Asha Greyjoy I

293AC

There was blood in the air.

Smoke and blood, and the fire of her traitorous Uncle's arrows.

She had been with her father, at Pyke when the news of his villainy came. The slaughter of another of her Uncle's Rodrick Harlaw, by the one-eyed demon's hand.

She had been close to Rodrick, he had been kind to her, and treated her better than most, even if he cared more for reading than raiding.

He must have been utterly unprepared for her mad Uncle's attack. They had found his corpse pinned to his throne by a trident of cold-iron. His eyes carved out and his lungs pulled from his body so that he couldn't be buried in the faith of the Drowned God, nor the Seven.

Her uncle had been fleeing the island afterward, heading south.

She had followed suit with the Black Wind. One of her father's ships, now hers, and a band of her deceased Uncles retainers. She cared not if it was a kinslaying to slaughter Euron, for had he not done the same? Her father and her other uncles had bowed out to avoid the taboo, but she had been far closer to Rodrick than they and the fire in her gut she had acquired at the sight of his corpse would not let her sleep unless she took vengeance for his death.

No. She would pry Euron's blue eye and his black one from his rotting skull, and then feed his head to the crows he kept as pets.

She had followed his trail down the coast of Westeros, looted fishing villages, burnt farms and raped women littering his path. Many killed in strange and foreign manners she had never seen before.

A shiver still ran down her spine at the memory of a tree strung like a festival with the guts of his victims, and all the babbling incoherence that had been growing on her Uncle's tongue since the rebellion now took on a new light. The very air itself seemed to ooze with greasy stickiness in the wake of the mad Greyjoy.

There was magic afoot, and not that of the Drowned God.

Still, his path was clear enough, and she could make better time since she wasn't raiding. She planned to cut him off at the Arbor.

She slipped past the surrounding islands under cover of night, anchoring by a rocky outcrop, and when her Uncle's Sails were spotted in the morning she felt vindication shoot through her veins.

She stood at the prow of the Black Wind just beside the great Kraken that rose at its tip and raised her ax into the air, her voice carrying over the deck to the crew.

"Alright, you damp bastards. My Uncle has come just as we thought, come to die at our swords and axes, at our hands and daggers. Let's send him and his ship of mutes to meet the Drowned God's judgment. Recompense for my uncle Rodrick Harlaw"

" For Lord Rodrick" the men cheered, and the oars hit the water the moment the anchor was up, the great sail above her head unfurling to reveal the great Kraken of house Greyjoy, her Uncle's ship had once had the same sigil, but now it glowed red in the dawning sun, with a bloody glow.

She stood at the prow as they made for her Uncle's ship, and raged filled her eyes as she saw his soggy form standing there to meet her.

She could not tell what he was saying precisely, the din of the ocean and the wind was overpowering at such a distance, but the meaning still reached her.

Then the arrows had flown from his ship, burning red at their tips with hot embers. She had seen nothing like it before, and they threatened to set the Black Wind alight. She could almost hear her Uncles mad cackling as panic overtook her and her crew. They quickly stamped out the small fires it had caused, but by then the next volley had come in. They had to furl the sail to avoid it being set ablaze, leaving them handicapped in the water with only their oars.

She had suffered eight volleys and lost twelve men when her uncle finally approached, like a slimy shark swimming towards it's wounded prey, and she heard once more his mad voice over the din of the ocean.

"Little Asha. Come to see your dear Uncle off from the Islands and on to parts unknown? I'm touched really." She realized that his eyepatch was on the wrong side, a stark black eye now stared into her own, framed by his handsome if sallow face. " Or did you just come to warm my bed? A parting gift from Balon?"

The throwing ax was out of her hand before she even had time to think. "The only gift you'll get from me is your death you kinslaying bastard."

Her Uncle only laughed, dragging one of his own men between himself and the ax. "Hah, my brothers are too cowardly to pursue me themselves so they send their little daughter to do it. Well, they'll get theirs soon enough." Her uncle raised his arms to the sky as if praying. "But you Asha? You cannot kill me, no more than you can kill the ocean or the sky. No!" There was a madness in his voice that she had oft heard before when he babbled to himself as he walked the halls of the castle accompanied only by his mutes "When the ash falls from the heavens like snow and the bronze gods crawl from their temples. Then maybe I will die, but even in death I will find victory."

"You'll find death today well enough," she screamed, readying another ax, and with a twist, she threw it towards him, but some new wind tipped both the boats and made it miss, only making the monsters smile wider.

"Useless. Come, you'll serve better in my bed than you do on the sea anyhow, perhaps you'll give birth to little Krakens after all."

"I'll hang your head from my prow."

"Not today you won't." her blood boiled as her uncle turned away from her, glancing towards the port. She felt her own eyes drawn after his gaze, widening as she saw the Redwyne Fleet, as well as some enormous white vessel that stood far taller than the rest coming towards them. "Ah, the Storm prince sends out his white castles to drive me back. And here I had hoped to end him before we fell under the gaze of the red Titan."

Her uncle stepped forward just in time to avoid another ax, and she felt fear creep into her shoulders. There was ill magic at play here. He could not have seen it coming.

Her uncle turned to the ax-handle, it's head buried into the wood deck beside him, and then back to her.

"A pity, I shan't be taking you as wife today then. Oh well, another time perhaps." She watched, helpless as the wind filled his unfurled sails, as if by divine command. "But then, I won't return to Westeros until the Titan's eye is in the heavens. So you'll have to come looking for me. Goodbye, Niece Asha."

His boat tore away with a speed of full sails. She watched as he fled, his longship cutting the waves like a knife.

It wasn't long, perhaps two minutes, before the great white ship with the enormous masts aligned beside her, ports on its sides opening to reveal metal tubes, clearly revealing it's Baratheon nature.

She leaned heavily on the railing even as the ship's captain, high above her, began ordering her and her crew to lay down their weapons and surrender. She complied, in something of a trance-like state, her Uncle's seeming immunity to death paralyzing her with fear.

As she did so, under the watchful gaze of many men armed with strange spears, she noted that the lighter and smaller white ships had failed to catch her uncle, the wind dropping from their sails even as they angled towards him. The bolts of their fire-scorpions failing to reach his bloody vessel as it escaped into the distance though she was brought as a prisoner below decks by the men before she could see it break the horizon.

She knew he would go on to escape, and that he would return when the Titan's eye appeared in the heavens. And it sent her shivering, the threat of his return.

She was still shaking when they took her ashore.

The smell of blood and fire still hung in the air.