Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Sir Jorah, Happy Sheep, and Boiling Sheep had searched the coastline for days with zero luck.

"Village chief said the awakening grass grows on the seafloor. If it's not here it must be deeper out. We need to build a proper boat and head for the deep sea," Happy Sheep said, rubbing his chin.

"Fine. Plenty of coconut trees. Not perfect ship timber, but we can't wait around," Jorah said, grabbing a machete.

"Happy Sheep, why not just build a raft? Saves a ton of work," Boiling Sheep asked.

"Deep-sea waves will flip a raft in seconds. We'd all be swimming home. Happy Sheep's right—listen to him," Jorah said.

Over the last few days he'd realized Happy Sheep was sharp as hell and Boiling Sheep was stupidly strong. Jorah had arm-wrestled him once and still felt the ache in his forearm.

Cute faces, but these two were monsters. He wished they'd swear to Daenerys as knights, but the sheep folk loved peace too much to fight anyone's wars.

Out on the water a small fleet sailed straight toward them. Leading the pack was the Silence, captained by Euron Greyjoy—the Crow's Eye, Balon's exiled brother.

Ten ships at most, every man a bloodthirsty pirate who burned, raped, and looted without a second thought.

"Fucking storm! Where the hell did it dump us?" Euron growled, soaked and furious.

The sudden gale had blown them into unknown waters.

"Captain! Shoreline dead ahead. Let's put in!"

The first mate said.

Where there were people, there was loot. Pirate logic.

"Put in! Put in!" Euron ordered.

He was pale, handsome, black hair and beard, eyepatch over his left eye. Exiled for fucking Victarion's salt wife. His right eye was bright blue—people called them laughing eyes.

Euron had robbed everyone at sea, including warlocks. He'd stolen their shade of the evening and drank it constantly, turning his lips blue.

His ship was called the Silence because he'd cut out every tongue but his own. Later he hired a few men who could still speak—first mate, navigator, cook, surgeon. His first mate Tich carried a knife that could control the ship's ropes. Euron had recruited him for exactly that.

Tich had his eye on Euron's Dragon Horn, but without dragons it was useless. Only Targaryen blood could blow it anyway.

They beached the ships and spotted fresh fire pits.

"Hahaha—people! Perfect! Pirates, time to raid!" Euron laughed.

Happy Sheep and Boiling Sheep stepped out carrying wood. Both sides froze for a heartbeat.

"Hahaha—sheep men! Grab them!" the pirates charged.

Happy Sheep and Boiling Sheep snapped into fighting stances.

"Who the fuck are you?" Boiling Sheep barked.

"Pirates, obviously. See the ships? Don't hold back, Boiling Sheep—send them flying!" Happy Sheep said. His shoes shifted shape.

Boiling Sheep slipped on red gauntlets.

"Watch this. Strength does miracles!" He punched the nearest pirate so hard the man rocketed into the clouds and splashed down in the sea—still breathing.

The rest of the pirates, including Euron, stared in stunned silence.

"That strong? I thought sheep were just horse-lord punching bags. How the hell did he launch a man like that?" Euron muttered.

Jorah stepped out, sword already in hand, and locked eyes with Euron.

"Crow's Eye—it's you!" Jorah snarled.

"Mormont! Hahaha—didn't expect to see you here. What the hell are you doing?" Euron asked.

Last time they'd met was at the siege of Pyke. Thoros and Jorah had stormed the castle together, cutting ironborn to pieces. Jorah had been the victor then. Both men were exiles now—Jorah by choice, Euron by his brother's order.

"Jorah Mormont, hanging with these sheep strongmen. Must be treasure nearby. Tell me what it is and we split it fifty-fifty!" Euron grinned, eyes smiling but cold.

Jorah knew how dangerous he was. Even Balon had feared him enough to exile his own brother.

"We've never been friends. There's nothing here worth taking. Sail on. The sea's waiting for you—land isn't your place," Jorah said. He wanted Euron gone yesterday.

"Hahaha—leave? I just got here! Search the whole coast!"

Euron sent his men to scout while he and Tich sat eating meat and drinking.

Hours later the pirates returned.

"Captain, nothing here but wilderness. We grabbed some coconuts for you."

The juice was sweet, but Euron preferred wine. He watched the three building their boat.

"You didn't come from land, did you? Storm wrecked your ship. Everyone else died. Just you three left, trying to sail home?"

"If you want to leave this place, sail with me, Ser Jorah?" Euron offered with a smile.