Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Baron turned stiffly, each step heavy as if dragging invisible chains, the sound clear yet hesitant on the cold stone. The pride of the heir to the lordship of Pike City was crushed by his father's severe punishment. The words "Howling Cape" were like cold iron hooks, piercing his boiling rage and leaving only a dull ache of humiliation. He had expected a flogging, a brutal but exhilarating beating—the badges of a warrior. But hard labor? Scratching barnacles among the sun-baked rocks like the lowest of salt slaves? This was a trampling of his status! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the spoils gleaming in the firelight in the corner—Mir's gold coins, Kohol's silk—but now their gleam offered no solace, instead like countless mocking eyes, silently ridiculing the shame brought by his "victory."

Euron, however, appeared much calmer. He glanced thoughtfully one last time at his father's straight, rock-like back, its solitary weight accentuated by the flickering firelight. He had anticipated his father's anger, and the confinement punishment was expected, even exactly what he wanted. The mountain of spoils, seemingly cursed in his father's eyes, were merely cold, exploitable resources to Euron. His gaze finally settled on Lisa, who stood quietly in the shadows of a corner. Her calm, grey-blue eyes, like two deep wells, reflected the flickering firelight in the hall, and perhaps also reflected some nascent thoughts within him. He gave her a barely perceptible nod, then turned and followed his brother.

The two walked silently side by side toward the heavy door. Baron's anger and humiliation had nowhere to go, threatening to burst him apart. Just as he was about to touch the door knocker, he abruptly stopped, his large, iron-like hand gripping Euron's thin shoulder tightly! His fingers dug deep, the force so great that Euron groaned in pain, caught off guard, and stumbled backward.

"You little bastard!" Baron's voice was squeezed out from between his teeth, filled with hatred that even the sea breeze couldn't dispel. His hot breath sprayed on Euron's ear. "If it weren't for you, you jinx, Father wouldn't be so angry! I would at most get a beating, why... why would I have to go to Howling Cape to do hard labor!" The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, and his fingers tightened even more, as if he wanted to crush his brother's shoulder blades.

Euron winced in pain, but his deep blue eyes held no fear, only cold mockery and a hint of offended anger. He endured the pain, meeting his brother's fiery gaze without flinching, his voice low and cold: "Hmph, if it weren't for me, dear brother, you and your bunch of brutes would have been shot into porcupines in Havana Harbor long ago! You owe me a life, have you forgotten so quickly? How will you repay this life-saving debt on the 'Ancient Road' of the Iron Islands?" He deliberately emphasized the words "Ancient Road".

"One thing at a time!" Baron growled, like a sea monster whose sore spot had been touched. "Iron Seeds are clear about their debts! I will repay you for saving my life! But this punishment is all because of you!" He stubbornly attributed all the blame to his brother's appearance.

"Ha! What a fine 'clear'!" Euron sneered, straining his shoulders to try and break free of the iron clamps. "It was your father who punished you! He felt that you, as the eldest son and the future King of the Seastone, had led the way in reckless actions, almost dragging the entire Greyjoy family into the abyss! You were stupid, don't blame it on me!" He spoke rapidly, each word like a knife.

"Pah!" Baron spat angrily onto the stone ground at his feet, making a loud thud, as if that was his entire judgment of his brother's words. He released his grip and shoved Euron hard, causing the latter to stumble a few steps.

Just as the two brothers were on the verge of exploding, the atmosphere so tense it seemed about to burst into flames, King Koren's cold and weary voice came from the depths of the hall, like a bucket of ice water being poured over them: "Enough! Before you go to your respective 'reefs' and 'desks,' go see your mother!" Koren didn't turn around, his voice filled with impatience and a hint of barely perceptible pain. "She cries and whines all day long because of you two reckless fools; she's almost gone blind from crying! Give her a break!" He paused, his tone regaining its commanding coldness, "Dagmo, you stay!"

Baron and Euron were rooted to the spot by their father Corren's roar; the rebuke about their mother crying until she went blind lashed their hearts like a whip. Their father didn't turn around, but his suppressed pain was heavier than any scolding.

The two brothers turned in silence and headed towards their mother, Sansa Greyjoy's, room. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and a somber atmosphere. Their father's rebuke, like an invisible whip, extinguished the tension between them. Baron's anger was instantly replaced by a complex expression—a mixture of heartache for his mother, embarrassment at his father's exposure of his weakness, and a deeper sense of self-reproach. He glared at Euron, said nothing more, turned, and abruptly flung open the heavy wooden door. With lingering anger and heavy steps, he strode away into the shadows outside.

Lady Sansa leaned against the cushions, her six-month pregnant belly bulging beneath the thin blanket. Tears still clung to her pale face, and her eyes were red and swollen. Seeing her two sons enter, especially Balon, a surge of anger instantly overwhelmed her grief.

"Baron!" Her voice was hoarse yet sharp. She suddenly sat up and, before Baron could react, "Slap!" A loud slap landed hard on his face. The force was so great that eighteen-year-old Baron staggered, and clear finger marks quickly appeared on his face.

"If you want to die, fine, but why did you take Euron to do that! How old is he! Is that a place for a 5-year-old?!" Lady Sansa's chest heaved violently, her eyes burning with fear and rage.

Baron covered his face, stubbornly holding his neck, his eyes gloomy, but he dared not contradict his mother.

At that moment, Sansa's gaze swept over Euron, instantly freezing on his shoulder exposed beneath his torn sleeve—a large, horrifying purplish-blue bruise, with even a faint, white arrow scratch visible at the edge, faded from being soaked in seawater.

"Gods!!" Sansa gasped, her face turning deathly pale, even more so than before. She whirled towards Baron, her eyes practically spitting fire, and raised her hand, using all her remaining strength—

"Snapped!"

Another, even louder slap landed heavily on Baron's other cheek!

"You wretched brother! How have you taken care of your brother?!" Sansa's voice was choked with sobs and despair. "Do you want to kill him?! Do you want me to lose both of you?!"

Baron's cheeks were burning and swollen. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that they cracked, and his fierce gaze, like a poisoned dagger, pierced Euron. His eyes were filled with the rage of being publicly humiliated and resentment towards his brother.

Euron was jolted by that gaze. His mother's protection had become the most dangerous death warrant. He knew Baron all too well; Baron might not dare to retaliate against his mother for the beating and humiliation, but he would definitely take revenge tenfold or a hundredfold.

"Mother...Mother," Euron said, his voice weak and panicked, his voice strained by the sharp pain in his shoulder. "I...I'm so dizzy, and my wound hurts too...Mr. Clergon said I need to change my dressing immediately...I...I'll go find the maester first!" He spoke rapidly, giving his mother no chance to speak again or for Baron to retaliate. Like a startled fawn, he turned and stumbled out of the room, leaving his furious brother and his worried, weeping mother behind.

He had to get out of this powder keg immediately. Baron's eyes told him that a severe beating was only a matter of time.