Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

Pyke Castle, Iron Islands

An autumn rain had been falling for days, and the temperature dropped with every passing hour.

Yet the air inside the castle was stifling and oppressive. In the banquet hall, a roaring fire burned in the hearth, spewing thick black smoke into the air. Combined with the heat radiating from the guests, the pungent mix of roasting meat, alcohol, and sweaty bodies made the already cramped space feel even more suffocating.

Asha Greyjoy toyed with the sharp knife in her hand, casting a peculiar gaze toward the newlyweds on the high dais.

Today was the wedding day of her uncle, Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy, and Desmera Redwyne, daughter of the Lord of the Arbor.

Once, a proud house like the Redwynes would never have considered allying with the Greyjoys, a family they despised. But after their fleet had suffered a devastating defeat in the waters off Dorne, Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor, had no choice but to marry his cherished daughter to the same Kraken he once scorned.

The ceremony was officiated by a septon brought by Paxter Redwyne himself, as the priests of the Drowned God, led by "Damphair" Aeron Greyjoy, had boycotted the wedding.

More accurately, they were boycotting Euron Greyjoy.

"Euron's blasphemy will surely provoke the Drowned God's wrath," Aeron muttered nearby, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Uncle, you were the one who crowned him in the Kingsmoot," Asha reminded him, smirking.

"At the time, I had no choice," Aeron sighed. "He had the support of the majority of the Ironborn. I was bound by the rules of the Kingsmoot to crown him. But as easily as I placed the driftwood crown on his head, I can take it back."

"How will you take it?" Asha's interest was piqued.

After all, if Euron were deposed and Victarion dead in Slaver's Bay, Aeron, as a priest, couldn't rule. The driftwood crown's next rightful heir would be her—Balon Greyjoy's eldest daughter.

Unless, of course, her younger brother Theon was still alive.

But even then, Theon was a broken man, a failure in the eyes of the Ironborn. Asha was confident she could make her naive, foolish brother kneel before her.

"The Ironborn were deceived by Euron's horn, convinced he could tame a dragon..."

"He did bring back a dragon," Asha interjected. "A golden dragon."

"But he cannot control it," Aeron said coldly.

Asha frowned. "He can't? Then how did he capture it? And that horn—"

"Have you seen him ride it?"

"No," Asha admitted, her mind racing. "I haven't even seen the dragon. I've only heard the roars coming from the caves on Pyke. Euron has stationed heavy guards there and allows no one to approach."

"Exactly. Because Euron cannot control the dragon. He's chained it in the cave. He gained the driftwood crown through deceit, and I will expose his lies. I will tell the Ironborn that Euron is a fraud."

"Euron will kill you," Asha warned.

"Then he had better do it in secret," Aeron replied indifferently. "At least as carefully as he dealt with Victarion, leaving no evidence. The Ironborn will not accept a kinslayer as their ruler."

Asha sighed inwardly, knowing her uncle was beyond persuasion.

Her gaze shifted back to the high dais, where the king and his new bride stood before the septon, exchanging vows under the eyes of the Seven.

The septon pronounced seven blessings and led them in making seven promises, all while the choir sang hymns.

Euron removed his cloak, shook it out, and draped it over his bride's shoulders.

Desmera Redwyne blushed, her expression both shy and joyful as she gazed tenderly at her new husband.

Watching this, Asha scoffed internally. Poor girl. She has no idea what kind of man she's married.

Yes, Euron was handsome, a king of the Iron Islands, cunning and bold. But beneath that facade lay a heart that was venomous, deranged, and utterly corrupt.

A soul forsaken by the gods.

"Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, I now pronounce Euron Greyjoy and Desmera Redwyne as husband and wife," the septon declared. "From this day forward, they are one body, one mind, one soul."

The hall erupted in cheers.

The Ironborn lords, unable to restrain themselves, let out wild howls and banged on the tables, causing the room to shake with noise.

The uncouth display made the Redwyne party frown in disapproval.

Paxter Redwyne's face flickered briefly with anger and disdain, but he quickly masked it. Having decided to ally with the Iron Islands, he would have to endure these pirates.

"Your Grace," Paxter forced a smile, "shall we begin the feast? Everyone is eager to celebrate."

Euron raised his goblet and announced loudly, "To the friendship between the Iron Islands and the Arbor!"

"To friendship!" Hundreds of goblets clinked together, marking the start of the feast.

As Paxter took his seat, Euron approached him and said,

"Father-in-law, I have a gift for you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Come with me," Euron said, gesturing for Paxter to follow.

"You haven't given me my gift yet," Desmera pouted playfully.

Euron kissed his bride with his blue-stained lips, murmuring,

"Yours comes next, my dear. I promise."

"Really? I can't wait!" Desmera beamed.

Aeron watched the exchange and muttered under his breath,

"Fools. They don't know that Euron's gifts always come with poison."

Asha caught his words, her heart tightening.

She had heard this warning many times before. Both Victarion and Aeron had cautioned her against accepting anything from Euron.

But Paxter Redwyne had not heard those warnings and had no idea what Euron's "gifts" truly meant.

The two men left the hall, walking through the drizzle toward the cliffs.

Paxter opened his mouth several times as if to ask something but ultimately held his tongue.

Eventually, Euron led him into a cavern.

The air inside was thick with the sharp tang of sulfur, the heat oppressive. Strange rock formations jutted from the walls, and the shadows seemed to shift and writhe.

Paxter's heart raced as suspicion gave way to realization. Quickening his steps, he followed Euron deeper into the cave.

The light from the entrance faded, plunging them into darkness. It felt as though some immense creature lurked in the shadows, watching, waiting.

Hiss—

Euron lit a torch, illuminating the cavern.

Paxter found himself standing at the edge of a massive pit, staring into a pair of blood-red eyes.

A dragon!

Though he couldn't yet see the creature in full, Paxter knew what it was.

"This is the dragon you stole from the Mad King's daughter?" he asked.

"Yes," Euron confirmed. "It's called Viserion. A dreadful name, isn't it?"

"Terrible," Paxter replied distractedly, his gaze fixed on the beast.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he finally saw it.

The dragon's body shimmered with golden scales, its head as large as three horses. Its long neck coiled like a massive serpent, and as it spread its wings, a blast of searing wind scattered ash and dust.

"Why don't you give it a new name?" Euron suggested.

"Me?" Paxter asked, startled.

"Of course. After all, this is my gift to you."

(End of Chapter)