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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
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"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 112: The Kraken Lord
The sea stretched before her, dark and restless, its surface churning with the promise of storms.
Daenerys Targaryen stood at the prow of her personal vessel, the Shadow's Kiss, its dark wood and black sails a stark contrast against the bright blue of the Slaver's Bay. It was not as grand as Joffrey's Storm Dancer, but in this moment, it felt fitting to be here, on a ship that had carried her through the smoking ruins of Valyria's shadow.
Her violet eyes were fixed on the distant shapes that had appeared on the horizon. The Iron Fleet had arrived at Astapor.
She had seen many ships in her travels...the sleek galleys of Qarth, the massive cogs of Volantis, the swift commercial vessels of the Free Cities, the mysterious dark wood ships built in Asshai. But these were different.
These were warships, built for battle, their black sails billowing like the wings of carrion birds, their hulls bristling with weapons and siege engines. They moved with a predatory grace, their formation tight and disciplined, a pack of wolves hunting together.
"How many are there?" Daenerys asked, her voice flat.
Ser Jorah Mormont stood beside her, his weathered face turned toward the approaching fleet. "Thirty ships, Khaleesi. But this is probably just a small part of what they have. The Iron Fleet is the sole reason the Iron Islands were made one of the Seven Kingdoms. They are a power that must be respected."
Daenerys's jaw tightened. She had expected challenges in the near future, had prepared herself for them. But she had not expected the Ironborn. Not here in Essos, and definitely not now.
"Are they here to fight us?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of cold determination.
Jorah shook his head slowly. "Unlikely. On land, they are greatly outnumbered. Even with thirty ships and a few thousand men, they could not hope to defeat the Unsullied in an actual battle. The Ironborn are not fools. They have come for something else."
Tyrion Lannister appeared at her side, his mismatched eyes fixed on the approaching fleet. "They have come for you, Your Grace. The Ironborn do not sail across half the world for a social call. They always want to take something: gold, power, women, or... an alliance. Possibly all of them."
Daenerys turned to him, her expression unreadable. "You know the Ironborn?"
"I know of them," Tyrion said, his voice dry. "They have been a plague on the coasts of Westeros for centuries. They raid, they pillage, they steal, and they call it their way of life... the Iron Price. They are pirates, but they call themselves Lords or Kings."
Jorah spoke, his voice carrying a note of deep-seated hatred. "I know them better than most, Khaleesi. I grew up on Bear Island, not far from the Iron Islands. The Ironborn have raided our shores for generations. They steal women, kill men, and take what they cannot earn. The women of Bear Island are all trained in combat because we learned that the Ironborn do not respect weakness. They only understand violence."
Daenerys studied him, noting the tension in his jaw, the cold fire in his eyes. Jorah was a man of many layers...a knight, a sellsword, a spy. But beneath all of that, he was a Northman, and the North had long memories.
"You hate them," she said.
Jorah nodded, his voice flat. "I do. They have no honor, Khaleesi. They are butchers who hide behind the sea. Savages who have no respect for laws or traditions."
Tyrion stepped forward, his voice measured. "The Ironborn are also opportunistic. They have never been loyal to anyone but themselves. They rebelled against Robert Baratheon and lost. They rebelled against the Lannisters and lost. But they have never stopped scheming." He paused, his eyes meeting Daenerys's. "They have come here because they see an opportunity. The Ironborn do not get along with the Starks, the Lannisters, or any of the other great houses. They are outcasts, and outcasts always seek powerful allies to improve their situation."
Daenerys nodded slowly, her mind racing, forming a plan on how to best deal with this unexpected situation. "Who leads them now?"
"As far as I know, Balon Greyjoy is still their Lord," Jorah said, his voice carrying a note of contempt. "He is known as the Lord Reaper of Pyke. But he is old and weak, and he has been humiliated twice. He is unlikely to have sailed here himself."
Tyrion nodded in agreement. "It is more likely that his daughter, Yara, or one of his commanders has come. Balon is a broken man, and a coward, Your Grace. He would not risk himself on such a journey."
Daenerys was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the approaching fleet. She had heard of Balon Greyjoy, had heard of his failed rebellions, his stubborn pride, his refusal to bend the knee.
She turned to the others, her voice commanding. "We need to prepare for any possible scenario. I want a large number of Unsullied at the port, visible and armed. I want them to see that we are not afraid, that we are ready for anything."
Jorah nodded, his hand moving to his sword. "It will be done, Khaleesi."
"And find Joffrey... where is he?" Daenerys asked, glancing toward the Storm Dancer. "I would like to hear his counsel on this matter."
She had not seen Joffrey since the palanquin. The sorcerer had disappeared with his maid, leaving her to deal with the Ironborn alone.
She had made a sharp comment about him only thinking about bedding his maid, and as she said so, she felt a bitterness in her heart. One that she did not quite understand yet. Was she actually jealous of a maid?
Tyrion noticed her expression and stepped forward, speaking with a careful tone. "Your Grace, I believe the Prince is working on fixing his arm. He mentioned it would take some time and concentration."
Daenerys blushed lightly, a rare moment of embarrassment crossing her features. She had allowed her frustration to cloud her judgment and forgotten about his unique situation.
"I was not aware," she said, her voice regaining its composure. "We will continue without him then. Tyrion, you will accompany me during the meeting, if there is one. I want your insight."
Tyrion bowed, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I would be honored, Your Grace."
"And so will you, Lord Varys." Daenerys glanced at the eunuch.
The bald man smiled and nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace."
The Shadow's Kiss did not have any sort of throne room that she could use, so Daenerys waited in the captain's cabin. It was the largest room on the ship, just large enough for a few people to sit comfortably.
Daenerys sat at the head of the table, keeping her posture regal and her expression hard to read. Lord Varys sat to her left, his eyes fixed on the door. Jorah stood behind her, his hand resting on his sword, ready to defend his queen.
Lyssara was present as well, quietly standing in one corner of the room, her ruby glowing with a faint inner light.
There were Unsullied guards, Dothraki, and Red Temple knights all over the ship, as well as the docks. Just in case the Ironborn tried to get violent.
Almost an hour had passed before Tyrion opened the door and walked up to her.
"Finally..." said Daenerys. "Tell me."
Tyrion had been sent to speak with the leader of the fleet and inquire about their presence here at Astapor.
"Your Grace, I have spoken with the commander of the Iron Fleet. He is requesting a meeting with you."
Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "And who is commanding their fleet exactly?"
Tyrion paused, his voice careful. "He calls himself Euron Greyjoy, and claims to be the current Lord of the Iron Islands."
"Euron Greyjoy?" Daenerys repeated, her voice flat.
Jorah's face went pale, his hand tightening on his sword. "That's impossible. Euron Greyjoy should be dead. He was exiled years ago, and no one has seen him since. He was lost at sea, or killed in some distant land-"
"Apparently not, Ser Jorah," Tyrion interrupted, his voice dry. "He is very much alive. He has returned from wherever he was hiding, and he has brought the Iron Fleet with him, larger and stronger than ever. He claims to have overthrown his older brother Balon and taken control of the Iron Islands."
Daenerys noticed Jorah's reaction...the fear in his eyes, the tension in his body. She had never seen him like this before.
"Tell me about this Euron Greyjoy," she said, her voice commanding. "Who is he? Why does his name inspire such fear?"
Jorah took a breath, his voice heavy with old memories. "Euron Greyjoy is the younger brother of Balon. He is the most dangerous of the Greyjoys, and that is saying something. He is a pirate, a madman, and a sorcerer...or so the stories say. He has sailed to places that no man has ever returned from. He has seen things that would drive lesser men mad."
He paused, his eyes distant. "At the outset of the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Balon first declared himself King of the Iron Islands, Euron orchestrated the daring raid on Lannisport. He burned Tywin Lannister's entire fleet at anchor, giving the Ironborn command of the western seas and coasts of Westeros for a time. After the rebellion failed, Euron went into exile, and has spent the last years as a pirate, raiding and pillaging wherever he could find prey."
Tyrion spoke up, his voice measured. "Regardless of the stories, he is apparently back and in charge of the Iron Islands. He wishes to negotiate a potential alliance with you, Your Grace."
Daenerys considered this for a long moment. An alliance with the Ironborn would give her a powerful navy, one that could challenge any fleet in the known world. But it would also mean allying herself with pirates, with murderers, with the very men who had terrorized the coasts of Westeros for generations.
That would certainly not give her a good image for the rest of Westeros.
"Tell him I will meet with him," she said, her voice cold. "But he will come alone, and he will be unarmed. I want to see what he has to say."
Jorah stepped forward, his voice urgent. "Khaleesi, you cannot trust Euron Greyjoy. He is not a man to be trusted. He will betray you the moment it suits him."
Daenerys met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I do not intend to trust him, Ser Jorah. I will see if I have use for him. There is a difference."
Tyrion nodded and departed, leaving Daenerys alone with her thoughts.
Mere minutes later, the door to the captain's cabin opened, and Euron Greyjoy walked inside.
Despite what she had already heard of him, his appearance still surprised her.
He was tall, with a lean, muscular build and long, dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He was handsome...the most comely of the Greyjoy brothers, by all accounts, with a neat, dark beard and pale skin that spoke of long years at sea.
He wore a black leather eye patch over his left eye, and his right eye was as blue as the summer sky, bright and unsettling. His lips were stained blue from drinking shade of the evening, giving him an otherworldly, almost inhuman appearance.
He was dressed in fine black leather and silver, his hands adorned with rings that caught the torchlight of the cabin. He moved with grace, his one eye fixed on Daenerys with an intensity that was both charming and unsettling. His smile was thin and knowing, a confident expression that seemed to say he knew something she did not.
"Your Grace," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I am honored to meet you at last. And I have to say that the tales of your beauty have done you no justice."
He bowed deeply, the gesture graceful and almost theatrical. There was something about him that made Daenerys's skin crawl, something that she could not quite name.
Daenerys studied him for a moment before speaking. "Euron Greyjoy. I have heard a few things about you from my men."
Euron straightened, his smile widening. "All good things, I hope."
"Not exactly..." Daenerys said, her voice flat. "Your reputation precedes you, Lord Greyjoy. I am curious as to why you have come all this way to Astapor."
Euron stepped forward, his one eye never leaving hers. "I have come to offer you an alliance, Your Majesty. The Iron Islands have no love for the Lannisters, no love for the Starks, no love for anyone who has ever ruled the Seven Kingdoms. We are outcasts, just like you, and we have always sought powerful allies."
Daenerys's eyes narrowed. "An alliance? What would you have from me?"
Euron's smile widened, a predatory expression that sent a chill down her spine. "I want something simple, Your Majesty. I want your hand in marriage."
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