Chapter 436: Madness

Spicetown, Driftmark

Once a bustling trade hub, the town of Spicetown had fallen into an eerie silence.

From the broken doors and windows, it can be seen that most of the shops and houses have been looted.

The wide streets were strewn with corpses and blood, attracting flocks of black crows that circled above. Occasionally, a bird would swoop down to join the grisly feast.

"The Velaryons fell so easily," Asha Greyjoy remarked as she walked down the bloodied streets, shooing away the scavenger birds.

"The Velaryons of today are far removed from the tidesmasters they once were," Aeron Greyjoy replied, his tone carrying a note of resigned sorrow.

Stopping at each corpse, Aeron, the Drowned God's priest, recited solemn prayers and performed his priestly duties with an unwavering expression.

"What is Euron planning?" Asha voiced the question weighing heavily on her mind. "If he's after gold, he should have led the Ironborn to pillage the undefended riches of the Reach. If he wants an alliance with the Lannisters against Caesar, he wouldn't have slaughtered House Redwyne."

"No one truly knows what Euron is thinking," Aeron replied. "But one thing is certain—whatever it is, it's madness."

"Well, I'm not going along with his insanity," Asha muttered under her breath.

The two made their way through the ravaged town, which had been reduced to a smoldering ruin, and headed toward the castle.

The Velaryons' original seat had been High Tide, a magnificent castle reputedly rivaling the Red Keep. Within its walls were treasures gathered by "Sea Snake" Corlys Velaryon from across the known world.

But this grand stronghold had been reduced to ashes during the Dance of the Dragons.

Asha had heard songs of the so-called "Battle of the Gullet" from wandering minstrels. They spoke of five dragons battling in the skies above Driftmark, their flames staining the heavens a blood-red hue.

The castle that now stood in Spicetown had been rebuilt in the aftermath, reflecting House Velaryon's diminished fortunes. The new structure was small and plain, a shadow of the family's former glory.

On the oak gate, the silver seahorse sigil of House Velaryon was still visible. But atop the battlements, the golden kraken of House Greyjoy flapped brazenly in the wind.

Inside the castle hall, a raucous feast was underway.

The room was filled with Ironborn, drinking, shouting, and boasting about the enemies they had slain and the wealth they had plundered.

Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy, self-proclaimed King of the Iron Islands, lounged on the high seat with his "wife," Desmera Redwyne, perched on his lap.

Yes, the same Desmera Redwyne—daughter of the slaughtered Lord of the Arbor. Though Euron had massacred her family, he had spared her, impregnating her and keeping her close as if he intended for her to bear his heir.

At this moment, Euron pressed his stained blue lips against Desmera's pale throat. She shuddered, her eyes brimming with barely concealed terror, yet she dared not resist.

"Asha," Euron called out with a smile when he spotted his niece entering. "Would you like this island? I could name you Lady of Driftmark."

Before Asha could respond, Aeron interjected in a low voice:

"Do not accept gifts from Euron."

"Save it, Uncle," Asha rejected the offer outright. "You've already stripped the island bare. What would I even do with it?"

"A noble title and a fiefdom mean nothing to you?"

"What use are a title and land that can't be defended?" Asha sneered. "Uncle, why don't you enlighten us about your plan? Why are we in Blackwater Bay? Are we really meddling in the war between the two-headed eagle and the lion?"

Her question sparked a chorus of agreement from the Ironborn captains in the hall.

"Aye, why are we here? We should be raiding the Reach instead."

"Who cares if the Stormking or the Lannisters win? Neither will ever recognize us. Let them destroy each other while we take what we want."

"Right! Why not raid Casterly Rock? There's a gold mine there!"

Euron rose from his seat, his quiet, gravelly voice cutting through the noise like a blade:

"A coward plucks a single fruit from the orchard. A true king takes the whole grove."

Spreading his arms wide, he continued:

"I promised you all of Westeros. Do not let Driftmark, the Reach, or even Casterly Rock distract you from that goal. We shall take the Seven Kingdoms!"

"And how do you plan to take the Seven Kingdoms?" Asha retorted. "We don't have nearly enough men."

Euron's blue-stained lips curled into a cryptic smile.

"Oh, my dear niece, you've no idea of the kraken's true power."

Asha's brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but at that moment, an Ironborn scout burst into the hall.

"Your Grace! The Stormlands fleet is approaching!"

A tense silence fell over the room.

Though they were fearless, the Ironborn were not fools. They knew well the power of the Stormlands fleet, which had crushed the Arbor's navy. Even their famed bravado wavered at the thought of facing such a formidable foe.

But Euron remained as calm and composed as ever. He laughed heartily.

"Perfect timing! Let us teach these Stormlanders what it means to face the true masters of the sea!"

He drained his cup of wine and smashed it on the ground, his defiance infectious.

Emboldened, the Ironborn captains banged their cups and stomped their feet, chanting:

"Euron! Euron! Euron!"

The scene was reminiscent of the King's Moot.

"They're mad. All of them," Aeron muttered, shaking his head in despair.

But no one paid attention to the priest anymore.

Led by Euron, the hall erupted into chaos as the Ironborn rushed out, ready to face the Stormlands fleet in battle.

Asha stayed behind, standing still as the last of the Ironborn exited the hall. Turning to Aeron, she said:

"Uncle, I'm leaving to find another path for the Ironborn."

"What path?"

"A path of peace."

Aeron considered her words for a long moment before asking:

"And who will you seek peace with? The lions or the two-headed eagle?"

"I'll wait to see who wins," Asha replied. "We'll bow to the victor."

Aeron nodded slowly, signaling his approval without saying another word.

As Asha turned to leave, her eyes fell on Desmera Redwyne, who still sat frozen on the high seat. An idea struck her, and she approached.

"Desmera," Asha said. "Do you want to leave with me?"

Desmera blinked, stunned. "Leave? Where?"

"Anywhere but here. Away from Euron."

"No!" Desmera suddenly shrieked, shaking her head violently. "I won't leave my husband!"

"Euron killed your entire family."

"He didn't kill me," Desmera replied, her voice trembling. "He said he'd never kill me because I'm his wife. We're one body, one soul!"

"And you believe that nonsense?"

"He didn't lie," Desmera whispered, placing her hands protectively over her rounded belly. "He said this child is his gift to me."

"Euron's gifts are always poisoned."

"No! He promised me this child would be a god's chosen one, destined to rule the world!"

This woman has gone insane, Asha realized with a sinking heart.

Sighing, she turned and left without another word.

Stepping out of the castle, she looked southward and saw a dark shadow spreading across the sea—Stormlands warships closing in on Driftmark.

The longships in the harbor unfurled their sails, charging toward the looming threat.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Thunderous explosions echoed across the waters, heralding a new era of naval warfare.

Watching the unfolding battle, Asha's resolve hardened further.

(End of Chapter)