Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 311 Return to the Iron Islands

When the wedding festivities subsided, the vows and glasses were put away, and Arthur Dayne and Jero Hightower set off once more.

Instead of saying goodbye to Euron and Ashara, they chose to set off quietly in the deep of night.

Their destination was the far north, the Great Wall of ice and snow that stretched across the northernmost border of the continent.

There, they will shed all their past glory and burdens, don the black cloaks of the Night's Watch, and seek their final destiny as knights in that land rarely sung in the Song of Ice and Fire, protecting the world in another way.

The next day, after Asara discovered her brother was gone, tears welled in her eyes. Euron comforted her, "The Wall, I've always wanted to see it. After winter, we'll go see him. I think it won't be long before we see each other again." Hearing this, Asara smiled again.

The wedding revelry and clamor were like a Dorne downpour, intense yet fleeting.

Although the warmth of Sunspear City could melt even the hardest reefs, House Greyjoy was ultimately the master of the Iron Islands and could not remain anchored for long in the foreign desert.

During his time in Sunspear, Euron would find a moment of leisure each day to quietly go to a secluded dwelling in the city. There, Elia Martell and their young son Caesar lived peacefully.

Little Caesar was already toddling, babbling indistinct syllables like "Papa—Papa—". He was strong, his limbs possessing the rubbery resilience unique to children, and his eyes were clear and bright, like the cleanest sky after the Dornish rains, lively and adorable. Euron often lay casually on the cushioned couch, his head resting on Ilya's soft, warm thighs, holding his giggling son above his head, or letting his tiny fingers curiously scratch his weathered cheeks. At that moment, a simple warmth filled the air.

Beneath this tranquil joy lay a chilling reality. Elia's identity—the former wife of Prince Rhaegar, divorced yet still a de facto princess of Dorne and an important member of House Martell—did not allow her to sail openly with Euron like Ashara and become the mistress of the Iron Islands. She and Caesar had to remain under Dorne's protection; their very existence was a secret that needed to be carefully guarded.

Three days later at dawn, before the rising sun had fully ignited the sand dunes, Euron and his party were ready to set off.

At the docks, Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn personally saw Euron off, presenting him with an exquisite hourglass in which the red sand flowed slowly, symbolizing that "time in Dorne always slows down for friends." Ashara and her sisters, including Arianne, embraced tightly, their whispers and laughter a final, intimate farewell between women.

Euron and Ashara boarded the deck of the Grey Sea King's Wrath. She was still wearing Dorne's light gauze dress, but now she had draped a thick Iron Islands-style cloak over her shoulders to protect herself from the approaching sea wind. She held little Daren in her arms; the child was wrapped up tightly, with only his innocent little face showing.

Before parting, Euron left a deep kiss on Caesar's forehead, and their gazes met with Ilya's, filled with unspoken promises and helplessness. Meanwhile, atop a distant tower, Ilya held Caesar, silently watching him leave. Euron saw them and waved goodbye.

King Coron and his relatives from the Iron Islands had already boarded their ships, the golden sea monster banners stretching their tentacles in the morning breeze, fluttering in the wind.

With King Corinth's command, the fleet slowly sailed away from the port of Sunspear. Standing at the stern, Asara looked back at the palace, built of rammed earth and dreams, which was gradually shrinking in her vision, and at the fiery red earth where she had grown up. She gently clutched a star-shaped necklace to her chest—a keepsake left to her by Arthur before his departure. Not long after their separation, she had already begun to worry about her brother's future, whether he could adapt to the cold of the Wall—

The bow of the ship cleaved through the emerald green sea, heading north.

A salty sea breeze swept over them as Euron and Asara stood side by side at the high bow of the ship, gazing at the northern sea where dark blue and gray intertwined. Asara held the sleeping Daren in her arms, silently watching the unfamiliar ocean that would soon become her new home, a barely perceptible worry lingering between her delicate brows.

Euron keenly sensed this unease. He reached out, his broad palm gently resting on her slender shoulder, the pressure steady and warm.

"The Iron Islands are not just cold reefs and endless storms as the rumors suggest," Euron's voice was low but clear, cutting through the wind. "There are magnificent coastlines sculpted by the waves, and tranquil bays that shimmer silver in the moonlight. You will see a different kind of grand beauty, unlike the scorching Dorne sun."

Ashara turned her head, meeting his insightful gaze. A faint smile played on her lips as she shook her head. "I'm not worried about the hardships of life, Euron. A daughter of Dorne can bloom even in the sand." She paused, a genuine unease creeping into her voice. "What I worry about is—as your wife, a woman from Dorne, whose veins flow with green blood, will the Ironborn of the Iron Islands truly accept me?"

Euron Greyjoy chuckled softly, a deep, magnetic sound carrying the wildness of the sea breeze and an undeniable resolve. He leaned closer to her ear, his tone half-joking, half-sword-like: "Acceptance?" He repeated the word, as if savoring an intriguing concept. "Why should I, Euron Greyjoy, need the acceptance of others for the wife I have chosen?" His gaze swept over the busy Ironborn crew on deck, their backs straightening even more as his eyes passed over them.

"Who dares to utter a single word against this?" His voice still carried a smile, but his eyes suddenly sharpened like knives, and his fingers unconsciously brushed the hilts of the twin swords at his waist. "Then let him ask my twin swords whether they agree first."

This almost barbaric declaration strangely dispelled the gloom in Asara's heart. She finally smiled with relief, a smile like the Dornish sun piercing through the dark clouds of the North. She gently rested her head on his chest, as solid as a rock, the sound of his strong heartbeat mingling with the sound of the waves, bringing her unprecedented warmth and peace.

At this moment, besides Asara, there were many more people on the giant ship than when it arrived.

On the eve of the fleet's departure, Euron made a special request to Prince Doran Martell—to release hundreds of criminals from the prisons of Sunspear and its surrounding fortresses, so that his fleet could transport these "people and goods" to the Wall to bolster the Night's Watch.

Upon hearing this, Prince Doran's deep gaze lingered on Euron's face for a moment. Without asking for further details, he readily agreed: "In this way, we can contribute to the kingdom's frontier, find a possible way out for these criminals, and clear Dorne's prison. It's a win-win-win situation, and I have no reason to refuse."

In fact, the Night's Watch's constant pleas for reinforcements, stemming from their perpetual manpower shortage, drifted like snowflakes from the North to the castles of the Seven Kingdoms every year. However, Dorne, located at the southernmost tip of the continent, was thousands of miles from the Wall, a journey that was both long and arduous.

The Night's Watch's rangers may never have set foot on this fiery land to recruit, and Dorne naturally had no desire to expend a large number of golden dragons and manpower to escort a group of criminals from one end of the world to the other. This unprofitable deal had previously been ignored.

Euron Greyjoy's fleet is now heading north, which conveniently solves this biggest transportation problem.

As the fleet departed Sunspear harbor, besides the members and warriors of House Greyjoy, a group of special "passengers" joined the ship. Shackled, they would disembark at Eastwatch after a long voyage, donning black robes to spend the rest of their lives guarding the kingdom in that world of ice and snow, as atonement for their sins. For Doran, this was a favor; for Euron, it was a promising investment. He had always wanted to cultivate a relationship with the Wall, and this would be a good start.

For the Night's Watch, this was an unexpected blessing after a long drought.

Tyrion Lannister was also on board. Instead of returning to the Westerlands with his family, he chose to board Euron's flagship.

Tyrion had always preferred to associate with people of exceptional intelligence and broad vision, and Euron Greyjoy was one of the few who, in their interactions, did not look down on him because of his size, but instead showed appreciation for his sharp mind. More importantly, Tyrion harbored a strong desire—to personally experience the feeling of sailing on such a massive warship across the vast ocean.

"I've heard enough stories from the land," Tyrion said to those who looked puzzled. "Now, I want to hear what the waves have to say."

Euron needed a mind like Tyrion's. Tyrion was scheming about trade routes across the Narrow Sea and beyond, and how to deal with financial institutions like the Iron Bank of Braavos—complex plans far beyond the capabilities of ordinary warriors. What he valued was Tyrion's precocious wisdom in finance, administration, and political maneuvering, far beyond his years.

Thus, an exile seeking knowledge and experience, and a seafaring master in need of a strategist, naturally formed a temporary alliance on their northward voyage. As the giant sails of the Grey Sea King's Wrath billowed in the wind, Tyrion stood on the ship's railing, watching the Dornish coastline recede into the distance. He felt an unprecedented sense of freedom, and at the same time, he vaguely realized that Euron's discussion about "banking affairs" was far more than just casual conversation.