When Asha Greyjoy's fleet entered Blackwater Bay, a not insignificant amount of alarm ensued.
Tales of ironborn raids were well-known, even here on the far side of Westeros. Rape and murder and plunder. And so when the kraken hoved into view across the horizon, carried upon the sails of ironborn longships, the panic was all very understandable.
And to me, quite amusing.
Mercifully, the reality of the matter was revealed swiftly enough as the true extent of the ironborn force became apparent, the ships struggling against the unfavourable winds, eventually abandoning their sails in favour of oars.
No more than perhaps a dozen longships made for the docks of Kings Landing - a significant force to be sure, but not nearly enough to mount anything resembling a true raid. The gold cloaks were sent to man the defences at my command in case anything went awry, not that I anticipated any difficulties, even as another detachment of the City Watch set about protecting the peace from any sudden panic.
I had sat and watched the ships near the dock from one of the terraces of the Red Keep, with what I presumed was the Black Wind leading the lot, aware of the air of palpable tension around me. Rows of guards stood in tense silence. Here they were watching their city presumably about to be raided, and their king was sat perfectly calm, smiling against the ocean breeze, feasting on some of the last fresh slices of peach of the season. I could not help but imagine what a queer sight it must have seemed to them, after the tempestuous chaos of Joffrey and Cersei and Robert, to see such placid confidence on the face of a king, even if it was partly an act.
Yet once the number of ships was known to me, any lingering notion of danger promptly disappeared.
Asha Greyjoy, for all her arrogance, would not be stupid enough to sail so brazenly to her own demise. And any other captain stupid or brave enough to venture into Kings Landing would likely go under the cover of night, hoping to leverage the element of surprise, and with far greater numbers besides.
Even still, as the minutes passed, I was gratified to be proven right.
In the distance I could see the little figures of the ironborn longships slowly approaching the dock - rolling across across the relatively calm waters of the bay, which occasionally glittered as the sun peeked through the clouds.
Then the ships slowed to a stop, only to send a single man out on a rowboat the rest of the way to finish the journey, presumably to ensure they were not falling into a trap. When he reached the quays, he was pulled ashore and out of sight, though not five minutes later he was back in his boat again, returning to the waiting rows of longships, his arms furiously working the oars. When he arrived, a lull ensued, and then three ships slowly pulled into port and began lowering their gangplanks.
I knew it had been a good idea to send Tyrion to greet them. His silver tongue had once again availed itself.
Finishing my slices of peach, I sent the plate back to the kitchens in the arms of a servant and cleaned myself with a damp cloth, gently stirring the cat curled up in my lap from it's slumber, and set off for my solar. Though the view was pleasant and the autumnal ocean breeze refreshingly bracing, a more formal setting would no doubt grant me greater leverage over the ironborn captain. Across a desk, outnumbered with guards waiting outside and her capacity for violence effectively neutered, Asha would be out of her element, stripped of all advantages. And though a witty woman she might still have been, she was still working blind.
I wasn't.
Still, it was never wise to leave oneself unprotected, especially when faced with a woman well-known for wildness. In place of a cat I laid a crossbow across my lap, and loaded a single bolt, a dagger hidden at my hip. If she really was stupid enough to try anything, a single shot would be enough to end her.
And so when Asha arrived at the door of my solar perhaps a half-hour after setting foot on solid ground, I was prepared. There were some briefly raised voices outside, but then Ser Loras poked his head through the door to announce her arrival - an open scowl on his face at having to tolerate the presence of the ironborn; that plague upon his people. She sauntered in not a second later, a slightly sour look on her face as Loras shot her a baleful glance and returned to his post, her usual choice of weapon - the hardy dirk - surrendered at the door.
She was a lean and long-legged woman, with a wiry sort of strength evident in her slim build, even beneath her jerkin. It was open at the front, showing the brown tunic she wore underneath hanging loosely off her breasts - an intentional decision, no doubt - and the rounded waistline of her green woollen breeches. There was no mistaking the womanly figure beneath the loose fabrics.
A certain sense of caution defined her gait, even as she tried to project an air of confidence with her back straight, her head held high and her hips swaying from side to side. Her dark eyes darted up and down me from over her nose - a touch too large for her face - searching for something before settling on the weapon sat quite openly on my lap, my fingers gently stroking the woodwork like it was a purring kitten.
She wandered to the other side of my desk without a word, pulled herself a chair without my permission, sat herself down and then offered me wicked smirk, almost as if daring me to object. Doubtless she meant to unsettle me with the silent show of disrespect, judging me by the fat still lingering in my cheeks and my short stature to possess the disposition of the child I technically still was, without the stomach to use the weapon in my arms. Her eyes flicked briefly to the door, no doubt thinking some other lord would enter; the true power behind the throne.
I returned her smile, my wedding ring tapping the wood of the crossbow just once as I broke the silence.
"I gather you understood the offer in my letter?" I opened without delay, without exchanging so much as a single pleasantry.
Asha's eyes narrowed slightly. "You?" she asked, incredulous. "You look young enough to still be suckling at your mother's teats!"
"Not my mother's," I japed, offering her chest a very pointed glance, "but I have been known to enjoy a nice pair of teats from time to time. You ought to meet my wife. I imagine we could all find a great deal of enjoyment in each other's company. But now I must ask again: Did you understand it?"
"I did," she returned without hesitation, though with a hint of suspicion lacing her tone.
"And?"
Asha licked her lips. "You will offer us independence?" she asked. "A route to raid Essos?"
"No," I said bluntly. "That offer was predicated on your success in the Kingsmoot. Euron sits the Seastone Chair in your place. War is now inevitable. And so, my lady, independence is something I am no longer willing to offer." Asha's expression soured. "And yet, that does not mean we cannot come to some agreement."
Asha clenched her teeth, and then unclenched them with a sigh. "I will not treat with a child," she spat, acting insulted. "And you are too young for my tastes anyhow. Where is your Regent? Your Hand? I much prefer real men to share my bed, though I'll admit you might make a good maid."
I snorted at her deliberate misinterpretation of my words. "You know, a great many men would say that trying to reason with a woman is a waste of time. I am beginning to understand what they mean. Here I am, intent on deciding the fate of your lands, and all you can think to do is speak of what lies between your legs."
"Give me your terms," she bit out, scowling.
"I will seat you on the Seastone Chair after I win it from your uncle - though as a lady this time, not as a princess or queen - and even grant the Iron Fleet safe passage to the Stepstones to raid, so long as you can promise to bring the raids on Westerosi trade and territory to an end, as well as any raids on allies of the crown, chiefly the Braavosi. You will pay taxes on the incomes derived from these raids, of course.
The Iron Islands will remain under the authority of the Iron Throne, with the understanding that so much as a single rebellion will result in a complete eradication of all captains and lords in the islands, as well as a full occupation by a combined force of westermen, northmen, reachmen and riverlanders, whom I assure you will be less than kind to whatever will remain of your kin."
...
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