all over his body. He stilled. He tried to breathe normally, but his heart rate sped up. "There is something out there," Jon thought, rapidly looking with his eyes.

"You sense it, don't you?" Euron asked next to him. "You sense the power."

"Where are we?" Jon whispered. They were being watched. He felt pressure on him from beings that are ancient, and dark. "I'm afraid." His hands were clenched.

"They are out there. They want to eat us for trespassing."

Jon then saw it, only briefly, a huge limb in the dark grey mists. It arose menacing from the waters and disappeared. He saw enough.

"Oh, the gods, we are going to die." Jon stepped backward, shivers running from his ass to his spine. "This is too much." He didn't go far as he was held in place.

Euron smiled at the fear on Jon's face. "This is the smoking sea. Nobody can even cross this because of them."

"We need to leave them be then," Jon pleaded.

Euron ignored that. "They are vestiges of the golden days of Old Valyria. They are beasts left without masters, wandering around in the wastes of their homes. If the dragon binders managed to make them fear them, why can't we do the same?"

"We don't have dragons," Jon pointed out.

That gleam was in Euron's eye again. "But Jon, yes we do."

Emerging from the depths of the ship was a row of chained prisoners. They bear the same resemblance in that they had no ounce of clothing on. They differed in their appearances. They were warlocks, septons, fire priests, man-beasts from Sothoryos, children, and pregnant women. Each and everyone had the marks of lasting torture. All of them were silent, motionless, and unemotional. All of them just swayed on their feet.

"What did you do to them?" Jon demanded, horrified. "What is this?"

A smile crept to Euron's bearded face. "I made them perfect." The Crow's eye walked up to the slaves to have a better look. He stopped in front of one of the pregnant women and cupped her stomach with one hand.

"I put my seed in the womb. All of them," Euron said, looking down the row where multiple women with bulging stomachs stood. "It is my own seed. The holy has stated that there is nothing more prized to a man than having offspring. There will not be a better sacrifice."

Euron caressed the woman's stray hairs. "You know the importance of this, of your role. I have molded you for this. Open your mouth." She opened her mouth, and Jon saw she had no tongue. "That's a good girl." Jon was ill. "He cut out all their tongues, even the children."

Jon turned his attention to the brazier that is being moved to the middle of the deck. Jon came to a sickening realization as the brazier was set aflame. The blaze established itself as a newborn and then grew in height. Its fingers curled and rose as tall as the mast on the ship. Even with the brightness of the fire, it did not distinguish the dimness of their surroundings.

"Life is so fragile in the grand schemes of things," Euron declared. "What is life if it is spared with nothing given in return? Why should they live when they do not contribute to the grander things at hand? Why should they live when they can offer their souls for my purpose?"

"Your purpose is wrong and twisted." Jon valued his life too much to say that out loud. "They are insignificant to the duties of the higher deity," Euron said, spreading his arms over his head. "They are blinded by their flaws. I am here to bring the light. They will all see that." Euron looked at Jon dead in the eyes. "You will see that."

It started with a dagger and blood. With a swoosh of a blade and the first slave fell into the smoky waters with a slit throat and a loud splash. The second one was followed by a gash in the forehead. The third victim fell into the water without a head. "They are being sacrificed." Jon's throat was tight as an old glove. "This is dark magic."

Euron started murmuring in what seemed to be a prayer. Jon felt the air shift. Two rough hands grabbed him. Jon struggled and spat. "They are demons, every single one of them." They hauled him to the front of the brazier. Jon narrowed his eyes to see Euron's face through the flames. Euron's face was warped and distorted by the flames, something demonic with his cruel smile.

"It is time," Euron said, "for your mind and soul to be awakened."

The dagger penetrated Jon's skin and drew blood. Jon hissed and so did the fire. The coals in the brazier that was once black turned red. The flames reached their highest point in length and width, showering the whole ship in fiery red and orange.

The air grew darker.

Jon felt his heartbeat racing, the sweat on his brow, the jerkiness in his legs. A heat he never thought to be real materialized in his gut, burning and stinging. "What is happening to me?" He doubled over. That didn't help and he opened his mouth to holler in agony. The pain was unreal. It was all over, the heat. Sweat poured down in rivulets. His whole body was on fire. He writhed on the deck. His eyes burned too eventually.

Euron's murmuring turned into a chant as more and more bodies flopped overboard. The air talked responded to the Greyjoy. The wind grew more fierce and wrong. The breeze turned into a storm, winds howling and screaming with the deaths of the victims. Whispers and screams from the fallen ran through the ship like a tomb raider. The mast on the ship flapped helplessly, barely surviving against the onslaught. The smoky waters splashed, rumbled, and talked. Jon screamed. Euron rejoiced and chanted louder, his voice reaching volumes not afforded to man. The ship rocked on its sides. Slaves and mutes alike fell off the deck and only leading to more death.

Humongous eyes of creatures, varying in shape and color, watched them from the gloominess of the dark mist. They hissed and spoke in a language Jon did not hope to understand. Euron's voice grew louder and transformed into something else entirely as if he was talking back.

"RAHARAHSRARARAARAAAA."

All at once, earth wreaking roars split the air. Jon shook on the ground, both from the pain and the deafening sounds, foam leaking from his mouth. His ears had to be bleeding. The ship rocked violently. The sky turned red as if the clouds bled. Then Jon's whole world went dark to escape the hell in the living to sleep in the other. His final sight was of Euron, in his beautiful dark valyrian armor, writhed in an unusual alien ruby aura and speaking with the creatures of the damned.

Arthur: As always leave a review as i love them and tell me what you think! Have a great day!