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Chapter 265: A Sudden Death
🕑 Added 2025-04-13 12:28:55 +0000 UTCBalon was dead—without warning. He had just ordered the fleet to assemble, preparing for a final battle at sea against his own daughter, Asha. But after returning to his chambers, he was found dead, a small knife buried in his chest. Victarion was the one who discovered him.
He immediately recognized the knife—it was the same one Balon had given to Asha when she was taken away by Lynd. Without hesitation, Victarion shouted that Asha had murdered Balon, committing the unforgivable crime of kinslaying.
The gathered lords exchanged glances, their expressions tinged with skepticism. No one here was a fool—it was clear as day that this was a setup.
The doubts were obvious. How could Asha have crossed such a vast distance by sea, slipped into Pyke unseen, and assassinated Balon without anyone noticing? And why, after such an act, would she leave behind such an easily identifiable weapon? Most importantly, Asha was already in an overwhelmingly favorable position. There was no need for her to stain her hands with kinslaying—she could defeat Balon in open battle and claim the title of Lord of the Iron Islands without resorting to murder.
Alyn Orkwood fixed his gaze on Victarion. “Compared to Asha, don't you seem far more suspicious, Victarion? You were the last person to see Balon alive and the first to find his body. To reach Balon’s chamber, one must cross the drawbridge, which is guarded at one end. No one could have entered without alerting the sentries. By all accounts, you are the only one who had the means to kill Balon.”
“Old Alyn, do you even know what you’re saying?” Victarion snarled, his face twisting with fury as he glared at Alyn Orkwood.
Alyn met his gaze without fear. “I know exactly what I’m saying. The real question is—do you know what you’ve done?”
Enraged, Victarion reached for his axe, ready to strike Alyn down. But before he could act, Dunstan Drumm’s two sons seized his arm, restraining him. The other lords in the room also gripped their weapons, watching Victarion warily.
Alyn Orkwood sneered. “Look at this! This is the Greyjoy way—when words fail, they reach for their axes. First, it was Sawane Botley, and now it’s me. Who will be next?”
The lords around them grew visibly uneasy. Many had already been angered by what had happened to Sawane Botley, and Victarion’s actions now only reinforced the notion that House Greyjoy viewed them as nothing more than cattle to be butchered at will.
Dunstan Drumm, the oldest and most senior among the lords, stepped forward, his voice grave. “Of all of us, Victarion is the most suspicious in Balon’s death. He should be imprisoned until the next Lord of the Iron Islands decides his fate.”
There was little hesitation. The gathered lords quickly voiced their agreement.
“You have no right to imprison a Greyjoy in Pyke! You—” Victarion's furious resistance was short-lived. Several men worked together to restrain him, gagging him and binding him with ropes.
The guards of Pyke exchanged uncertain looks, unsure of how to proceed. Technically, they should intervene to stop this, but even they could see that Victarion was the prime suspect. Locking him up seemed like the logical course of action. The problem was, with Victarion restrained and Aeron lost in his madness, Pyke now lacked a ruling Greyjoy. The guards instinctively turned to the castle steward—the only figure left with any authority.
After a moment of deliberation, the steward made his decision. “Take Victarion into custody. We’ll wait for the next Lord of Pyke to determine his fate.”
With the order given, the guards stepped forward and dragged Victarion away.
Once he was gone, the lords departed Balon’s chambers at the steward’s request. The steward then ordered Balon’s body to be prepared. A simple coffin was fashioned from wooden planks, and the body was placed inside to await the arrival of Pyke’s next ruler.
Back in the great hall of Pyke, the lords remained, gathering to discuss their next move.
“We must follow tradition,” Dunstan Drumm declared, his voice booming with authority. “We should convene a kingsmoot immediately to elect a new Lord of the Iron Islands and unite against Asha Greyjoy’s fleet!”
His eagerness was met with silence. Aside from his own two sons, who promptly cheered in agreement, the rest of the lords looked at him with varying degrees of disbelief—some puzzled, others outright disdainful.
Alyn Orkwood scoffed. “A kingsmoot requires the presence of all the lords of the Iron Islands. Any man has the right to stand for the crown. But right now, the lords of Great Wyk, Blacktyde, and Harlaw aren’t even here. Do you expect us to summon them on such short notice?” He folded his arms, his gaze sharp with skepticism. “Even if they agreed, it would take at least ten days to prepare for a proper kingsmoot. Meanwhile, Asha’s fleet arrives tomorrow. Do you really think we have time for this, Lord Dunstan? Or were you planning to hold a kingsmoot here and now with just the men in this hall?”
Dunstan’s face flushed red, his eyes darting as if caught in the act. It was clear—this was exactly what he had been hoping for.
Then, a voice from the crowd spoke up. “Does a kingsmoot even matter anymore? Even if we elect a new Lord of the Iron Islands, will he be able to defeat Asha’s fleet? In the end, doesn’t she take the title anyway?”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered lords. The logic was difficult to refute.
Some objected, saying, “A woman as Lord of the Iron Islands? I can already imagine how the mainlanders will mock us.”
“The woman you speak of is leading hundreds of warships toward us, and we have no way to stop her!” Alyn Orkwood glared at the dissenter and said, “Next time, think before you speak. Consider whether you even have the right to look down on others. That comment wasn’t just an insult to yourself—it was an insult to all of us!” He then turned to the gathered lords and continued, “Our only choice now is whether to fight or to surrender.”
The lords nodded in agreement.
Alyn Orkwood proposed, “Since we can't reach a consensus, and Balon is dead, we should decide this the old way.”
The others voiced their approval.
They instructed the steward of Pyke Castle to make the necessary preparations before leaving the hall. Each lord went outside, chose a stone that represented their stance, and returned to place it into the steward’s prepared box.
When the last stone was cast, the steward lifted the lid and spilled the contents onto the floor. The result was clear: only a handful of sharp, jagged stones symbolizing war, while the rest were smooth, rounded pebbles representing surrender.
With the decision made, the lords wasted no time. They returned to their respective strongholds to prepare for the arrival of their new ruler. They also sent envoys to Asha’s fleet to establish contact and avoid unnecessary conflict.
...
Meanwhile, deep within Pyke’s dungeons, Victarion Greyjoy found himself face to face with someone who had no business being there.
“Euron! What are you doing here?” Victarion's expression twisted with shock—and a flicker of fear—when he saw Euron Greyjoy standing on the other side of the iron bars.
“Pyke is my home. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Euron smirked, his signature grin both mischievous and unsettling. His lips, tinged blue, made him look unnatural, but even stranger were his eyes.
He had removed the eyepatch covering his left eye, revealing an inky black pupil that seemed to swallow the light, like the abyssal depths of the ocean. His right eye was no less eerie—silver-blue and faintly glowing, cold as ice.
“Your eyes…” A chill ran down Victarion’s spine.
“Instead of worrying about my eyes, you should be thinking about your own predicament.” Euron’s gaze bore into him. “Kinslayer Victarion, do you think our dear niece will let the man who killed her father walk free?”
“No, I didn’t—” Victarion snapped out of his daze and immediately tried to protest. But then something clicked in his mind, and his face contorted in realization. He pointed at Euron, his voice filled with disbelief. “It was you! You killed Balon!”
“You’re not as stupid as you look,” Euron admitted with a smirk. “After Robert took him captive, Balon should have taken his own life. At least then, he’d have died with the dignity of a king. But he clung to life instead. The Balon Greyjoy I knew died long ago. What remained was nothing but a frail old man. Once, he could have easily parried my blows and slit my throat, but now? I finished him with nothing more than a little knife. What a pathetic sight.”
Victarion stared at him in stunned silence.
“There’s no point in talking about the dead anymore,” Euron said, his voice turning grave. “The only thing that matters now is the present. I don’t have much time. I need to leave before Asha locks down the waters—I don’t intend to be hunted by her again. What about you? Are you going to sit here and wait to die, or will you come with me?”
Victarion had no desire to spend another second in Euron’s company. He shook his head. “Asha won’t kill me. I didn’t kill Balon.”
Euron let out a derisive laugh. “You fool. It doesn’t matter whether you killed Balon or not. What matters is that Asha wants the Seastone Chair—and to secure it, she has to kill you. If she lets you live, the other lords will never fully submit to her.” He turned to leave. “Since you’ve made your choice, I can only wish you luck.”
“Wait!”
Just as Euron was about to step out of the cell, Victarion called after him. “I’ll go with you.”
Euron halted, a grin spreading across his face as he turned back. “You’ve made the right choice.”
With a simple nod to the guards standing watch, Euron had Victarion released.
Despite his long absence from the Iron Islands, Euron still had loyal men in Pyke—loyalty he was more than willing to put to use.
Victarion flexed his bound arms slightly before taking the axe handed to him by the guard. “We can’t just leave like this. Take me to the Iron Fleet. I won’t let that girl Asha have my ships.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Euron said, nodding with a knowing look.
He understood all too well that Victarion’s reason for taking the Iron Fleet wasn’t what he claimed. It wasn’t about denying Asha the ships—it was about using the fleet to challenge him.
Euron didn’t mind. In his eyes, it wouldn’t take long before he had Victarion’s fleet under his command, and in the end, the result would be the same.
Whether it was an oversight by the Master of Pyke or simply the assumption that Victarion’s imprisonment made further warnings unnecessary, no message had been sent to the Iron Fleet. So, when Victarion, Euron, and their men arrived, the fleet was completely unaware of what had happened in Pyke. They still saw Victarion as their commander.
The result was inevitable. By the time the Master of Pyke finally sent word to the fleet, it was too late—Victarion had already taken command and sailed away. Only then did they realize that Victarion had escaped.
...
At that moment, Asha Greyjoy was still unaware of the events unfolding at Pyke. She was in the midst of a final battle drill with Baelor Blacktyde. Once they were confident that every detail had been accounted for, they began issuing orders to the various fleets.
That was when the envoys from the lords arrived.
At first, Asha assumed their message was merely a ruse meant to lower her guard. But when they mentioned that the dagger used to kill Balon was the very one he had once given her as a gift, she knew immediately that it wasn’t a deception—it was the truth.
And she knew exactly who had done it.
That dagger had been lost when she fought Euron. She had stabbed him with it, but he had taken it with him. Only Euron could have infiltrated Pyke so silently and assassinated Balon.
Though she wanted nothing more than to turn her fleet around and return to Pyke immediately, she forced herself to stay calm. Instead, she advanced steadily toward Pyke, keeping everything in order. Once they entered its waters, she ordered the fleet to hold position and sent out summons to the lords of the Iron Islands, calling them aboard her flagship for negotiations.
In the end, there were no surprises. The lords of Old Wyk and Saltcliffe had already decided to surrender, while the others—Blacktyde and Great Wyk—offered no resistance. Asha Greyjoy became the undisputed ruler of the Iron Islands.
Her first decree as ruler was to issue a warrant for the arrest of Euron and Victarion, declaring them traitors who had murdered Balon and fled with the Iron Fleet.
