A Feast for Dragons

am king. A
true wife, to be my queen and bear me sons. A king must have an heir.
    “My father refused to speak of her,” said Asha.
    “It does no good to speak of things no man can change.” He
was weary of the subject. “I saw the Reader’s longship.”
    “It took all my charm to winkle him out of his
Book
Tower
.”
    She has the Harlaws, then. Victarion’s frown grew
deeper. “You cannot hope to rule. You are a woman.”
    “Is that why I always lose the pissing contests?” Asha
laughed. “Nuncle, it grieves me to say so, but you may be right. For four days
and four nights, I have been drinking with the captains and the kings,
listening to what they say . . . and what they will not say. Mine own are with
me, and many Harlaws. I have Tris Botley too, and some few others. Not enough.”
She kicked a rock, and sent it splashing into the water between two longships.
“I am of a mind to shout my nuncle’s name.”
    “Which uncle?” he demanded. “You have three.”
    “Four. Nuncle, hear me. I will place the driftwood crown
upon your brow myself . . . if you will agree to share the rule.”
    “ Share the rule? How could that be?” The woman was
not making sense. Does she want to be my queen? Victarion found himself
looking at Asha in a way he had never looked at her before. He could feel his
manhood beginning to stiffen. She is Balon’s daughter, he reminded
himself. He remembered her as a little girl, throwing axes at a door. He
crossed his arms against his chest. “The Seastone Chair seats but one.”
    “Then let my nuncle sit,” Asha said. “I will stand behind you,
to guard your back and whisper in your ear. No king can rule alone. Even when
the dragons sat the Iron Throne, they had men to help them. The King’s Hands.
Let me be your Hand, Nuncle.”
    No King of the Isles had ever needed a Hand, much less one
who was a woman. The captains and the kings would mock me in their cups. “Why would you wish to be my Hand?”
    “To end this war before this war ends us. We have won all
that we are like to win . . . and stand to lose all just as quick, unless we
make a peace. I have shown Lady Glover every courtesy, and she swears her lord
will treat with me. If we hand back Deepwood Motte, Torrhen’s Square, and Moat
Cailin, she says, the northmen will cede us Sea Dragon Point and all the Stony
Shore. Those lands are thinly peopled, yet ten times larger than all the isles
put together. An exchange of hostages will seal the pact, and each side will
agree to make common cause with the other should the Iron Throne—”
    Victarion chuckled. “This Lady Glover plays you for a fool,
niece. Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore are ours. Why hand back anything?
Winterfell is burnt and broken, and the Young Wolf rots headless in the earth.
We will have all the north, as your lord father dreamed.”
    “When longships learn to row through trees, perhaps. A
fisherman may hook a grey leviathan, but it will drag him down to death unless
he cuts it loose. The north is too large for us to hold, and too full of
northmen.”
    “Go back to your dolls, niece. Leave the winning of wars to
warriors.” Victarion showed her his fists. “I have two hands. No man needs
three.”
    “I know a man who needs House Harlaw, though.”
    “Hotho Humpback has offered me his daughter for my queen. If
I take her, I will have the Harlaws.”
    That took the girl aback. “Lord Rodrik rules House Harlaw.”
    “Rodrik has no daughters, only books. Hotho will be his
heir, and I will be the king.” Once he had said the words aloud, they sounded
true. “The Crow’s Eye has been too long away.”
    “Some men look larger at a distance,” Asha warned. “Walk
amongst the cookfires if you dare, and listen. They are not telling tales of
your strength, nor of my famous beauty. They talk only of the Crow’s Eye; the
far places he has seen, the women he has raped and the men he’s killed, the
cities he has sacked, the way he burnt Lord Tywin’s fleet at Lannisport . . .”
    “ I burnt the lion’s fleet,” Victarion insisted. “With
mine own hands I flung the first torch onto his flagship.”
    “The Crow’s Eye hatched the scheme.” Asha put her hand upon
his arm. “And killed your wife as well . . . did he not?”
    Balon had commanded them not to speak of it, but Balon was
dead. “He put a baby in her belly and made me do the killing. I would have
killed him too, but Balon would have no kinslaying in his hall. He sent