THEON
The south was unfamiliar to Theon, at least on the sea he felt at ease. The gentle sway of the waves as it swept against the wood. Candles were scattered throughout the room like beacons illuminating the darkness.
"He's got her on the Silence, gotta be."
"And we know exactly where they're headin'."
"So we need to get there first."
"What if that Lannister bitch has her? She might be holding her to keep Euron on her side."
The voices behind him were the gruff, rugged rumblings of the most ruthless killers and pillagers in the Iron Islands that had stayed loyal to his sister, her most trusted seafarers, they would wait on deck for a year if she commanded it, they were loyal to Asha, will they be loyal to me? If we don't find Asha, dead or alive, they'll abandon me quick as spit for a chance to pillage the first village they come across.
Harren was merely twenty and five, a face twice his age, his hair streaked down either side of his face, a brown mat of grease and dirt. Sparse wiry hairs covered his mouth and chin, the hairs turned a deep yellow above his upper lip. Wrinkles coated his head and cheeks, dirt lined the indents of skin clinging like mud.
Lorren, far more experienced and twice the age of Harren, was one of the most abhorrent, brutish men Theon had ever met. His head bald, with black patches of dirt, grease, even stained blood. Veins bulged and protruded across the top of his head, purple and red lines sprawled across the skin. His teeth were black and yellow, pieces of food stuck in the gaps large enough to serve as supper.
Despite standing out amongst the Ironborn, Theon always smelt Lorren before he saw him, his robes no longer had any discernible colour or pattern, they were nothing but blackened rags stitched and bound together sometimes by the bones of his unfortunate victims...and the scent clung to him like a disease.
Whilst not the most vicious, Dagmer was the most cruel and cunning, his sinister smile spoke malice, his poison eyes shot venom, his face covered in scars in different curves and sizes. His hair was short and kept neat, stubble ran along his chin parted by one scar or another.
They were drifting in the Narrow Sea, four days past they had departed from Dragonstone and the wind had been against them from dawn to dusk. Theon took a swig of beer from his flask, placing it on the desk in front of him.
"He won't let her out of his sight, she's a Greyjoy, he'll keep her close." Theon interjected as he turned to face the Ironborn gathered around the main table.
"So...he'll have her?" asked Harren
"Without question, we just have to find him." Replied Theon.
"An' he's already got a head start on us, we don't even know where he is." added Dagmer.
"At the Dragonpit, he said he was heading back to his island." Would he really turn tail and run, Theon wondered, "he'll have gone south past Dorne, to circle around to the west and then back up along the coast. Now depending on the weather, he should be somewhere around here." Theon placed a finger to the map. "Not far from the Saltshore. Now our ships are faster than theirs, but theirs are far stronger, so if we catch them, we can't engage them head on."
"Not to mention they've got five times the men we do." spoke Harren.
"Aye, so we'll have a much better chance facing them either on land or under the cover of darkness. Now the wind has held us back but when it picks up, we'll take the same path, to the south and then up along the western coast. How are supplies looking?"
"Be alright." grumbled Loren. "We'll manage well enough. If not, plenty of fishing villages between here and there, southern wine, southern food, southern women, we'll have plenty of-"
"So we have plenty onboard already, no need to stop off anywhere then. Relay messages to the other ship captains, inform them of our heading and enquire about their resources. Make sure they're well-equipped for the journey ahead." Theon said abruptly.
Slowly, the Ironborn began to leave, Harren departing first, lingering for a second or two, Theon could feel the eyes of Loren on him as he rounded the table to the door.
"I'd keep an eye on him if I were you." Dagmer said once he'd left.
"I can handle myself, Dagmer."
"You could against Harrag, but even with his ill leg and shot chest he almost beat the shit out of you."
"It's done now, these men aren't following me for me, they're doing it for Asha."
"Regardless, Harrag was a mere pup compared to Loren, if he decides he don't want to listen to you no more-"
"He doesn't have to listen to me, I'm not forcing him to be here, he can go and raid each and every village from here to the Wall if he so wishes, but if he does, he'll be a party of one."
"Wouldn't be so sure of that, he's got something from these men that you'll never have."
"And what's that?"
"Respect, after everything that's happened to you, no Ironborns ever gonna follow you willingly, to them you're merely a shadow of your sister. They're never going to see you as a leader."
"I know...I know I can never be a true Ironborn, I never was Ironborn, I haven't been since I was ten years old, I know you're loyal to Asha, you're her men not mine I know that. But I'm not going anywhere until we get her back, I'm here for her, not for anyone else."
"So 'IF' we find her, I can't imagine she's gonna be too happy to see you, an' if she don't want you here, what will-"
"Then I won't be here, if she wants me gone, I'll leave and she'll rule the Iron Islands as queen as she should."
"Aye, with that dragon bitch as her queen."
"She's granted independence to the Iron Islands, that was the agreement and in excha-."
"No one grants us independence, we take it for ourselves, we pay the Iron price."
"And where has that got us, hmm...two failed rebellions, all the great Ironborn Houses almost wiped from existence...and all for what, so we can proclaim ourselves King of some shit-stained rocks. Reaving, raiding, raping, paying the iron price, we're done with all that. We can live a different way and she will show us."
"If she's still alive, if Euron hasn't spooned her eyes out and sliced off her tongue." A wry smile slid across his mouth as he turned and headed to the door.
They don't respect me, none of them do, none of them ever will, but they're loyal to Asha, they won't abandon me until they know for sure she's gone...and if she is, I might never see the iron islands again, they'll be less than a distant memory. No coward will be crowned king of salt and rock, to them I'll be a mere jester of cowardice and shame.
Theon remembered the look in his sister's eyes as Euron held her, baiting him to rescue her all the while taunting him with the look of a wild animal in his eyes and the smear of blood splattered across his face.
He cursed the feeling of fear that had stayed his feet, the familiar sensation that had gripped him, like an itch on his skull, his breath quickened and his chest tightened. Visions of his torture within the walls of Wintefell crept into his head, repeating themselves over every time he blinked.
Before he knew it, he was overboard, clinging to a stray crate in the tepid waters of the narrow sea, the salt water washing away his fear, sadly only shame remained.
The wind favoured them in the following days, they sailed far day and night. Theon was perched at the bow of the ship, the southern wind beating at his skin. The sky clear above him, yet turned grey to the north towards the coast. The six remaining ships of his sister's fleet maintained a solid formation, they weren't expecting trouble but these were uncertain times for many.
Theon had reviewed the correspondences from the other captains detailing their supplies, both current and in storage, though each list lacked detail and was barely readable, as long as they have enough ale, that's probably all they need, Theon thought. If the men were really tight for supplies, he had a feeling he would know about it fairly quickly.
Theon's mind began to wander to his sister's whereabouts. If Euron really has returned home, he will have every inch of sea under careful watch, he must know I'm coming for her...unless he thinks me too much of a coward, perhaps he thinks I'll have returned north to face the dead, to fight for my 'real family'. Perhaps I'll surprise him...Theon thought this ill though, after all the stories he'd heard of his uncle, he was doubtful anything would surprise him.
"Ship Ahoy!" Theon suddenly heard from above him.
"There to the south-west!"
Theon looked to the crows nest where Arin, a young lad of twenty and one, was pointing off to the left. Theon manoeuvred to the left of the bow and spotted the ship roughly a mile and half afar, he couldn't see but the one ship yet still called to the nest, "How many!?" he shouted.
"Just the one, can't see no more!"
Theon gave no command yet the men started to prepare their stations for combat, cannons loaded and slid into position, harpoons aimed off the port side; armed, locked and set.
Theon crossed the deck to the helm, "Keep true Stig, don't break formation. We don't know who they are, not from here."
Sporadic shouts barked across the deck as the ship came further into view. Theon could see no discernible sail colour, no house sigil, no indication the ship had any allegiance, it could have been a simple merchant ship but they couldn't take any chances.
With the near destruction of Daenerys' fleet and his own sister's fleet being almost wiped out, Euron owned the narrow sea. Despite claiming he was returning home, a ship of his could be roaming on its own path.
As the lone vessel came head on into direct view, it was bearing left away from the formation to the south, "It's just a merchant ship." Theon murmured. Watching on as the ship continued on its journey south away from them, there were no signs of hostile intent or engagement. It's just a merchant ship, "It's just a merchant ship!" he shouted from the helm. "Stand down men...stand...down!"
The atmosphere on the deck remained tense for a few more moments as the signal was passed across the other ships. "Keep a keen eye to the south Stig, watch for any movement."
The tension remained amongst the men over the next few hours as the ship kept its true bearing, neither sailing further forward nor slowing up. Eagle eyes looked to every horizon both north and south, watching for the black sails of the Silence.
Theon stood to the right of the wheel at the helm, his hands placed slightly outward on the wooden beam in front of him. He had a watchful eye on the ship still a mile or two dead ahead. There had been some movement visible on the deck although limited, Theon hadn't seen more than three or four men at any one time.
"They've definitely seen us." The gruff voice of the wheelmaster groaned
"I don't know how they could've missed us, there's six of us and one of them." Theon retorted.
"You reckon they've gotten word out?"
"We've seen no ravens leave the ship, it's more than likely just sailing its route."
"Maybe...but we don't know who's onboard, what inferior motives they might have."
"Ulterior motive, not inferior."
"That's what I meant." Theon let out a small sigh, Stig earned his reputation of a brute, all his muscles went to his arms, less so his brains, he thought.
Theon still ought to tread carefully though, he had heard Stig once caved the skull of a man who gave him a flagon of wine in place of ale. His shoulders were wider than his sword and his arms cut as sharp, but his mind was dull, blunt as the head of a hammer.
"We should just take them I reckon, be nothing it would."
"We have everything we need, no need to risk it."
"There's no risk there little Theon, like you said, just a merchant ship. Bound to 'av something worth taking."
"If we don't need it, it's not worth taking. Boarding that ship would be nothing but a delay, something we can't afford."
"As you say...little Theon."
He felt the sneer in his voice though it fell queer on his ears, he was beyond vague insults now, words did not speak in the same tone as actions as he had learned the hard way.