Euron 'Crow's Eye' Greyjoy was a man of simple pleasure. A tight cunt here, a well fought battle there, some luxuries to top it all off. And all with iron sprinkled liberally throughout. Not much to ask out of life. But so many men seemed set and determined to ruin that.
First it was those scaly Targaryan fuckers up at King's Landing. The ones who wouldn't stop rutting their own family like blind idiot mongrels. Then it had been those golden haired twats at Lannisport who got so damn up in arms because they thought themselves safe under the rule of a lax whoremonger like Robert Baratheon. The brown haired ironborn was willing to bet his crew (men could be replaced good ships could not) that those Lannister prigs had never had to pay the iron price for anything since the day they came squalling into the world with silver platters shoved up their bungholes.
Euron himself had paid in iron in all the ways that counted. His clothing, his weapons, his men, even his numerous bastards by many a whore: most of whom crewed his ship while the others stayed with the rest of his men back in their hideout nestled inside the Cape of Eagles.
He still chuckled to himself on occasion over that. His brother Balon was so sure he could banish him from his rightful home simply for taking what was freely offered him by Victarion's salt wife. (And she had certainly offered herself to him, no doubt about it. How else could Victarion explain how her breaths always seeming a bit deeper to draw attention to her otherwise unimpressive chest or the shivers he saw raise her skin in bumps when his eyes hungrily raked over her before she would quickly look away with quivering eyes?) And yet all it took to avoid his supposed banishment was stay out of the way of his direct sight on the Cape.
Certainly he took this opportunity to wander the seas, plundering any eastern vessels he could reach while seeing more of the seas he never would have otherwise even going so far as Old Valyria to find if there was anything of value. The smoking ruin had held interesting things for him. It had killed many of the crew he'd taken with them as they choked upon their own bodily fluids, seared to a husk for foolishly drinking the water or breathing the air too deep. (Again, men were easy to find and replace. Ships were not.) But not him. For he was truly a man of iron. In body and in mind.
As such, it would prove as no surprise to any who had an inkling as to his character that being banished from his rightful place on Pyke stuck in his craw, like a man's femur that a seagull foolishly attempted to pick the meat off before choking on it. He decided he needed to pay a visit to his brother's wife in Harlaw. He never bothered to see her anyway, so how would he know if Euron decided he wanted to pay a bit of iron for a turn in the sheets with her? He gave the order, anticipation already cresting over his previous fury that arose from those bitter memories. He would need to wash them out with some good old fashioned reaping. And he knew the area between the cape and the islands was the perfect place to do it.
The mute crew did not even dare to question him with their eyes. Whatever their captain ordered they did. After all, he was still one of the last true ironborn who followed the old ways. And that meant any who stood in his path would surely die.
'As it should be.' A hate filled little voice whispered inside him. He agreed fully.
Euron took a deep breath of the salt air he was so familiar with. It would be some time before he returned to Pyke he knew. But when he did, it would be a time of reckoning. For his brother and for anyone else foolish enough to deny him what would be his by right of conquest.
'A man who is willing to pay the price of iron does not fear anything. Give him a prize worthy enough and he'll cut off death's clammy hands to claim it.' Euron thought to himself. He had yet to be proven wrong. He'd spotted the merchant vessel leaving Barrowton and sent a message ahead of him so that when they inevitably tried to reach their destination of Lannisport, they would find themselves in the Angler's Trap.
The ship he'd picked out for capture, The Roaring Pride, was a simple vessel. Not so much as a differently clothed sail or attempt to make their hull colorful to be seen. Probably hoped that by being as non-descript as possible that potential raiders would assume them to either be smugglers or not worthy of attack due to being so low key. But Euron didn't want to take them for any sort of monetary gain. To a man of iron, even the act of reaving a fishing boat could prove fruitful so long as he took enough pleasure and joy in the act itself.
He should know, that was how he'd found the whore who would bear his eigth bastard.
But as they began to get closer to the ship, Euron noticed that some of the oars had made their way into the water without any indication of danger from him. They appeared to be trying to go faster as if they knew he was there. His eye narrowed in displeasure as he thought that just wouldn't do at all.
'They are but flesh. Against a man of iron they are but saplings in the face of an erupting volcano.' The hateful voice whispered to him.
The midnight air was stirring while the waves crashed soothingly into the hull of Silence as she cut through the water: silent and quick as a knife to the throat. The sky was almost black with only the barest slivers of moonlight shining through the occasional patches of emptiness in the blanket of the darkness. The smell of the salt water filled his nostrils as he lit the lantern upon the prow of his ship.
He knew that the ship was running now, but while he was unhappy about it he knew he had to signal his other two ships if he was to bait the ghost angler trap. As he drew a handful of brown powder from the pouch by the lamp, he remembered how the merchants had claimed that the fires could be all colors so long as he used this powder. They'd been telling the truth as it turned out. It didn't prevent him from paying the iron price for it but it had made him grateful for it.
The powder he tossed onto the wood in the lantern made the fire flare into colors of blue, green and sometimes even unusual purplish color. It made for an unusual and somewhat intimidating sight for the ships that suddenly saw it flare to life behind them. Many captains, having developed deeply ingrained superstition over their time in such an inherently uncertain occupation, would immediately seek to escape the ill omen that the otherworldly fire represented by putting it to their back as swiftly as they could force their crew.
But such hurried fleeing almost always boiled down to them trying to go forward as fast as they possible could. Right into the jaws of the trap and the two ships Euron had nearby who would be waiting for just that light to approach the unlucky bastards from the front while they were so busy trying to escape what was behind them.
It helped to ease his irritation. But only until he saw something flare to life upon the miserable little ship. It was only a small light true. But it became bigger when it flew forward into the dark of the night. To Euron's surprise, it appeared to hit another ship. When the fire spread up the mast suddenly, he could just make out the flag design of a blood red dagger dragging across cresting waves on a background of grey. With a start he realized that meant it was one of his own ships that had just been set on fire.
Another flare of fire from the merchant ship and another arrow flew forward to impact one of the other ships in front of them. Euron's temper was rising again. That was two perfectly good ships damaged now and for what gain? Unless this piddling little merchant ship was carrying Old Valyrian relics, there was no possible way for this loss to have been worth the trouble. Not unless he could get his pounds of flesh from every member of the crew.
"What're you sorry lot waiting for?! Bring us full speed ahead you festering pus stains!" He shouted at his crew, left hand gripping the hilt of his sword with an angry strength that could've cracked any wooden railing he happened upon. At least this simplified things for him. It meant he would be finding the worthless sack of seal shit that dared to damage his ships and he would make them pay with blood and pain before he gave them the mercy of death.
'Give them only what they deserve for trying to burn that which can never die.' The hate filled voice accepted gleefully.
As they came closer, it seemed the crew of the Roaring Pride's crew had grown a backbone and was fighting back against the combined crews of his own Whisper and Hiss as they attempted to board. The distance between them closed and Euron could start to smell the blood in the air. It made his blood race as a manic grin stretched his face, making his single eye crinkle in naked lust for the coming battle as the shadow his eyepatch cast across the rest of his face made him look impossibly more sinister than ever.
"Ram them!" He called to the oarsmen. The Silence was outfitted with an iron figurehead and jutting ram that came just underneath the cresting waves in a broad, somewhat spearhead shape meant to puncture just about any hull without endangering itself in the process. Many a time it had proven itself against ships from the east and the west alike. As the ship moved faster, Euron couldn't help but enjoy the fine spray of some of the agitated waves against his face, the multicolored flames playing and sputtering in the brazier next to him as they came ever closer. Even in the face of his aggravating loss of the two ships, it was times like this that truly made him feel the joy of being an ironborn man.
He could hear the shouts of the merchant crew as they fought and died. They were some of the sweetest music he could hear when he sailed the world. But surprisingly, he could also hear the few men he trusted to keep their tongues in their head crying out in pain. It seemed this crew of ants had some bite to them after all. Not that it would make so great a difference, but it was always nice to know when going into battle just how hard your opponent would fight back against you.
Both the Hiss and the Whisper were on opposite sides of the merchant ship, the ships now spreading their flames to the Pride that had done this to them out of spite. No fear of repercussion nor of joining the Drowned God in his watery hall. As it should be.
Euron braced himself as the vessel came closer. With an almight crash, his ship impacted the back of the Roaring Pride, simultaneously puncturing the hull and destroying the rudder. As Euron called to the oarsmen to reverse, he saw that for the most part there were only two left fighting on the deck: an older man who looked to be about Euron's age and a younger green boy closer to the bow who'd been knocked off his feet along with some of the mutes surrounding him in the darkened night.
As Euron watched on, he was suddenly struck by how the fires illuminated the ship and appeared to continue spreading even with the effort of some of the crew that remained on them to put it out. Ordinary fire didn't act like that he knew. In the middle of pondering this, he was suddenly struck with a vicious headache that almost had him roaring in pain. Something that hadn't happened even the first time a man had managed to drive a blade into him. He didn't like it at all.
His head was pounding an angry drum beat in his head and the hate filled voice in his head was screaming at him. It had never been this loud, not even when his silt blooded brothers had banished him for embracing the old ways in all aspects of life and taking what was his to take. Though perhaps his own frustration with the crews he had broken and built up again with his own hands managing to lose against such a pitiful excuse for an opponent was what drove him to feel such vitriol. They were after all only a boy and one man. The rest of the crew had fallen easily enough and yet these two not in the prime of their life were managing to best two crews of his own men even as the ships burned around them.
'Off-Spark of the flame! Loathed kindling made only to feed the greater fire! Kill it kill it killitkillitkillitKILLIT!' It roared hatefully. Euron could almost hear the feel the palpable rage and fury frothing inside the voice.
As he opened his eye, he saw that the green boy had recovered and the captain had fallen to his second in command as the Pride began to sink stern first into the briny waters around them.
'Give yourself to the bloodlust!' His voice of hatred shouted. 'Show these upstarts for good and all what it is to be a terror of the deep!'
As it continued speaking, Euron couldn't help but feel something in the air surrounding him as the ship continued sinking in front of him, the fires now beginning to spread to the ever sinking Pride. And yet the green boy fought on before he made a break for it, seeking to jump on to the cracked but upright mast that was now leaning toward Euron's own Silence.
As he clambered up, Euron called for his mute dogs to get their axes and bows ready. It seemed they were about to have company. He ordered the men to greet their unwelcome guest as they would any other. The bowstrings sang and the axes whistled toward the boy who sprinted forward regardless. Euron couldn't understand why until he saw Cragorn's shield held before him as he ran forward. The Greyjoy captain knew it was his lieutenant Cragorn's shield because it had the same design of a red bird upon it the man himself had emblazed upon his own chest. Interesting that this black haired boy would prove formidable enough to escape one of the few men Euron had entrusted to keep his tongue in his mouth rather than have it cut out as a preventive measure.
Impact after impact cracked and splintered the shield but still it didn't break under the assault. And before Euron's eyes, the entire shield spontaneously burst into flames, the arrows and axes going with it. As he leapt off the mast, he flung the shield toward the deck of Euron's ship. When it landed, the flames began to spread.
Euron was beyond mad now. His crew were starting to get edgy, the boy was attacking them with nothing close to fear and he had lost two of his ships for a merchant's cargo that was even now sinking to the bottom of the sea. He drew his sword, the whisper of steel as it passed through the leather of the sheath only a slight balm to his temper even as his headache blistered even worse inside him.
'Enough of this! Give him the death he deserves by our hand! NOW!' The hate-filled voice demanded.
'Why not?' Was the last thing Euron thought to himself before his world became smoke and pain. The black haired boy stopped where he was as did the captain's men as a deep laugh emerged from his mouth. The man formerly known as Euron Greyjoy briefly closed his right eye before opening it again: revealing a bloodshot blue eye that looked more akin to the deadly blue of a sea than the clear blue of a summer sky. The waves crashed ever louder, pushing the wreak of the Roaring Pride along with the burning carcasses of the Whisper and the Hiss toward the now beginning to burn Silence. The mutes resumed attacking the black haired boy as a smile of recognition flashed across the face of the thing hiding behind Euron Greyjoy's face.
It breathed air for the first time in many years as it beheld with its own eye something it had never expected to see again. It continued laughing ever louder as the black haired boy continued fighting with a dagger in his right hand while his left hand was left in a somewhat clawed shape; the fingers straight to the first knuckle before curving downwards from there up to make a crude imitation of a beast's claws. At last it ceased to laugh as it called out to the black haired human:
"Hello brother!"
The black haired human looked at him, shocked grey eyes slightly widened as he abruptly leapt toward him side by side with the other mutes to attack. It had been so long since last he had taken human form. But fortunately this worshiper of the Salt Snake had always been prone to emotions and feelings that had made it so easy to accept him into his mind and his soul. It attacked, not caring for anything that got in his way whether the crashing water, the burning ship or the panicking crew.
"I wonder, did our father really think you wouldn't be found? That I wouldn't discover you?" He asked rhetorically. He didn't much care whether or not the being that called itself R'hllor had attempted to hide his younger half-brother from him at all. It merely made for an interesting question. "But if you wouldn't mind telling me your name brother, I should be most grateful!"
"Why?" His younger sibling asked warily, left hand seemingly twitching as though he wanted to call the fire to him now. He didn't though, apparently wary about whether or not he could fight against another of his own kind. Smart. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?"
"Oh, but it's been so long since I had a name or a body of my own!" He lamented facetiously, left hand reaching up to grasp the eye patch that covered the once empty eye socket of Euron Greyjoy. "But if you must know," He continued, gripping it tighter before pulling it off altogether. The horrified expression that filled his little brother's face was one he would treasure when he killed him. "I wanted your name so that when I come face to face with our father, I can tell him which one of his children was claimed by the Doom of Valyria!"
Author's Note: ...Dun dun dun? Hope you guys are enjoying the story thus far as much as I'm enjoying writing it! And on a side note, I was thinking that once I get to twenty chapters in this crazy thing, I'd post it as a separate story in the Song of Ice and Fire section on . Thoughts on whether I should or not?