章 67: Asha V
'Urgh.' She groaned, rubbing at her stomach as she rolled over in bed, nursing a hell of a headache. 'Fuck.'
Despite her Iron blood, Asha was still only a 140-pound teenage woman and most of that muscle. She simply couldn't handle as much drink as her crew, and the hangovers were just the price she had to pay whenever she had any real fun.
Still, at least she was comfortable, her furs were usually so-
'Fuck.'
She sat up, displacing the covers, she was still clothed, that was good, she felt up and down her body, nothing even felt out of place. 'Guess the prince is a grass-eater after all then.' She grinned at the gest before getting up, stretching out her arms in the darkness above her head. 'He said there was a storm right?' The ship didn't seem to be rocking, but it would certainly explain the dark if they had bolted the cabin shut. She fumbled around for the door and knocked a couple of things loose before she managed to pull a slot open, letting a trace of light enter the room. It wasn't much, just the light of the full moon above, but reflected off the floor it gave her a good idea of the layout of the room, looking far sparser than it had been and having obviously been prepared for a storm, and-
'Oh, that's not good.' Laying in a crumpled heap in one of the corners was the Baratheon prince, clearly having been thrown there by the force of the storm. She quickly moved to his side and sighed in relief when she felt he was still breathing. It was a little touching that he had stayed out of bed, probably in some misguided attempt to preserve her chastity, but more importantly, she didn't want to be found in a cabin with a dead prince who looked like he'd been beaten to death. Fighting through her headache she laid the boy out on the bed. In the dim light, it didn't look like he had broken anything, but she could hardly be sure, amateur that she was.
She moved to the door, pulling the rest of the odd seals off of it before pulling it open.
To say that the deck looked a damp mess would be fairly accurate, a few lanterns burned here and there under the light of the moon, but it was clear the storm had done a number on the great white ship. The masts all still stood at least, though they looked quite battered, sailors sat or slept in small groups, and some moved about the rigging reattaching sails and replacing broken ropes.
"My Pri- ah, no, miss Greyjoy, my apologies." She saw the ship's captain approached, the tall Velaryon was looking far less dignified than usual his clothes had clearly been soaked his hat, normally ever-present, hung at his side to dry, and he altogether looked like he had been through hell. "Excuse me my lady, but I need to inform Prince Arthur of our casualties."
The truth must have shown on her face because the man's frown grew even deeper.
"Is the prince alright?"
"He was thrown about the cabin by the storm, I could not tell if he had broken anything in the dark, he does not wake but he is alive."
The captain stood there for a moment, before nodding deeply.
"I'll get a torch."
Much to her luck, she supposed, Prince Arthur seemed to be unbroken, and even largely uninjured save for some harsh bruising on his shoulders. The captain stood from his side after a long moment, tucking him under the covers as he did so.
"Come, Lady Greyjoy, let's leave the prince to his much-deserved rest. There is work to be done. The fleet is scattered, and I suggest you help us in reuniting it should you wish to return to your own vessel."
She glanced at him for a moment before sighing, half of her doubted that the Black Wind would even make it through that.
"Alright, what needs doing?"
Ultimately she ended up helping the workmen on the lower deck, while the hatches had been properly sealed, some amount of water had still gotten in, and like everyone else not directly piloting the ship, she ended up in the bucket line dumping it over the side for some time.
By the time that the ship had been properly drained as much as buckets could manage, they had met back up with one of the cutters, aided greatly by the dark of the night contrasting against the ship's lanterns and white hulls. They agreed on a plan to split up just to the edges of their vision sailing with the wind, and fire their guns if they spotted any other vessels.
The fact that at least a few of them had probably sunk with their crews went unsaid, but she could feel the exchange between the eyes of the captains.
The night was long and hard after that, and four more ships were discovered, all sailing the same southwestern wind that had guided them after her monstrous uncle. At the thought of him, she realized that the Storm might well have been his fault, called up by some dread magic he conjured forth in his madness.
And with no word of the Black Wind, it seemed that her Uncle had been given an Ironborn burial after all if in a roundabout way.
'Gods Damn him. Him and his cursed soul.'
It was only in the very early morning, just as the sun rose, above the horizon that a cry went up from the raven's-nest, the basket where the Sword's lookout sat atop the mainmast. A cry amongst many that she had not expected to hear.
"Land Ho!"
She, along with many of the crew, rushed to the sides of the ship, and sure enough there in the distance was a large island, rising from the ocean. Unlike her home or the arbor, it was covered in a green ceiling that must be palm trees, with a visible tilt to one side that might be a cliff face.
'It must be the Summer Islands.' She thought, watching as the men cheered, and she winced as she suddenly felt very alone, the islands were as far as any iron born had traveled, and here she was alone save for Greenlanders. She realized she realized with a start that she hadn't been wearing her armor since yesterday, and had a sudden urge to go put it on.
She was stopped though as the door she intended to enter opened outward onto the deck, and the prince Baratheon staggered out, dressed in a simple shirt, his eyes racing back forth the deck with an intense glare.
His eyes met hers, and he gave the smallest of nods, before turning to the island, which now grew in the distance, and finally up towards captain Aurane.
Something was different about the boy, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Finally, it dawned on her as he turned for the stairs to make his way up the aftcastle. His Greyscale was gone, and a jagged red burn mark had replaced it. For a moment she could swear she saw lightning crackle along his skin, but when she blinked it was gone, as he marched up, to much elation from the captain and officers.
At the sight of the captain moving to embrace him, she felt a pang of regret for her own crew, now likely dead.
Her melancholy was broken, however, as both the captain and the prince yelped in surprise at some unseen pain at their contact.
From the normally stern Greenladners? That was just funny.
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