Chapter 527

Tyrion Lannister watched as Asha Greyjoy silently wept before him. The sight was jarring. His instinct was to scratch at his itching scalp, but he resisted, instead offering a small shrug. "It seems I’ve asked a foolish question. Still, whether it sounds insincere or not, I will say this—those who died to save you did not do so without reason. The least you can do is live to ensure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain."

Asha didn’t need comfort. She was no fragile lady prone to swooning. The tears, the suffocating guilt of having doomed her own people, the despair of realizing she was a prisoner no matter where she went—these emotions ran their course within minutes. Then, something else replaced them. A fire, hot and unyielding, burned in her chest.

Revenge. The purest motive of all.

Since she couldn’t wipe her tears with her shackled hands, she simply sat up straighter, streaked cheeks forgotten, her sharp eyes locking onto Tyrion. "You didn’t bring me here just to console an enemy."

"Of course not." Good. Now she sounded like the Asha Greyjoy he had heard stories about. Tyrion set down his wine cup, his expression growing serious. "I called you here because I have questions. House Lannister has its own sources in the North and along the Wall, but distance distorts all intelligence. I need confirmation from someone who was actually there in Crown’s Town."

"Then you’ve come to the right person." Thanks to her black-clad brother, Asha had not been a true prisoner in Crown’s Town. As the relative of a sworn officer of the Night’s Watch, she had been given a degree of freedom—one she had used wisely. She hadn’t spent her time idly; she had been watching, listening, speaking to the guards, the servants, gathering every piece of information that could one day be useful. In fact, she might have known more about the Gift than some of the Watch’s own members. "But if you want my help, what will you offer in return?"

"I’ve ensured you receive preferential treatment as a prisoner."

"I’ve already repaid you with my previous honest answer. If you expect the same level of truth for the rest of your questions, that alone won’t suffice."

Had it been Tywin Lannister sitting across from her, he would have responded coldly, reminding her that she had no right to bargain. But Tyrion was not his father. He had always believed that willing cooperation, driven by a sense of personal gain, yielded far better results than threats.

"I can promise you freedom—if that’s what you truly want." Asha Greyjoy was a princess of the Iron Islands, and in times of war, releasing such a prisoner might seem unthinkable. But with her usurping uncle crushing her forces and driving her into exile, she had little value as a hostage or a bargaining chip. This was precisely why Tywin had barely spared her a thought.

"Then ask," Asha said, inhaling deeply. She might despise the Lannisters, but she wasn’t fool enough to believe they would deceive her here. She gave a small nod, acknowledging the terms of the trade.

"The White Walkers, with an army of a hundred thousand dead, broke through the Wall and besieged Crown’s Town, only to be annihilated at Long Lake by the Night’s Watch. Is this truth, or mere propaganda?"

"I was there. It’s the truth." Asha’s voice was unwavering. "The dead breached the outer walls. Even I, a captive, was given a weapon and thrown into the fight. If not for Aegor putting an arrow through the Night King at the crucial moment, the North would have already fallen. And you, my lord, would be wearing armor right now, preparing for a war of survival."

"It was truly Aegor who slew the Night King?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "That’s not just propaganda?" He was skeptical. As far as he knew, Aegor wasn’t some legendary marksman, nor was he the type to personally take to the battlefield.

"I didn’t see it myself," Asha admitted, "but hundreds, thousands of people did. Everyone in Crown’s Town speaks of it with absolute certainty. You should understand—if this were a fabrication, even if they could control the official narrative, there would still be whispers, contradictions, rumors of what really happened. But I haven’t heard a single voice claiming otherwise."

Tyrion smirked, still unconvinced. It sounded too much like a manufactured legend. Yet, he had no evidence to refute it. And in truth, doubting his friend’s heroism wasn’t his main concern. No, what intrigued him was the unmistakable scent of ambition beneath the story—a political undercurrent that suggested greater things to come. That was what he truly cared about.

It was time to ask the real question.

"The Night’s Watch received aid from Daenerys Targaryen during the battle. In return, Aegor swore fealty to her and vowed to fight for her cause. Is that true?"

"The Night’s Watch sent ravens across the realm. The Westerlands should have received that message. Why ask me?"

"Yes, Casterly Rock received the news. But what I want from you, Lady Greyjoy, is your own judgment, based on what you saw and heard. Did Aegor truly pledge himself to Daenerys, heart and soul? Or was it a decision forced upon him by circumstance?"

Asha paused.

She was no simple warrior. She had been Balon Greyjoy’s chosen heir, the future ruler of the Iron Islands, trained not just in battle but in politics and strategy. Though Tyrion had buried his true motives beneath layers of conversation, she could still hear what he was really asking.

The dwarf didn’t care about the battle. He had seen the storm brewing in the North. And now, he wanted to know how to weather it.

"Answering 'yes' or 'no' is simple," Asha said slowly, sensing her own leverage. "But making a judgment? That requires thought. And information like that isn’t something you can buy with a mere promise of freedom."

Tyrion’s grin widened. "Perhaps I should remind you—I could resort to torture."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before sighing. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Revenge. Help me kill Euron Greyjoy." Asha’s expression hardened. "You Lannisters must want him dead as well. This isn’t a favor to me—just a request to commit more resources to a goal you already desire."

Tyrion considered this. "We’ll see. But first—rumor has it your brother Theon died fighting the White Walkers. Is it true?"

Asha flinched. Her face twitched slightly before she nodded. "It’s true."

"Then if we eliminate Euron, you’ll be the last of the Greyjoys, won’t you?" Tyrion mused. "Helping you would be the same as placing you on the Seastone Chair. That’s quite the bargain for me, isn’t it?"

"In a world where the Kingsmoot has been reestablished, my last name means little," Asha countered. "Even with Euron dead, I would still need to fight for control of the Ironborn." Then, after a brief hesitation, she added, "But if it’s real alliances you want, my lord, let me offer you something better."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"You are unmarried, are you not?" Asha leaned forward. "The Westerlands and the Iron Islands have warred for generations. But what if we could end that? A marriage between Lannister and Greyjoy—an opportunity for unity, for peace, for a future beyond old grudges."

Tyrion chuckled. "Oh?" He studied Asha now not as a prisoner, but as a woman. Despite her haggard state, he could see the appeal. With the right grooming, she was the kind of woman he would have happily paid a fortune for in a high-class brothel. And politically? A marriage to her would be a bold, strategic move.

He mulled it over before giving a slow nod. "I’ll consider it. But first, let’s see what your information is worth."

Asha exhaled, then spoke with certainty. "Aegor intends to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys didn’t enlist him—he enlisted her."