The kraken on the black sail twisted in the sea breeze like it had spotted fresh prey.
More than fifty sailing ships and nearly six hundred longships formed a massive armada that covered a huge stretch of ocean. Lookouts clinging to the masts couldn't even see the end of the fleet.
They smashed through waves and rode the wind. After more than ten years, the Ironborn fleet was finally sailing out in full strength, ready to raid the lands that had once knelt beneath their boots.
On one sleek sailing warship, Euron guided his ravens for scouting.
The second Jon's fleet left port, Euron got the news. When he realized Jon was committing his entire fleet, the revenge that had been simmering after two crushing defeats finally boiled over.
First Highgarden—Jon stole his ship. Then Beheading Bay—his whole army wiped out. Now Jon's fleet was sailing out in force. Euron could summon another blood-magic storm, smash Jon's ships to splinters, and if the gods were kind, capture Jon alive and turn him into a puppet. Then Casterly Rock. Then the Westerlands. Then everything.
Convincing the Ironborn lords to actually fight Jon's fleet took work, though.
Most of their ships were longships—fast, shallow-draft, great for raiding and landing anywhere. But in a straight sea fight they were at a serious disadvantage against taller sailing ships.
Jon's fleet had five times as many sailing ships. To fire up the men, Euron paraded the half-mad, mind-controlled Balon onto the battlefield.
Since Euron no longer had his own ship, he had to sail on his niece Asha's Black Wind.
He planned to sacrifice Asha for the magic. He'd wait until both fleets were about to clash, then call down a storm. In the chaos, no fleet could hold formation. That's when the Ironborn would charge in and slaughter everyone.
A mocking voice cut through the wind. "Hey, Shipwreck Prince! We getting close to your memorial yet?"
Laughter exploded around him.
Everyone knew Euron's Silence had been burned as punishment. The merchant ship he'd just captured had been taken by Jon too. Worse, he'd lost nearly a third of the Iron Islands' entire fleet in one go. Behind his back they were already calling him "Euron the Shipwrecker."
Since he was the king's brother, they tacked on "Prince" as a thin courtesy.
Euron had never tasted being looked down on like this.
He turned to the burly young sailor who'd spoken. The man's yellowed eyes flicked toward Asha standing nearby.
Euron knew the score on the Black Wind. Half the crew loved Asha. The other half wanted to bed her. They competed to flatter her every chance they got.
"No big deal, Prince Euron. Shipwrecks happen to ironborn all the time."
"Ha! Exactly. Looks like sleeping with your brother's woman is what really sinks ships!"
Euron said nothing. He just turned away, his cold eyes simmering with poison.
For years people had only looked at him with fear and obedience. This kind of humiliation was new.
He swore that once he ruled the Iron Islands and conquered Westeros, he'd drown every last one of them in poison.
If his own ship were still here… if he didn't need to sacrifice Asha… he wouldn't have to swallow this.
All of it traced back to Jon.
Asha didn't particularly like or trust Euron, but she still gave him the respect due her uncle. When someone tried to needle him again, she shut it down.
After all, he was family.
"Enough. Back to your posts. The enemy's right in front of us. This isn't the time for jokes," Asha said. Her slightly large nose gave her voice a nasal edge, but her admirers found it magnetic.
She walked over to Euron. "Uncle, why did Father agree to fight the greenlanders' fleet? We're outnumbered and outgunned."
Euron glanced at his niece. He saw shades of a young Balon in her—far better than the nephew he'd already murdered.
With no one close by, he lowered his voice. "When our fleets are about to clash, I'll use magic to summon a storm. The storm will win the battle for us."
"Magic?!" Asha looked skeptical. "That's what you told Father?"
"I know you don't believe me. Just stay close when the time comes and you'll see."
"Sure. Whatever." Asha studied him head to toe. She thought this whole battle was shaping up to be a problem.
She needed to talk to Balon soon. The Iron Islands couldn't keep letting Euron run wild like this.
More importantly, she didn't believe Balon had simply fallen for Euron's lies. There had to be something deeper going on. Her suspicions about her uncle were growing stronger by the minute.
A short, urgent horn blast sounded—the warning for enemy ships sighted.
Asha began issuing orders calmly and efficiently. The crew moved like well-oiled gears.
They weren't as perfectly synchronized as Euron's mind-controlled mute sailors, but they were still damn good.
At sea they relied on eyesight. Euron had his ravens—eyes in the sky.
He used them to scout Jon's fleet and quickly noticed something wrong. Jon's fleet was much smaller than expected. It looked like less than a third of its full strength.
"What the hell?"
Euron was stunned. He clearly remembered Jon's entire fleet leaving port—three hundred sailing ships and three hundred longships. Why were there fewer than a hundred ships in sight?
He kept watching and spotted purple grapes on the sails.
That was the flagship of the Redwyne fleet.
Euron sent his ravens farther out. A few dozen miles away he found another fleet of similar size, but they weren't close together.
When Euron first learned Jon's entire fleet was moving, he'd been suspicious. He knew Jon was aware he could use blood magic. So why would Jon send everything out at once?
But splitting his forces didn't make sense either. Jon's other fleets couldn't support each other in time. They couldn't use their numbers and might get picked off one by one.
Euron kept thinking but couldn't figure out Jon's plan.
Soon the first fleet they'd spotted—Paxter's—appeared on the horizon. Asha came to Euron. "Uncle, didn't you say you could summon a storm to destroy their fleet? Here's your chance."
"Not yet. My magic isn't unlimited. Wait. Jon's other fleets are nearby. We need to draw them in so the storm can take out as many ships as possible at once."
Asha thought his reasoning sounded reasonable, but she couldn't resist needling her uncle who'd already failed twice.
"Fine. Just try to get it right this time." She turned and clomped away in her boots.
Asha's words made Euron's rage boil. He swore that once he held real power, no one would speak to him like that again—especially not with that sarcastic tone.
The little interruption passed. Both fleets soon came into full view of each other.
Paxter's fleet was smaller but higher quality. The Ironborn had more ships, and with their swarm of longships they looked like a moving island.
Waves slapped against hulls like war drums. Sails snapped in the wind like battle flags.
A long horn blast came from Balon's Sea Bitch. It was the signal to attack—high and piercing.
Paxter's side answered with their own horns—deep and thunderous.
The fleets closed in. They traded probing arrows. Most splashed into the water; a few thudded into hulls.
A few Ironborn longships tried to swing wide for a flanking harassment, but a massive scorpion bolt screamed through the air and slammed into one of them, pinning a pirate to the hull. The bolt was so powerful its fletching kept quivering.
"Those are Casterly Rock scorpions!" an old pirate with deep wrinkles shouted.
To boost firepower, Jon had mounted Casterly Rock's giant crossbows and catapults on his sailing ships.
The threat of the scorpions kept the fast longships from getting too aggressive. But the sea was rough, and aiming was hard. Besides that lucky first hit, most scorpions needed four or five shots to land one.
The fleets kept closing until crewmen on both sides could make out each other's faces.
Euron kept scanning the other "combined fleets." He believed Jon, who also had ravens, would react.
But after they'd been fighting for half the morning, the other fleets still hadn't moved. Instead they were speeding straight toward the Iron Islands.