The seven-sided melee had already become legend before the final clash. Blood soaked the sands of Harrenhal's great arena until the ground itself seemed to drink it. The Ironborn-Dornish alliance stood victorious over the shattered remnants of Frey, Tyrell, Second Sons, Vale, and Westerlands. Only two banners remained flying: the golden kraken on black, and the red sun-and-spear of Dorne.
Euron Greyjoy and Oberyn Martell faced each other across ten paces of churned earth. Twin blades in Euron's hands, spear spinning lazily in Oberyn's. The crowd in the stands had gone deathly quiet, waiting for the gods to choose a champion.
Then the Pirate King System spoke—only in Euron's skull, cold and mechanical as always.
[Dominance Condition Met: Seven-Sided Melee — 92% of enemy forces eliminated under Host's direct command.]
[S-Tier Reward Unlocked: Admiral-Class Logia Integration — Hie Hie no Mi (Ice-Ice Fruit), fully awakened potential. Consume or integrate?]
Euron's lips curled. Now? Here?
He answered without hesitation. Integrate.
A glacial chill exploded through his veins like the Drowned God himself had poured the Narrow Sea into his blood. His skin frosted over for a heartbeat, then returned to normal—yet every breath he exhaled came out as visible mist that refused to dissipate. The sand beneath his boots hardened into black glass.
Oberyn noticed instantly. "Cold feet already, Crow's Eye?"
Euron laughed, low and cruel. "On the contrary, Red Viper. I've never felt warmer."
Oberyn lunged first—spear a blur of viper strikes aimed at throat, heart, groin. Euron didn't dodge. He stepped forward.
"Ice Block: Pheasant Beak."
From his outstretched palm erupted a massive ice lance shaped like a diving seabird, twice the size of Oberyn's spear. The two weapons met. Steel met frozen seawater. The spear shattered like cheap glass.
Oberyn's eyes widened. "What in the Seven—?"
Euron was already moving. Shave carried him behind the Viper in a flicker. One hand clamped onto Oberyn's shoulder. The touch was gentle—almost affectionate.
Then the temperature dropped fifty degrees in a heartbeat.
Frost raced across Oberyn's armor, locking every joint. Ice crystals bloomed over his skin like white roses. Oberyn tried to twist free, but his muscles refused to obey. His breath fogged, then froze mid-exhalation.
"Relax," Euron whispered, almost kindly. "I'm not killing you. Not today."
With a casual flick of his wrist he released the Red Viper. Oberyn toppled sideways, completely encased in a translucent coffin of ice from the neck down—still conscious, still glaring, but utterly immobilized. Only his head and one arm remained free, fingers twitching uselessly.
The entire arena had gone silent.
Then Euron turned toward the stands, raised one hand to the sky, and spoke loud enough for every lord, lady, and smallfolk to hear.
"Behold."
He brought his palm down.
"Ice Age."
A wave of absolute zero rolled outward from his feet. The blood-soaked sand flash-froze into a mirror of black ice twenty yards across. The braziers along the arena walls hissed and died as frost climbed their iron posts. In the distance, beyond the arena walls, the dark waters of the God's Eye lake crackled—a sheet of ice raced across its surface for a hundred yards before stopping, leaving fishing boats and swans suddenly stranded on a frozen mirror.
Ironborn warriors dropped to their knees, axes clattering.
"The sea itself bows!" Balon roared, voice cracking with awe and terror. "The Drowned God has answered!"
Quellon Greyjoy stood in the stands, face pale, fists clenched so tight his knuckles bled. "My son… what have you become?"
In the royal box, Aerys II rose from the Iron Throne, eyes wild with something between rapture and paranoia. "Fire and ice… fire and ice! The song was wrong—there are two dragons now!" He pointed a trembling finger. "Bring him to me! I will make him my new Hand! Or… or burn him before he freezes my kingdom!"
Tywin Lannister, still seated, said nothing. But his green eyes had gone the color of Valyrian steel.
Ashara Dayne pushed through the crowd at the edge of the arena, violet eyes huge. "Euron!"
He turned, frost still drifting from his fingertips like snow. For the first time in the entire bloody day, his smile was almost gentle.
"Easy, my lady. The cold only touches what I wish it to." He glanced at the frozen Oberyn. "Red Viper lives. He'll thaw by tomorrow—probably with a headache and a new story to tell his bastards."
Oberyn managed a cracked laugh from inside his icy prison. "You cheating bastard… I was going to make you marry Ashara for me… now I'll just… freeze my balls off instead…"
Euron crouched beside the ice coffin, tapped it once. A perfect circular window melted open so Oberyn could breathe easier. "Next time, bring a warmer cloak, prince."
He straightened, black cloak snapping in the sudden arctic wind he himself had summoned. The Pirate King System chimed again, satisfied.
[Admiral Title Earned: "Ice Kraken" — Passive: Host may now freeze any body of water within sight. Naval supremacy guaranteed.]
Euron looked out across the newly frozen God's Eye, where longships and pleasure barges now sat tilted on solid ice like toys abandoned by a child.
He spoke softly, only for himself, but the wind carried the words to every ear.
"The Narrow Sea will never drown us again.
From now on… we are the winter."
Then he raised both arms. The frozen arena shattered into glittering shards that hung in the air like diamonds before raining down harmlessly around his cheering warriors.
The seven-sided melee was over.
But the age of the Admiral of the Iron Islands had just begun.
The roar of the crowd still echoed when Euron stepped off the bloodied sands. The God's Eye lay frozen for a quarter-mile, its surface a mirror of black glass under the torchlight. Swans stood stranded like statues. Longships tilted drunkenly on the ice. Somewhere in the royal box, Aerys II was screaming.
"Fire and ice! The song lied! Bring me the Kraken! I will crown him myself!"
Euron didn't wait for the summons. He walked straight toward the royal pavilion, frost trailing from his boots like a bridal veil of snow. The White Cloaks parted before him—none dared raise a spear.
Aerys leaned forward, eyes bulging with manic delight. "You froze the lake! You froze water itself! Kneel, boy. I name you Lord Commander of my new… my new Winterguard!"
Euron smiled, the cold kind that never reached his eyes.
"Ice Block: Partisan."
A dozen glittering ice spears materialized in the air around the throne, hovering an inch from Aerys's throat, heart, and eyes. The Mad King froze—literally; tiny frost crystals formed on his lashes.
"Your Grace," Euron said softly, "I already have a crown waiting at Pyke. But I thank you for the thought."
He snapped his fingers. The spears dissolved into harmless mist.
Rhaegar rose slowly, hand on his sword hilt. "Lord Euron… that power—"
"Is mine," Euron finished. "And it will serve the Iron Islands first."
He turned his back on the King of the Seven Kingdoms and walked away. The stands erupted again—this time in fear as much as awe.
That night the feast was a funeral for the old world.
Oberyn, half-thawed and wrapped in furs, toasted him with a broken rib and a grin. "Next time I'll bring a torch, you cheating bastard."
Ashara sat at Euron's right, violet eyes shining. "You said you'd give me the sea. You never mentioned you'd own it."
Euron kissed her knuckles, ice crystals blooming briefly on her skin before melting into warmth. "The sea, the throne, the stars—whatever you ask, my queen-to-be."
Tywin Lannister left before dawn, but not before sending a single raven:
Ice melts. Fire does not.
---
Three months later — The Iron Islands
The Pirate King System chimed the moment Euron set foot on Pyke.
[S-Tier Quest Complete: "Admiral's Debut"]
[Reward: Full Awakening — Hie Hie no Mi + Soul-Soul Fruit synergy unlocked. New Passive: Eternal Winter Fleet — All Ironborn ships within 10 miles gain ice-breaking hulls and frost cannons.]
Balon laughed until he cried. "The Drowned God didn't just answer—he sent a fucking blizzard!"
Victarion dropped to one knee. "Command us, brother-king."
Quellon Greyjoy, old and weary, clasped Euron's shoulder. "You were always the storm. Now you are the winter."
Euron raised his hand. The narrow sea between Pyke and the mainland crackled. A bridge of black ice formed overnight, wide enough for ten men abreast. The first Ironborn army marched south across frozen water.
Robert's Rebellion began anyway—Brandon Stark rode to King's Landing, Aerys burned him and his father, Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna (or so the song still claimed). But this time the rivers froze before the rebels could cross.
At the Battle of the Ruby Ford, Robert Baratheon charged with his warhammer raised—only to find the Trident turned into a skating rink. Euron stood on the ice in full kraken armor, twin blades sheathed, one hand raised.
"Ice Age: Glacial Era."
The entire river valley flash-froze. Rebel banners became brittle flags in the wind. Men's boots stuck to the ice; horses slipped and broke legs. Robert himself charged anyway, roaring.
Euron caught the hammer on an ice shield the size of a longship. "You still owe me a drink from Harrenhal, Storm Lord."
Robert laughed through chattering teeth. "Then let's finish this over ale in King's Landing!"
They fought for an hour—hammer against ice constructs, war cries against the howl of arctic wind—until Robert finally dropped to his knees, frost riming his beard.
"I yield, you mad kraken. Just… thaw my balls first."
Euron laughed and melted the field. The rebellion ended not with fire, but with a handshake and a promise: Robert would bend the knee if Euron took the throne.
---
King's Landing — The Final Day
Aerys had prepared the wildfire. Thousands of jars beneath the city. "Burn them all!" he screamed from the Red Keep as Euron's fleet sailed up Blackwater Bay—on ice skates.
The Ironborn longships rode frozen waves Euron conjured beneath them, sliding across the bay like arrows. When the Royal Fleet tried to intercept, Euron simply pointed.
"Pheasant Beak: Fleet Slayer."
A flock of ice birds the size of dragons dove into the water, freezing entire warships solid in seconds. Sailors became statues mid-scream.
On the shore, the Lannister army waited—Tywin had returned with every man he could muster. Cersei stood beside him on the walls, golden hair whipping in the unnatural wind.
Euron landed alone on the frozen beach.
Tywin's voice carried across the ice. "You cannot rule what you have frozen solid, Greyjoy."
Euron tilted his head. "Watch me."
He walked forward. Every step turned the ground to mirror ice. When the first arrows flew, they shattered against an invisible dome of cold.
"Ice Block: Avalanche."
A tidal wave of snow and ice rose behind him, thirty feet high, and rolled over the Lannister lines. Men were buried alive in soft white death, screaming until the cold silenced them.
Tywin watched his army vanish beneath a glacier and finally lowered his sword.
Inside the Red Keep, Aerys stood over the wildfire caches with a torch. "If I cannot have fire, no one will!"
Euron stepped through the shattered gates, frost spreading across the stone floors.
"Wrong, Your Grace."
He exhaled.
"Hie Hie no Mi — Full Awakening: Absolute Zero Domain."
Temperature plummeted. The torch flame froze mid-flicker, becoming a tiny ice sculpture. The wildfire jars turned to harmless green glass. Aerys's scream died in his throat as ice crawled up his legs, his arms, his mad eyes—until he was a perfect, screaming statue of the last Targaryen king.
Euron walked past him, up the steps, and sat on the Iron Throne.
The blades did not cut him. Ice formed between his skin and the metal, a cushion of frozen seawater that turned the throne into something almost beautiful—black iron encased in crystal.
The system chimed one final time.
[Legendary Achievement Unlocked: Pirate King of the Seven Kingdoms]
[Title Earned: Admiral of Winter, King Euron I Greyjoy]
[New Passive: Eternal Winter Realm — All seas of Westeros obey the Kraken's will. Winter lasts only as long as you desire.]
Ashara entered first, stepping through the frozen hall in a cloak of white ermine. Behind her came Oberyn, Robert (now Hand of the King by drunken promise), Balon, and the surviving lords who had bent the knee on frozen ground.
Euron pulled Ashara onto his lap on the throne, kissed her deeply, then looked out over his new kingdom.
"The game of thrones is over," he said, voice carrying to every corner of the throne room. "Now begins the reign of the Pirate King."
Outside, the Blackwater Bay remained frozen solid— a highway of ice stretching from the Iron Islands to the capital. Merchants already called it the Kraken's Road.
And somewhere far north, beyond the Wall, the Others stirred… only to find winter had a new master.
What is dead may never die…
But every king who forgets the cold will kneel—or shatter.
End of Omake