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Chapter 509

“Where is Uncle? Tell him to leave immediately!” Clambering aboard the Sea Song with the help of steady hands pulling and pushing her up, Asha Greyjoy’s first act was to shout a warning. “This is a trap! Euron’s true goal is to eliminate both of us at once, openly and definitively!”

“Raise anchor! Hoist the sails! Lower the oars!” Rodrik Harlaw, Lord of Harlaw and the Reader, issued his orders with calm authority. Only after ensuring his crew had set about their tasks did he approach his visibly shaken niece. Supporting her unsteady frame, he pulled her into a strong embrace, his voice gentle as he soothed her. “Do not worry, my dear. From the moment I received Euron’s letter, I suspected treachery and came prepared. I promise you, at least for tonight, we are both safe. Now, be a good girl. Go to the cabin, eat something, take a bath, and rest. Once you’re recovered, we’ll discuss our next steps.”
----


In the distance, the dark night was punctuated by the mournful sound of alarms and war horns echoing from Pyke, but the Sea Song had already adjusted its course and was accelerating away from danger. Pyke had no proper harbor, so even if Euron realized his prisoners had escaped, he would need time to board a ship from King’s Harbor or dispatch warships in pursuit. Realizing she was temporarily safe, Asha exhaled in relief. Hunger and exhaustion clawed at her, and she allowed her uncle to guide her below deck. There, she managed to eat a hearty meal before a kindly woman helped her into a hot bath.

Rodrik had intended for Asha to sleep and regain her strength before they spoke further. Yet, despite the horrible conditions she had endured in the dungeons of the Dreadfort, one thing she had not been deprived of was sleep—there had been no interrogations or torture to rob her of rest. So, after filling her belly and cleaning herself up, Asha felt rejuvenated, as if reborn. Restless and unable to sleep, she rejected her uncle’s offer of a private cabin and climbed back up to the deck.
----


The surrounding sea was pitch black, and no intercepting vessels appeared out of nowhere to block their escape. It seemed her fears of a trap might have been an overreaction. As an experienced captain herself, Asha glanced at the stars and felt the wind on her face, quickly realizing the Sea Song was not heading northeast, as she had expected, but southeast.

Frowning, she sought out her uncle, who was overseeing the ship’s progress. “Uncle, where are we going?”

“We’re avoiding the direct route back to Harlaw,” Rodrik replied. “There’s a high chance of interception. Instead, we’re heading to Cragfort.”

“Cragfort?” Asha blinked, confused. “If I’m not mistaken, the Iron Islands are still at war with the Westerlands. Has that changed while I was imprisoned? Did we take the castle while I was gone?”

“No, Cragfort is still in the hands of House Banefort, sworn to Tywin Lannister.”

“Then why are we going there?” Asha demanded.

“And where do you intend to go?” Rodrik shot back. “Return to Harlaw to rally a rebellion against Euron’s rule? We’ve already discussed this during the Kingsmoot. You participated in it, Asha. You must respect its results. The Ironborn chose Euron as their king, and that makes him our rightful ruler. I came to Pyke to rescue you because of my love for you and your mother, not to start a civil war among the Ironborn. I will not plunge our people into a pointless and unwinnable conflict.”

“This is different!” Asha protested. “I have powerful allies now, and I’ve found a true path for the Iron Islands—”

“I am not debating this!” Rodrik interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “Euron Greyjoy is leading the Iron Islands down a doomed path. On that, we agree. But the man is no fool. He’s ensuring the Seven Kingdoms remain in chaos, playing one faction against the other so that war never ceases and no united front can rise against him. It’s a dangerous game—he’ll slip eventually. But that day will come of its own accord, not because of anything you or I do.”

He sighed deeply. “I don’t know who your allies are, nor do I care to gamble on whether your so-called true path is the right one. This time, Asha, I’m standing by my principles. Forgive me.”

Asha stared at her uncle, momentarily stunned by his unyielding resolve. For a brief moment, she considered pressing her case but quickly realized it was futile. Her uncle’s decision was final.

“What happens to me after we reach Cragfort?” she asked at last, her voice subdued.

“I’ve arranged for a small sum of money and a horse. When we reach the shore, a boat will take you to land. From there, you may choose your path—either travel as a lone wanderer or surrender to the Westerlands and seek their protection. I recommend the latter.”

“Fine. I’ll decide once I’m ashore,” Asha muttered, clenching her fists. She knew her uncle well—once he made up his mind, there was no swaying him. After a moment, she added hesitantly, “Uncle, do you know what’s behind Euron’s eyepatch?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it just a wound or blindness?”

“No, it’s... changed. Before my father exiled him, Euron had one black eye and one blue. Both were normal back then. But now, the black eye—hidden beneath the patch—has turned blood red.”

Rodrik frowned. “And? Isn’t that why he wears the patch? To hide an unsightly eye?”

“It’s not that simple!” Asha’s voice rose as she tried to explain. “When he removed the patch in the hall at Pyke, he forced me to look into that eye, and... and it was as if my mind was invaded, torn apart! It’s some kind of sorcery!”

Rodrik sighed again, clearly unconvinced. “Euron has always been unusual—that’s why the captains chose him. He claims to have sailed from Ibben to Asshai and even ventured into the ruins of Valyria. Do you think the dragon horn he gave Victarion or his Valyrian steel armor came from nowhere? If his stories are true, and if the accounts of demons in Valyria or sorcerers in Asshai hold any truth, it’s hardly surprising he might possess magical items—or even know some magic himself.”

Asha fell silent. Her uncle’s words brought clarity to her scattered thoughts. Those bizarre visions she’d seen when Euron forced her to look into his eye—they must have been glimpses of the demons he encountered in Valyria and the sorcerers he dealt with in Asshai. Through sheer luck—or some diabolical pact—Euron Greyjoy had become something more than mortal.

No wonder his crew were all mute. They must have had their tongues cut out to ensure no one would learn the secrets of his dark magic.

“Even if his eye is magical, Asha, what difference does it make? The Ironborn revere strength. Telling them their king possesses a ‘cursed’ eye wouldn’t turn them against him—it would make them worship him even more.”

Asha wanted to argue, but deep down, she knew her uncle was right. The Ironborn wouldn’t care about Euron’s sorcery. If anything, it would only cement his power further.

“Fine,” she said at last, her tone bitter. “But when you return to Euron, what will you tell him about rescuing me?”

“The truth,” Rodrik replied calmly. “I’ll tell him I negotiated your release by offering my resignation. I’ll relinquish my titles as captain of the Sea Song, Lord of Ten Towers, and ruler of Harlaw. He can name any of my kin as my successor. Harlaw is the wealthiest and most populous of the islands, and I’ve always been a thorn in his side. This way, he takes control of Harlaw without a fight. It’s a bargain he won’t refuse.”

Asha’s heart sank. Her uncle’s plan ensured her safety, but it came at the cost of further solidifying Euron’s control over the Iron Islands. Her dreams of rebellion and vengeance seemed more distant than ever.

“Uncle—”

“Take care of yourself, child,” Rodrik interrupted gently. “Without my titles, I’ll finally have time to read to my heart’s content. But you—your path will be much harder. Now, please, go back to the cabin and rest. By noon tomorrow, we’ll reach the shore. Whether you choose to travel alone or seek sanctuary, you’ll need your strength for the journey ahead.”
----


Asha hesitated, then nodded silently and made her way below deck. The road ahead was uncertain, and for the first time, she felt truly exiled—not just from the Iron Islands but from everything she once knew.


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