Chapter 469

Asha wasn’t simply bluffing.

She was the only daughter of Balon Greyjoy, the Pearl of the Sea and the Princess of the Iron Islands. She had always taken pride in her identity—until the day Robert Baratheon led the combined forces of the Seven Kingdoms to attack the Iron Islands, breach Pyke, and kill her two older brothers while taking her only remaining brother hostage. It was then she realized that she was merely the princess of a band of incompetent pirates.

From that day, the dream of leading the Iron Islands away from their perpetual cycle of “raid or starve” toward prosperity and strength took root in her heart. While she wasn’t quite as selfless or noble as she had claimed to Aegor—ready to sacrifice everything for her dream—she knew that if a conflict between her family’s reputation, her personal interests, and the future of the Iron Islands ever became irreconcilable, she would abandon the former without hesitation and willingly become the sacrificial lamb for change.

But her meticulously crafted plans and beautiful aspirations were utterly crushed when her detestable uncle, Euron Greyjoy, returned to the Iron Islands first, murdered her father, and seized the Seastone Chair. By the time the Gift’s army, led by Aegor, unexpectedly intervened in the war and captured her, Asha was already lost—uncertain of her future or her purpose.

In a way, Aegor had not only defeated and captured her but also freed her.

Yet fate is a curious thing. When one door she had sought so desperately to open was slammed shut, it revealed a window she had never noticed before, offering a new path forward.
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When Asha was first handed over to Hearthguard for imprisonment, Aegor—then not yet Lord Commander—had given only hurried instructions to ensure her basic dignity and humane treatment before seemingly forgetting about her entirely. After several failed attempts to draw attention to herself and change her circumstances, she resigned herself to her fate, accepting her confinement and preparing for a life of dull isolation.

Ironically, it was in this state of resigned calm that she began observing her surroundings with fresh eyes, as if she were an outsider looking in. And what she saw astonished her.

First was the vitality of the previously unheard-of settlement of Hearthguard—not just in its newness, sturdiness, or the astonishing speed of its expansion, but in the spirit of its inhabitants. The soldiers and workers stationed there exhibited a discipline, energy, and sense of purpose unlike anything Asha had encountered elsewhere in Westeros. It was an intangible, almost unnerving, yet strangely compelling quality.

Asha was only literate enough to read and write and lacked the vocabulary to properly describe what she saw. But if pressed, she would say it was a kind of “hopefulness”—a stark contrast to the Ironborn’s fatalistic “live for today, for tomorrow we may starve or drown” mindset. Here, it seemed as though every person valued what they had in the present and genuinely believed that tomorrow would be even better.

At first, she rationalized it as the product of a stable wage and good logistics. Perhaps elite soldiers and well-paid workers simply looked different from the rabble she was accustomed to. And in fairness, her guess wasn’t far off: Aegor had indeed brought the most reliable and capable individuals to the Gift. But as she continued to observe, more discoveries left her increasingly perplexed.

In less than a year, Hearthguard had grown from a tiny outpost to a semi-permanent fortress. Then it transformed into a medium-sized settlement centered around a castle. And it didn’t stop there. In just two years, the area evolved into a sprawling, heavily fortified military town with distinct inner and outer layers, each serving defensive, residential, and industrial functions. It was unlike anything the Iron Islands had ever seen.

Building a town quickly with enough money and manpower wasn’t impossible. But what shocked Asha was the spirit of the Gift’s people. The settlers, initially weary refugees and survivors, quickly adopted the same hopefulness she had seen in the soldiers.

The people of the Gift didn’t eat or dress much better than the average Ironborn. They complained about low wages, grueling work, and strict overseers. Yet no matter how much they grumbled, they still rose at dawn every day, eagerly competing for the chance to work. Old men, young boys, women—all carried an air of determination and resilience. Their eyes burned with a quiet satisfaction and faith in a better future, completely at odds with the bitterness and despair she had always known among the Ironborn.

What was the source of this transformation? Was it simply the survivors’ gratitude for having escaped the White Walkers? Or was there some unseen force shaping this vibrant, thriving society?

Asha didn’t know. But as she watched miracle after miracle unfold, one thought became clear in her mind: Aegor West, this ruthless, rule-breaking man in black, might be despicable, but he was undeniably capable. He possessed abilities that ordinary people could only dream of.

It was this realization that solidified her resolve. When Asha heard rumors of Aegor publicly bending the knee to Daenerys and swearing to restore her to the Iron Throne, she made an instant decision. She didn’t need to understand the full extent of Aegor’s plans, nor did she know the true power of his cannons or dragons. She simply had a gut feeling: this damned Night’s Watchman would win in the end.

Her own plans were in ruins, but this man—this likely future victor—surely had the means to achieve what she could not. For the sake of her broken dreams and the people she still cared for, Asha made up her mind. She would do whatever it took to board Aegor’s train, even if it meant clinging to the axles beneath it.
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Fixing Aegor with an unwavering gaze, Asha finally voiced her request. “I want you to support me in my fight against my uncle and help me save my people from the path he’s leading them down—a path of death and failure.”

The flickering candlelight wavered as her words echoed in the room, casting their shadows against the walls. Aegor wasn’t surprised. He chuckled, his expression unchanging. “We’re not poets, Lady Asha. There’s no need for such flowery language. Just say it plainly—you want the Night’s Watch to help you take back the Iron Islands.”

“No,” Asha replied firmly. “Not just that. I want your help in ruling. I want you to teach me how to make the Iron Islands as prosperous and thriving as Hearthguard.”

Aegor’s smile turned into something colder, more amused. He leaned back, studying her with a calculating expression.

He understood why she made such a request. A prisoner, no matter how free they seemed, was still a prisoner. Asha had only seen Hearthguard’s apparent success, not the mountain of debt and loans keeping it afloat. Without the influx of resources from external powers terrified of the White Walkers, no amount of leadership could have achieved such rapid development.

Aegor considered one hundred reasons to reject her request, but most would invite endless arguments. Instead, he chose the simplest approach: he would claim the Night’s Watch had no strength to spare.

“Asha Greyjoy,” he began, his tone calm but dismissive.

But Asha had anticipated rejection. Before he could continue, she laid her final card on the table. “And I, in turn, offer myself to you—as your most loyal and obedient companion. I swear to remain unwed, to keep myself pure, and to serve your every need without expectation of title or promises. I will fulfill all the duties of a wife without question or complaint. If you wish, I can begin tonight.”

Aegor’s mocking smile froze as Asha stood, her expression resolute, and began undoing the leather straps of her jacket.

“Stop.” Aegor’s voice cut through the air as he slammed a hand on the table. “I said, stop!”
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Aegor’s gaze hardened as he watched Asha, her determination palpable even in this moment. He had admired her striking presence, her defiance, and the vitality she carried since she had entered the room. But admiration was one thing; this—this was something else entirely.

Sex could be a release, a tool to strengthen alliances, even a means to manipulate emotions. But to Aegor, it was never payment. To accept such an offer would be to betray his principles as a leader—and to admit he was just another weak man swayed by his baser instincts.

Asha had touched his reverse scale, the one thing he couldn’t tolerate: the implication that he could be controlled by desire.

“No,” Aegor said coldly, his voice cutting like steel. “Not like this.”