The faint smile on Euron's face did not diminish. He gently patted Princess Elia Martell's tense shoulder, signaling her to be at ease, then stepped forward to stand in front of her and Lisa. His voice remained calm, even carrying a trace of pity, as he asked again, "Are you truly not going to reconsider the Princess's suggestion? Leave now, and I guarantee I will treat everything as if it never happened. I will not seek revenge against you or House Frey."
"Princess? Even if she were a real princess, today she'll die in the sea after we brothers are done with her! On this ocean, without a soul in sight, who would know?"
"I've played with many women, but never a princess. She must be especially moist~~~"
His answer was raucous, even more arrogant laughter from the Freys, mixed with obscenities and the banging of weapons, sounding particularly jarring under the blood-red sunset.
Euron's smile faded, his expression turning into a cold solemnity. "If you insist on a fight to the death..."
"A fight to the death?" Symond Frey laughed as if hearing the biggest joke. He spread his arms, showing off their absolute superiority. "Are you blind, Ironborn? Don't you see our three ships surrounding your one? We have nearly a hundred warriors; what about you? Eleven! Including two women and a suckling babe! This isn't a fight to the death; this is a slaughter!"
"A slaughter, is it?" Euron sighed deeply, almost with pity, as if his last bit of patience had run out. "Fine," he whispered, his voice almost drowned by the waves but carrying the weight of final judgment. "Since you insist... then all of you can die."
The moment his voice fell, the calm sea surface suddenly boiled!
Several golden tentacles, massive as battering rams and covered in suckers, burst from the water on both sides of the Frey ships. With irresistible, terrifying force, they slammed into and wrapped around the two nearest longships.
Amidst the tooth-aching groans and cracking of wood, the powerful tentacles simply twisted lightly—like a giant snapping a child's toy—and the two longships were instantly snapped in half at the waist, exploding into countless fragments and splinters.
Almost at the same moment, a sea whale of unimaginable size leaped from the other side like a mountain, blocking the blood-red sun and casting a shadow of death. Then, it crashed down with devastating weight! The last intact longship was instantly smashed to pieces, turned into floating wreckage on the sea.
Even more despairing was the "King of the Near Sea." Its terrifying, scarred head shot out of the water. With a snap of its giant jaws, it swallowed dozens of men struggling in the water along with the brine. simultaneously, countless shark fins cut deadly trails underwater like the scythes of the grim reaper, frantically tearing and devouring those in the water. The clear seawater was instantly dyed a thick, spreading crimson.
In an instant, House Frey's overwhelming advantage vanished. The sea was left with only screams of despair and the terrifying sounds of chewing.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The arrogant Freys—three ships, a hundred men—gone just like that!
Princess Elia Martell hadn't even mentally prepared herself—her left hand was still gripping a dagger, ready to end her own life if she were truly captured.
Euron watched indifferently as the scene before him turned into a living hell. The wreckage and spreading blood on the sea seemed like mere dust he had brushed away. Standing at the prow, he shouted an order to the feasting King of the Near Sea: "Red-Sever! Those two who talked the loudest just now—don't let them feed the fish. Keep them alive; I have questions."
The massive Sea King, known as "Red-Sever," was an ancient creature possessing intelligence not inferior to humans. It precisely understood Euron's will, dexterously probing into the boiling water and feeding sharks. It scooped out two struggling figures from the edge of death's teeth and threw them heavily onto the deck at Euron's feet, splashing salty water.
Euron lowered his eyes, his gaze first falling on Symond Frey. This son of Lord Walder had lost his left hand; the stump was a mangled mess, and he was trembling violently from pain and terror. "Fortunate. Only the left hand is gone," Euron commented as casually as discussing the weather. "You Freys seem to hold swords with your right hands, so it shouldn't matter."
His gaze then turned to Tytos Frey. His condition was much more miserable—half the skin on his face was torn off, revealing ghastly white jawbone. One thigh had been gnawed down to the skeleton, the white femur exposed, looking particularly horrific as he twitched weakly.
"Heh," Euron let out a short, cold sound, a smile devoid of warmth appearing on his face. "I'm afraid this mouth won't be saying things like 'the Princess is mine' anymore."
Before his voice faded, he raised his foot and stomped down mercilessly, crushing precisely between Tytos's legs! "As for this unnecessary thing," Euron's voice held a chilling calm, "I'll accept it on behalf of the Drowned God."
A dull crunching sound and an inhuman, shrill whimper came from the deck, followed by complete silence.
Behind them, the three once-arrogant longships had vanished completely. Only the slowly spreading, fading blood on the sea and the occasional flash of greedy shadows underwater proved they had ever existed.
Those sharks... seemed to have been hungry for a long time.
The smell of blood on the deck hadn't yet been blown away by the sea breeze when Euron pieced together the outline of the truth from the broken, pain-filled confessions of Symond and Tytos Frey.
The source of everything came from the spider's web deep in the Red Keep of King's Landing.
It was a secret letter sent by Varys, the Spider, directly to the Twins. The letter was extremely euphemistic. First, it hypocritically expressed deep condolences for the "unfortunate demise" of the Frey family members at the Crossroads Inn. Then, in a royal tone—stamped with some vague seal—it harshly condemned Euron Greyjoy's "disregard for law and cruel methods."
However, the deadliest core of this letter was cleverly wrapped beneath this official jargon: it clearly specified Euron's route after leaving Dragonstone, his expected stops, and his course toward Dorne. This seemingly casual mention was actually a borrowed knife for murder.
But Euron keenly grasped the most critical point—both Symond and Tytos's confessions clearly showed: In that letter, from beginning to end, not a single word mentioned Princess Elia Martell or the little Princess Rhaenys.
Varys gave the bait, feeding it precisely to the vengeance-hungry House Frey, but deliberately withheld the most crucial fact—that the ship carried the royal wife and daughter—a fact that would have made any house hesitate.
Hearing this, the corner of Euron's mouth curled into an amused arc, and he chuckled lightly. "Perhaps, that spider really didn't know Her Highness was on board?"
Princess Elia Martell's face instantly turned icy. She huffed coldly, her voice filled with the sarcasm of someone who sees through everything. "No, he definitely knew. Varys never acts on his own; this letter must have come from Aerys II's instruction." Her sneer was soaked in bitterness and anger. "In 280 AC, after Rhaenys was born on Dragonstone, Rhaegar took her back to the Red Keep for an audience. Her grandmother, Queen Rhaella, embraced the infant, but her grandfather—that King—refused to touch the child, even complaining in disgust that she 'smelled Dornish.' In his eyes, we were never truly family, just strangers from Dorne. Rhaenys... never received his acknowledgment."
Her gaze turned to the rolling waves in the distance, as if staring at those unbearable memories. "He never even acknowledged me as Rhaegar's lawful wife. Shortly after our wedding, he impatiently sent his cousin Steffon Baratheon and his wife Cassana Estermont to Volantis, trying to find a new bride of 'ancient noble blood' for Rhaegar to replace me!" She paused, a trace of fatalistic irony in her tone. "It's a pity fate didn't seem to stand on his side. Their ship sank near Storm's End on the return journey, burying them at the bottom of the sea."
Euron fell silent. He wasn't good at comforting people, so he ended with a soft sigh. "Maybe... things aren't as bad as you think. Forget it, let's not think about this for now. We should go to Tarth."
As he spoke, he seemingly casually raised a foot and kicked the limp Symond Frey off the ship.
The "King of the Near Sea," Red-Sever, who had been waiting alongside, suddenly lunged out of the water. With a snap of its giant jaws and the tooth-aching sound of shattering bones, only a rapidly dissipating ripple remained on the surface.
Euron's gaze then fell on Tytos Frey, who had only one breath left on the deck. He turned to Princess Elia and asked calmly, "This man... how do you want to deal with him?"
Tytos Frey's earlier obscenities toward the Princess still rang in their ears. Princess Elia didn't answer, nor did she hesitate. A cold light flashed in her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, a sharp dagger shot out like a silver snake—pinning precisely into the mouth of Tytos Frey, the mouth that had spewed countless insults.
Euron bent down and cleanly pulled the dagger from the now-lifeless mouth of Tytos Frey. The filthy blood on the blade couldn't hide its dark patterns and sharp glint. He casually tossed the corpse into the sea, completing another feeding for Red-Sever.
He wiped the dagger clean and handed it back to Princess Elia Martell. However, the Princess only glanced coldly at the gleaming weapon. There was no attachment in her eyes, only deep disgust.
"Throw it away," her voice was like the cold wind of a Dornish desert night. "This was a wedding gift 'bestowed' upon me by Aerys II. He told me then—" She paused, her words carrying bone-deep sarcasm. "—that if I encountered villains humiliating me and tarnishing the royal reputation, I should use this object to end my own life, to preserve 'the last dignity of the Targaryens'."
Throw it away?!
This is Valyrian Steel!?
Euron's fingers tightened almost instinctively. This was a supreme treasure every warrior dreamed of, valuable enough to bankrupt any noble house, yet she spoke so lightly of throwing it into the sea?
Princess Elia saw the fleeting surprise and unconcealed heat in his eyes. She naturally understood what a Valyrian steel weapon meant to a warrior. The frost on her face melted slightly into a tired but sincere smile. She shook her head gently. "Since you can't bear to part with it, then I give it to you. Consider it... repayment for saving my life today."
Hearing this, an unconcealed, almost pirate-like frank smile blossomed on Euron's face. His fingers closed, firmly gripping this heavy gift.
"Then," he said briskly, his tone filled with the joy of gaining a treasure, "I gratefully accept, Princess."
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