With [@MrDidact]

[img]http://awoiaf.westeros.org/images/0/04/Lino_Drieghe_Pyke.JPG[/img]


[u][b]The Iron Islands[/b][/u]
[u][b]Pyke[/b][/u]

"Do you trust them?" Baela spoke from behind the sparse cover of the cloth divider erected between the pair as she changed. While Pyke had more than enough guest quarters for them to prepare for the evening seperately, both had opted to meet in Luke's room prior to their descent, dismissing the offered servants in exchange for privacy. Whether the Ironborn expected any pre-marital excess between the pair was moot, it mattered more to them both that they might speak in relative private.

"Do I trust that Dalton will do as he promises? Aye." Lucerys finished clasping the side-buckles of his doublet in place. Black in colour with only the slightest detail, and a small copy of his household insignia over his heart,  it was of good quality without being ostentatious, as to suit the hall they attended. "I think it would be overly naive to not worry that he may not stick to such limitations, but we need the Greyjoys as allies as much as they need us to fulfill his ambitions. Of all of his full-blooded brothers, Lucerys was the most serious, and spoke with a voice older than his fourteen years.

"I suppose that will have to do." Baela replied. A year younger than her cousin, Baela was the bolder of her sisters, and while she still had the bearing of her youth, there was fire to her being, and words, that matched her infamous father. Any further reply was interrupted by the young Targaryen letting out a hiss of frustration. "Would you mind giving me a hand?" While Luke was more than capable of dressing himself, the style of court was rather more encumbering for women. With a slight pause he stood to move around their ad-hoc divider. Baela's gown was black, but rather than trimmed with red as might be expecting, her bodice was light blue, and the detail across both colours trimmed in white, as to match the House of her mother. While she was largely contained within the confines of the garment, the lacing up the back of her dress was undone. Bold and adventurous, like her cousins, Baela was slightly more tan than her twin sister, or the other women of their family. She waived on arm in a frustrated manner behind her back. "This is most unhelpful."

Lucerys approached her. The Velaryon brothers and Daemon's twins had grown up together, far closer than they were with the cousins they now faced off against. The closeness of children had grown slightly more strained of late, as they approached adulthood. Baela may have been young, but she was already beginning to show the form of an attractive young woman, much as her sister did. Luke, for his own sake, was well-built for his age, and the thoughts and worries which young men felt towards the opposite sex had begun to set in. He paused only for a moment longer before beginning to help his cousin lace the back of her gown.

"You're wasted on them." Lucerys spoke before he could think to hold it in as he finished the last ring of lace. Stunned at himself for a moment, he mumbled through the rest of a sentence; "I...I simply feel we need not have changed for a feast among the Ironborn. Baela turned, laughing slightly, in not an unpleasant manner, before she replied.

"Perhaps, but I would not want to have you show me up hmm?" She squeezed his shoulder as she passed, still smiling; "Oh, and I wouldn't want to fail to impress my future Lord Husband Greyjoy, what with our world-conqering children to make." She looked over her shoulder as she joked, her laugh infecting Lucerys before she spoke again; "Come, let us not keep the murderours raiders waiting."

After the raucous negotiations on the shores of the island, Lord Dalton had invited his guests to the long hall itself, along with all of his bannermen, his top captains, and his finest warriors. Great piles of fish and other creatures of the sea had been gathered and dumped onto the beach for the two dragons to feast on while a similarly hearty table had been laid out for the royal guests. The long hall was packed with wooden tables who were crammed with Ironborn nobles and reavers, all clanking mugs of ale and mead and feasting on crab, squid, and fish as well as a few enormous roasted boars and sides of beef. Ironborn bards gamely pounded out energetic tunes while men arm-wrestled and finger-danced and thrall women danced and entertained the guests. 

The Iron Islands rarely saw such festivities outside of weddings and funerals or days devoted to their Drowned God or celebration of a succesful raid. But every man and woman sensed war on the horizon, and the Red Kraken had called the islands to him for one mighty round of merry-making before the ships would begin to sail. Dalton sat on the Seastone Chair of his fathers stretching back untold generations, a throne of oily black stone carved in the visage of the kraken. He had seated Prince Lucerys at the seat of honor on his right side, and Princess Baela next to him. His rock brother Veron sat on his left side and the rest of the high table was filled with those most prominent amongst his kin and his bannermen, including his mother, Lady Morgana Merlyn, his cousin Cotter, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, and his sister Alannys, who was another of his premier commanders and reavers. 

Dalton may have been an impudent man, but even he hadn't been so bold as to seat his salt brother or any of his salt wives, among the guests and pay further insult to the Prince after sealing the negotiation. Theon Pyke, captain of his honor guard, sat, laughing and drinking, with a table full of men with red kraken badges nearby, and helping keep Dalton's salt wives happy. All of the Greyjoys looked much like Dalton. Dark of hair and eye, fair of skin and features, handsome and attractive, but all with scars to show their warrior nature, save for those who were not reavers like Dalton's mother. 

The Red Kraken himself stood, raising his tankard of mead as Veron pounded on the table for quiet. Dalton cleared his throat and said, "Tonight we celebrate the new friends we've made in Queen Rhaenyra, and particularly her son Prince Lucerys and his bride to be, Princess Baela. Thanks to them, the Ironborn will once more strike terror into the hearts of the greenlanders, and once more the men of the West and Reach will remember who it is who rule the Sunset Sea. To Queen Rhaenyra! We do not sow!" 

The Ironborn took up the call, some calling out their own mottos, or the creed of their god, while many others praised the Red Kraken directly, and even Queen Rhaenyra. Dalton smiled, laughing and sat down to turn to Lucerys and Baela, "I trust you are enjoying yourselves?" 

While Lucerys appeared serious, if not enough as to seem surly or disrespectful to their hosts, at least by the fashion of court, Baela looked around her with far more in the way of fascination. The bawdy display of Ironborn celebration captivated her, even if some element was still repugnant. Purple eyes watched both dancing and finger-dancing, and her sing-song voice laughed along, if less overtly, with the men at particular fine examples of both.

"Oh, very much so, my lord Greyjoy." It was Baela who answered, focusing her composure somewhat as she replied to Dalton. Both Baela and Luke had joined in the toast, but otherwise the Prince had remained quiet, still, he managed a response to the Ironborn lord; "It is most interesting, Lord Greyjoy." Despite his severity, Lucerys was not negative in his assessment of the feast, nor did he conceal any thoughts to such, the differences between isles and mainland simply seemed to ensnare him less so than his cousin. As was his manner, he turned to more serious matters; "Do you wish for a representative to accompany us home?"

Dalton smiled at Baela, looking into her eyes as he did. His eyes were more playful now, those of a rakish nobleman, in contrast to the dark lust Baela had seen in his gaze upon the beach. It was still thoroughly clear he desired her however; especially given the fact that he hadn't bothered to conceal it when he gave Baela and her dress a rather lecherous once over once she entered the hall, though practically every Ironborn man and a few of the women had done the same. Dalton broke off the gaze and turned to Lucerys, taking down a swig of mead and saying, "I'm glad to hear it. We rarely get the chance to entertain mainlanders. And never royals. So, I made sure that only the best that the Iron Islands have to offer was put out for your honor." 

The Red Kraken grinned at Lucerys before saying, "Indeed. I wanted one of my kin to accompany you on your journey back to Dragonstone, to give my regards to King Daemon and your mother personally. And so that the Islands could have a voice in your councils." Dalton wrapped a hand around his brother Veron's shoulder and kept smiling as he pulled the youth away from his conversation with their older, broad-shouldered, heavily scarred, and grizzled cousin Cotter and their sister Alannys with her high, sharp cheekbones, short salt-bleached black hair, and athlethic form emphasized by a leather doublet rather than a dress. 

Veron looked much like his brother, but was unscarred and his hair was cut short. He was shorter as well and more wiry, but still well-built. His eyes and features were as handsome and cocky as his brother's, but there was more friendly jovialty to Veron's visage than Dalton's. Dalton said, "My little brother, Veron. Only a year older than yourself, Lucerys. But he's almost as good a sailor as me and almost as good a sword. He's also not dumber than a sack of bricks like a lot of my reavers. As my heir, I thought him as good a choice as any."

The younger Greyjoy brother dipped his head and smiled at Lucerys and Baela, "My brother flatters me, somewhat, but I would be highly honored to accompany you both back to Dragonstone and to offer the fealty of the Iron Islands to the Queen personally. I've never left the bounds of the Sunset Sea. I'd also be the first Ironborn to ever ride on dragonback." 

Dalton laughed, "Aye and for once you'll get to brag about something to me. What do you say, Lucerys, think my brother can keep you both company on the way back? I plan on taking the long way myself if you go through with this parley, but I trust Veron to speak for me in the meantime."

"We would be welcome to have him." Lucerys nodded, the Kraken's own brother was something of a steal for their cause, acting as both a direct link to Dalton and some insurance that he would do as he was asked, to a degree. The Prince paused to sup from his drink at that, although it was his bethrothed which struck up further conversation.

Baela may have been young, but she was not unaware of the meaning behind the looks many had given her since she arrived at the hall. Valyrian beauty was almost ageless, and she was beginning to grow beyond simply the boon of her birth. A lesser person may have been uncomfortable in a room of reavers who were likely only the risk of punishment away from taking her in the very hall, but Baela was ever daring, and flaunted their depravity.

"Alas you will have to ride with the Prince, Moondancer is still too small to carry two riders across such a distance." Baela made a point to like ever so slightly downcast at that as she spoke to the younger Greyjoy. "Plenty of land between the Sunset Sea and the Narrow, anywhere in particular excite you?"

Veron smirked and said, "More's the pity, but I'm sure Prince Lucerys can keep me company well enough. And it's fortunate that I'm the one leaving. If Dalton was flying, even your dragon probably couldn't lift his arse off of the ground." Dalton laughed, "Only because of the size of my stones." The Red Kraken laughed and shouted at a serving maid to refill his tankard, pulling her into his lap as she did so. The maid giggled, evidently enjoying his advances. Veron laughed and replied to Baela, "I admit, I've never seen much of the greenlands. They talk much of Casterly Rock and Lannisport, and I would be glad to see them. But that isn't very likely, unless I go to help burn it." Veron smiled ruefully. 

He leaned in towards Baela, a thoughtful look crossing his face, and said, "There aren't many places between here and your home that would be amenable to our presence I don't think... but what of Seagard? Few Ironborn have ever set foot there without intending to raid it. But I hear it is a fine place. And close to the ocean. We could stop there after our flight. I believe Lord Mallister is well-inclined to Queen Rhaenyra as well. If he sides with us, it's only to our benefit that we inform him of the pact we have made here and my brother's eventual command of the western black navies. What do you say?" 

"I suspect the arrival of two dragons, a prince, princess and an heir to the Iron Isles might help make his mind up for him." Baela laughed, leaning back in her seat for the moment, twirling a few errant strands of her hair between two fingers, watching the Red Kraken's advances towards the serving maid. In her slight pause, Luke picked up the conversation.

"Mhm, Seagard it will be then. The Riverlands will likely be split in alleigance, best to grasp an idea early on of where the lines will be drawn." Lucerys was still serious, but not so much as to not enjoy his surroundings. "He'll likely try to feast us as well, whoever knew the start of civil war was so fattening."

Veron smiled at Baela and laughed along with her, then turned to Lucerys and said, "Excellent. Not only will I be the first Greyjoy to come in peace to the eagle nest. I'll be the first to fly there." Veron smiled again, evidently much enamored with the idea of flying on dragonback. His countenance was far more gentler than his brother's, far more thoughtful. He seemed much more the optimistic dreamer than the hedonistic and aggressive reaver that Westerosi so often associated with the Ironborn. 

Dalton soon interjected in the conversation, reaching under the serving maid's clothes with one hand while he nursed a tankard of mead in the other, "Ironborn never eat so well as when there's war. And I expect to eat very well in this one. But we have a lot of ways to keep in shape, despite that." Dalton sneered lecherously at Baela and downed the rest of his tankard.

He gestured to the rest of the longhall, where Ironborn were bare-knuckle brawling, wrestling, and dancing with equal intensity, gusto, and ferocity. Several were playing the famous finger dance, with one of Lord Harlaw's men throwing an axe at one of Dalton's honor guard. The man nimbly lept over the axe, which almost hit a passerby. The man's comrades cheered as the guardsmen picked up the axe and threw it back at Harlaw's reaver. The Reaver tried to catch the axe instead of leaping over, but he was too clumsy and he fell to the ground in pain as blood burst from where his finger used to be. 

Dalton laughed, "The finger dance. Our favorite game." Dalton turned to Lucerys and Baela, "Do the Prince and Princess fancy any of our games? I promise they're a lot of fun." 

"I'll play that one." Baela spoke immediately, with a grin not entirely unlike that of a shark moments before the kill, motioning towards the man now writhing in pain from his lost finger. Before Lucerys could muster anything more than a surprised look, she had stood, striding over the table , holding the delicate skirt of her gown over to not entirely draw it over the table, before hopping down. While she may have been dressed as a Princess, she was still the daughter of the Dragon King of the Stepstones, and her gown had been made to not hinder her nearly as much as it might look.

"Tell me how it works." She spoke again, just as Lucerys stood to regard the display with something akin to nervousness, even if it barely graced his features before he controlled it. The grin, however, did not slip from Baela's lips, her eyes as wild as her father at his most daring.

Every man and woman in the hall stopped to stare as the Princess went to join the reavers playing the finger dance. Some whispered amongst themselves, surprised by the sight of a greenlander participating in one of their games and a woman at that. Others scoffed and made bets on how long she would last. But many men and women crowded around the group, excited by the prospect, with some even cheering her on. 

Dalton was the most pleased of all, and he stood from his own chair to walk over. Dalton said, "The rules are simple. Each player takes a turn throwing the axe at another. That player must either catch the axe or dodge it without falling on their arse. The game can end when someone is wounded or when one player yields."

The Red Kraken turned to address the hall, "It looks like our dear Princess Baela wants to try her hand at a real game. Being a good host, I must oblige her. But neither can I participate. I am bound by guest right after all, and if I played her, I would surely break that oath. And I still seek the Princess' hand. It would be difficult to give a ring to her with if either of us had a few fingers missing." 

His men all laughed at that, with some others cheering or light-heartedly jeering. Dalton was well-known as a master of the finger dance, and had been skilled enough to never lose a finger to it. Dalton spoke over the noise, "So who wishes to try their luck? Anyone?" Most of the reavers seemed reluctant to compete against a woman, and perhaps some were afraid of the idea of losing to one. But many others raised their voices to volunteer. 

Dalton made a show of debating on who to choose but then he selected one of his honor guard. A thick-necked, long-bearded, tall slab of a man who looked every inch the archetypal beserking Ironborn warrior, with multiple missing teeth, and many tattoos and scars. The pinky finger on his left hand was missing as well. Dalton spoke to Baela, "Ulrik. One of my best killers. Not too late to back out, Princess. It is a dangerous game." 

"It won't be the number of fingers I possess stopping me from marrying you, Lord-Reaver." Baela swung her hair back as she smirked, removing a trailing ribbon from her gown, she used it to tie up the silver-blonde mane of her hair, turning on the spot to regard the man upon whom she had been faced. "You know too well I am a promised lady." She continued the jibe as she raised an eyebrow, her eyes studying the large Ironborn from head to toe.

"Are all the men of the Iron Isles so...handsome." She continued to tease, although her target shifted, a cat-like grin crossing her lips as she mocked him, exhaling as she relaxed into a stance all too familiar to her, loose, but poised to strike. Hidden beneath her gown, powerful legs poised at the ready, all outward signs of release a masquerade.

"I believe you are supposed to throw your axe at me then?" She opened her eyes as she decided she was ready, the smirk returning in an instant.

Ulrik snarled, obviously not one used to being teased by someone half his age and height, and a girl at that. Dalton only laughed uproariously, and the crowd began banging their tankards on the tables and stomping their feet, most of them chanting Ulrik's name as he cocked his arm back and got ready to throw. Veron and a few others however took up Baela's name in their own chant and the chorus of voices reached a fevered crescendo right before Ulrik leaned back and let the axe fly at Baela's hand. 

Baela was in motion the moment the axe left Ulrik's hand, turning her body so that she was out of the path of the throw, her eyes tracing where the axe would be, not where it was. She had never played the finger dance before, but her father had once taught her to juggle, and she'd since practiced with a variety of often sharp objects. This wasn't so different.

The axe sung in the air, although the Princess had her eyes on the spot she anticipated the axe to be, rather than its flight, giving her just enough time to catch the eye of Veron, her adrenaline giddy grin still in place, before in the next moment, she reached out. The handle of the axe met her grip, and her fingers clenched. She allowed the momentum to carry her, spinning on the spot with the Ironborn's much greater strength, turning it into a throw of her own. She was graceful, but it could not be mistaken for dancing, she was not her sister. Rhaena was a princess who knew how to be a warrior, Baela was a warrior who knew how to be a princess. Her arms chorded, before unleashing the axe, momentum, and her own force, added to the throw, sailing it in the air towards Ulrik.

There was a collective gasp as the Ironborn saw Baela catch the axe deftly out of the air, with many grown men openly gawping in disbelief at the sight. More than one even spit out his ale. Veron and most of the younger men in the hall looked on in awe, and even Dalton had a wide grin on his face. Ulrik was the most stunned of all. As Baela turned to return the throw, there was a great roar from the crowd. The axe flew back at Ulrik with incredible speed and force, and the big reaver made a visible effort to collect himself as he reached out to grasp the axe, not to be outdone by some greenlander girl. 

There was a keening howl of pain and a gush of scarlet splashed over a few of the onlookers, including a drop on Dalton's cheek. Ulrik gripped his right hand where his middle finger used to be, breathing in rapidly as he knelt to the floor. He grit his teeth and looked at Baela before suddenly smirking, "I yield." 

A cheer reveberated through the hall, with Veron Greyjoy leading the chant of Baela's name. Dalton took up the cheer as well, lifting his tankard to the Princess' honor and drinking heartily, blood and all. Various Ironborn smacked Baela on the back as if she were a man and one even thrust a tankard of mead into her hand as the younger Greyjoy came to Baela and Lucerys, saying, "You Princess keep finding ways to surprise and thrill. I've never seen my kin so enthused by a mainlander. They're already calling you Baela Bladedancer."

Despite the general ruckus and bawdiness of the hall in response to her actions, Baela remained poised, even as she flushed with victory, curtseying, in a manner which was only half a jest, at the receieved cheers and chanting. Her grin became a little less ladylike as the Ironborn approached her most closely, even the wildest of the Targaryen daughters was unused to the physical touch of reavers as they congratulated her, taking a moment to compose herself once their hands had stopped clasping her back, straightening her gown slightly as she laughed along with them.

"Aye, I don't suppose our foes would be happy to gaze upon this sight." Lucerys replied to the Younger Greyjoy, smiling slightly as his concern for Baela's wellbeing drained away. "We'll leave early enough in the morning, but that is no cause to not appreciate the feast in full." The young prince chuckled, approaching Baela to wish her his own congratulations.

Veron nodded his head to Lucerys, "Aye. My kin and countrymen may have seen you as convenient allies. But now they may start to see you as proper friends. Though you might not like having a bunch of salty reavers as friends." Veron smirked and began introducing the royal pair to several young Ironborn nobles, sons and daughters and kinsmen of high lords and great captains or warriors. The feast continued in earnest, with the drink flowing freely and fresh food and women arriving regularly. 

Dalton had played the finger dance himself and won against several reavers, then proceeded to get terribly drunk, which only exacerbated his appetites for wine, women, and blood. By the time midnight arrived, he had already beaten three men bloody in fist fights and had taken five women in the longhall for all to see. Veron in the meantime had passed the time by chatting amiably with the prince and princess, and even taught them a few Ironborn shanties, vulgar, obscene, and loud chants that shook the hall with drunken singing. 

When the party was winding down, Dalton stood up, stripped to the waist with his black hair askew and blood covering his knuckles. He held up a tankard of mead and shouted, "Cheers to Prince Lucerys and Baela Bladedancer! They're not bad guests for greenlanders!" There was a roar of approval and the Red Kraken continued, "And here's to good food, good drink, and loose women. There'll be more to come. From Oldtown to Lannisport and Harrenhall, we shall take what is ours and write our names in fire and sword. And it will all be paid for in blood and iron! In the morning, we set sail for war!" The resulting cheer was even louder and lusty than the first, as the reavers imagined the plunder and glory they would win. 

[b]"What is dead may never die!"
"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"[/b]