CHAPTER 128
The Stony Shore.
The bitter wind howled across the rocky coastline like a sharpened blade, carrying the scent of salt, seaweed, and crushing defeat.
Euron Greyjoy stood atop a black reef overlooking the turbulent waters of the Sunset Sea.
Behind him remained only a few dozen Ironborn.
Their clothes were torn.
Their bodies were wounded.
Their expressions were bleak.
As for the crew of the Silence, most had fallen alongside Victarion Greyjoy at Ox Horn Mountain.
The rest had scattered during the retreat, their fates unknown.
"Captain Euron."
One of the surviving captains stepped forward.
A fresh knife scar crossed his face.
His voice was hesitant.
"Are we truly returning to the Iron Islands?"
He swallowed hard.
"And if we do... what will King Balon do to us?"
Euron abruptly turned around.
The blue eye he still possessed burned with an almost feverish intensity.
It was as though the catastrophic defeat at Ox Horn Mountain meant nothing at all.
"Return?"
A low, hoarse laugh escaped his throat.
"We are not returning to beg forgiveness."
"We are returning to usher in a new age."
The scarred captain stared blankly.
Had Euron finally gone mad?
The Ironborn had suffered a devastating defeat.
Thousands were dead.
Victarion Greyjoy was dead.
Asha Greyjoy had been captured.
The invasion of the North had collapsed.
Under such circumstances, Balon Greyjoy would be furious.
Yet Euron was talking about a new age.
Euron seemed to notice the confusion among his followers.
His smile widened.
"You think the Northmen won?"
Without waiting for an answer, he stretched out both arms and pointed toward the distant northern horizon.
"They are blind."
"Just like you."
"They guard their forests."
"They guard their castles."
"But they do not see the treasure sleeping on their doorstep."
The Ironborn exchanged puzzled glances.
Euron's eye gleamed with greed and madness.
Lowering his voice, he spoke as though revealing a secret meant only for the chosen.
"Do you know why we attacked the North?"
He did not allow anyone time to answer.
"Because we are going to Skagos."
The scarred captain frowned.
"Skagos?"
"What is on that cursed island besides cannibals and wild mountain clans?"
"Heh..."
Euron chuckled softly.
His gaze shifted toward the northeast.
The hunger in his eye became almost frightening.
"Because dragons are there."
For a moment, complete silence descended upon the shore.
Then shock erupted among the Ironborn.
"Dragons?"
"Actual dragons?"
"Impossible!"
Euron's smile only widened.
"Yes."
"Dragons."
He looked at the stunned faces before him.
"The Targaryens ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years because they possessed dragons."
"They conquered kingdoms."
"They forged the Iron Throne."
"They bent the entire continent to their will."
His voice grew increasingly passionate.
"If we possess dragons, what does today's defeat matter?"
"What does the loss of Victarion matter?"
"What does the loss of a few thousand warriors matter?"
"With dragons, the world itself can be ours."
The eyes of many Ironborn immediately lit up.
Their despair began transforming into greed.
They could already imagine themselves raiding every shore from Dorne to the Free Cities.
A knowing smile appeared on Euron's face.
Then his tone abruptly changed.
"But."
The single word instantly silenced them.
His expression became cold.
Practical.
Calculating.
"Can we reach Skagos with a handful of survivors and broken ships?"
"Can we force our way through the North after everything that has happened?"
The answer was obvious.
"No."
Euron slowly surveyed the group.
For the briefest moment, a chilling trace of murderous intent appeared in his eye.
"We must change our approach."
"No more wasting lives fighting over frozen castles and barren forests."
"No more sacrificing men for meaningless victories."
"We will pursue true power."
His gaze returned to the sea.
"We sail around Westeros."
"We enter the Narrow Sea."
"Then we approach Skagos from the eastern coast."
"It is longer."
"But it is safer."
Several defeats in quick succession had left a scar upon Euron's pride.
Whenever he thought about Garon Glover, a strange feeling surfaced.
A feeling he despised.
Fear.
The realization disgusted him.
That was why he had placed all his hopes upon the dragons.
A dark smile appeared on his face.
When I obtain dragons, Garon Glover...
I will destroy everything you cherish.
Your family.
Your home.
Your North.
Never before had Euron hated another man so intensely.
At that moment, one of his followers hesitantly spoke.
"But what about King Balon?"
"Lady Asha remains a captive of the North."
A cruel curve formed on Euron's lips.
"I will convince him."
"For an opportunity that comes once in a thousand years, he must agree."
He paused.
The murderous light in his eye deepened.
"And if he cannot see beyond a few captured castles..."
"If he remains obsessed with old ambitions and refuses to grasp true power..."
"Then perhaps he is no longer fit to lead the Ironborn."
No one misunderstood his meaning.
The implication was obvious.
The surviving captains exchanged uneasy looks.
Yet nobody voiced opposition.
After all, their fates were now tied to Euron's.
They had nowhere else to go.
"Prepare the ships."
"We return to Pyke immediately."
"I need to speak with my brother."
With that, Euron ended the discussion.
As the remnants of the Ironborn prepared to sail westward, events were unfolding elsewhere.
Far away in Winterfell.
Deep beneath the castle.
Within the dungeons.
Sansa Stark waited for Asha Greyjoy's answer.
She wore a dark woolen dress befitting her position.
Her young face tried to maintain the dignity expected of the acting ruler of Winterfell.
Yet the slight swelling around her eyes revealed the grief she had endured over the past several days.
"Lady Greyjoy."
Sansa spoke first.
Her voice remained calm, though maintaining that calm required effort.
"I hope you have spent these past days considering our proposal."
Asha slowly raised her head.
Her gaze lingered on the young Stark girl.
Then she forced a faintly mocking smile.
"Considering?"
"You mean considering how best to surrender to the people who defeated me?"
"The people who killed my uncle and shattered the Iron Fleet?"
Sansa shook her head.
"No."
"This is not about surrender."
"This is about ending needless bloodshed."
She took a slow breath.
"We already told you the truth about Theon's death."
"As long as you write to your father, this war can end."
"It serves no purpose for the Iron Islands anymore."
"King Robb..."
"King Robb?"
Asha immediately interrupted.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face.
Then understanding.
"So."
"Something significant happened in the south."
"And suddenly you are much more eager for peace."
She instantly recognized an opportunity.
The North needed something from her.
That gave her leverage.
Sansa did not deny it.
Instead, she answered honestly.
"Yes."
"We need stability in the North."
"But this can benefit you as well."
"We can arrange prisoner exchanges."
"If the Iron Islands cease their attacks and acknowledge King Robb's rule in the North..."
She paused briefly.
"Then we can acknowledge King Balon's rule over the Iron Islands."
"And instead of wasting strength fighting us, your people can raid the Westerlands."
"There is far more gold there than among the forests of the North."
Asha fell silent.
In truth, she already understood the reality of the situation.
Victarion was dead.
The Ironborn invasion had failed.
Euron had fled.
Unless Balon somehow acquired overwhelming power, compromise was inevitable.
After a long silence, she sighed.
Some of the tension in her shoulders disappeared.
"Very well."
"You make a convincing argument, Lady Stark."
Hope immediately appeared in Sansa's eyes.
"Then what do you propose?"
A strange look crossed Asha's face.
In her mind appeared the image of a single man.
Garon Glover.
"I will write the letter."
"I will urge my father to consider your proposal."
Then her gaze locked onto Sansa.
"But before I do..."
"There is someone I wish to meet."
Sansa blinked.
"Who?"
"Garon Glover."
A complicated expression appeared on Asha's face.
"The man who trapped me at Deepwood Motte."
"The man who killed my uncle at Ox Horn Mountain."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"If I am expected to bow my head, I want to know the man responsible."
A flicker of disdain crossed her face as she looked at Sansa.
She could accept losing to a worthy opponent.
She could not accept surrendering merely because a frightened child asked her to.
Not even if that child was a Stark.
The request caught Sansa completely off guard.
For several moments she remained silent.
Finally she spoke.
"Lord Garon is still campaigning."
"I cannot summon him back immediately."
"I can wait."
Asha's answer came without hesitation.
"When I meet him, I will write the letter."
"Until then, there will be no agreement."
She folded her arms.
Her position was absolute.
Part of it was pride.
Part of it was strategy.
She wanted to see Garon Glover with her own eyes before deciding how to proceed.
Sansa frowned thoughtfully.
The request was inconvenient.
Yet not impossible.
Once Moat Cailin was secured, Garon would eventually return to Winterfell anyway.
After careful consideration, she nodded.
"I will send a message to Lord Garon."
"But while you wait, I expect you to seriously consider the terms we discussed."
Asha inclined her head slightly.
"Agreed, Lady Stark."
Seeing that no further progress would be made today, Sansa turned and departed from the dungeon.
Until negotiations were finalized, Asha would remain a prisoner of Winterfell.
Meanwhile, the man at the center of the negotiations remained completely unaware of them.
Garon Glover was still traveling northward toward Winterfell, accompanied by Meera and Jojen Reed as the victorious host continued its journey home.
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