As the first light of dawn broke, the cursed white shores of New Ghis were left far behind. By the time the stars and moon mingled in the sky, the familiar silhouette of the Isle of Tears had already pierced the night fog, coming into view.
On this voyage, the Bone-Segmented Sea Centipede cleaved through the waves, moving several times faster than the swiftest sailing ship, turning the vast ocean into a mere pathway.
Upon reaching the shore, the colossal sea beast slowly sank into the deep waters off the coast of the Isle of Tears, depositing Euron and Alicia on the beach.
Walking along the silent strand toward their quarters, Euron stopped and turned to the silent Warrior Queen beside him.
"Alicia," he began, "are you going to keep walking this path with me?" He paused, a grin spreading across his face. "The road ahead only gets longer. We won't be staying here long. We sail again soon."
Alicia met his gaze. She didn't answer immediately, but instead asked, "Where to this time?"
Euron hid nothing. The names that tumbled from his lips were like unfurling an ancient, distant chart. "East. All the way east. Lesser Moraq, Vahar, Great Moraq, the Isle of Elephants..."
Every name represented a longer voyage, unknown dangers, and vastly larger ambitions.
Alicia fell silent for a moment, the sea breeze toying with her hair.
She looked up, her sharp eyes studying him as he casually listed those distant lands. She sighed, "Your ambition... it truly knows no bounds." Her voice dropped, taking on a teasing lilt. "Do you intend to become King of the Summer Sea and the Jade Sea as well?"
Euron chuckled low in his throat, as if she had suggested an amusing idea. He looked toward the dark eastern horizon that had swallowed countless stars. "I hadn't thought about it before, but now that you mention it... that title does have a nice ring to it."
It wasn't an admission, nor a denial—it was the matter-of-fact acceptance of a man who viewed grand goals as things already in his pocket.
Alicia didn't hesitate. Her conviction was firm. "I will go forward with you. To the East."
Euron tilted his head, deliberately drawling his words. "Oh? You aren't worried about your Amazon island, my noble Queen?"
"I am not," Alicia answered crisp and clear, analyzing the situation rationally. "The Summer Isles are united now, more cohesive than ever before. Besides, your Golden Kraken flag flies over our waters. You've swept the Stepstones and the Basilisk Isles clean of those annoying pirates. My rear guard is as solid as a rock. What do I have to worry about?"
Euron laughed softly. "So, is the Queen really going to follow me to the end of the world?"
Alicia raised an eyebrow. A bright, almost arrogant smile bloomed on her face as she turned the tables on him. "Is that a problem?"
She took a half-step forward, looking up into Euron's face, her tone laced with a sly accusation. "If there's anyone to blame, it's you."
"Blame me?" Euron clearly hadn't expected that answer.
"Of course I blame you," Alicia drawled, her eyes raking over his body with undisguised mockery. "It's not my fault if you... aren't up to the task."
Euron blinked, momentarily confused. "..."
Before he could react, Alicia leaned in close to his ear. Her voice was a whisper meant only for the two of them, but the words were bold as brass.
"I told you, I would go back once I was pregnant. But you... well, it seems you just can't get the job done, can you?"
The sentence was like a spark in a powder keg.
The confusion in Euron's eye was instantly incinerated by white-hot anger and the desire to conquer. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against him, and growled through gritted teeth right into her ear.
"Fine! Tonight, you won't..."
The moonlight was like a ribbon of silk, pouring down onto the silent bay of the Isle of Tears.
Small waves licked repeatedly at the black sand, whispering ancient secrets.
Euron grabbed the edges of her leather armor with both hands. With the sharp sound of tearing fabric and leather, he ripped Alicia's armor open.
The leather fell away, revealing the firm muscle and curves beneath, gleaming like ivory in the cold moonlight.
They didn't stop until the moon set and the sky turned bright.
---
In the gloomy stone hall of the Weeping Keep.
"I told you once, I would make you, Edwin Ramirez, the King of the Basilisk Isles," Euron's voice echoed clearly off the stone walls. "Now, the archipelago has been scrubbed clean, the heads of rebels decorate the port, and the islands are united. It is time to fulfill that promise."
Standing below him, Edwin Ramirez showed no joy or hunger for the crown. He was silent for a moment, a look of sober realization crossing his face.
Edwin looked up, his gaze honest, perhaps even a bit cautious. His voice was steady. "My Lord, the honor you offer terrifies me. But this land... it is a chaotic place, barely held together by your name and your iron fist. The lords of the islands fear the shadow of the Sea Monster Lord; they fear the beasts in the deep that obey your command. They do not fear the name Edwin Ramirez."
He shook his head slightly, his tone firm. "My reputation is not enough to suppress the undercurrents still writhing beneath the surface."
Edwin Ramirez made his choice. "The title of King of the Basilisk Isles should belong to you. It can only be you."
Then, he grinned, his rogueish demeanor returning. "As for me? I'll handle the daily grind—taxes, law and order... I'll just be the 'High Steward of the Basilisk Isles.'"
The title implied responsibility and labor, not supreme authority and glory. He chose to stand in the front office, managing the books, while leaving the crown—and the target painted on the back of whoever wore it—to the man whose terrifying presence could actually hold it all together.
Euron didn't force him.
"As you wish, Edwin," Euron finally said. "Be the High Steward, then. It's just a title, after all. You have full authority over the islands' affairs. Unless it's something you cannot solve or a threat to our rule, don't bother me with it."
Edwin Ramirez took a sip from his wine cup with one hand and twirled his mustache with the other, giggling. "Rest assured, I'm very fond of my life. By the way, Euron... even if it's just a title, a King is still a King. You still need a coronation ceremony, you know~~~"
Euron Greyjoy didn't care much for the title "King of the Basilisk Isles" itself. Empty names meant far less to him than actual control. But political wisdom told him that now that the islands were unified, the order built on steel and blood needed a title to cement it. The known world needed to be told that the sovereignty of these waters had changed, and he was the one writing the new rules.
Euron didn't choose to hold a grand, luxurious coronation; that wasn't the Ironborn way, and it was a waste of time. instead, he summoned every Ironborn captain who participated in the conquest and every pirate leader who had recently surrendered to the natural, circular amphitheater-like bay of the Isle of Tears.
There was no exquisite throne, no tedious rituals.
Euron simply stood atop a towering black reef, looking down at the crowd of rough, unruly sailors, men covered in scars and draped in loot. His voice cut through the sound of the crashing waves as he made the simple declaration.
"From this day forth, the Basilisk Isles are mine! I, Euron Greyjoy, am the King of this place!"
He didn't ask for permission. He simply stated a fact.
The response was a deafening roar of weapons banging against shields and wild, raucous cheers.
After the declaration came the celebration the Ironborn and pirates understood best—a massive feast where the booze and meat never ran dry.
Huge bonfires were lit on the beach. Whole roasted oxen and suckling pigs sizzled over the flames. Casks of ale and rum were pried open, the cloudy liquid flowing freely. The air was thick with the smell of meat, alcohol, and the crude songs and shouts of men.
It was a night for conquerors, rewarding their followers in the most primal way, using this pure, powerful noise to declare to the entire Narrow Sea that a new era had arrived.