Maekar maneuvered Neferion toward the small fortress, his hands steady on the reins as he focused his thoughts. With a simple mental command, Neferion obeyed, unleashing a torrent of orange and green flames from his massive jaws. The fire cascaded down upon the fortress, the heat so intense that it began to melt the stone walls as if they were nothing more than wax. The walls of the pirate stronghold buckled and twisted under the dragon's fury, the very air around them shimmering with the heat.
As Neferion circled around to the other side, Maekar took in the devastation below. The settlement, once bustling with pirate activity, was now reduced to a fiery hellscape. Buildings were engulfed in flames, collapsing in on themselves. The dockyards, filled with ships, had turned into a raging inferno—their masts collapsing and their sails reduced to ash. The sound of men screaming, crying out in terror, echoed through the air, but it would do them no good. No one would escape this destruction.
Maekar pulled on the reins, bringing Neferion to hover in the air once again. With a thought, he commanded the dragon to unleash another blast of fire. This time, the fortress itself was the target. The flames hit with such force that the stonework of the keep began to melt away, crumbling like sand beneath the unrelenting heat. The pirates within stood no chance, their cries lost in the roar of the flames and the crackling of the crumbling fortress.
The sun was descending toward the horizon, but there would be no darkness here tonight. The blazing fires of the pirate stronghold illuminated the sky, the flames roaring high enough to be seen for miles. This cove, once home to the pirate lord known as the Black Baron, was now nothing more than a charred ruin.
This was the second-to-last of the pirate strongholds Maekar had set out to destroy. He had wiped them out in just a week, and only one remained. He would soon arrive at the meeting point, well before his Varangians were expected. His final task here was to destroy the Golden Company, eliminate the last Blackfyre, and retrieve Blackfyre—the legendary sword.
Satisfied with the destruction he had wrought, Maekar guided Neferion away from the smoldering ruins below.
He had only one more pirate lord to burn, and it had only been a week. He had two more weeks until his men arrived for the planned attack on the Golden Company.
'Maybe I should spend some time on the beautiful beaches here. Some alone time would be good,' he thought, as he flew toward his next destination.
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Lady Bloodtide, Red Orys, Dagon the Drowned, the Coral King, Ironclaw Vardis, the Black Baron—these were the pirate lords Maekar had eliminated in the last three weeks, their reigns of terror extinguished by dragonfire. He had destroyed their bases, sunk their ships...
But one still remained.
He had hoped to spend the last two weeks on the sun-drenched beaches of the Stepstones after dealing with all the pirate lords, but when he arrived at the spot where the final pirate lord was said to be, there was nothing. His intel had been wrong. He had been searching for him ever since.
Old Pyke, as he was called, was a legend in these waters, said to be unkillable. While not as powerful as the other lords, Old Pyke was the most cunning, never showing off and always remaining hidden. His network of spies was so vast that even Maekar had been fooled.
For the past week, Maekar had been searching for Old Pyke in the most direct way possible—through brute force and covert inquiries. But every lead had turned cold. Now, only three days remained before he had to meet with his Varangians and the rest of his forces. If he didn't find Old Pyke soon, the pirate lord would slip through his grasp.
But he had one last lead.
He watched intently from his vantage point as the crew of an Ironborn longship disembarked on a small island near Torturer's Deep. The island was surrounded by calm, blue waters, with white sandy shores that stretched inland toward a dense jungle. It was large enough for him to have landed Neferion during the night, unseen by the ships docked along the coast. The dragon was now hidden deep in the jungle, waiting patiently for his return.
His eyes scanned the Ironborn crew, finally locking onto the person he had been hunting for the last four days.
'There she is,' he thought.
A sharp smile curled across his lips. Asha Greyjoy.
Asha, daughter of Balon Greyjoy, had been operating in these waters for months. If anyone knew Old Pyke's location, it would be her.
He watched as Asha strode confidently across the dock, her crew following behind her. Her dark hair flowed in the wind, her face set in a steely expression. She moved with purpose, her eyes sharp and wary. A few men on the dock eyed her crew with caution, but none dared to challenge them. One drunken pirate made the mistake of approaching Asha too closely, only to be rewarded with a swift punch to the gut. The man crumpled to the ground as Asha stepped over him without a second glance, her crew laughing as they followed her into a nearby tavern.
With a cloak covering his armor, its dark fabric billowing in the sea breeze, Maekar moved.
====
The tavern was a den of debauchery. Men drank heavily, their laughter rising over the discordant music of a battered old harp in the corner. Whores, draped in worn silks, moved among the patrons, their seductive smiles barely masking their disinterest as they lured men.
In one corner of the room, a man stood on a table, hysterically recounting something to a small crowd gathered around him. His eyes were wild with fear as he waved his arms about, trying to impress upon them the terror he had witnessed.
"I swear it was a dragon! A real dragon, I tell you!" the man shouted, his voice high-pitched with panic. "It burned the Black Baron's hideout at Iguana Cove to the ground! Flames hotter than the fires of the Hells themselves! Like somethin' outta the old Valyrian legends. It's here to kill us all!"
Some of the men laughed, while others exchanged uneasy glances.
"Shut your mouth, you fool," one of the men grumbled as the man was dragged out into the street.
There were others talking about Neferion and Maekar, but those who claimed to see them were dismissed with scoffs, others claiming it to be tall tales.
"Did ya hear what happened to the Drowned King's fleet?" one pirate muttered to his companions, his voice barely audible above the din. "Burned to ash, they say. A dragon swooped down, killed 'em all."
"I saw the dragon too!" another man interrupted, leaning in closer to the table. "I was out near Reaver's Bay when it happened. The whole sky lit up."
"Nah, it's just stories, meant to scare us," someone else retorted, though his voice wavered, betraying his unease. "Dragons ain't been seen in years. We'd know if one was about."
The fear was evident. Even the laughter felt forced, tinged with an undercurrent of dread that clung to every word.
Maekar walked to the bar, keeping his hood low as he surveyed the room. He leaned against the worn counter and gestured to the barkeep. "Something to drink," he said, his voice calm. "Your most expensive."
The barkeep, a grizzled old man with a patch over one eye, nodded. He returned with a bottle of Myrish brandy, pouring a generous amount into a chipped glass. Maekar tossed a gold coin onto the counter without a word and lifted the glass to his lips, sipping slowly.
Maekar, drink in hand, strode over to where Asha Greyjoy sat at her table, surrounded by her crew. He didn't hesitate, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her without so much as a second glance at the Ironborn around him. Asha's brows shot up in surprise at his boldness.
"Oh, is this seat taken?" Maekar asked with a smirk, his tone more mocking than polite.
Asha narrowed her eyes. "Yes."
Maekar ignored her glare and leaned back in the chair. "I've heard you work for Old Pyke," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink as if they were old friends.
"Leave," Asha ordered, her voice low and dangerous. Several of her crew stood, hands on their weapons, ready to drag him out if necessary.
"Come now, can't we have a conversation?" Maekar asked, unfazed by the tension in the room.
Asha was about to give the order for her men to haul him out when something caught her eye. The faint glint of armor beneath his cloak. She froze, studying the faint but unmistakable shimmer of Valyrian steel.
"Where did you get that armor?" Asha demanded, her voice suddenly colder, curiosity and suspicion blending in her tone.
Maekar smiled, taking another sip of his drink. "I got it from a dead man."
Asha blinked, confusion flashing across her face. She shook her head, muttering to herself. "No… no, it can't be."
"I can't be who?" Maekar asked, clearly amused by her reaction.
Asha's gaze darkened as she studied him more intently. The pieces slowly fell into place, but her disbelief was evident. "It's not possible," she muttered, her voice barely audible.
Maekar leaned forward, his smile growing colder. "The man I took this armor from was mad. Him and his brothers. His nephews too. All dead." He paused, savoring the moment as Asha's face shifted from confusion to realization—and then anger. "But I'm glad his niece was smart enough to escape. To think, a Greyjoy brought so low, serving some pirate in the Stepstones."
Asha let out a harsh laugh, more to herself than to him. "What a strange day this is," she said out loud.
"Well, it's about to get stranger," Maekar said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. He reached out mentally, sending the silent command to Neferion.
Suddenly, a deep, earth-shaking roar echoed through the skies outside.
The room went dead silent. Eyes widened, and men began to mutter in hushed, fearful tones. Another roar followed, louder this time, and panic surged through the tavern like a wave. One of the pirates, who had been hysterically retelling his dragon story earlier, now screamed at the top of his lungs. "It's the dragon! It's come for us!"
Chaos erupted. Tables overturned as men rushed for the exits, desperate to flee. The sound of boots hitting the floor and the crashing of chairs filled the air as pirates scrambled outside to avoid—the beast.
Asha remained seated, her expression now shifting from disbelief to shock. The room emptied out, her Ironborn crew drawing their weapons, standing protectively behind her, unsure of what was about to happen.
Maekar's expression hardened as he looked at her directly. "Sit down," he said firmly, his voice a command that left no room for argument.
The Ironborn crew hesitated, their hands tightening around their swords, but even they seemed unsure of what to do.
Asha raised a hand, signaling her crew to stand down. Her Ironborn hesitated, weapons half-drawn, glancing between Maekar and their captain. After a tense moment, they obeyed, lowering their blades but keeping a wary eye on him.
Asha's gaze flicked to Maekar, her expression guarded, but there was a tremor of fear in her eyes. "What... what was that?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
Maekar took another slow sip from his drink, his demeanor calm and controlled. "It's exactly what you think it is," he replied. "You've heard the rumors, haven't you?"
Asha nodded stiffly, her mind racing. The stories of a dragon burning pirate holds, leaving only ash and ruin in its wake. She had dismissed them as drunken tales. But now…
"I've killed all the pirate lords," Maekar said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "All except one. Old Pyke." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. "Tell me where his hideout is."
Asha's face remained stoic, though her eyes flickered with indecision. She didn't speak. The room seemed to close in, the weight of Maekar's presence pressing down on her like a vice.
Without a word, Maekar turned his attention to the window, where the docked ships were barely visible. He sent a silent command to Neferion. A moment later, the dragon let out a roar that shook the tavern to its foundations. Then came the burst of flame—vivid orange and green—lighting up the night sky.
A fiery explosion erupted from the ship docked near the tavern, the wood catching flame in an instant. A moment of stunned silence followed before the Ironborn around them recoiled, some backing away from Maekar in terror. The crackling of flames filled the air as the ship burned, casting a hellish glow over the bay.
The threat was unmistakable.
Asha's throat bobbed as she gulped. She glanced at her men, who looked just as shaken as she was. With a quick, barely perceptible nod, she swallowed her pride and answered. "Old Pyke's hideout... it's in the caves of Ghost Isle, north of here."
Maekar smiled as he stood. "Well, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" he said, his tone almost amused. He took a step away, making his way toward the exit before pausing.
He turned back to her, his gaze narrowing. "You know the cays nearby?"
Asha nodded, her face a mask of confusion and unease.
"Meet me there tomorrow. I have a proposition for you." He lingered for a moment, his eyes searching hers, then added with a faint smile, "I hope you'll accept."
Without another word, Maekar turned and left the tavern, leaving behind the stunned silence and the fading echoes of his dragon's roar.
====
It was done.
Asha hadn't lied. Maekar had found Old Pyke on Ghost Isle, and just like the other pirate lords before him, Pyke's reign had ended in flames. The dragonfire had obliterated his stronghold, leaving only smoldering ruins in its wake.
Maekar flew Neferion over a small cay, where a single ship was docked near the shore. He guided the dragon down, steering it toward the sand.
Neferion landed with a thunderous crash, his massive wings kicking up clouds of sand and salt from the beach. Maekar dismounted smoothly, feeling the heat of Neferion's body radiating against his back as he walked toward Asha, who stood waiting on the other side of the beach.
"Thank you for coming," Maekar said, his voice calm as he approached.
Asha stood with her arms crossed, her eyes darting warily toward Neferion, who loomed behind him like a silent sentinel. "Keep your beast away," she muttered, her voice tense despite her best efforts to sound indifferent.
Maekar chuckled. "He's just saying hello."
Asha raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Why am I here?" she asked, her tone sharp.
Maekar looked at her for a moment, then turned and sat down on the beach, his eyes on the horizon. "Come. Sit down," he said casually.
Asha hesitated, glancing back at Neferion, who let out a low growl that reverberated across the sand. The subtle threat was clear. With a sigh of frustration, she begrudgingly sat down next to him.
Maekar smiled faintly. "Now," he began, "I couldn't help but notice that you still have quite a fleet."
Asha remained silent, her posture guarded as she watched him from the corner of her eye.
"And," Maekar continued, "during my little search for Old Pyke, I heard quite a few pirates sing your praises. You've made a name for yourself, Greyjoy. Some of them are even afraid of you."
Asha gave a small, humorless chuckle. "Afraid? I'm a Greyjoy. Fear comes with the name."
"You know," he began, changing the subject, "I've always found the Ironborn fascinating."
"Oh, must have been why you killed so many of us," Asha replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes narrowing as she kept a steady gaze on him.
Maekar chuckled, completely unbothered by her tone. "That way of yours—reaving, raiding, and all that nonsense. Honestly, it's idiotic. You lot sail around like bloody pirates, plundering whatever scraps you can find, and for what? A few miserable islands, a bunch of rocks barely worth the trouble? You all act like it's some grand tradition, but it's just... well, it's stupid."
Asha remained silent, but her jaw tightened.
"But I remember there were those who saw sense once. House Hoare," Maekar continued, leaning back slightly as he spoke. "They had the right idea, didn't they? Long ago, they realized your people had potential, real potential. They stopped the mindless reaving and started to build something lasting. Trade, alliances, power that wasn't just stolen from a neighbor's shore but earned through influence and strength. They conquered the Riverlands, for fuck's sake."
Asha's lips twitched, but she stayed silent, her expression guarded.
"Is this why you brought me here? To give me a history lesson?" Asha asked, her voice sharp, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—maybe curiosity, maybe something else.
Maekar ignored the edge in her voice. "Your grandfather, Quellon, he was like that too, wasn't he? Had a bit of that vision in him. Wanted to drag your people out of the muck, make something of them."
Asha's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze drifting to the waves crashing against the shore. She didn't respond, but Maekar could see the tension in her posture.
"And then, of course, your father had to go and fuck it all up," Maekar said, his tone more cutting now. "Clinging to the Old Way, and where did it get him? Dead. Your people crippled for generations."
Asha stood suddenly, walking a few feet away from him, her boots sinking into the sand as she turned her back to the sea breeze. The silence between them stretched, the distant roar of the ocean filling the void.
"So, what do you prefer?" Maekar asked, breaking the silence as he stood up, brushing the sand off his hands.
Asha turned to face him, the wind tousling her hair. Her gaze was sharp but thoughtful. "I prefer the new way," she said, her voice firm. "I want my people to thrive, not to be shackled to some old foolish traditions."
Maekar nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Then I can give you that chance."
Asha's eyes narrowed slightly, skepticism creeping into her tone. "How?"
Maekar took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with the weight of his offer. "There's a war coming, Asha. A war that will change the face of the Seven Kingdoms. And if I come out on top, I'll make you the Lady of the Iron Isles."
Asha crossed her arms, studying him intently. "My uncle has had trouble holding the Isles," she muttered, half to herself.
"Exactly," Maekar said. "Your people need strong leadership, they need a Greyjoy. Swear fealty to me, and when the time comes, I'll give you the power to rebuild your home."
Asha was silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting from Maekar to Neferion, who loomed in the distance. She looked toward her ship, the waves lapping at its hull, and finally to the open sea.
After a tense moment, Asha drew her sword. She knelt on the sand before him, the blade resting on the ground, and she swore her oath. "I swear fealty to you, Prince Maekar Targaryen."
Maekar smiled down at her, his voice steady. "Good choice."
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Read up to chapter 79 here :
p.a.t.r.eon.com/Illusiveone (check the chapter summary i have it there as well)
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