68: The Son of Ice and Fire, Under the Shadow of a Dragon pt.2

Maekar maneuvered Neferion toward the small fortress, his hands steady on the reins as he focused his thoughts. With a simple mental command, Neferion obeyed, unleashing a torrent of orange and green flames from his massive jaws. The fire cascaded down upon the fortress, the heat so intense that it began to melt the stone walls as if they were nothing more than wax. The walls of the pirate stronghold buckled and twisted under the dragon's fury, the very air around them shimmering with the heat.

As Neferion circled around to the other side, Maekar took in the devastation below. The settlement, once bustling with pirate activity, was now reduced to a fiery hellscape. Buildings were engulfed in flames, collapsing in on themselves. The dockyards, filled with ships, had turned into a raging inferno—their masts collapsing and their sails reduced to ash. The sound of men screaming, crying out in terror, echoed through the air, but it would do them no good. No one would escape this destruction.

Maekar pulled on the reins, bringing Neferion to hover in the air once again. With a thought, he commanded the dragon to unleash another blast of fire. This time, the fortress itself was the target. The flames hit with such force that the stonework of the keep began to melt away, crumbling like sand beneath the unrelenting heat. The pirates within stood no chance, their cries lost in the roar of the flames and the crackling of the crumbling fortress.

The sun was descending toward the horizon, but there would be no darkness here tonight. The blazing fires of the pirate stronghold illuminated the sky, the flames roaring high enough to be seen for miles. This cove, once home to the pirate lord known as the Black Baron, was now nothing more than a charred ruin.

This was the second-to-last of the pirate strongholds Maekar had set out to destroy. He had wiped them out in just a week, and only one remained. He would soon arrive at the meeting point, well before his Varangians were expected. His final task here was to destroy the Golden Company, eliminate the last Blackfyre, and retrieve Blackfyre—the legendary sword.

Satisfied with the destruction he had wrought, Maekar guided Neferion away from the smoldering ruins below.

He had only one more pirate lord to burn, and it had only been a week. He had two more weeks until his men arrived for the planned attack on the Golden Company.

‘Maybe I should spend some time on the beautiful beaches here. Some alone time would be good,’ he thought, as he flew toward his next destination.

=======

Two Weeks Later

Lady Bloodtide, Red Orys, Dagon the Drowned, the Coral King, Ironclaw Vardis, and the Black Baron—these were the pirate lords Maekar had ended in the last three weeks, their reigns of terror extinguished by dragonfire. He had destroyed their bases, sunk their ships...

But still, one remained.

He had hoped to spend the last two weeks on the sun-drenched beaches of the Stepstones after dealing with the pirate lords, but when he arrived at the spot where the final pirate lord was supposed to be, there was nothing. His intel had been wrong, and he had been searching for him ever since.

Old Pyke, as he was called, was a legend in these waters, said to be unkillable. While not as powerful as the other lords, Old Pyke was the most cunning—never showing off, always remaining hidden. His network of spies was so vast that even Maekar had been fooled.

For the past week, Maekar had been searching for Old Pyke in the most direct way possible—through brute force and covert inquiries. But every lead had turned cold. Now, only three days remained before he had to meet with his Varangians and the rest of his forces. If he didn’t find Old Pyke soon, the pirate lord would slip through his grasp.

But he had one last lead.

He watched intently from his vantage point as the crew of an Ironborn longship disembarked on a small island near Torturer's Deep. The island was surrounded by calm, blue waters, with white sandy shores that stretched inland toward a dense jungle. It was large enough for him to have landed Neferion during the night, unseen by the ships docked along the coast. The dragon was now hidden deep in the jungle, waiting patiently for his return.

His eyes scanned the Ironborn crew, finally locking onto the person he had been hunting for the last four days.

‘There she is,’ he thought.

Asha Greyjoy.

A sharp smile curled across his lips. Asha, daughter of Balon Greyjoy, had been operating in these waters for months. If anyone knew Old Pyke's location, it would be her.

He watched as Asha strode confidently across the dock, her crew following behind her. Her dark hair flowed in the wind, her face set in a steely expression. She moved with purpose, her eyes sharp and wary. A few men on the dock eyed her crew with caution, but none dared to challenge them. One drunken pirate made the mistake of approaching Asha too closely, only to be rewarded with a swift punch to the gut. The man crumpled to the ground as Asha stepped over him without a second glance, her crew laughing as they followed her into a nearby tavern.

He knew this was not the best idea but he could get another ally if it all worked out he knew he was safe since Neferion was just a mental command away. With a cloak covering his armor, it's dark fabric billowing in the sea breeze, Maekar moved silently toward the tavern.

The tavern was a den of debauchery. Men drank heavily, their laughter rising over the discordant music of a battered old harp in the corner. Whores, draped in worn silks, moved among the patrons, their seductive smiles barely masking their disinterest as they lured men.

In one corner of the room, a man stood on a table, hysterically recounting something to a small crowd gathered around him. His eyes were wild with fear as he waved his arms about, trying to impress upon them the terror he had witnessed.

"I swear it was a dragon! A real dragon, I tell you!" the man shouted, his voice high-pitched with panic. "It burned the Black Baron's hideout at Iguana Cove to the ground! Flames hotter than the fires of the Hells themselves! Like something out of the old Valyrian legends. It's here to kill us all!"

Some of the men laughed, while others exchanged uneasy glances.

"Shut your mouth, you fool," one of the men grumbled as the man was dragged out into the street.

Maekar walked to the bar, keeping his hood low as he surveyed the room. He leaned against the worn counter and gestured to the barkeep.

"Something to drink," he said, his voice calm. "Your most expensive."

The barkeep, a grizzled old man with a patch over one eye, nodded. As Maekar adjusted his cloak, the glint of his Valyrian steel armor briefly caught the light. He made sure it was visible—just enough to stir curiosity and suspicion.

The barkeep returned with a bottle of Myrish brandy, pouring a generous amount into a chipped glass. Maekar tossed a gold coin onto the counter without a word and lifted the glass to his lips, sipping slowly.

"That’s nice armor you’ve got there," came a voice from behind him, smooth and sharp.

Maekar smiled and turned his head slightly. "Yes, it is," he replied, still sipping. "Took it off a dead man."

The tavern began to quiet. Asha Greyjoy stood a few feet behind him, her sharp eyes fixed on him, gleaming with suspicion.

"Must’ve been a wealthy man to afford armor of Valyrian steel," Asha said.

The room fell completely silent.

"I wouldn’t call him wealthy," Maekar said, turning to face her fully now. "But he was mad. Him and his brothers. His nephews too. All dead." He smiled coldly. "But I’m glad his niece was smart enough to escape." He paused. "To think, a Greyjoy brought so low, serving some pirate in the Stepstones."

Asha’s face twisted with fury, and she lashed out with a punch. Maekar caught her fist mid-air, gripping her wrist tightly.

The tavern erupted. The men around them rose to their feet, swords drawn.

"You fucking cunt," Asha snarled, her eyes blazing with hatred. "Stupid, arrogant bastard. I’m not even gonna bother asking how you got here. But I’m going to make a tidy sum off you, Prince Maekar."

Maekar raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Prince Maekar? Me? Surely not."

"Enough," Asha snapped, clearly done with the game. "Capture him."

The room exploded into motion as pirates closed in on him, weapons gleaming in the dim light. Maekar raised his hands, stepping back slightly.

"Whoa, whoa, I surrender. I surrender."

Asha grinned wickedly. "Good. Maybe you’re not as dumb as I thought."

With a sudden punch to the side of his face, Maekar stumbled back, blood trickling from his lip.

"I’m going to make so much gold off you," she continued, grabbing his chin and holding her knife to his throat. "Maybe I’ll ransom you back to your father. Or maybe I’ll just kill you. Could make more with that armor of yours alone."

Maekar smiled despite the pain. "Or you could ransom me and keep the armor."

Asha chuckled darkly. "Take him away."

The pirates closed in, binding  Maekar's hands as they dragged him outside, Asha’s cold gaze never leaving him. He had expected this, and now he would just need to wait.

.

.

.

‘Maybe this was not a good idea,’ Maekar thought as he sat in the ship's brig.

It had been a day since Asha Greyjoy's crew had captured him—or rather, since he allowed them to capture him—and now the ship was at sea. The brig was filthy. The stench of saltwater and rot filled the air, and the floor was sticky with grime and dirt. Maekar sat on a splintered bench, his wrists aching from the ropes that had bound him all day. He could hear the creaking of the ship as it rocked on the waves, the sound of the sea constant, though he had no way of knowing exactly where they were.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a burly Ironborn stepped inside.

"Ah, finally, someone. I’m starving," Maekar said.

The Ironborn pirate chuckled. "So is our captain, prince," he mocked, dragging Maekar up roughly by the arm.

Maekar was grateful to be out of the brig, at least for a moment. The chill of the night air hit him immediately as he stepped onto the deck, filling his lungs with its crispness. The moon was full, casting a silvery glow over the sea, which shimmered beneath it like an endless expanse of liquid glass. The ship had docked near a small island, barely a speck of land, the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

It was an oddly peaceful scene for what he was sure was about to happen.

The Ironborn crew jeered at him from the deck, calling him "salt wife," which confused him. He was shoved through the door of a small cabin, which he quickly realized belonged to Asha Greyjoy.

Asha sat casually on a small bed, a bottle of liquor in her hand. She was wearing a loose tunic, the neckline open just enough to reveal the tops of her breasts, and her hair fell in dark, wild waves over her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light as she grinned at him.

"Welcome, Targaryen," she said, gesturing for him to sit at the small table in the center of the cabin.

Maekar shrugged and took a seat, his eyes drifting toward the simple meal laid out—some dried meat and bread. He picked up a piece of the meat, chewing slowly, his eyes fixed on Asha as she spoke.

"So, what am I going to do with you?" Asha began, her voice almost playful. "I could ransom you, of course. I’m sure your family would pay a hefty price to get you back." She took a swig from the bottle, her eyes narrowing in thought. "But then again... maybe I should kill you. You did kill my brother, after all. And another one is rotting on the Wall because of you."

Her tone shifted as she started listing the various ways she could kill him at sea. Drowning, throwing him overboard, or simply gutting him and feeding his remains to the sharks. Her descriptions were vivid, creative even, but Maekar showed no sign of fear. He chewed calmly on the bread, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You have a very impressive imagination," Maekar said, his voice steady, not the least bit intimidated. "And what’s your final decision then? Kill me? Ransom me? Or something else?"

Asha walked over to him, her hands gliding over his body. "There is another option," she said with a grin. "After all, I am Ironborn, and we do take salt wives."

Maekar chuckled. "I thought men took salt wives. Never heard of a woman doing it."

"Well, you'd be a salt husband then," Asha said, her eyes glinting mischievously. She ran a hand through his hair before taking a seat opposite him at the table, her face mere inches from his.

"Well, I’m flattered," Maekar said, his tone dry, not breaking eye contact.

“How did you get here?” Asha asked seriously, her playful demeanor now gone, replaced with a sharper edge.

“Finally, you’re asking the right questions,” Maekar replied with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

Asha’s eyes narrowed. “Well?” she pressed.

Maekar’s grin widened. “I flew here on a dragon.”

Asha sighed, clearly annoyed. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Of course I do,” Maekar said, shrugging off her irritation. He quickly changed the subject, his tone more casual. “You know, I’ve always found the Ironborn fascinating.”

“Oh, must have been why you killed so many of us,” Asha replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maekar chuckled, unbothered by her tone. “That way of yours—reaving, raiding, and all that nonsense. Honestly, it’s idiotic. You lot sail around like bloody pirates, plundering whatever scraps you can find, and for what? A few miserable islands, a bunch of rocks barely worth the trouble? You all act like it’s some grand tradition, but it’s just... well, it’s stupid.”

Asha remained silent, her expression guarded.

“But I remember there were those who saw sense, once. House Hoare,” Maekar continued. “They had the right idea, didn’t they? Long ago, they realized your people had potential, real potential. They stopped the mindless reaving and started to build something lasting. Trade, alliances, power that wasn’t just stolen from a neighbor’s shore but earned through influence and strength. They conquered the Riverlands, for fuck’s sake.”

Asha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Are you giving me a history lesson now?”

"Your grandfather, Quellon, he was like that too, wasn’t he? Had a bit of vision in him. Wanted to drag your people out of the muck, make something of them," Maekar continued, his tone shifting slightly as he saw Asha’s eyes narrow, her attention piqued.

Asha’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t speak.

"Then, of course, your father had to go and fuck it all up. Clinging to the Old Way, and where did it get him? Dead. Your people crippled for generations."

Maekar could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface as Asha’s expression darkened, but he pressed on.

"And here you are, the last Greyjoy, serving some bastard-turned-pirate lord. What a fall from grace."

Asha’s face twisted with fury. "I’m going to drown you," she spat.

Maekar smirked, unfazed by the threat. "Fine, you can do that... after you lead me to Old Pyke. Then maybe we can have some fun too, eh? Isn’t that what you wanted when you brought me here?"

Asha blinked, then burst into laughter. "You’re mad," she said, shaking her head. "This is the strangest thing I expected to happen today."

She continued laughing. "I wanted to fuck you, but I have lost interest..." Before she could finish, a loud, earth-shaking roar cut through the night.

Asha’s laughter died in her throat. "What was that?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"My dragon," Maekar said calmly.

The roar grew louder, and now, muffled shouts from above could be heard—Ironborn yelling, "Dragon! Dragon!"

Asha stormed out of the quarters, her boots thudding against the wooden floor as she made her way to the deck.

Maekar, now alone, stood with a smirk playing on his lips and mentally commanded Neferion to breathe fire.

Outside, the dragon responded, its massive maw opening as a torrent of greenish-orange flames spewed forth, lighting up the night and setting the small island’s greenery ablaze.

The sounds of panic were immediate. Maekar could hear the Ironborn shouting in fear, the chaos unfolding above. With a calm and deliberate motion, he walked over to where his armor had been laid out, inspecting it for any damage before slowly fastening it piece by piece. The heavy Valyrian steel gleamed as he adjusted it, the faint glow of the burning island outside illuminating the dark cabin.

Satisfied, Maekar moved toward the door and stepped out onto the deck.

The scene before him was one of sheer chaos. The once-calm night was now ablaze with fiery light. The island, which had been dark and peaceful, had become a sun, its green jungle now a smoldering inferno. The Ironborn scattered in panic, some throwing themselves off the ship into the water below, trying to escape the terror that circled above.

Neferion, his black wings spread wide, flew in menacing circles above the island. His massive form blocked out the moon as he roared again, a deep, thunderous sound that shook the timbers of the ship. His flames reflected off the water, making it seem as though the sea itself were on fire.

Maekar walked slowly, almost leisurely, up to the deck, his eyes scanning the chaos until they landed on Asha. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at Neferion. The once-confident pirate captain was now immobilized by fear.

Their gazes met, and Maekar's expression was calm, controlled—almost bored.

"Where is Old Pyke?" Maekar asked again, his voice steady as he walked closer to her. His boots thudded against the deck, the panic and screams around them barely registering to him.

"A... a dragon," Asha stammered, her gaze still fixed on Neferion.

Maekar let out a small, irritated sigh. "Yes, that's a dragon. Now tell me where Old Pyke is, and I’ll leave."

He stopped just a few feet away from her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he added, "Or... Neferion will burn your little fleet like I did the other pirate lords."

Asha blinked, her gaze finally tearing away from the massive creature circling overhead. She nodded quickly, fear written plainly on her face.

======

It was done.

Asha had led him to Old Pyke’s hideout, and like the other pirate lords before him, Pyke’s reign had ended in flames. The dragonfire had reduced his stronghold to smoldering ruins, leaving nothing but ash and death behind.

Maekar flew Neferion over a small cay, where a single ship was docked near the shore. He steered the dragon down.

Neferion landed with a thundering crash, his massive wings kicking up sand and salt from the beach. Maekar dismounted smoothly, the heat from the dragon’s body still radiating around him as he walked toward Asha, who stood waiting on the other side.

“Oh good, you kept your word,” Maekar said as he approached her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Asha crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as she glanced warily at Neferion’s hulking form behind him. "Keep your beast away," she muttered, unable to hide the tension in her voice.

Maekar laughed. "He's just saying hello."

"Well, Old Pyke is dead," Asha said, her tone flat. "You got what you wanted. Why am I here?"

"Hey, you didn’t need to come," Maekar replied with a smirk. "You could’ve left. Yet here you are."

Asha said nothing, her gaze flicking between Maekar and the monstrous dragon behind him.

"Do you remember our conversation from before?" Maekar asked, his tone shifting, becoming more serious. "About the Ironborn... the Old Way and the New Way?"

Asha stayed silent for a moment, watching him carefully.

"What do you prefer?" Maekar continued, stepping closer. "Your grandfather's way... or your father's?"

Asha frowned, considering his words before answering. "My grandfather’s," she said, her voice firm. "We prospered under him. He tried to move us forward. Under my father, we've been..."

Maekar nodded, satisfied with her response. "Then let me give you the chance to continue your grandfather’s work. Your uncle Harlaw is struggling to hold the Iron Isles together. The Ironborn need a Greyjoy like you, someone who can lead them into something greater."

Asha's eyes widened slightly as she began to understand what he was offering.

“A war is coming,” Maekar said. “If you swear fealty to me, Asha, I will make you the new Lady of the Iron Isles. You can take your grandfather’s path and forge a future. One where the Ironborn aren’t just reavers and raiders.”

Asha looked at him, then over to Neferion, the dragon watching them both with unblinking eyes.

She knelt, bowing her head to Maekar in fealty.

"Good choice," Maekar said.