Victarion Greyjoy POV
A gentle breeze brushed against his face, the scent of the sea overwhelming his sense of smell as he started at the looming Island in the distance. The Island being barely visible in the light of the dawn despite its size.
It was not just any ordinary Island either, but the most prosperous island in the entirety of Westeros. Perhaps the entire world even.
Arbor.
The home of the Redwynes. And the home of the largest Fleet in Westeros. As well as the producer of Arbor Gold and Arbor Red.
He smiled as he saw his crew started singing a song to match the rhythm of their rowing. A song of rape, murder and plunder. Because that's exactly what they planned to do here.
He was going to break their fleet, kill their men, and drink their wine. Then, he was going to rape their women and take them as his salt wives.
Just thinking of what lay ahead of him if they succeeded made him feel thirsty. Not only for wine and the nectar of those beautiful women, but for glory as well.
For despite being at sea for most of the time in this campaign, they had attacked coastal regions a few times in order to resupply. And there, he had heard about how his nephew Rodrik broke Seagard, took the women there as his salt wives and was now winning victories upon victories against those helpless, weak greenlanders.
His own victory against the Lannister Fleet and the sack of Lannisport was forgotten in favour of Rodrik's much more impressive deeds. As well as Maron's, now that the little bugger had joined his elder brother with reinforcements.
And as much as he loved his nephews, he did not want to be overshadowed by them.
Maybe once he's older and had little strength in his arms and is surrounded by his children and grandchildren. Maybe then he could accept being overshadowed by others. But right now? When he was at his prime?
No.
He was the captain of the Iron Fleet. A position he'd gained through a lifetime of victories and achievements. He won't let his glory be stolen by some newcomer. Not when he had so much he could do. So many foes he could defeat. So many women, young, pretty and nubile, that he could break in his bed.
His loins ached with need, a huge grin came onto his face and his calloused fingers tightened around his axe as he finally saw the Redwyne Fleet in the distance.
Stuck some distance from the Port. Not yet ready for them.
And then his grin turned into a frown as the Ships started to light up one by one. Each unfurling their sails as sailors moved to and fro on the decks. And the Redwyne Fleet started to move. Like a giant awakening from its slumber. A bear waking up from its long sleep in the cold and getting ready to face its hunter.
'The enemy Fleet is ready for us this time brother.' He thought, thinking of Euron whose idea to attack from the Sunset sea had given them the factor of surprise and an easy victory against those unprepared Lannister cunts.
But it seems that a single trick will not work again.
"The Redwynes are prepared for us my lord. Are we still going to attack them?" One of his cremates asked, not in fear but in anticipation. For he had personally seen to the end of any coward that ever graced his ship.
"Of course!" He turned and shouted, letting go of his calm so that he could embrace the bloodthirsty visage of a warrior that he took up every time they went on a battle. " For do you not want to drink their wine, rape their women, and take everything they have for yourself!?"
His crew chorused up in "ayes" slowly waking up from their half-bored state.
In the distance, he faintly heard the encouraging shouts of the other captains of the Iron Fleet as they filled their own men with a blood-thirst that'll be sorely needed in this upcoming battle.
"Do you not want to kill those greenlander weaklings and offer their souls to the drowned god!?"
"Aye." His crew replied, louder this time.
"Do you not want the win glory in battle. To get a place in the halls of the Drowned God with the likes of Dagon Greyjoy?"
"Aye!"
"Do You Not Want To Murder Those Fuckers Who've Looked Down On Us For So Long!"
"AYE!"
"Then What Are You Waiting For?Our Prey Is Right In Front Of Us.
"AYE!"
"What is Dead May Never Die!" He shouted on the top of his lungs.
"What Is Dead May Necer Die!" His crew repeated, and then kept on repeating like a chant.
"What Is Dead May Never Die!"
"What Is Dead May Never Die!"
A guttural cheer tore its way through the throat of all his men and he could hear similar cheers and bloodthirsty roars coming from the other ships as well.
He turned to face the Redwyne Fleet with a larger grin this time. Imagining the terror on the faces of those greenlanders as they faced their imminent deaths in the form of over 15,000 strong Ironborn men.
Despite being prepared for them, the Redwynes were slow to come to a formation for the battle. Their ships were large but slow. While his own ships, while smaller, were faster and more agile, and had already been in formation.
The Iron Fleet smashed into the Redwynes with the wrath of the Drowned God.
His own ships smashed into a smaller dromond. His crew mates took back their oars just in time and he watched with sweet satisfaction as the enemy ships lost all their oars in a single well placed manoeuvre from his own ship.
Sailing experience of decades finally coming in handy as his fleet tore through the half prepared Redwynes like a butter through the knife.
That dromond was now dead in the water. Mayheps in time they'll be able to bring out the oars from the other side and get some speed. But he was sure that one of the Iron Fleet ships will tear through their hull and throw them into the embrace of the Drowned gods long before that happened.
He stood on the top of his prow and looked for a new prey to break and destroy.
So many choices in front of him, spread like a feast. But his eyes immediately fell on the largest one.
A behemoth of a ship that loomed over the other ships beside it. Like a giant among men. With a single look, he was able to estimate that this ship must hold a crew of 500 men if not more.
And the three large burgundy sails and the multiple banks of oars painted white and gold finally confirmed its identity, ironically sealing its fate.
For that ship was none other than the Arbor Queen. The largest ship in the Redwyne Fleet. The galeas captained by Lord Paxter Redwyne itself.
'What greater glory will there be, then sending the largest ship ship in the Redwyne Fleet to the Drowned gods. To kill the commander of this Fleet with my own hands. To break the morale of these Greenlanders and send them running.' He thought before he turned to look at his second-in-command Bralon-three-fingers. Named that way because he once lost two of his fingers in a game of Finger Dance.
"Take us to that large bitch! I want to fuck her in the arse!" He shouted and Bralon grinned before he steered the ship and ordered the men to row.
'Row! Row! Row! Row me to my glory!' He sang in his heart as his ships sailed faster and faster to its destination. The swift wind on his face making him feel like he was almost flying.
The Arbor Queen turned to face them. Its giant bulk making it slow despite the numerous men that rowed it. It was all futile in the end.
The ram at the head of his Iron Victory punched through the side of the Arbor Queen. Not going as deep it should, and definitely not doing enough damage to break its hull.
'Probably because the wood is so thick.' He thought with a frown. 'Nevermind. I'll take my price through my own hands.'
"Board her!" He shouted at his crew and a dozen of his men came up front and threw large rope ladders at the handrails of the Arbor Queen.
Enemies ran on to the side of the Arbor Queen and shot at his own men with crossbows. Some missed. Some hit the shields prepared in advanced. While a few went through and sent some of his men to the drowned gods.
Instead of deterring his men. It sent them into a frenzy as they started climbing up the rope ladders faster and faster.
Some of the greenlanders tried to cut off the rope ladders. And his own crew threw javelins and axes at them in response.
A bloody siege begin in the midst of the sea battle as his men tried their hardest to climb the large bitch, while the enemies tried their best to deny them a foothold.
To their credit, the Redwynes held them back for longer than he'd thought they would. But Ironborns wear armour on their ships, having no fear of falling to the sea and being embraced by the drowned god. Drowning was an honour for them. Especially in a battle.
Not that he planned to drown today. For when armoured men fight against armourless men. The armoured men win sooner or later.
And that's exactly what happened here as his men finally managed to create a foothold in the Arbor Queen. The single foothold being used to create even more footholds in the large bitch.
"What is dead may never die!" His crew chanted and he chanted along with them as he took his axe and shield and climbed the rope ladder as well.
He swiftly reached the top of the Arbor Queen and then frowned at the scene in front of him.
For in front of him was a sea of enemies. Stretching in the deck for far as his eyes could see. And in the far end of that sea of enemies was his price. The head of Paxter Redwyne.
The small foothold his men had been able to create seemed almost insignificant in the face of such overwhelming numbers.
'There must be at least 800 men in here.' He thought with mild trepidation, not so sure of victory now that his men were outnumbered 4 to 1. His men were the best there were in Iron Islands, he had no doubt of that. But he was sure that the men serving directly under Lord Redwyne would not be chumps either.
'Nevermind. I'll just have to tear through more of them than I usually do.' He thought grimly, having no doubt in his mind that this might very well be the last battle he'd ever fought. 'If I die here, then so be it. But I'll die bathed in blood and glory.'
"We Do Not Sow!" He shouted his house words and jumped in the thick of the battle.
The enemies instantly focused on him. One of them tried to pierce him with a spear while the other tried to bludgeon his head in with a mace.
He blocked the spear and dodged the mace before taking the head of the spearman with the backswing of his axe.
Men had been trying to kill him ever since he was a boy. And even if his enemies did succeed on this fateful day, he won't make it easy for them.
Another man replaced the one he'd killed. And when he killed that man, taking a cut to his forearm in that exchange, yet another man took his place.
They were winning. Their armour giving them a large advantage in the exchange. But it was a bloody victory. For every group of enemies that they killed, some of his own men lost their lives.
Every step further into the Arbor Queen was taken by paying the Iron Price.
He saw Ragnor Twice Drowned, a priest and warrior of the drowned god, take the head of a Greenlander before taking a spear to his neck.
Nute the Barber, a childhood friend of his own died to a crossbow bolt to the eye, going down in the midst of enemy corpses.
Skraag Greyjoy, a distant kin of his, was hacked to death by overwhelming numbers.
Kella Ironspear, one of the few rare women in the Iron Islands capable of fighting, took down three Greenlanders in a blaze of fury before she fell to a dagger to the neck.
Longwater Pyke was thrown aboard the ship.
Steffar Stammerer was filled with crossbow bolts.
Tom Tidewood took an axe in his place.
He saw more and more of his men die.
Overcame by anger and grief, he turned more of his enemies into corpses. Shattering skulls with his shield. Chopping arms and legs with his axe. Stomping on the necks of any enemy that fell to his feet.
But his prize seemed ever distant. Standing at the back of his army like the greenlander coward he was. And the number of his crew was dwindling rapidly.
'I'll not retreat!' He vowed to himself as he saw more and more of his decades long crew-mates being embraced by the drowned god. 'I'll attain victory today or I'll die trying!'
And then the ship lurched under him, almost making him loose his footing before he managed to gather himself and look to the side.
The sails of Silence greeted him. And he felt a burst of joy and pride well up from within him as he brother's men started boarding the Arbor Queen from the other side.
"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, and glared at the Redwyne men who were now slowly backing away from him. Not looking as confident now that they were pincered from both sides.
The numbers still belonged to the Redwynes. That's just how large of a ship the Arbor Queen was. But now the tides have turned. For now they were stuck in between two of the greatest reavers and warriors on the Sunset Sea.
"What is dead may never die!" His men chanted along with him and then the battle, which had paused momentarily at the arrival of Silence begin in earnest once again.
In direct contract to the excited cheering from his crew, the crew of the Silence remained silent. Euron having cut off all their tongues for some reason. An abominable practice. But since Euron's crew followed him off their own will, he was not going to side with them against his own brother.
Mutes or not, the men following Euron were skilled and started tearing through the Redwynes as well. The pincer attack finally giving some breathing room to him and his men.
Their enemies died in droves and the ones who remained retreated on the face of this onslaught. Falling further and further back until their backs were to the tail end of the ship. Nowhere else for them to run.
The Redwyne soldiers put up a decent last stand but it was all for naught as he and his men fell upon them like crazed berserkers and took their vengeance for all the crew-mates they'd lost in this battle.
Finally, covered in the blood of his enemies and with more cuts and bruises that he could count, he stood before of the cowering greenlander lord.
"Wait. We can talk this out" Paxter Redwyne begged. "I'll give you-"
His axe moved and Paxter Redwyne's head parter from his shoulder.
He picked up the head and spat at the corpse. "A captain should go down fighting." He said, and let out a breath as the exhaustion of the battle fatigue finally caught up to him. But, there was more he needed to do before he went to see to his wounds.
"Paxter Redwyne is dea-" He started to say before an arrow lodged its way into his throat.
He coughed and choked into the arrow before slowly turning to look at where it came from.
It was… Euron?
And then he saw what little crew of his remained, going down along with him as they were stabbed in the back of his brother's mute crewmates.
Confusion and raged filled his heart at the unexplainable betrayal.
"Wh— *cough cough* why Eur…?" He managed to ask even as he choked in his own blood before the world tilted and he found himself falling to his back.
He saw the last of his loyal men being cut down like cattle and felt like crying tears of blood at the sight before the world went black and he fell into the blissful embrace of the Drowned God.