Asha knew exactly why she was still alive.
After losing to her uncle Euron at the Kingsmoot, then being frightened into abandoning Deepwood Motte by a Night's Watchman and a band of farmers, only to be decisively defeated and captured on the coast... she was no longer the proud Sea Monster's Daughter. She was a prize for some black-clad bastard, a captive held up as proof of the Night's Watch's victory over the Ironborn.
She had thought that the invasion plan she and her father had devised for the North was bold enough... but the Night's Watch sending troops south to assist the North? That unprecedented, fantastical development had never once come up in even the most thorough operational meetings. It wasn't until she was chained and dragged before the so-called Chief Logistics in black that she had no choice but to accept the truth.
She had been played, but the Night's Watchman wasn't as clever as he thought. From Asha's understanding of Northerners, capturing a woman would win him no respect, and using her as a hostage was worthless. Her uncle Crow's Eye now ruled the Iron Islands and would be happy if the Northerners killed her. Only the paralyzed husband Euron had assigned her might see her death as a loss—but that old man didn't have the coin to ransom her.
Her greatest value now was likely to be exchanged for the two Glover children she had taken back to Ten Towers earlier.
...
Yet the Night's Watchman made another move that baffled Asha. After capturing her alive, he didn't toss her into the dungeons of Deepwood Motte to await a hostage exchange. Instead, after only a single day's rest, he set out again with the two thousand farmers and Asha in tow.
She thought he meant to take her back to Winterfell to present her to the Starks. She was wrong again. The group didn't stop at any castle, but marched south with astonishing speed, departing at dawn and only halting at sunset. The relentless pace sapped the soldiers' strength and left them vulnerable to ambush...
Unfortunately, no one knew better than Asha that there were no longer any Ironborn scattered throughout the North with both the will and the means to strike at this 'army' of over a thousand.
The carriage that held her cage jostled and lurched along the rough, uneven road. The heavy iron chains clinked with every bump, the shackles not only biting into her wrists and ankles but grinding away her pride.
It was the most humiliating experience of her life. But after several days of such frantic marching, she found herself grateful to be among the few who could ride in a cart.
...
After several days of marching, once the latest makeshift camp was set up, Asha Greyjoy was brought before Aegor once more, the sound of clinking chains accompanying her arrival.
The Gift's first 'army' was not especially formidable, but the Mountain Clans and New Gift folk were long used to gathering and hunting in the mountains and Beyond the Wall. Their footwork and endurance were unquestionable. After days of grueling march, Aegor finally arrived north of Caitlin Bay with the first noble captive he had ever taken.
---
When he initially set out south with the Gift Army from Crown Town, Aegor's aim had been simple: help the North drive out the Ironborn raiding parties along the Kingsroad and restore the food supply line to the Wall. But after reaching Last Hearth and learning from the acting Lord Umber that the situation had changed, he shifted his objective to retaking Deepwood Motte for the North.
After accomplishing that easily with only a few minor casualties—and even capturing a noble hostage—he suddenly realized that joining the war at the right moment could yield results more easily and richly than expected. It seemed he had seized such an opportunity.
If he didn't act now to expand his gains, he knew he'd never forgive himself. So he made a bold decision: instead of waiting for Robb Stark to take Caitlin Bay and come find him, he would march a thousand miles to let the Lord of the North, who had been "locked out of his home," back in.
After several days of forced marching, the exhausted Gift Army reached its destination. They were met by scouts under Lord Manderly of White Harbor, and when Aegor saw the merman banner in their hands, he feared he had arrived too late... but thankfully, they told him: Caitlin Bay was still in Ironborn hands.
...
"Kneel!" The logistics soldier escorting the prisoner shoved Asha Greyjoy, pressing her shoulder, trying to force her to kneel before his commander.
"No need," Aegor waved a hand. As a Crossing, he was unused to people kneeling to him—especially with half his team being Wildlings. The Gift had abolished kneeling altogether, along with the term "kneeler," which was considered offensive. "Get Lady Greyjoy a stool. We'll talk sitting."
The escort gave an awkward shrug and turned to carry out the order.
"Lady Greyjoy, did you rest well these past few days?" Aegor smiled and nodded at Asha, remembering her conduct on the beach the night the Ironborn were crushed. This seemingly slender and graceful young woman with a model's figure had wielded a battle axe in the fight, felling at least two Mountain Clansmen before she was overwhelmed while grappling with a third. Even after she was shackled and brought before him, she had tried to lunge at him and fight to the death. She'd even spat in his face. Her ferocity belied her delicate looks. Fortunately, after a few days in a cage, she seemed far more subdued now. "Allow me to introduce Ser Wylis Manderly, son of Lord Manderly of White Harbor."
Asha snorted. The day she was captured, she'd watched her loyal followers die or be taken, her eyes red with grief, her thoughts filled with thoughts of dying with the enemy. A few days in chains had cooled her temper.
"Bending the knee won't kill you," her father had told her. "Kneeling lets you rise again with a sword. Refusing gets you a grave." Balon Greyjoy had proven this himself after the failure of his first rebellion—he'd bent the knee to the Stag and the Direwolf, then returned after Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark died.
As long as she was alive, there was hope. The Night's Watch had broken precedent today by interfering in the Seven Kingdoms' affairs. One day, she'd return the favor tenfold.
Still, calm as she was, she had no intention of yielding to the man in front of her. A stool was soon brought and set behind her, but she refused to sit—not for any reason, just because she didn't want to do what he said.
...
As the rulers of White Harbor—the North's only true city—House Manderly were known for their wealth. Lord Wyman was nicknamed "Lord Eel" and was reputedly the fattest man in the North. His son, Ser Wylis Manderly, also had a round and prosperous appearance. He sat beside Aegor, planning to glare at the daughter of the North's enemies, but his eyes lit up the moment he saw Asha. The Sea Monster's Daughter had an astonishing leg-to-body ratio, her slender figure enhanced by salt-stained leather boots and green wool breeches that tapered tightly at the calves.
Even after being shackled and confined to a cage for days of hard travel, Asha still exuded a raw allure that stirred a man's basest instincts. The first reaction of any man upon seeing her would likely be to imagine her beneath him, those long legs wrapped around his waist.
To prevent any incidents, Aegor had assigned fifteen guards to her: five New Gift folk and five Mountain Clansmen to prevent escape, and five trained, trusted soldiers to keep the other ten from getting any ideas. Truth be told, when a woman—especially a beautiful one—was placed among hundreds or thousands of men, "femme fatale" was no exaggeration.
"Any man" naturally included Aegor. So when he saw Ser Wylis Manderly staring blankly at Asha, he coughed to break the silence. "Let me explain the situation. The Warden of the North, Lord Robb Stark, is currently encamped with twenty thousand men just a dozen miles south of us, with Caitlin Bay and a large swamp between us. A few hundred Ironborn have held him off for weeks. They're tough men. I admire them."
"But they have no hope of winning," the portly Ser Manderly cut in, recovering from his thoughts about Asha's legs. "Lord Stark doesn't want to keep launching frontal assaults and wasting men. So he ordered me to lead House Manderly's forces south, pass through the Bloody Gate, board ships at Gulltown, land at White Harbor, and attack Caitlin Bay from the south."
"So?" Asha said, her face unreadable.
"Caitlin Bay is well-defended from the south, but the North less so," Wylis Manderly chuckled. "Aside from our army, House Reed of Greywater Watch was ordered to find paths through the Neck to bypass Caitlin Bay. They've arrived, and are now ambushing in the eastern and western swamps, cutting off the Ironborn's escape."
Asha shrugged. "Oh."
"In other words, even without the Gift Army, Caitlin Bay will fall within days under a two-pronged assault," Aegor added, his expression calm. Inwardly, he rejoiced. Now he understood the meaning of "speed is of the essence." If he hadn't forced the Gift Army to march hard for days, Robb Stark might have already passed through Caitlin Bay and headed north along the Kingsroad by the time he arrived. He wouldn't even have tasted the soup. But now that he was here... even without lifting a finger, he would still have the glory of participating in the Battle of Caitlin Bay. Even without results, he had put in the effort. "But the North has already suffered enough from this war. I hope to end it more peacefully... with fewer casualties."
"A more peaceful way? Ha! That sounds lovely. You brought me here to have me, as Balon Greyjoy's daughter, persuade the Ironborn at Caitlin Bay to surrender, didn't you?" The black-haired young woman laughed heartily, no sign of a prisoner's shame in her bearing. She stood tall in the tent's center, her chin raised with pride. "You don't understand the Ironborn. They only recognize captains and warleaders. The whole lord and vassal nonsense means nothing to them. The men at Caitlin Bay aren't my crew. And even if they were, I wouldn't follow the orders of some Night's Watchman."
"This girl doesn't know her place," Ser Manderly muttered. "Seems your soft treatment was a mistake. Hand her over to me. It won't take more than a few days…"
Aegor had no intention of handing over his first noble captive to anyone else—especially not when she was a beautiful woman. He waved a hand. "Lady Greyjoy, there are likely around two hundred Ironborn in Caitlin Bay. A two-front assault will make it easier to take, but the attackers will still suffer at least twice as many casualties. Two times two hundred is four hundred. If you can persuade them to surrender, you save two hundred plus four hundred. That's six hundred lives."
"Why should I save six hundred lives? Give me a reason," Asha sneered. "Will those two hundred Ironborn be grateful to me and sail back to the Iron Islands to help me win the Driftwood Crown? No. They'll call me a rotten bitch, screwed by a Night's Watchman, taken on the battlefield, then in bed, and afterward sent as your messenger. As for the four hundred Northerners who'd die in the assault... who knows which four hundred? No one will thank me. And you won't release anyone. After I return from Caitlin Bay, I'll still end up back in that wooden cage. Am I wrong?"
"Hm... mostly right. I'm sorry, but that's not up to me," Aegor shrugged. "Lady Glover insists on exchanging you for her two children. So until then, I can't offer any promises. All I can say is, I will try to spare the lives of those two hundred Ironborn."
"I believe you," Asha said, glancing with disdain at Aegor's black Night's Watch cloak, clearly understanding what kind of 'mercy' that would mean. But she wasn't interested. "My answer is—no chance. Now take me back to the cage."
"No chance?" Aegor's brow twitched. Normally, this would be the time to negotiate further, persuade her with reason or sentiment. But the relentless forced march had worn him down, body and mind. He didn't feel like negotiating at all. "Wait. What I said wasn't entirely accurate. You won't just be saving two hundred Ironborn, but two hundred and fifty-three."
...
Asha had already turned to leave the tent, but halted at those words.
Fifty-three. That number didn't come from nowhere. If she remembered correctly—on the beach that night, in that crushing defeat, the number of Ironborn captured alive was... fifty-three.
"Are you threatening me?" Asha turned around, her fists clenched.
"You can take it that way," Aegor replied with a shrug. "I believe someone of your character, who values loyalty, wouldn't just abandon dozens of brothers who fought at your side."
(To be continued.)
***
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