"We need to take a lesson from the Young Wolf," she said, ignoring the man, "who won every battle, and lost all. We need to take a lesson from the Boy King on the Iron Throne, who lost every battle, and won all."
...
"A wolf is not a kraken," Victarion felt the need to break in. "What the kraken grasps it does not lose, be it longship or leviathan."
"And what have we grasped, Nuncle?" Asha asked. "The north? We have Winterfell, aye, and Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte and Torrhen's Square, but that is all leagues and leagues away. What do we really have to show for it?" She waved, and the men of the Black Wind pushed forwards, heavy oaken chests on their shoulders that they set down before Asha.
"I give you the wealth of Stony Shore," Asha said as she flipped open one chest, "I give you the riches of Deepwood, the wealth of Moat Cailin, and lastly, the gold of Winterfell. Your sons and brothers all died for this. And if you'd keep trading their lives for turnips, then by all means, keep shouting my nuncle's name!"
"And what would you offer us?" the crowd seemed to ask with one man.
"Peace," Asha said, reaching again under her jerkin and withdrawing a little bundle of paper from between her breasts. "Land. Victory. I'll give you the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands and the Orange Shore and Volantis and Myr and Pentos and Norvos. Enough stones for every man to build his own keep, and enough land to shame even King Harwyn Hardhand and Harren the Black!"
"Land even further away than the north," Victarion noted.
"Which is where this comes in," she said, brandishing the paper like a blade. "For on this page is an offer of peace from the Iron Throne! Peace, independence, and the return of the Old Way! Support for our new endeavours, not on the shores of Westeros, but in Essos! Where we can raid and reave and rape and pillage to our heart's content without ever having to worry about the Iron Throne!"
Victarion scoffed. "I'm not afraid of a little boy," he said. "I'll show the Boy King where he can put his peace!"
"Nor am I," Asha said. "But we all know what happened when Robert brought the full might of his muster against us. And it isn't the Boy King I worry about, it's his grandfather. What will the Old Lion do, I wonder, if we fight him and we lose?"
That stilled the crowd a little, and Victarion felt himself scowling. He searched his mind for the answer, and came up empty. Even here, Tywin Lannister was feared and respected. He showed no mercy. And the Boy King was yet so young. He wouldn't have had the wherewithal to send such an offer. No, that letter had to be from the Old Lion's own hand. And what then? The south was just so much bigger than the north. Another war would inevitably mean another loss.
"Your choice is simple!" Asha continued. "Crown me, for victory and peace and endless plunder. Or crown my uncle, for more war and more defeat. What will you have, Ironmen?"
"VICTORY!" shouted Rodrick Harlaw, his hands cupped over his mouth. "ASHA! ASHA! QUEEN ASHA!" Others in the crowd joined his chant, stamping their feet and shaking their fists. Victarion couldn't believe his eyes. They were all shouting for her... for a woman!
If only she had showed him that letter earlier, he would have taken her as his hand! If she had offered more than just false help and promises, I would have accepted. The Iron Throne offers us our independence, and you keep it from me? Victarion almost struggled to believe it. If only she had told me the truth.
But she hadn't, and now some looked to be refusing to join her chant. "NO CRAVEN'S PEACE!" one of his champions shouted over the crowd. The chants of "VICTARION! VICTARION! KING VICTARION!" continued where they had left off. A fight looked to be brewing as the two sides shouted ever louder over one another, building to a confrontation. One man threw something at Asha's head, and she had to duck out the way. Victarion made no move to calm the crowd. Asha had asked for this when she'd lied.
But then, sharp as a knife, a shrill horn cut through the clamour. It was one of Euron's mongrels with his mouth to the horn. It blew again, terrible and rattling with a high wailing shriek that threatened to make Victarion's ears bleed. If he doesn't stop soon, Victarion thought, I'll go up there and smash his head in with that horn, kingsmoot or not.
It took a few moments longer, but eventually the shrill wail of the horn fell silent.
"Ironmen!" said Euron, climbing up the hill to join him and Asha. "Your have heard my horn. Now hear me. I am Quellon's son, and Balon's oldest living brother. The blood of the kraken flows through my veins, and my heart beats with the waves of the sea. I have sailed further afield than any man here. Only one living kraken here has never known defeat. Only one living kraken here had never bent the knee. Only one has sailed as far as the Shadow of Asshai, and gazed at wonders and terrors beyond imagining."
"If you like the shadows so much," Asha foolishly interrupted, "you should go join them."
"My little brother would continue Balon's war," Euron pressed on, ignoring Asha, "and try and claim the north. My sweet, foolish niece would give us peace with a blade to our necks. Asha prefers a false victory to a true defeat. Victarion wants a kingdom, but will take a few clods of earth. With me, you shall have more! I offer a true victory and a true kingdom!
"We are the Ironborn, and we are conquerors! My brother would have you content with the cold north, my niece with a fantasy as mad as the land beyond the Sunset Sea! But I will give you Lannisport, Highgarden, Oldtown, the Arbor. We will take the Riverlands, the Reach, the Westerlands, the North, the Vale, the Stormlands, the Crowlands and Dorne! Together, we will take all of Westeros! For the glory of the Drowned God!"
"Crow's Eye," Asha called with admonishment in her tone, "did you leave your wits in Asshai? How can we hold the Seven Kingdoms if we cannot even hold the north?"
"It has been done before," Euron said. "Did Balon never teach his darling daughter the ways of war? Did he never teach you about Aegon the Conquerer?"
"Aegon?" Victarion asked. "Aegon had dragons."
"Yes," Asha nodded, "and I see no dragons here."
Euron grinned. "That horn you heard was from the ruins of Valyria, niece, where no other man dared go. Your heard it's call, felt it's power. It is a dragon horn, made from bands of red gold and Valyrian steel engraved with enchantments. The dragonlords of Valyria sounded such horns before the Doom. With this horn, Ironmen, I can bind dragons to my will."
Asha laughed. "But there are no more dragons," she said. "A horn to bind goats would be of more use."
Euron's smiling eye glinted in the moonlight. Victarion felt a pit of dread open in the bottom of his gut as he saw that eye.
"Again, girl," he said, "you are wrong. There are three dragons, and I know just where to find them."
...
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