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During the day, sunlight spilled across the coastline of Dorne. At Ashara Dayne's request, Euron walked side-by-side with her, recounting his experiences in the conquest of the Stepstones.
When he spoke of the "Crown of Sea Skulls"—that tower built of countless heads to spread terror—Ashara's slender brows furrowed slightly, and her amber eyes revealed a clear look of unbearable pity and compassion.
But when she heard that Euron could command terrifying sea monsters that existed only in the depths of legend, that pity was instantly replaced by intense curiosity and awe. She looked up at him, unable to stop herself from asking, "Do they... really listen to you?"
Euron looked at the light in her eyes, a mixture of fear and excitent, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Instead of answering with words, he focused his gaze on the sea not far away and sent out a silent summons.
Monts later, the water near the shore churned violently. A back as massive as a mountain ridge broke the surface, its dark skin shining with a cold, tallic luster under the sun—it was the giant beast, the "Iron-Back Whale." Even more surprising was that on the incredibly broad back of the whale, two seats that looked quite stable had already been installed.
Euron extended his hand to Ashara, his eyes holding an invitation and encouragent. Ashara's heart rate spiked; faced with this unimaginably massive creature, she felt an instinctive fear. But when she saw Euron's calm gaze, as if everything was under control, her panic strangely subsided. She placed her slightly trembling hand in his palm, letting him lead her step by step onto the whale's back.
Once the two were seated securely on the Iron-Back Whale, the giant beast began to swim slowly, breaking the azure waves and roaming freely across the Dornish sea. This unprecedented spectacle instantly attracted countless Dornish people. They flocked to the shore, erupting in shouts of surprise and admiration, pointing at the figures on the whale's back as if witnessing a miracle.
Watching this scene from a distance, Princess Arianne Martell crossed her arms and let out a cold snort, her beautiful face written with undisguised distaste. She particularly couldn't stand the sight of Euron and Ashara being so intimate on the beast's back. The thought of her aunt Elia—heavily pregnant and nearing labor at this very mont—filled her with a surge of indignation on Elia's behalf.
---
At lunchti, in the open-air courtyard of Sunspear, sparse tree shadows fell upon the ground covered in ornate carpets.
Prince Doran Martell ate his Dornish stew thodically. He spoke seemingly casually, his voice peaceful yet carrying weight. "Now that the situation in the Stepstones has stabilized, that is good. I wonder if you have heard that many people have started calling you... the 'King of the Stepstones'."
Hearing this, Euron let out a low chuckle. He swirled the wine cup in his hand, the red liquid looking like a gem in the sunlight. "King? Haha, it is far too early to claim kingship." His smile faded, and his gaze beca sharp. "The Triarchy Alliance entrenched there—Myr, Lys, Tyrosh—none of them are opponents that can be easily solved. They are like poisonous jellyfish in the sea: soft to the look, but deadly to the touch."
Prince Doran showed an approving smile and nodded slowly. "It is good that you are so clear-headed. If you were impatient to wear a crown right now, I would instead think you were dizzy with victory and of no great use."
"The promise I made will be fulfilled," Euron's tone was flat but contained steely determination. "But that requires ti, and more importantly, the precise mont."
Prince Doran's deep gaze seed to have already seen through Euron's calculations. He didn't press further, only stating gently but firmly, "It seems you already have a plan. I won't interfere too much. But rember, whenever you need the strength of Dorne, send soone to find , or Oberyn." He paused, adding aningfully, "In those Free Cities, our House Martell also has quite a few 'friends'."
The two clinked cups, leaving the rest unsaid.
---
In the following months, Euron Greyjoy rarely laid down his conquest and plotting to enjoy a period of tranquility and leisure. He often accompanied Ashara Dayne, strolling between the unique red dunes and oases of Dorne, appreciating scenery vastly different from the Iron Islands.
One day, in the sandy courtyard near Starfall, Ashara brought up swordplay. Her brother, the famous "Sword of the Morning" Arthur Dayne, had once instructed her, but she lacked strength, so what she learned was mostly elegant postures that lacked practical combat value.
Upon hearing this, Euron didn't question it but took a different approach. He didn't ask her to increase her strength. Instead, he began to teach her the Water Dance sword style originating from Braavos.
This swordsmanship was as fluid as water, focusing more on lightness of footwork, body balance, and the precision and speed of strikes—perfectly suited to Ashara's physique.
Under his careful guidance, Ashara's swordsmanship improved visibly. Her blade tip no longer floated aimlessly but carried the viper-like speed and trickery unique to a Water Dancer, and her movents gained a graceful yet lethal rhythm.
---
Nightti in Sunspear shed the scorching heat of the day; the breeze brought a hint of coolness through the carved window lattices.
Euron would visit Elia during these quiet nights. Their interactions maintained a tacit restraint, as if an invisible line lay between them that neither crossed lightly.
Unlike the distant coldness of the past, Elia seed to have gradually opened her heart.
She would lean on the soft couch, chatting with Euron under the soft candlelight. The topics were no longer superficial pleasantries but touched the depths of the past.
She spoke of the amusing things that happened when she and Oberyn traveled the Seven Kingdoms with their mother in their youth, her tone holding a nostalgic smile. She ntioned her past matchmaking experiences, which felt like routine business, her tone as flat as if telling soone else's story. Her voice would occasionally drop low; when she ntioned the unforgettable insult she suffered at Casterly Rock from House Lannister, a trace of hidden pain would flash across her eyes.
She also shared the complex, indescribable feelings of becoming Rhaegar Targaryen's wife—the glory of being a princess, but also the buried unease; the experience of giving birth to her first child, Rhaenys, interwoven with extre happiness and imnse pain; and finally, the exhaustion and relief of surviving a disaster upon returning to her holand of Dorne.
"Now," she finally stroked her high, round belly gently, her tone carrying a rare, almost coquettish complaint, "I just want this little fellow to co out quickly. So I can walk around again, see the garden under the sunlight, instead of being trapped in this room all day. It's truly suffocating."
Euron looked at her, his gaze deep. Finally, he only responded gently:
"Although I also want to see him soon, this... is not sothing that can be rushed."
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