Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

The hustle and bustle of Lannister Harbor gradually subsided, like a beach after the tide has receded. The dock area beneath the golden castle was filled with the busyness of parting and a touch of melancholy.

Ships bearing the coats of arms of various families were making their final preparations for voyage, the shouts of sailors, the sounds of cargo being unloaded, and the cries of seagulls mingling together. The Lannister family's grand celebration had lasted three days; it was time to leave.

Before boarding, Euron Greyjoy did not head directly for his menacing longship, but instead turned toward the guesthouse where the Dane family of Starfall City was staying.

Ser Arthur Dayne was already waiting outside, dressed in a simple white robe that seemed to shut out the surrounding noise. Upon seeing Euron, he nodded, his expression as serious as ever, but his eyes held a deeper scrutiny and... perhaps a heavy sense of entrustment.

"Greyjoy," Arthur's voice was steady, "is the ship ready?"

"The sea breeze is calling, Sir," Euron replied, his tone respectful yet measured. "Before I depart, I have come to bid farewell to you and Miss Ashara."

Arthur turned slightly to the side, gesturing for him to go inside.

In a small hall by the sea, Ashara Dayne stood quietly by the window, gazing at the ships bobbing in the harbor. Hearing footsteps, she turned. Today she wore a pale purple dress, its color mirroring the deep twilight in her eyes, serene and noble. Upon seeing Euron, a barely perceptible blush rose on her fair face, and she curtsied slightly.

"Lord Euron." Her voice was soft, like a gentle breeze on a Dornish night.

"Miss Ashara." Euron bowed in return, the sharpness in his eyes softening into a gentle focus. The sea breeze blew in through the window, ruffling her hair and the hem of his clothes.

After a brief silence, Euron took out a small box carved from deep-sea driftwood from his pocket. Opening the lid, a necklace lay quietly on a black velvet lining.

The chain is woven from fine mithril threads, exquisitely crafted, while the pendant is a rare aquamarine gemstone, uncarved yet as deep as the sea before a storm, its interior seemingly containing endless waves and starlight.

"The Iron Islands are barren, but the sea has generously bestowed its bounty." Euron's voice was much lower than usual. "This Sea Soul Stone is said to be formed from the tears of the Drowning God, and it can protect the wearer from the storms. It reminds me of your eyes, Miss Ashara—serene, yet possessing the power to encompass everything."

"Please allow me to put it on for you!" He stepped forward, his movements unexpectedly gentle, carefully removing the necklace. Asara's face flushed, and she lowered her head slightly, revealing her slender and graceful neck. Euron personally placed the cool necklace on her, his fingertips occasionally brushing against her warm skin, and both of them trembled slightly at the subtle contact.

The aquamarine gemstone rested perfectly between her collarbones, complementing her skin and the color of her dress as if it had always belonged there.

"Thank you, Lord Euren," Asara gently stroked the gem, feeling its cool touch and inner warmth. "It's beautiful... I will always wear it." Her gaze met his, her purple eyes filled with complex emotions—shyness, a hint of apprehension about the future, and perhaps a touch of being cherished.

Then, she removed a ring from her finger. The band was pure platinum, but the face of the ring was engraved with the Dane family crest—a longsword fallen from a star, exquisitely crafted, symbolizing the ancient glory and heritage of Starfall City.

"This ring," she gently placed it in Euron's palm, his rough, calloused hand a stark contrast to her slender fingers, "may it...may it protect you, Lord Euron. May you always remember, on the high seas, that in Starfall City...there is a light shining for you." Her words were subtle yet sincere, filled with promise and longing.

Euron clutched the ring, still warm from her touch, as if grasping something heavy, unlike any cold blade. He gazed at her, making a solemn promise: "Letters will arrive with each raven that docks. Three years," his voice clear and resolute, like a vow, "three years from now, wherever I am, my longship will appear precisely on the shores of Starfall. I will marry you, Ashara Dayne, with the most solemn Iron Islands ceremony."

"I'm waiting for you," Ashara replied softly, her gaze resolute.

Asara stood there, her fingers still unconsciously stroking the cool aquamarine on her chest, watching his departing figure disappear into the sunlight and sea mist of the harbor. Her eyes reflected the undulating sea and a calm and certain future that would last for three years.

Euron solemnly placed the ring on his finger, the star-sword emblem of Dane standing out prominently on his bronze knuckles. He nodded to Ser Arthur one last time, then gazed deeply at Ashara, as if trying to etch her image into his heart, before resolutely turning and striding away towards the ship and the sea breeze that awaited him.

Amidst the chaos at the docks, Tyrion Lannister, with his short legs, laboriously found Euron Greyjoy, who was supervising the Ironborn loading the last few barrels of fresh water onto the longship. The little dwarf's figure was particularly inconspicuous among the tall sailors and the piles of cargo, but he looked up, his eyes no longer filled with the previous gloom, but instead with a ignited curiosity and determination.

"Euron Greyjoy!" Tyrion spoke, his voice less playful and more serious than usual. He asked, "They say you spent three years on the other side of the Narrow Sea. Is it really like the legends say, filled with the remains of dragons, hairy elephants, and wizards who can predict the future?" His eyes were wide open, as if he could already see those bizarre sights.

Euron turned, looking down at Tyrion, the sea breeze ruffling his dark hair. A cryptic smile played on his lips. "Legends always like to gild the truth, or add fangs to it. But the world across the water… yes, it’s wider, more interesting, and more dangerous than any Westeros ballad describes."

Euron's gaze seemed to pierce through the harbor before him, returning to those years filled with exoticism and unknown risks. "Whether it's interesting or not depends on the eyes you use to see it and the heart you have to experience it."

"In the dangerous black market, not only are there people selling dragon bones, but also dragon eggs of all colors. However, nine times out of ten they're fake. If you're not good at judging quality, you'll definitely be swindled out of all your gold dragons. As for wizards, they're real. There are blue-lipped wizards, red wizards who serve the god of light, shadowbinders, faceless ones..."

"In the Iron Islands, there's a Red Priestess and a Shadowbinder. I brought them back from across the Narrow Sea, hahaha."

"Do they really possess magic?"

"You could call it magic, but I think it's more like a trick. Sigh, they're really weak and pathetic. I could take them all down by myself and make them kneel and call me 'daddy'!"

"..."

Tyrion took a deep breath of the salty air, as if it could carry the taste of distant lands, and made his decision: "I don't want to spend my whole life in this golden cage, listening to the same lies, seeing the same faces," he said urgently, with a rare, almost pleading longing, "I want to see dragon skulls, I want to taste the wine of the Summer Isles, I want... to be like you."

Euron looked him over without mocking his seemingly unrealistic desire. "You are a Lannister, after all," he said, though this Lannister seemed to be a completely different species from the other two.

Euron paused for a moment, as if weighing something, then turned and walked to a locked sailor's locker. He unlocked it and took out a thick, heavy book.

The book's leather cover was mottled and darkened by seawater and the passage of time, with worn edges, clearly indicating that it had been read repeatedly.

“This book,” Euron handed the book to Tyrion, who could barely hold it with both hands, “was written by a man named Longlegs Lomas, an adventurer, scholar, and writer who had traveled to many places, and a companion I recruited when I was on the other side of the Narrow Sea. He may have crossed more bridges than you have walked roads, and this book records the miracles he witnessed, from the shadows of Asshal to the gates of the Jade Sea. It won’t teach you how to use a sword, but perhaps it can teach you how to use this place—” He tapped his temple with his finger, “—to understand this world.”

Tyrion looked down at the massive book titled "Miracle," his fingers carefully tracing the rough cover, as if he could feel the countless hardships and endless experiences it contained. This gift was far more precious than gold or silver.

"Read it carefully," Euron's voice deepened, "let your thoughts drift before you actually take a step."

Euron paused, a glint of something unreadable flashing in his eyes, like a promise, or perhaps a casual joke: "Maybe... next time my ship sails to farther places, I can take a Lannister who has witnessed a 'miracle' with me. After all, life at sea is long, and you need someone to talk to."

Tyrion jerked his head up, his eyes gleaming with disbelief, a mixture of surprise and excitement. He clutched the heavy book tightly, as if holding a key to the entire world.

"Is it a deal?" he pressed, his voice slightly shrill with excitement.

Euron smiled, placed his hand on the little devil's shoulder, and made a solemn promise: "It's a deal."

At this moment, the crew shouted, indicating that they were about to set sail.

Euron patted Tyrion on the shoulder, then turned and strode toward his longship. Tyrion stood there, clutching the heavy book "Miracle," watching the imposing, dark-painted Iron Islands warship slowly leave the dock and sail into the vast, unknown sea.

The sea breeze grew stronger, ruffling the edges of the book's pages as if eager to turn the first page for him. For the first time, Tyrion Lannister felt that this vast, golden Lannister harbor was no longer so suffocating.