A/N: The Greyjoy Brothers have a chat.
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"What the bloody fuck are we doing, Euron?! We've been sitting in this damn bay for weeks now! And for what?!"
"Have care how you speak to the King, brother. He is the Chosen of the Drowned God and the King of Salt and Rock. He is beyond reproach."
"Quiet, Damphair! I grow tired of listening to you preach! I follow the Drowned God the same as everyone else! I bent the knee with the other Captains! But this… this is folly!"
As his brothers Victarion and Aeron Greyjoy argue with one another behind him, Euron Greyjoy stares out at the ruins of Lannisport… and beyond that up at the currently besieged mountain fortress of Casterly Rock. There was a time when he would have turned and ran Victarion through by now for the insults spewing forth from the dullard's lips… but Euron stays his hand. He controls himself.
Turning to regard his brothers, Euron smiles thinly… causing both men to fall silent. A shiver even runs down Aeron's back. The youngest of the Greyjoy Brothers always had been the weakest after all. Oh but what a trio they make.
There's Victarion, of course. Built like a damn bull, Victarion Greyjoy is a large and powerful man. He's also a humorless man, mostly because Euron and Aeron had spent most of their mutual childhood mocking him for his general lack of intelligence and slow wit. It had resulted in Victarion hating laughter and tending to consider any within his hearing to be mockery directed towards him.
And then there's Aeron. The youngest of the Greyjoy Brothers, though at this point that matters little as they're all quite old now. Aeron had nearly drowned at one point and his near-death experience had caused him to undergo a spiritual awakening. He had dedicated himself to the Drowned God and become one of his priests, growing out his hair to the point of ridiculousness and earning the name 'The Damphair' as a consequence.
Finally, there's Euron himself. Only one eye and more battle scars than both other men combined, and yet he still has the best looks of the three of them. He always has, to be fair. And here he is, King of the Iron Islands. Ah, but Victarion chafed under Euron's rulership. He hated that there'd been no Kingsmoot, that he hadn't been able to make a case for himself.
Not that he would have won if there was one. Everyone knew Victarion Greyjoy was an idiot… save for Victarion himself. Even if things had gone to a Kingsmoot, Euron would still have become ruler of the Iron Islands.
But never mind all that. Victarion was questioning him. Again.
"You have doubts, brother."
Being directly called out causes the larger man to tense up a bit. Despite having quite a bit of height on him from when they were younger, Victarion no doubt remembers all the beatings Euron gave him back then. Or perhaps he just knows better than to truly pick a fight with a man wielding a Valyrian Steel Sword, wearing Valyrian Steel Armor, and commanding the largest Kraken that the Iron Islands had ever seen.
"… I just worry that we've wasted our edge, Your Grace. We smashed the Lannister Fleet and savaged Lannisport easily, but that was weeks ago! We should have done the same to Oldtown and the Arbor, to Sunspear and Storm's End… all the way to Dragonstone and then King's Landing! With that Kraken at our side, we would have been unstoppable!"
Unstoppable yes… but far from invincible. This was Victarion's lacking wits fully on display. If they'd gone with that plan, they would have wound up stretched thin to a ridiculous degree. And while the Kraken that Euron commanded in the name of the Drowned God was a great and powerful beast, it was only one creature. Could it have given Euron King's Landing? Perhaps, though he doubted even that. At the same time, the cost would have been to lose all of their other gains.
And yet, while Victarion is being a fool, the first part of his rambling is not entirely incorrect. There was something to be said for taking the fleet south after smashing Lannisport and repeating their triumph in Old Town and the Arbor, demolishing what they could of the Redwyne Fleet in the process.
But Euron hadn't let them do that. He'd allowed individual Captains to take their ships and reave and raid up and down the coast for a short time, but he'd refused to move the main fleet or his Kraken away from Lannisport. And eventually he'd called even those Captains back here to the Westerlands.
It chafes at him to have to explain himself to anyone… but Victarion, for all his stupidity, represented a sizable portion of the Ironborn. So he would tell him and trust his brother to relay the message simply and bluntly, lacking just enough detail to keep everyone else mostly in the dark.
"The reason we have not left Lannisport, the reason we have not attacked the Arbor or Oldtown… is Axel Baratheon."
Victarion and Damphair both straighten up at that, causing Euron to smile thinly again.
"Allow me to tell you a story, brothers. A story of what I found in my exile. A story of why I made the long journey home. I did not merely sense Balon's impending demise… I was told by the Drowned God himself that it was time to return to the Iron Islands, to take my place as the King of the Ironborn and lead our people to victory against the monster that the Seven have created!"
Aeron gasps in awe and reverence while Victarion scrunches his face up in confusion. But Euron simply turns away again, looking off into the distance towards Casterly Rock. After a moment, he continues.
"The Drowned God claims dominion over all oceans and seas. He is not so limited to our Iron Islands, or even this side of Westeros. It was off the coast of Volantis that he came to me and he and I made a pact."
Euron's face contorts into fury then just out of his brothers' view. His lips curl into a sneer and his hands clutch at the railing in front of him so hard that if not for the gloves he wears, his white knuckles would be visible. Victarion and Aeron see nothing of this of course, turned away as he is.
"… A pact?"
Victarion's confusion continues. The man is truly so… very slow. But Euron nods all the same, still looking away from them. He keeps the raw emotion out of his voice, keeps from spitting the words out in a rage as he wants to.
"Aye. A pact."
If you could call it that. It had indeed been off the coast of Volantis though. There, Euron had been enjoying the spoils of the latest captured ship in his quarters, a uniquely talented Lyseni Whore who had been on her way to ply her trade in Volantis before the Silence had waylaid her transportation.
And then… a kraken had come. None among the Ironborn had commented on it, but the Silence that Euron sailed now was not the same ship he'd always had. Oh, the black sails and the dark red hull were the same, but the ship… the ship was newer. Because his original ship… had been sunk.
A kraken had come up from below and ripped Euron's boat to shreds before he or anyone else could even blink. Everyone else died, though that wasn't important. Slaves and thralls, most of them mute, could easily be replaced. The Lyseni Whore had drowned too, but he could care less about her.
Euron though… Euron had drowned as well. He was sure of that point. And then he'd woken up… in the depths, surrounded by the monster that ripped apart his ship and pulled him under.
It was there that the Drowned God first spoke to him. It was there that they'd made their 'accord'. Not by choice, but by force had Euron Greyjoy been bound to the god of his childhood, the god of his people. The Drowned God had use for him and Euron could either obey or die there in the depths. And he was loath to die in such a pathetic fashion.
"What kind of damned pact?!"
Victarion's growled words are met with a snarl from Aeron as the Drowned Priest whips around towards him again.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Watch your tongue to the King, brother!"
Before things can devolve into yet another argument, Euron continues on, silencing both of his brothers.
"What other kind of pact could it be? The Drowned God saw my value. He saw my strength. So he made me a deal, to sail and reave in his name. In turn, he gave me certain… advantages. And he sent me to the ruins of Old Valyria to claim my greatest prize."
The mention of Valyria silences both men, as Euron knew it would. Even on the other side of the known world, the Ironborn knew of Old Valyria.
"The Valyrian Steel…"
Those words are whispered by Aeron, making it obvious that for all his sycophancy, the Priest of the Drowned God has his own questions about everything that's happened since Euron returned. Euron just nods, still turned away from the other two men.
"Aye. I ventured into Old Valyria. With the Drowned God at my side, it was simple enough. I and my crew plundered the ruins, taking whatever we wanted for ourselves. And the Drowned God guided me to a horn the Dragon Lords once used to control dragons."
"Dragons!"
Victarion's exclamation sounds downright wondrous and for a moment Euron is extremely tempted to start mocking him, just as he'd done when they were boys. Fuck, the big lug was just so… stupid. He simply nods again though.
"Aye. The dragons are all dead… but the horn still works. And not just on dragons either. The horn is how I control the Kraken. Our greatest weapon."
Indeed, the Drowned God had led Euron to a great treasure, one that Euron had almost deemed worthless at first. In plumbing the depths of Old Valyria under the aegis of the Drowned God, Euron had found nothing still breathing. Nothing but dragon bones and skeletons. Not a single living, breathing dragon still existed. Not even an egg.
So the horn… well, it had felt pointless at first. But then the Drowned God had ordered him to use it on his new boat, commanding him to blow it there in the midst of the Smoking Sea.
When the Kraken, HIS Kraken had first appeared, Euron had been momentarily terrified. It was easily thrice or more the size of the one who sunk his original ship, after all. And yet… it did not lash out. It did not attack him. Instead, it obeyed him. It obeyed the horn and followed Euron out of Old Valyria and all the way to the other side of the known world.
Silence falls as Aeron and Victarion digest those words, but not for long. Eventually, Victarion just snorts in confusion.
"I still don't understand. What does all of that have to do with Axel Baratheon and giving up our damn advantage?"
"Victarion!"
But this time Euron holds up a hand, cutting Damphair off. Turning back around again, he fixes Victarion with a stare… and this time the bigger man takes a full step back. Euron smiles.
"The Drowned God has warned me about Axel Baratheon. The Seven chose him in the same way the Drowned God chose me. Every rumor you've heard about him… is true."
Euron hadn't believed it at first, of course. But then, he barely trusted the Drowned God even now. If he had his way, he wouldn't being relying on the 'blessings' of any god. That was why he'd been willing to make his deal with Renly in the first place, just on the off chance that the Drowned God could be wrong and Axel could be beaten then and there.
He'd had such plans, such glorious plans… but the Drowned God ruined them, dragging him down into the depths and forcing him to serve. All to turn him into a weapon and point him at this Baratheon King.
Still, at this point Euron was forced to acknowledge that the warnings were true. Axel Baratheon was something… unnatural. He was more than just a man, to be capable of surviving a wildfire explosion like the one Baelish had set off in the Small Council Chambers. And that meant it was time to take the Drowned God's warnings much more seriously.
Victarion scowls while Aeron looks disturbed. Euron just plows onward though.
"Our only hope of defeating Axel Baratheon and fulfilling the Will of the Drowned God is to draw them out onto the water, where our deity holds greater sway than the Seven. That is why we have not burned the Redwyne Fleet or sacked Oldtown and the Arbor. That is why we wait here for Axel Baratheon and his armies to approach."
Turning back around again so he's no longer facing Victarion and Aeron, Euron sweeps a hand across the horizon.
"Once they get closer, we'll pull the fleet back and force them to come to us. They'll think they have superiority in numbers. They'll think us cowards and craven. But only on the water will we have the strength to slay Axel Baratheon once and for all."
Axel Baratheon might be more than a man, but was he more than a Kraken? Euron doubted it. The King, overconfident in his own immortality, would demand that they follow the Ironborn Fleet out to sea even though he and his commanders would no doubt see that it was a trap. And there, Euron would have his Kraken kill the Baratheon King once and for all.
Once Axel Baratheon was dead, other options opened up to them. Other paths.
"… This is the Will of the Drowned God. Axel Baratheon must die. Only then will we have proven ourselves worthy of being called Ironborn. Only then will we be worthy of the Drowned God's favor."
He sneers at his own words, knowing his brothers can't see. But even as Euron wallows in his shackles, he has a glimmer of hope. After all… the Drowned God was not all powerful. He was not all knowing. If he were, he would never have used Euron for this in the first place. No, if their god were smarter, he would have used Damphair or Victarion. The first was fanatical enough to obey and the second was stupid enough not to even see the proverbial shackles.
Euron though? Euron would do the Drowned God's bidding for now. He would kill Axel Baratheon. But he refused to stop there. Sooner or later… he would find a way to kill a god as well. Then and only then would he be free…
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A/N: And so we learn just what's up with this story's Euron. He's basically Book Euron if he got waylaid halfway through his journeys and turned into the Drowned God's mortal patsy.
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