The noise of Lannisport slowly settled like a beach after the tide receded. The dock area beneath the golden castle was filled with the busyness before departure and a touch of melancholy.
Ships bearing various crests were making final preparations to set sail. The chanting of sailors, the sound of moving cargo, and the cries of seagulls intertwined. The grand event hosted by the Lannisters had lasted three days; now it was time to leave.
Just before boarding, Euron Greyjoy did not walk directly to his ferocious longship but turned toward the guest house where House Dayne of Starfall was staying.
Ser Arthur Dayne was already waiting outside, his plain white robe seeming to isolate him from the surrounding noise. Seeing Euron, he nodded. His expression was as serious as ever, but deep in his eyes, there was a trace more scrutiny and... perhaps the heaviness of entrusting something.
"Greyjoy," Arthur's voice was steady, "is the ship ready?"
"The sea wind is calling, Ser," Euron responded, attitude respectful yet measured. "Before leaving, I came to bid farewell to you and Lady Ashara."
Arthur turned slightly sideways, signaling him to enter.
In a small hall facing the sea, Ashara Dayne stood quietly by the window, watching the undulating ships in the harbor. Hearing footsteps, she turned around. Today she wore a lavender gown, the color like the twilight settled in her eyes, quiet and noble. Seeing Euron, a trace of imperceptible blush rose on her fair face as she curtsied slightly.
"Lord Euron." Her voice was soft, like the evening breeze of Dorne.
"Lady Ashara." Euron bowed in return, the sharpness in his eyes turning into a near-gentle focus. Sea wind blew in from the window, brushing her hair and the hem of his clothes.
After a brief silence, Euron took out a small box carved from deep-sea sunken wood from his bosom. Opening the lid, a necklace lay quietly on the black velvet cushion.
The chain was woven from fine mithril threads, incredibly exquisite. The pendant was a rare aquamarine gem, not overly carved but deep as the sea before a storm, seemingly containing endless waves and starlight within.
"The Iron Islands are barren; only the sea gifts generously." Euron's voice was much lower than usual. "This Sea Soul Stone is said to be formed from the Drowned God's tears, protecting the wearer from wind and waves. It reminds me of your eyes, Lady Ashara—quiet, yet possessing the power to contain everything."
"Allow me to put it on for you!" He stepped forward, movements unexpectedly gentle, carefully taking out the necklace. Ashara's face flushed red; she lowered her head slightly, revealing her slender, graceful neck. Euron put the cold necklace on her with his own hands. His fingertips occasionally touched her warm skin inadvertently, causing both to tremble slightly at the subtle contact.
The aquamarine gem hung precisely between her collarbones, complementing her skin and dress color perfectly, as if it belonged there.
"Thank you, Lord Euron," Ashara stroked the gem gently, feeling its refreshing coolness and inner warmth with her fingertips. "It's beautiful... I will always wear it." Her gaze met his; emotions were complex in her violet eyes—shyness, a trace of trepidation about the future, and perhaps a touch of being cherished.
Then, she also removed a ring from her finger. The band was pure platinum, but the face was carved with the sigil of House Dayne—a longsword beneath a falling star. The craftsmanship was exquisite, symbolizing the ancient glory and heritage of Starfall.
"This ring," she placed the ring gently into Euron's palm—his hand rough and calloused, contrasting sharply with her slender fingers—"May it... may it also protect you, Lord Euron. May you always remember on the sea that... a lamp is lit for you at Starfall." Her words were reserved but sincere, containing promise and concern.
Euron gripped the ring still warm from her body tight, as if holding something heavy and distinctly different from cold blades. He gazed at her, making a solemn promise: "Letters will come with every raven when we dock. Three years." His voice was clear and certain, like an oath. "Three years from today, wherever I am, my longship will appear on the coast of Starfall on time. I will marry you, Ashara Dayne, as my bride with the grandest ceremony of the Iron Islands."
"I will wait for you." Ashara responded softly, gaze firm.
Ashara stood there, fingers still unconsciously rubbing the cool aquamarine on her chest, watching his retreating figure merge into the harbor's sunlight and sea mist. Her eyes reflected the undulating sea and a quiet, certain future spanning three years.
Euron solemnly put the ring on his finger. Dayne's star and sword sigil looked particularly striking on his bronze knuckle. He nodded a final greeting to Ser Arthur, then took a deep look at Ashara, as if to carve her image into his heart, before turning resolutely and striding away towards the ship and sea wind awaiting him.
Amidst the chaos of the dock, Tyrion Lannister moved his short legs with difficulty to find Euron Greyjoy, who was supervising Ironborn loading the last few barrels of fresh water onto the longship. The dwarf's figure looked particularly insignificant among tall sailors and piled cargo, but he looked up, eyes devoid of previous gloom, replaced by an ignited curiosity and determination.
"Euron Greyjoy!" Tyrion spoke, voice less teasing than usual, more serious, asking: "They say you spent three years across the Narrow Sea. Is it... really as legendary, full of dragon bones, hairy elephant-men, and wizards who predict the future?" His eyes were wide, as if he already saw those bizarre sights.
Euron turned, looking down at Tyrion. The sea wind blew his black hair slightly messy. His lips pulled into an ambiguous smile: "Legends always like to plate truth with gold, or add fangs. But the world across the water... yes, it is vaster, more interesting, and more dangerous than any ballad sung in Westeros."
Euron's gaze seemed to penetrate the harbor before him, returning to those years full of exotic flavor and unknown risks. "Whether interesting or not depends on what eyes you use to look, what heart you use to experience."
"In dangerous black markets, people sell not only dragon bones but dragon eggs of various colors. Though nine out of ten are fake; if your eyesight is poor, you'll definitely be cheated of all the Gold Dragons in your purse. As for wizards, they are real. Warlocks with blue lips, Red Priests serving the Lord of Light, Shadowbinders, Faceless Men..."
"In the Iron Islands, there is a Red Witch and a Shadowbinder. Both brought back by me from across the Narrow Sea, hahaha."
"Do they really know magic?"
"You could call it magic, though I see it more like tricks. Sigh, their strength is trash and weak; I can take them down alone and make them kneel and call me Daddy!"
"..."
Tyrion took a deep breath of salty air, as if he could taste the distant continent. He made a decision: "I don't want to stay in this golden cage all my life, listening to the same lies, seeing the same faces." His tone was urgent, carrying a rare, almost earnest yearning. "I want to see dragon skulls, taste Summer Isles wine, I want... to be like you."
Euron looked him over, not mocking this seemingly unrealistic desire. "You are a Lannister~~~" Although this Lannister and the other two Lannisters seem like different species.
Euron was silent for a moment, as if weighing something, then turned to a locked seaman's chest nearby. He unlocked it and took out a heavy tome.
The book's leather cover was mottled and darkened by seawater and time, corners worn, evidently read repeatedly.
"This book," Euron handed the book to Tyrion, who barely held it with both hands, "was written by a man named Lomas Longstrider. He was an adventurer, scholar, and writer who had been to many places, and a companion I recruited across the Narrow Sea. The bridges he crossed might be longer than the roads you've walked. It records the wonders he saw, from the shadows of Asshai 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—" He tapped his temple with a finger, "—to understand this world."
Tyrion looked down at this masterpiece titled Wonders (Likely referring to Lomas Longstrider's "Wonders Made by Man" or "Wonders Made by Gods"), fingers carefully stroking the rough cover, as if feeling the wind, frost, and endless knowledge it carried. This gift was far more precious than gold or silver.
"Read it well," Euron's voice lowered. "Before you can truly take steps, let your thoughts fly there first."
Euron paused, an elusive light flashing in his eyes, like a promise or a casual joke: "Maybe... next time my ship sails to farther places, I can take a Lannister who has seen 'Wonders.' After all, days at sea are long; I need someone who can chat."
Tyrion raised his head abruptly, eyes bursting with incredible brilliance mixed with surprise and excitement. He hugged the heavy book tightly, like holding the key to the whole world.
"Is that a promise?" He pressed, voice slightly high-pitched from excitement.
Euron smiled, reaching out to put a hand on the Imp's shoulder, making a solemn promise: "It's a promise."
At this time, crew members shouted, signaling imminent departure.
Euron patted Tyrion's shoulder, turned, and strode towards his longship. Tyrion stood there, hugging the heavy Wonders, watching the ferocious-looking, dark-painted Iron Islands warship slowly leave the dock, sailing towards the vast and unknown sea.
The sea wind blew harder, 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 massive, golden Lannisport didn't seem so suffocating anymore.