Accompanied by the familiar yet distant rocking and faint jolting of the ship, it finally docked. Two weeks after her escape from the Gift, the Kraken’s Daughter returned to the land that bore and raised her. The land whose destiny she had dreamed of changing and taken as her responsibility. The Iron Islands.

The return journey had not been easy and required considerable planning from Asha and Maester Qyburn, who had been ordered to assist her. From preparing disguises to concocting the poison she requested, all to make her escape appear as real as the “expedition Beyond the Wall,” every detail had been carefully arranged. First, under the pretense of establishing a Night’s Watch fleet based in the Westerlands, the command had requisitioned a large number of personnel with sailing and shipbuilding experience from the legion. Asha and her subordinates had been among them and were sent to Ice Canyon Port. Then, during the large-scale mobilization in which the so-called Night’s Watch port forces were guarding against the supposed Northern naval officers and sailors, the confusion created by numerous overlapping matters allowed the guards to negligently provide her and her two most loyal followers with the opportunity to meet, discuss the escape plan, and obtain the necessary tools.

Finally, on a cold, moonless, and windy night, Asha Greyjoy seized her chance. Taking advantage of the guards’ inattention, she slipped from her quarters, stole a key to free her two confidants, rushed straight to the docks, seized a small boat, and rowed away under the cover of darkness.

At dawn, the small vessel carrying the three was accidentally discovered and intercepted by an Iron Fleet patrol ship still monitoring Northern naval activity in the wide waters of the Ice Bay. After some back and forth, she was taken aboard a familiar Ironborn warship, just as planned.

Up to that point, everything had gone as intended. One side wanted to flee, and the other was willing to let her go. With proper arrangements, nothing could go wrong. What followed, however, would depend entirely on luck and improvisation.

The captain turned out to be a member of House Womark, someone she knew. Realizing this, Asha felt as if she were finally emerging from the lowest point of her life, which had lasted over a year, and stepping once more into the favor of the Drowned God. Although House Womark had not supported her at the kingsmoot, the ancient family based on Harlaw Island had always been loyal to her uncle Rodrik Harlaw, the Reader, rather than followers of her uncle Euron. It was impossible to rely solely on that weak familial tie to make them betray the current King of the Iron Islands and swear allegiance to her. Still, aboard a ship filled with familiar faces, at least she no longer had to worry about being bound to a stone and drowned in silence.

And indeed, things went just as expected. Upon seeing the long-lost Asha, who now appeared somewhat disheveled, and listening to her recount her entirely believable tale of capture and escape, the captain agreed to her request. To take her back to the Iron Islands so she could see Euron and personally plead for her uncle’s forgiveness and reacceptance.

Whether the captain hoped to present this unexpected gain to the King himself or simply wished to protect King Balon’s daughter, he did not hand her off to another ship for transport. Instead, after transferring his patrol duties, he turned his own vessel around and sailed directly for home.

The voyage from the Ice Bay to the Iron Islands was a long one. And the Ironborn were not a forgiving people. Asha’s journey was far from comfortable. As someone who had failed repeatedly, she was no longer greeted with the admiration or awe once shown to a strong warrior. Enduring the contempt of her peers was bearable. Squeezing into cramped sleeping quarters with the men was unpleasant but tolerable. The worst part was that once the aura of strength faded from a strong woman, she simply became a woman. And women, especially beautiful women who had once held power but now had none, were always the easiest targets for lewd intentions.

Fortunately, Asha was not a delicate woman. She had two fiercely loyal companions, and after several incidents of harassment, Captain Womark personally enforced strict orders forbidding any disrespect toward Balon’s daughter. Thanks to this, the humiliating situation of being untouched during over a year of imprisonment by the Night’s Watch, only to be violated immediately upon returning to her own people, did not come to pass.

But that was the last stroke of good fortune. In the latter part of the journey, Asha, having reined in her temper, began politely inquiring about the current state of the Iron Islands. The answers she received were all bad news.

After the kingsmoot, where she had fled in disgrace from Euron’s grip, her younger uncle, Aeron Greyjoy, known as Damphair, who had remained behind, relying on his status as a priest of the Drowned God and determined to rally resistance, soon disappeared without a trace. Though the islanders were still searching, Asha had a sinking feeling. Either Euron had sent him to meet the Drowned God, or he was being held in some unknown place.

As for her third uncle, Victarion, that fool whose blind loyalty and sense of duty completely suppressed his judgment, he had carried out his obligations faithfully for some time. Eventually, Euron sent him to meet the Dragon Queen. As expected, he never returned. Though the official word claimed he had died in an accident, no one could confirm whether that was truth or deception.

Asha had already heard of these events while she was still in the Gift. Now, hearing them confirmed by her own countrymen and realizing she truly had become one of the last Greyjoys, she felt some sorrow. But she had mentally prepared for this. It was the next piece of news that made her frown and feel genuinely shaken.

After taking the Seastone Chair, Euron had led the Ironborn back to the Old Way. He sent out massive fleets to raid the Westerlands and the Riverlands. Shockingly, he succeeded again and again, bringing back abundant spoils. With a string of victories and shrewd political maneuvering to eliminate opposition, he had earned wide support and firmly secured his position as King of the Iron Islands.

This was bad. No, it could not be worse. Asha’s entire philosophy and political slogan had always been that the Old Way no longer worked. And now someone had revived it, leading the Ironborn to prosper. It felt like a vicious slap in her face.

Could it be that my ideas were wrong after all? Can the islanders truly grow rich and live well by robbing others? If that is true, then by returning and killing my own kin, would I not become a sinner for all eternity instead of a savior?

The vast gap between her ideals and reality plunged Asha into a daze. For a moment, it was as though her mind had gone blank.

No. My ideas are not wrong.

After the brief confusion, Asha quickly gathered her thoughts. Euron’s repeated victories in the Westerlands and Riverlands did not prove the superiority of the Old Way, nor did they mean the mainlanders were weak and easy to pillage. The truth was that Ironborn raids had stopped for three hundred years after Aegon’s Conquest. Now, with the mainland lords in turmoil, the Ironborn had resumed their attacks, catching everyone off guard. The coastal dwellers, having long forgotten how to deal with reavers, were like unarmed lambs sent to slaughter.

Once the mainland situation stabilized, their attention would turn back to the sea. Then the Ironborn would face swift retribution from the new King, whoever he might be. This wretched Euron was exchanging the long-term future of the Iron Islands for meaningless short-term gain. And those short-sighted fools were not only pleased with this but had even pledged to follow him to their deaths.

Understanding the situation was one thing, but no matter how clear her reasoning, it did nothing to change the present reality. If she were to stand before the captains and lords who had grown rich from raiding and were surrounded by spoils and women, her words would only draw laughter. She would be branded jealous and bitter.

Her original plan had been to resolve everything by killing her own uncle. But now, it seemed finding allies would be harder than expected. And if she succeeded in kinslaying, surviving the pursuit of countless enraged captains, let alone ruling over them, would be even harder.

“Lady Asha.” The captain’s voice interrupted the Kraken’s Daughter’s endless thoughts and pulled her back to reality. “You are home. I have already sent word ahead. Now, my King, your uncle, is waiting for you in the city.”

“Yes.” Things were no longer as they once were. Asha looked at Pyke, looming under the distant sky with its grim and jagged rocks. She nodded, restrained her usual bold and carefree manner, and forced herself to speak in a tone of formality that even she found distasteful. “Thank you for taking care of me on this journey. We will go ashore now and enter the city.”

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep