Chapter 254: Daughter of the Kraken
The dream of kingship was perhaps a fixation and a madness buried deep within the Greyjoy bloodline; no family member was entirely immune. However, compared to her father's blind self-confidence and recklessness, Asha Greyjoy considered herself clearer-headed and more rational.
Her uncle had been exactly right: the Old Way had once suited the Iron Islands because, at the time, the islands were merely one among many small kingdoms. Their strengths were comparable, and the islands were protected by the natural moat of the sea. The Ironborn could raid anyone without fear of bringing down devastating retaliation... but Aegon's Conquest had ended that fragmentation. The Old Way had died along with Harren the Black and his sons.
The current strength of the Iron Islands was utterly insufficient to shake the continent of Westeros.
Therefore, when her father obstinately decided to raise a rebellion once more, she had been powerless to stop him. Instead, she had exerted every effort to convince him to abandon the unrealistic fantasy of occupying the entire North, shifting instead to a strategy of steady consolidation: she would lead a surprise attack to seize Deepwood Motte, the hub of the western North, while her uncle Victarion led the Iron Fleet to take Moat Cailin.
With these two strategic goals achieved, the Ironborn could close the door to beat the north. Using the west coast and the Wolfswood as a base, they could intercept the Northern army returning home while using countless small units to constantly harass the entire North. This would prevent the Northerners from gathering an army to retake lost territory or coordinating with Robb Stark to open the north-south passage... by stalling for time, the Ironborn occupation of the Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point would slowly become a fait accompli. Eventually, through a three-pronged approach of migration, hostages, and negotiation, they could force the Northerners to cede the portion of the west coast near the Iron Islands—a land that, while sparsely populated, was ten times larger than the Iron Islands combined.
With rebels in the south distracting the Iron Throne, the probability of this plan succeeding was still low, but it was far more hopeful than her father's last rebellion... regardless, the worst outcome would simply be being repelled by the Northerners and forced back to the islands. Without a recognized king like Robert to gather the elite of the Seven Kingdoms as he had done years ago, no one had the power to defeat the Iron Fleet and launch a counter-invasion of the islands.
Even if they lost, they still had the fallback option of siding with the rebels. As long as Aegon Targaryen defeated Stannis Baratheon and ascended the Iron Throne, the Ironborn could still rise through royal favor and rewards.
As for whether the boy raising the dragon banner was a true dragon? No one gave a damn about that.
The plan had proceeded exceptionally smoothly. Although the attacks on Torrhen's Square and Barrowton had been repelled, unrestricted raiding warfare quickly left the hollowed-out North jumping at shadows, living in constant terror... resistance west of the Kingsroad had vanished entirely. To the east, houses like Umber, Bolton, and Karstark kept their castle gates tightly shut, looking out only for themselves. Only the Winterfell garrison occasionally sallied forth to put out fires, rushing between villages and keeps in the Northern heartland to drive away intruders. Yet even this nuisance had seen its strength whittled away by constant travel and skirmishing, gradually reducing the frequency of their interference with Ironborn activities.
No one could have predicted that her father, always strong and healthy, would suffer an accident at this critical moment for the Ironborn's fate: a sudden storm and a broken rope bridge took Balon Greyjoy's life. Or so they said; if the Drowned God truly existed, he must be deaf, blind, and fond of cruel jokes.
Following hard upon this tragic news was the report that her uncle Euron, unseen for years, had coincidentally returned. Arriving well-prepared, he used a magical horn at the Kingsmoot to defeat both her—having rushed back in haste—and her uncle Victarion, who was no man of words. Euron successfully donned the Driftwood Crown... To avoid being murdered or forcibly married off, Asha fled with her supporters from the Iron Islands back to Deepwood Motte. The former occupiers were now refugees and stray dogs with nowhere else to go.
Moonlight spilled over the distant mountains, reflected by the snow on the peaks, making it look as though the range wore crowns of ice. The Daughter of the Kraken, however, was in no mood to admire the scenery. She was filled with resentment and dissatisfaction: had she not been a woman, she would have won the Kingsmoot without suspense, inheriting her father's throne and influence. But because she lacked that piece of flesh between her legs, even Uncle Victarion, who had always been close to her, harbored his own ambitions and jumped out to compete against her at the Kingsmoot... Had he supported her, Euron—despite his tricks from afar—could never have pulled off such an upset victory.
It would have been one thing if it were merely contempt for women, but what Asha found most unacceptable—even infuriating—was that after Euron won the Driftwood Crown with honeyed words, Victarion, despite knowing their father was likely murdered by him, had obediently knelt to the new king, driven by his instinct for subservience.
Their father had originally ordered him to lead the Iron Fleet to guard the gateway from the south back to the North, intercepting Robb Stark who was bound to return home. With the main force of the Iron Islands there, the Young Wolf, even with ten thousand men, would have found it difficult to break through that fortress in the short term. Yet her dear Uncle Victarion, upon receiving new orders from Euron, had unhesitatingly abandoned this vital duty and led the bulk of the Iron Fleet to sail happily south to raid the Shield Islands.
With her uncle holding the main force at Moat Cailin, her position in the North was like closing the door. Now, however, the few hundred men left at Moat Cailin could not possibly hold back the Northerners for long. Once Robb Stark passed through the Neck and returned to the North, she truly didn't know... which one would be the dog trapped in the room.
Her father had given her thirty longships and a thousand men to take Deepwood Motte; now, those still following her amounted to only four ships and fewer than two hundred men. She had indeed negotiated terms with the Glovers, waiting only to finalize the details of a peace treaty with the Warden of the North. But the prerequisite for forcing the Northerners to talk peace and keep their word was the Iron Fleet's main force blocking the Young Wolf's army, and her own forces being strong enough to firmly control Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore... Now that both conditions were gone, never mind the grand ideal of expanding Ironborn territory through land cessions—even how many more days she could hold Deepwood Motte was a major question.
She wondered how much longer those few hundred brothers left at Moat Cailin could hold that fortress. No, perhaps there was a different way to ask it—was Moat Cailin even still in Ironborn hands?
It was cold outside. Bodily instinct told Asha Greyjoy that she should return to the warm bedroom of the Glover lord, pick a loyal man she liked among those still following her, have a vigorous go at it, and sleep until dawn. But she was too worried for that. She hadn't received any news from Moat Cailin in two weeks, which meant Robb Stark's army could appear outside Deepwood Motte at any moment, launching a sudden assault to drag her from her bed and onto a gallows.
Under such pressure, even a peaceful sleep had become a luxury. She had to arrange the defenses and quickly think of a path of retreat for herself and her brothers.
Deepwood Motte was built around a wide, circular hill. The hilltop had been leveled and crowned with a deep longhall, at one end of which stood a fifty-foot-high watchtower. The outer ward lay at the foot of the hill, containing stables, paddocks, a smithy, a well, and sheepfolds. The perimeter was dug with a deep ditch, a sloping earthen rampart, and a log palisade. The defensive line was arranged according to the terrain, overall forming an oval. The castle had two gates, each protected by a pair of square wooden towers, with the towers connected by walkways atop the walls.
It was a typical defensive structure and noble seat—not flashy, but practical. However, unlike most castles in Westeros, all the buildings in Deepwood Motte were made of wood, including the hall and the inner and outer walls. This was due to the fact that it was surrounded by forest and stone was scarce... the result was that she currently occupied a castle that was ancient and famous, but not sturdy.
It wouldn't take ten thousand men; only seven or eight hundred well-trained soldiers with ladders would be enough to make her watch helplessly as they stormed the walls and retook this Northern castle.
When the enemy's army pressed down on her, she would have no choice but to evacuate or fight to the death. Perhaps staying here any longer was already a mistake? Deepwood Motte was very close to the sea, but when Asha looked out from the walls, she saw only an endless expanse of trees. The Northerners called this forest the Wolfswood; it was an ocean of trees. Unfortunately, the air was filled with the scent of pine resin, not the familiar smell of salt.
Leaving the castle was easy, but the problem was where to go. Returning to the Iron Islands meant that even if Euron didn't kill her, he would send men from the "husband" he'd chosen for her to take her home. The Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point didn't even have a walled fortress; aside from caves, it was hard to find a place to stay dry from the rain, let alone the fact that the Northerners would hunt her down like a drowning dog. And taking to the sea... four longships and fewer than two hundred men meant they would be the weakest kind of pirates. How could the daughter and heir of Balon Greyjoy fall so low?
As she brooded, Asha walked along the wooden walls. Two brothers on sentry duty approached and greeted her in low voices.
"Keep your eyes wide. Report even if you see a rabbit."
"Understood, Captain."
There was no enthusiasm in the subordinate's tone. As they crossed paths, he even looked her up and down with greedy eyes. Of those still following her, half treated her as a daughter or sister, while the other half wished to spread her legs... Asha was well aware of this. she couldn't help but worry that if despair continued to spread, the latter half would lose control of their lower halves and try to force themselves upon her.
No, they won't... another voice in Asha's heart said. They love you; they would never hurt you. And she herself was no delicate, fragile girl in need of protection.
Sorting through her chaotic thoughts, she continued her reflection... but less than a minute after parting from the two sentries, the alarm suddenly rang out.
"Fire! The south watchtower is on fire!"
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