[Chapter Size: 4100 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Mountain Clans, 300 AC.
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At Deepwood Motte, Asha was frustrated. She had just returned from Winterfell, where she had gone to rescue her foolish brother, who in the end proved to be useless, as he refused to go with her.
If she could still call that her brother.
Reek — that was what the bastard called him. A creature that had nothing to do with Theon. He was a cornered and trembling creature, obeying only his master. That was what she saw. The arrogance on her brother's face no longer existed.
In its place there was a strange creature.
She was almost caught by the bastard and had to flee in a moment of distraction. Her brother simply no longer existed.
She knew that the bastard had sent a force to Deepwood Motte to slaughter the ironborn and had taken advantage of the gap in Winterfell, when the Bolton soldiers were not nearby.
She had merely relocated her men, for a short interval, moving slightly away from the siege of Castle Glover that Asha was leading. She used that opportunity to enter Winterfell, but afterward had to return to the siege without her brother.
And so she was, trying to capture Castle Glover again. Nothing unusual had happened in the past few days. Her uncle, Victarion, should be on Bear Island, capturing more thralls to take to the Iron Islands, until the Mormonts fell, since he was trapped like her, in another siege on that island.
That was until the day she received a letter.
A bird came straight to her.
At first, she found it very unusual when she saw the bird land nearby, catching even her men by surprise. There was a small parchment tied to its leg. The bird stared at her the entire time, it was there, for her and only her.
Asha was the first to approach, after hesitating for a few moments.
She took the paper tied to the bird's leg, with the bird becoming angry at her to the point of letting out a dissatisfied cry when she did not even have the delicacy to remove the rolled parchment without hurting it a little.
She then opened the paper, beginning to read. It was quite simple:
[Asha Greyjoy, I must say that this is not the first time that you ironborn have dared to dock upon lands that belong to me by right.
Two rebellions in fourteen years. I must say that you are quite bold — or so I thought. But when I arrived here in the North and saw what you have done to the people, saw the northerners living through a hell caused by you, I realized that bold is not quite the word I would use.
I would say that you are a kind of plague. The kind that, if not exterminated to the last, spreads and never ceases to cause harm.
That is why I have made a decision regarding the ironborn.
Total extermination.]
The letter simply ended there.
Asha could not tell who had sent it, but the message sent a chill down her spine. The impeccably written handwriting of whoever had penned it gave her a strange mixture of involuntary admiration and fear. Whoever was behind those words seemed absolutely certain of what they were writing on that piece of parchment.
Perhaps that was why she did not even notice the raven flying away at her side.
Now, who had written it?
She immediately asked for information.
"Any news from Bear Island?" she asked.
No one knew how to answer. No letter had arrived, no ship.
"Any news from Winterfell?" she insisted.
Some scouts reported only that a large number of Bolton soldiers had marched south.
In the North, there was no message.
In the South, there was information, but it came from the Boltons — or, at least, from that Ramsay Snow she had met and who certainly could write something like that.
But Asha could not truly believe it was him. Even that bastard, cruel as he was, would hardly possess that cold and direct conviction, he would obviously resort to terror and threats, not such a direct and cruel declaration. The letter seemed to come from somewhere else.
Perhaps from the realm beyond the Wall.
The very same realm about which she had insisted to her father that he reconsider any provocation to the north. She did not know how they would react if the North were attacked — and they were far too powerful. However, due to the enormous number of ships her father possessed, more than eight hundred, thanks to the royal decree he had received to prepare for a possible war against the arcticans years ago, after the defeat of the royal fleet and the Redwyne fleet at sea, Balon had become arrogant.
He had not only attacked the North, but also the Riverlands, the Westerlands, the Reach, and Dorne, all were being pressured just as in the north. Although he placed the main captains in the north because he wanted to weaken the realm out of personal vengeance.
The Seven Kingdoms, especially those that had accepted the decision to increase the Greyjoy fleet because of the threat from the North, must be gnashing their teeth now. The dog they had created was biting the very hands that fed it and allowed it to grow into a threat that the Seven Kingdoms could not handle at that moment, with so many civil wars.
There was an advantage, after all. If Arctic attacked, it would have to come from the east or through the Wall. They had no presence on the western side of the continent. That was an advantage for the Iron Islands, which could be the last to be attacked.
However, the absence of any response from Bear Island in the past few days left Asha deeply worried.
Then, the following day, her men brought very bad news.
"Arctican banners are sailing north, along the coast."
That immediately put her on alert.
How could they have ships there? Had they built them on that side of the continent? That was the most obvious answer, with so many ironborn ships in the south, they could not have passed by them without alerting all the kingdoms.
After a year without seeing a banner of Arctic, they were appearing again.
And, according to what the scouts reported, they were heading toward the villages of the mountain clans, small villages and coastal towns. Even with many of them devastated, the ships went back and forth — at least that was what they could observe from the territory where they were, a higher region of the coast.
That night, Asha went to sleep with her mind fixed on the information received during the day.
It was not fear of a single ship. It was what else might be happening on the western side of the sea.
Everyone knew that those ships possessed technology superior to any other vessel on the sea. Those people had weapons that no one else in the world possessed. They decimated entire fleets with ease, using long-range combustion chemical weapons. They could destroy entire lines with shots fired by men four meters tall, with monstrous strength to handle giant scorpions mounted on the ships.
That was not a common threat.
And, if they were there, in the west... something far greater was in motion.
She had been eighteen namedays when she first heard the reports about them, four years ago. The ironborn learned of the events long after everything had already happened, thanks to merchant ships that brought news from the continent to Pyke, before the king's decree.
A fleet of two hundred ships left the North, went to Dorne to negotiate and, afterward, one hundred and fifty ships sailed west. The chaos began in Oldtown, then Lannisport, then the Redwyne fleet was destroyed near Redwyne Island, and then the royal fleet was annihilated at sea between King's Landing and Essos.
The ironborn went mad when they heard that.
They said the ships sailed faster than the wind itself. Giants walked the decks, wielding those monstrous weapons. No force at sea could deal with them.
That made her father jealous.
He said that never would a people of savages surpass them at sea, for the Greyjoys were devoted to the Drowned God — not to gods trapped in trees, like those of the North.
Her father had always been arrogant on that point. Even after hearing all the reports, even after the royal decree calling for the creation of a massive fleet to face Arctic, he never truly believed he could be defeated.
Asha tried to sleep for hours, but the thoughts kept hammering in her mind.
She needed to leave that place. The next day, she would order the men to prepare to depart. They would have to go to Pyke and prepare for whatever was coming. The North was no longer so valuable, they had already taken the iron price. Maintaining sieges for moon after moon would not help them.
She would see her father and try to prepare for any threat.
If it truly was that ruthless king of the stories, then the words of the letter were not a lie — and they could, in fact, be exterminated like animals.
It was when sleep had finally begun to take her eyes that thunderous screams echoed out.
She opened her eyes immediately and stood up. She could already hear men screaming — her men.
They were dying.
She wondered if it was the Glovers. Or the Boltons.
Or the arcticans.
As soon as she left the tent, grabbing a sword, she saw chaos taking over the camp. Flames were beginning to consume several tents. Men screamed as a charge of soldiers wearing heavy armor advanced, slaughtering the ironborn.
She stared, stunned.
She felt someone running toward her.
One of the ironborn approached her, but before he could say anything, something heavy fell upon him, cutting him into two parts.
Blood splattered.
Asha fell to the ground because of the enormous sword that crashed down near her, terrified, with her companion's blood soaking her face and body.
When she turned her gaze to the side, she saw someone crushing her tent. She recoiled when she saw a giant over four meters tall, wearing armor, stepping on the ground as if everything there were made of paper.
She remained there, looking up, paralyzed.
The giant did not step on her, though he nearly crushed her. He had not seen her.
The giant spotted another target and crushed that man who stood in his path and continued advancing through the burning camp.
She was lucky not to have been crushed, she remained there, paralyzed while she watched the giant simply advancing in front of her and striking down a third man who had no chance at all.
As soon as the giant laid eyes on him, he was cut across the belly, and the sword split him in two brutally.
Asha watched the scene and blinked, before looking around as she rose. She realized there were more giants scattered throughout the camp. There were at least ten around, cutting down enemies. Even those who begged for mercy were being crushed or split in half with every blow.
There were also hundreds of arctican soldiers massacring her men.
She remained standing, watching the chaos. An arctican approached her as soon as he saw her. "You!" he shouted.
Asha turned and raised her sword and quickly defended herself from the blow that came at high speed. She felt the weight of the impact. Even wearing heavy armor, he moved fast — far too fast for someone dressed in that kind of armor. The speed was frightening.
She stared into the eyes behind the visor. There was no hatred or anger there. Only determination.
"You liked capturing tribes north of the Wall to enslave them, didn't you?" the armored man bearing the symbol of Arctic asked.
She did not answer. She only gritted her teeth and began to fight right there. Her sword and the soldier's clashed violently against each other.
She was not weak. And she would not accept losing to someone like this man, wearing that heavy armor, even if it seemed to weigh nothing to him.
There were hundreds of them throughout the camp, massacring her men.
Even so, unlike the others, she would never accept losing to someone like that.
Quickly, she tried to gain the advantage. She found an opening and struck the man's chest.
To her disappointment, the armor merely deflected the blow, leaving a small scratch.
The arctican soldier seemed irritated and launched another attack. She parried again and found another opening, trying to cut him across the back. Once more, the armor protected him.
That frustrated her.
She could already feel her hands growing tired. She would not be able to endure for long. The arctican faced her again, now with more irritation in his eyes.
But Asha was even more frustrated than he was. None of her blows had managed to pierce that fully plated armor. Her sword seemed useless. The only real opening was the eyes.
The man began to move, preparing to attack her again.
"Wait." A voice interrupted.
Asha held her ground and looked to the side, seeing another armored man approaching. But this armor was different from that of the ordinary soldiers, which made Asha stare in shock, the symbol of Arctic was there, like on all the soldiers. It was no longer a secret that it was the arcticans attacking Asha's camp. But that armor had a brighter and far finer metal, the ironborn had swords made of that metal, they were rare, but to see a full suit of Valyrian steel armor was something she had never thought to witness in her life.
He carried a large Valyrian steel axe as well, but held it as if it were a feather. There were symbols engraved on the blade. Perhaps a legendary weapon she had never heard of — not something newly forged in Arctic.
In any case, the man stopped beside her opponent, who looked at him with frustration.
"What is it, Tormund? Can't you see I'm fighting today?" the soldier replied, irritated.
"No. You're stopping now."
The other soldier's voice sounded firm, filled with authority. Her opponent clicked his tongue, frustrated.
Asha did not even know where to look — at those two men arguing in front of her or at the camp around them being destroyed. Her men continued screaming and dying like animals. Few sword clashes still persisted amid the massacre.
"No. She is someone the king ordered to be captured alive," said the man who clearly held more authority, as he observed Asha thoughtfully.
"You are the Greyjoy girl, aren't you?" he asked.
Asha glared at him with hatred, but did not answer.
That only seemed to widen the smile behind the visor. His eyes held an ironic gleam. He then removed his helmet.
He was a red-haired man, of great stature, too great, displaying an even broader smile at her.
"So you are Asha Greyjoy. Well, that's good." He took a step forward, passing even the soldier Asha had been fighting.
"Leave her to me," he said confidently.
Asha growled. Her reaction only confirmed to him that he was right.
"You know, the king gave me a rather important task: to capture you. And look at that, we have finally met. It's good that you were not torn apart along with most of your camp. As for the rest of you, all will be killed."
Asha no longer cared about the camp, she would gain nothing from it.
She charged.
He was not wearing a helmet. Perhaps she had a chance to kill one of them, she was ironborn, daughter of Balon Greyjoy, she would not fall in such a pathetic way.
Her sword met the axe he raised in a swift movement, parrying the blow with ease.
"A fierce woman, huh?" he mocked.
She recovered and attacked again. The man began to laugh, defending himself with far greater ease than the other soldier.
He was faster. Stronger.
Asha barely realized when she received an elbow to the side of her face. Her vision blurred. She staggered and fell to her knees, nearly passing out, trying to remain conscious.
It was over.
She barely had time to lift her gaze when she received a direct punch to the face, the Valyrian steel gauntlet striking her brutally.
Asha fell unconscious.
Tormund looked at the Greyjoy with satisfaction. "Bind her. We're taking her to the ships."
"Some ironborn soldiers are escaping to the north!" another soldier shouted, a warg, while owls flew over the battlefield and he entered their eyes to watch the field and relay it to Tormund, the commander of that force.
"Leave that to the wolves. We will not pursue them. We must return to the coast and join the fleet," Tormund ordered.
His men were already setting fire to the rest of the camp, which lay somewhat distant from Deepwood Motte, but still within that region.
The attack had been swift.
Brutal.
And decisive.
Now they had to leave, it was not their role to intervene directly in the North. The king had made it clear that another Arctic force would have that responsibility. They only sought to capture specific targets — and Asha was one of them.
She was bound by the soldiers and began to be carried away.
The camp continued burning until it turned to ashes, while the arcticans gathered the bodies of the ironborn, burning them in the flames.
The captives were also found and freed. They could seek aid from the lords of the North, and the arcticans left supplies — food and clothing — sufficient for them to survive until Lord Glover or another could assist them, now that there were no more ironborn in that region.
The few who tried to flee were hunted by direwolves that had landed alongside Tormund, more than eight hundred arctican soldiers, ten giants, and fifty dwarfs. There were twenty adult direwolves with them, being controlled by the king.
In any case, the arcticans began returning to the coast still during the night. The owls through the Warg team, and the direwolves themselves, guided the best path for them through that darkness toward the ships.
When they returned to the ships, Tormund began shouting orders aboard the vessel:
"Move! Return to the fleet!" He commanded more than thirty ships that were to the south, in the area of Bear Island, assigned to that special mission.
...
"I'm going with you, Jon! I want to go to that island and kill ironborn too!" Tormund shouted, frustrated, while Lancelot prevented him from taking a step forward.
"Be careful how you speak to the king. You must stop that damned habit of shouting. He is still your king," Lancelot said as a threat.
Tormund clicked his tongue upon hearing that.
Jon crossed his arms and looked at him. "I am not merely asking you to go south and do nothing. I want you to go to the coast near the Crag, station a group of ships there and advance to capture Asha Greyjoy, my animals will guide you to their camp. She is returning to the camp after having come back from Winterfell, from what I have noticed. I want you to capture the Greyjoy girl for me." He said at that meeting.
...
Tormund, despite his frustration, accepted. If it were to remain in the middle of the sea doing nothing, he would have argued more, but he would not stand idle. And so he carried out the order.
Now, with everything settled, they began returning to the fleet along the sea.
It took two days until they sighted more than two hundred and seventy ships waiting for them.
But there was something that made many raise their eyebrows.
They could see enormous tentacles rising from the sea.
Around the fleet there were at least three krakens.
Jon had been dominating them in those waters in recent days.
They would certainly be a powerful addition to show Pyke and the ironborn that, perhaps, the Drowned God did not favor them so much after all.
Meanwhile, Asha had been in a cell for days. She had been bound, unable even to feed herself. Twice a day, men brought her a thick liquid, forcing her to swallow so that she would not starve to death.
Until, on this day, they came before her cell and opened it.
She was pulled out and led across the deck. Her hair was disheveled, her skin dirty, her gaze tired — yet she still tried to remain fierce.
"I will kill all of you!" she said, while the men laughed.
"You speak too much for a captured woman. Ridiculous," a dwarf mocked.
She growled, but then looked ahead — and fell silent.
There was an enormous group of ships before her.
Three hundred, if she could quickly count.
The question echoing in her mind was simple: how were there so many ships on that side of the sea? Had they spent the last year building all of that? It seemed impossible.
What she did not know was that many of those ships had been built in the last two moons, before they finally sailed — something that would have left her even more incredulous.
But she had no way of knowing.
She was led across a plank onto an even larger ship anchored beside it. She saw giants, dwarfs, and men — all wearing armor with the same symbol displayed on the banners.
Then she saw him. It was easy to see how all surrounded him, it was easy to see that he held the highest authority there.
The king.
He stood at the front of a line of men wearing Valyrian steel armor. At his side, there was a Stark woman and a Mormont.
"So you are Asha Greyjoy?" the man with piercing green eyes said, with a slight tone of mockery.
She looked at him with a fierce gaze. She did not care about the stories she had heard about him. He was her enemy. And the words of the letter made it clear: he intended to exterminate the ironborn. And she would not spend her final moments in fear and cowardice.
"So you are the one who plans to exterminate us?" she mocked.
The Mormont growled beside the king. The Stark girl kept her gaze calm, but there was fury in her eyes. The rest remained watching in silence.
A thunderous laugh echoed behind her as Tormund approached. "I caught a little fish for you, Your Majesty," he said in a theatrical gesture.
"Very good," Jon replied, praising him before turning his attention back to Asha.
"I must say that some of you escaped in the North. But they will not last long." He paused.
"Meanwhile, on the ten ironborn ships at Bear Island, all were exterminated. Would you like to know something?" Asha kept her eyes fixed on him.
Jon made a slight gesture. A guard behind him took a sack and opened it.
Victarion Greyjoy's head was pulled from the sack by the hair.
It had been preserved with herbs used to conserve bodies before burial in Arctic. The herbs prevented decomposition and foul odor.
The head was thrown near Asha.
Her eyes widened as she recognized the empty expression of her uncle.
"I wanted to give you the same fate, but I reconsidered. Perhaps your father will be quite impressed to see his own daughter tied to the mast when we arrive at Pyke," Jon said in a cruel tone.
Asha, though she had already seen everything as a pirate at sea, could not help but feel a chill. Rage overflowed. She still had her pride as one of the most respected captains among the ironborn, even as a woman.
"Do not underestimate the krakens," she replied, as if it were the only thing she could say in that situation.
That drew an ironic smile from Jon.
Then, the sounds of water churning echoed behind the group.
"You are not krakens. But let me show you what they truly are," the king said calmly.
A gigantic tentacle began to rise beside the ship. Then another. And another. Brown tentacles, speckled with black spots, emerged from the dark waters.
Asha froze.
"Look, Asha Greyjoy. This is a kraken. Not you, who go around shouting as if you were one..."
He looked at her coldly.
"I said the same thing to your uncle before I beheaded him. Perhaps I will even let you watch while your father is devoured by a kraken in the end. After all, I intend to do that to him, since he likes that sort of creature so much."
The mockery was clear.
Asha stood there, unable to respond.
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