After remaining by the shore for a while longer, Galon quickly returned to camp and convened a war council with all his officers.
Together, they discussed and refined the plan to seize Lordsport and lure out Euron.
Once the strategy was finalized, the army began preparing for the sea voyage.
Two days later, everything was ready.
The entire force boarded the ships and left the Stony Shore, cutting across the waves like arrows loosed from a bow, heading into the turbulent Sunset Sea.
The longships rose and fell with the waves, their hulls groaning under the strain.
The Skagosi handled it well. They were used to life at sea.
But for most of the Glover soldiers, this was their first ti sailing.
Seasickness spread quickly.
Vomiting and dizziness were everywhere.
Even Galon struggled at first. The motion of the sea left him disoriented, his face pale and drawn.
Asha, who had grown up on the sea, found no small amusent in this. At last, she had found sothing he was not good at.
During those first few days, she did not hesitate to mock him from ti to ti.
However, Galon adapted quickly. Within just two days, he had fully adjusted to the motion of the sea.
At that point, Asha began to properly carry out her role.
Standing at the bow beside him, she issued clear and precise commands to the helmsn and lookouts, guiding the fleet through reefs and shifting currents while avoiding any possible watchers.
Every decision she made, every adjustnt based on wind and tide, displayed the exceptional seamanship expected of the Iron Islands' heir.
Most of the ti, Galon stood beside her in silence, observing and learning.
He never interfered with her command. Only at key monts would he offer a quiet question or a look of trust.
That trust and respect made Asha feel sothing unfamiliar.
He was not suppressing her.
He was recognizing her value.
It was nothing like her life on the Iron Islands.
Because she was a woman, and because of Balon's stubborn traditions, she had endured endless doubt and criticism.
Though she had earned her crew's respect through effort, many of the older Ironborn who worshipped the Drowned God still believed a woman had no right to the Seastone Chair.
Galon's recognition filled that gap.
During calm monts at sea, she found herself seeking him out to talk.
The voyage was long and monotonous, after all.
At first, their conversations revolved around navigation and the customs of the Iron Islands.
Gradually, the topics deepened.
"What do you think of the situation in the Seven Kingdoms?"
One evening, as the sea turned crimson beneath the setting sun, Galon asked the question.
Asha leaned against the railing, a wineskin in hand, slightly drunk.
"What's there to think about? I don't recognize that king in King's Landing."
She let out a mocking laugh.
"A bastard sitting the throne? That's a joke."
"The Westerlands won't last. Against the North's alliance, I don't see how they win."
"Oh?" Galon said, noncommittal. "And if it were you?"
That imdiately caught her interest.
Her cheeks flushed slightly as she loosened the clasps at her chest, unconcerned with appearances.
"If it were , I wouldn't have killed the Warden of the North. At the very least, I'd have made his son swear fealty in King's Landing..."
Galon listened quietly, occasionally offering a comnt or acknowledgnt.
Each ti he did, Asha felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
Eventually, after drinking too much, she asked, "What about you? What do you think happens next?"
Galon did not answer directly.
He simply looked out over the sea and smiled.
Over the next few days, their conversations continued.
He would casually ask her about governance, about the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, about the nobles of King's Landing.
Through these exchanges, Asha began to understand him better.
His vision extended far beyond the North or the Iron Islands.
Sowhere deep within him was a far greater ambition.
One night, beneath a sky filled with stars, the dark sea reflecting their light, the two of them shared a skin of strong liquor against the cold.
The alcohol blurred the distance between them.
"You know, Galon..."
Asha looked up at the sky, her voice softer than usual.
"I used to think ruling the Iron Islands, seeing the kraken banners fly across every sea... that was the greatest ambition there could be."
Galon took a drink and replied calmly, "The sea is vast. But it is not the whole world."
"...Yeah."
She turned to look at him, studying his sharp profile in the dim starlight.
Her heartbeat quickened.
During this journey, she had watched him face storms without fear, share hardship with his soldiers, and plan for the future with a level of calm that bordered on terrifying.
She realized she no longer just wanted to use him. She wanted to have him.
To claim him.
To conquer him.
Especially because he already belonged to soone else.
That only made it more enticing.
In her blood, the Ironborn instinct stirred. Taking was always better than asking.
Inside her, admiration, dependence, and desire tangled together, growing like wild vines.
Finally, on the eve of their arrival at Pyke, Asha sought him out again.
The night was thick with darkness, the ships swaying in silence.
This ti, she was different.
Less probing. More resolute.
"We're almost there," she said quietly as she approached him.
"Mm," Galon replied, still looking ahead into the darkness where fate awaited.
"Galon." She took a deep breath, her voice trembling just slightly. "Take Pyke. Help secure the Seastone Chair."
"Then... don't go back to the North."
She reached out and grasped his armored hand.
Her eyes burned in the darkness.
"Stay. With ."
"With the Iron Fleet and your abilities, we won't have to bow to anyone.
What the Starks can offer you, I can offer even more... the entire North, for instance.
Even—if you're willing—we could form a marriage alliance. Our children would rule both the Iron Islands and the North!"
Asha stared intently into his eyes, trying to find even the slightest trace of hesitation or agreent.
Garon slowly turned his head.
Under the starlight, his gaze seed unfathomably deep.
He did not pull his hand away imdiately, nor did he give a vague, noncommittal answer like before.
He simply looked at her in silence for a long ti—so long that Asha could almost hear the thunderous pounding of her own heartbeat.
"Asha, why are your ambitions always confined to the North and the Iron Islands?"
Garon leaned in slightly, his voice low and magnetic as he spoke softly into her ear, words ant only for the two of them.
"Why can't it be... sothing greater?"
The words struck like a bolt of thunder in Asha's mind.
In an instant, all the scattered pieces seed to fall into place.
Why did he possess such vision and ambition, far beyond that of a re bannerman?
Why was he so familiar with the political landscape of the Seven Kingdoms?
And why had he been willing to cross the sea and risk everything to seize the strength of the Iron Islands?
He was not helping the Starks—he was paving the way for himself.
'The Iron Throne... his goal is the Iron Throne!'
Asha's pupils contracted as she cried out inwardly in disbelief.
'But... on what grounds?'
'How can a re Glover hope to claim the Iron Throne?'
She had believed her offer was already generous enough, yet in the face of Garon's ambition, it was still not enough.
But Garon no longer gave her ti to think. Looking ahead at the harbor now coming into view, he issued his command.
"Have everyone prepare. Lordsport is just ahead!"
The arrow was already on the string, ready to be loosed.
__________
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