Luck
Theon POV
"It seems today is your lucky day," I said with a smile as two sixes rolled across the table.
The laughter that erupted came to a sudden halt. Silence cloaked the tavern, yet not a soul loosened their grip on the hilt of a sword. Only the Pirate Empress and I remained at ease, watching each other with knowing smiles.
But to be honest, I have no idea what everyone was thinking, but I was hoping they would draw their weapons; it would make it far easier for me. But the Pirate Empress's smile told him that she at least would listen to me. Maybe it was out of goodwill, or she was scheming something and was going to use me. It mattered little, though.
"So, we listen to you now?" Axe-hand Morgan asked. "At least to your proposal, that is."
He looked the biggest and meanest of the lot, with an axe in place of his hand that scraped across the table as he set it down — but surprisingly, he was the most timid. And oddly, he wasn't even looking at me. His wary gaze stayed fixed on Nute, who stood quietly behind me. I managed to catch a glint of wary in Morgan's eyes.
"We listen to no one," another voice called from across the tavern.
A man with a thick black beard pushed through the crowd. To my surprise, they parted for him like a school of fish around a shark. Before he even reached the table, a chair had been prepared for him — as if the place had always belonged to him. But he didn't sit. Instead, he swung his falchion onto the table, blade landing between the dice, and looked at me across the table.
"And definitely not to a Greyjoy," he finished. "I don't know what you were thinking, letting him talk. But I see two hundred thousand and one reasons to kill him. And if none of you have the guts, I'll take the reward myself."
"What's the reason besides the gold?" I asked, unfazed. I even signaled for someone to bring me ale.
"You messed with my men," he said. "Nobody messes with my men. But sometimes people forget, so I have to remind them why they should be afraid of me. Even the kings, and especially an Iron islander like you."
"How scary," I replied, taking a long sip from the mug handed to me. It tasted bland like everything else, but the message was clear. "Aren't you a bit too obvious in compensating with that oversized cleaver of yours? Here, take this — more your size."
I tossed my Valyrian steel dagger across the table toward the dwarf, whose beard and hair nearly consumed his face. Anrik burst into laughter first — he always enjoyed my sense of humor — and others joined in, some louder than others. Yet those seated at the table remained silent, their eyes locked on us.
They didn't move, nor did they say a word so far. Curious dynamic, this midget was probably quite infamous in their circles. Or there was something else, again, it mattered little to me. Nothing really matters. When there isn't a single person that I can't kill, their little play looks pointless to me. But I'm generous enough to entertain them for a bit.
"Kill them all."
Three words. And the ringing of steel echoed through the tavern. Only then did I realize just how vast the place truly was. Even with half a hundred men clearing the center, twenty more had space enough to surround us without issue. Leaving plenty of space between the tables to move.
"Are you with him?" I asked the others still seated.
"That depends," Silverhand replied. "Depends on whether you survive or not."
"Don't get us wrong," Big Mom said. "I'd love to see the dwarf strung up, but I know when to pick my battles. And right now, it looks safer to stand aside and let him have his turn. If you don't cause too much trouble for him, you weren't worth our time to begin with."
"Fair enough," I said. "I like your caution. But I think you all haven't realized something yet."
"Realized what?" asked the Pirate Empress.
"Everything you've heard about me," I said, finishing my drink, "is true."
The mug flew across the table and smashed into Blackbeard's face.
Before the room could blink, I vaulted over the table, snatched his falchion mid-air, and drove a boot into the dwarf's head as he reeled. The falchion followed — a single stroke, cleaving through his skull and ending him before anyone else could react.
"Kill all who dared draw their blades," I said, retrieving my dagger.
What followed was less a fight and more a feast. A gory and bloody feast for Nute and Anrik. As they looked positively famished, Blackbeard's men were nothing more than meat to them. Those who slipped past them found Bronn or Thoros. The rest, perhaps luckier, were cut down trying to escape.
Anguy? He never even left the bar. Sipping from a mug he'd claimed from somewhere. Barely even registering the heads and limbs flying everywhere. He was bored and not even the slightest interested in this. Still, he threw his dagger at one who tried to run away, before continuing to enjoy his drink.
"Die!"
One of the pirates lunged at me with a hatchet. I caught the handle just before it hit, then drove my fist into his face. He didn't let go of the weapon even as he staggered, so I gave him another punch. And another. Even after he dropped, my fist kept landing, again and again, until the thud of bone meeting my fist was replaced by wet matter echoing around the tavern. Only then did I stop.
"Like I said, you lot are lucky today," I said, wiping my hands on the dead man's clothes. "Keep the gold. Clean this mess up. And when you're ready to throw a feast, I'll be waiting for your invitation — on my ship. It is up to you what kind of feast it will be, where we all enjoy it, or where only I will enjoy it."
The floor cleared. No one dared raise a hand against us anymore. Thugs and pirates — all noise and no spine. Nute and Anrik were one of the best fighters in the Iron Islands. Scum that only fought merchants and at most cheap sellswords, wouldn't even pierce our armor.
…
When we returned to the ship, Harras was tossing corpses into the sea while Denys Drumm nursed a bleeding side with a drink in hand. From the blood on the bandages, it must've been deep, but he didn't seem bothered.
"Those whoresons tried to take the ship," Denys said, pointing at the corpses. "One bastard caught me with a crossbow. Don't worry, I gave back the bolt to him before I fed him to the fishes below the port. And once I finish this drink, I will come to finish the rest of the bloody swine."
"No need," Anrik said. "They were likely Blackbeard's men."
"That dwarf's still alive?" Harras asked.
"Not anymore," Anguy replied. "The King split his head in two."
"Ha, it seems you were right to stay by our ship and clean up," Denys said.
"Oh, I wish I'd seen that," Harras said, dragging another corpse. "That fucker once tried to rob my father's ship. I was six, maybe seven. Thought he was a kid like me, challenged him to a duel."
"What happened?" Anrik asked.
"What else? He ran off with his tail between his legs," Harris laughed. "We were too amused even to give chase."
Denys laughed the hardest — until he started coughing from the pain. That made us laugh even harder.
Then came Cleftjaw, beard matted in blood, cursing every step of the way, with the Goodbrothers behind him, grinning ear to ear, looking like they'd just clawed their way out of hell.
"Ambushed?" I asked.
"Aye. Shitstains tried to take us in the street," Cleftjaw replied, crumbling.
"Ambush?" one of the twins laughed. "Idiots walked right up and started talking about feeding us to the fish. Dagmar got bored with their shit and started swinging his axe."
"They were more surprised than we were," the other added.
"So why the sour face?" Denys asked. "Lose the wine?"
"No. My axe broke," Cleftjaw spat out a lump of flesh. "Had to use my teeth on the last one. Bastard tasted as foul as he looked."
"Clean yourselves up," I told them. "We've a feast to attend, and I won't have us looking like organ harvesters. I've a reputation to keep."
For a moment, I feared they would ask what reputation, as everyone's eyes darted to me. Good thing they didn't, because I had no answer to that. They were satisfied to grumble, but in the end decided that it was better to listen to me. Still, if I haven't said anything, they'd have drunk and eaten with blood dripping from their beards.
…
"So, how did it go?" Harras asked, resting after the cleanup. "Aside from Blackbeard, did you get anything from the excursion?"
"We'll find out soon," Anguy replied. "Lots of notorious types in that room. It's hard to say who'll back us."
"Not worried they'll tell the world you're alive?" Harras asked me.
"I doubt they will," I said. "What would they gain? Bragging that they were humiliated by me? No, they'll stay quiet. Some won't speak out of pride. The rest, out of fear. And even if they talk, who would believe them?"
Most people believe what they want. And they want me dead. That works in my favor. By the time word spreads, it'll be too late. No need to worry — yet.
"What news, Dagmar?" I asked, changing the topic.
"Bad tidings, Your Grace," he said through a mouthful of chicken. "A fleet bearing Hightower banners passed the Stepstones — far from Dorne's waters."
"They didn't want to be seen. They suspect Dorne supports us," I said, as the news did catch me in a surprise. "They're probably heading to the Iron Islands."
"Aye. Without you, it'll be a tough battle," Dagmar said. "Victarion might manage, but from what I heard, the fleet's no joke."
"The Lannisters and Hightowers are going all in," Harras agreed. "But worrying won't help now."
True. The Iron Islands lacked manpower, but they were still no easy target. Hopefully, Victarion could hold out. In the end, once I claimed the Iron Throne, the rest would no longer matter. Everyone else would lose. Their games — done once and for all. I will make sure that no one will be able to even think of participating in it anymore.
Hightower leaving with his whole fleet could even help us. If they weren't watching, getting into King's Landing would be easier. With pirates and a bit of luck, it could all fall into place.
Still, luck only takes you so far.
The bounty on me was clearly still active. The Lannisters were still desperate. Once they thought me dead, their eyes would turn elsewhere, most likely to Euron. And when I got my hands on him after he made enough chaos, that would be my ticket to the Red Keep. If not, I might need to use my head. However, I didn't want to put it on the edge of the Lannister's blade.
"Your Grace," Denys said through another mug of wine. "A messenger's asking for you."
Looking at my men — cleaned up, armed, ready — I smiled.
Time to see what this island has to offer. And with a little luck, I'll take everything I need. And if not… then I'll take it the hard, bloody way. Just the way I like it.