There's something to be said about the sizable army that Axel finds himself traveling down the Gold Road with. For all that they're moving painfully slow for someone of his capabilities, it's nevertheless an inspiring sight to see so many men working together towards a common goal.
And this is just the combined forces of the Crownlands, the Stormlands, and the Mountain Clans at that!
The Knights of the Vale, along with the armies of the Riverlands had joined forces by this point and were travelling along the River Road towards Casterly Rock in tandem with Axel's forces.
Meanwhile, the armies of the Reach had split their forces. The majority of Reachmen would travel by land up the Ocean Road that ran all along the coast of Westeros.
The rest would travel by ship from the Arbor to what remained of Lannisport, catching up once the Royal Fleet finished making its trip around the southern edge of the continent. And the Royal Fleet would in turn be stopping in Sunspear along the way to pick up a good amount of Dornish Spears, promised by Prince Doran Martell himself.
The North would of course be a bit late to the party, but that was through no fault of their own. Simple geography, really. Though they would be forced to wait for the Northmen all the same, because Lord Eddard Stark was bringing Theon Greyjoy with him.
If it had been Balon Greyjoy who had rebelled against the Iron Throne, then Theon's life would have been forfeit for his father's crimes. That was, after all, the entire point of him being a ward of Winterfell all these years. However, since Balon had died and people were pretty sure Euron had killed his brother and usurped his seat, things were a fair bit murkier.
Theon might very well be the heir to the Iron Islands, at least by the laws of Westeros if not the laws of the Ironborn. But would the Ironborn who survived the following war ever accept Theon as their leader? Asha certainly hadn't thought so and privately Axel wasn't sure either.
Fortunately, he would have a chance to meet the man and get his measure in the coming days, once everyone and their armies finished converging on the Westerlands. Axel may not fully understand why Euron was so dead set on taking Casterly Rock that he hadn't bothered to move from that spot in weeks now, but he certainly wasn't complaining.
The Ironborn Kraken had reared back and lashed out with its many appendages, no doubt believing that it would find an easy meal in swiping away part of a school of fish that had already been damaged by another predator's actions.
But it was wrong. In the end, the Ironborn Kraken had struck something bigger than itself, angering a veritable giant in the process. In the end, Westeros remained a Realm United under Axel Baratheon, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Ironborn were in for a hell of a time, as their idiocy had once again brought the rest of the Seven Kingdoms down on their heads. Even Dorne had been roused to action, though Axel suspected that was entirely because of Arianne's presence in King's Landing rather than any true outrage over the Ironborn's antics.
Still, as eager as the young King was for the battles ahead and the chance to avenge Jon's death by slaying the final conspirator in his demise, there was nothing he could really do to make his army travel any faster than it already was. Instead, he's stuck on a horse, riding along the Gold Road under the protection of his Kingsguard.
… Perhaps that's why, out of sheer boredom, he turns to the member of the Kingsguard currently riding alongside him and protecting his person and grins cheekily.
"So… you and Brienne, huh?"
Ser Sandor Clegane stiffens at those words and growling comes from within his helm for a moment before he falls quiet. Axel just continues grinning, having long gotten past the horrifying memories of witnessing the two of them in… sexual congress. There had been… so much body hair. So, so much body hair.
"… Surprised you didn't take my head for violating my vows, Your Grace."
Axel tilts his head to the side at that, humming thoughtfully.
"If I did, I'd have to execute my entire Kingsguard, save for perhaps Ser Arys."
Sandor gives him a surprised look at that, his head turning so fast Axel can almost hear the snap. Snorting derisively, the young King shrugs.
"You think the likes of Trant can keep his dick in his trousers? Of course not. And the men who fought with me in the Trial against Renly… they're all good, solid men, each and every one. But they're still men. I turn a blind eye to any indiscretions… hell, I'd do so for Ser Arys even. For now though, he seems to be intent on staying celibate."
As the scarred knight chews on Axel's words, he continues on.
"Besides. Technically, it's not a vow of celibacy anyways."
That gets another confused look from Sandor which… seriously? The man is literally a member of the Kingsguard, he's the one who swore the damn oath. Does he not see the distinction that Axel sees?
"… Think about it, Sandor. You're sworn to the Kingsguard for life, yes. And you're forbidden from owning land, taking a wife, or fathering children, also yes. But technically there isn't anything in there that says you aren't allowed to fuck!"
Sandor actually looks floored, causing Axel to let out a bark of laughter.
"Look, so long as you aren't set on marrying the Maid of Tarth or pumping her belly full of a baby or two, it's fine. Unless…"
He trails off meaningfully, giving Sandor a look and then waggling his eyebrows for good measure. The scarred man shudders and shakes his head violently in response.
"Fuck no! It was just a fucking shag! And I wasn't stupid enough to cum in the bitch either. She just…"
He trails off there, though Axel can imagine what he might have been about to say. 'Lady' Brienne was probably the only woman outside of a brothel willing to give Sandor Clegane the time of day. And just like the rest of his Kingsguard, Sandor was only a man.
Axel hums for a moment before changing the subject.
"So your brother is likely to be at Casterly Rock by now."
The Hound stiffens up again, just like he always does at the mention of Gregor Clegane. But finally, he nods brusquely.
"… Aye. He will be. Nowhere else that the Old Lion will let him be at a time like this. He'll be with the Lannister Armies outside of the Rock, contesting the Ironborn."
Right. Casterly Rock was under siege, but only really from the water. It was a bit of a stalemate, almost like back when Renly had sieged King's Landing. The Lannister's forces had mustered by this point and made their way to the Rock, but they couldn't fully push the Ironborn back because they were being resupplied constantly from the water and said water was inhabited by a fucking massive Kraken.
And so they were forced to wait, to bide their time for reinforcements. It would be when Axel and his armies arrived that shit would really kick off.
Eyeing Sandor quietly for a moment, Axel grunts.
"My promise to you still stands. I'll kill him for you as soon as I get the chance. Unless you want to do the deed yourself now?"
It was always something Axel had found a little strange. The Hound had to be one of the best fighters he'd ever known. And Sandor had only gotten better over these past several months of fighting Axel. Sure, he hadn't won a single spar… but the Hound was the kind of warrior who saw an insurmountable challenge like Axel and kept trying, rather than so many other knights who had lost a few fights to him and then simply given up.
But Sandor doesn't seem to agree that his skills had improved all that much. Either that or he just didn't want to be branded a Kinslayer, because after a moment of hesitation, he shakes his head wordlessly. When he leaves it at that without saying another word, Axel just snorts and offers the Kingsguard a crooked grin.
"Any advice then? Should I go for the knees?"
His joking tone is met with a deadpan look from the scarred man. And then… something almost thoughtful appears in the Hound's eyes.
"You want my advice, Your Grace?"
Sensing something beyond just their conversation about Sandor's brother, Axel waves a hand through the air.
"Speak freely, Ser Clegane. I promise not to punish you for telling me your mind, no matter what you have to say to me."
Even with that, Sandor still hesitates for a second as they continue along the road on horseback. But finally, he finds his voice.
"Don't let the Ironborn off easily so easily this time. Or you're just going to have to do this again in another ten or twenty years. If not you, then your heir will have to deal with their shit instead."
That was one of the last things Axel expected to hear from Sandor Clegane. He had never taken the other man for being very politically minded. But the disdain in the Hound's voice as he talks about the Ironborn makes it clear just how little he thinks of them.
"… I wasn't planning on letting them off easily."
Sandor gives him a look at that, one that makes Axel bristle a little bit. But he told the man to speak freely so he holds his tongue and wordlessly gestures for Sandor to continue.
"Your father had Balon Greyjoy dead to rights, Your Grace. But he let the man bend the knee, even after his rebellion. Barely any punishment at all and now look where we are. And you did the same with Mace Tyrell too, letting him slink back to Highgarden with his tail tucked between his legs but his seat and power largely intact."
Axel opens his mouth, only for the words to die on his lips when he realizes his initial thoughts are all excuses and some variation of 'Well Jon advised me to do so'. His teeth click shut and he falls into silence, considering Sandor's words carefully. Honestly, he's more shocked than anything else that he's hearing this from Sandor fucking Clegane of all people.
As if reading his mind, the Kingsguard just grunts and shrugs one of his shoulders.
"… Been keeping my ear to the ground since you made me wear this shitty white cloak. Thought you might want to know what some people say about you."
Tch. Didn't surprise him that he had detractors muttering shit behind his back. Then again, were they wrong? Was Sandor even wrong? The more Axel thinks about it, the more he finds himself questioning everything.
On the subject of Mace Tyrell… maybe they should have done more to punish him and House Tyrell. They'd taken one of the man's sons from him though, along with his daughter and his mother. And of course, there were the reparations that the Reach would be paying, likely for generations given just how long a season could be.
Meanwhile, it wasn't like Balon Greyjoy had rebelled again after Axel's father showed him mercy. If Asha was to be believed, then Balon had been assassinated and his position usurped.
However, the rest of the Ironborn hadn't even questioned Euron taking over and leading them all right back into war. It was one thing for the man to bypass the traditional Kingsmoot with a massive fuck-off Kraken. It was another thing entirely for him to get everyone on the Iron Islands to go along with him declaring himself their King and waging war with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.
The Ironborn were just waiting for another chance to revert to their precious so-called 'Old Ways', to get back to reaving and raiding and pillaging. Euron offered them that opportunity, so of course they'd rushed to follow him into his madness.
… What would Jon say if he were still alive? What would he advise Axel to do once he sent Euron and his Kraken packing? Show mercy? Temperance, maybe?
Jon… had probably been the one to recommend that Robert let Balon off lightly the first time around if Axel was being honest. The Lord of the Vale had not liked to rock the boat. He'd preferred to stick as close to the status quo as he could, no matter the cost.
Arianne's words from before Axel left King's Landing echo in his mind for a moment. Jon's good nature had allowed him to be taken advantage of by many other men. More even than Axel had truly realized.
"… You're right. I can't leave the Ironborn in a position where they'll just do this all again in another generation. Something has to change."
The only question was… what? What should Axel change? What should he do? Sandor just grunts beside him, staying silent. The scarred Kingsguard knows when he's given as much advice as someone of his station is allowed to give. It's not up to Sandor to figure out what to do in this situation anyways. No, that falls to Axel.
… Forcing Theon Greyjoy onto the Seastone Chair was one option. According to Asha, her brother was viewed as an outsider at this point. A 'Greenlander' as she'd called it. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it would force the Ironborn to change. Or… maybe they'd just kill Theon in a few years and start making a mess of things again.
That in and of itself was an option though. Let Theon take charge. Have him be the first sign of trouble. Come down on the Ironborn twice as hard when they inevitably killed him for not being 'good enough' for them.
Or the other option… prop up Asha instead. They wouldn't respect her because she was a woman, but they would respect her more than Theon because she was also a Captain. Might actually work as a sort of stopgap measure. Only thing was, Axel didn't necessarily want to risk Asha's life in the same way he was considering risking Theon's. He was selfish like that and he liked Asha Greyjoy quite a bit.
Neither option was perfect, admittedly. Still, no matter what he decided, one thing was for sure. Axel was done sticking to the status quo. He was the King of the Seven Kingdoms… and he would do what he needed to, to make sure everyone understood that fact.
Axel did have to wonder though… what the hell was Euron Greyjoy doing focusing all of his efforts on the Westerlands? Why did it feel like the man was just waiting for all of them, both armies and fleets, to come to him? Just what was the other man up to?
-x-X-x-
"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…
-x-X-x-
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