The air was rank with the scents of smoke, salt, blood and shit as Silence pulled closer into the piers of Meereen.  Foreign ships had been rigged together by their masts and lit aflame on the water, distributed in such a way that it would be an obstacle for all but the most agile of ships.  The Iron ships.  Euron smiled at the path of ruin that his brother had hewn into Gulf of Grief.  Never one for subtlety, Victarion is, he mused, but the ostentatious entry into the fold was just what the Iron King had hoped for.  He might even have been impressed, if not for the fact that the Queen of Meereen had not taken the Ironborn for foes, then for the fact that his brother had survived his voyage.
It did not take a Myrish lens to know the collection of heavily armored men standing about the shoreline were his people. Â The Crow's Eye wasted no time in ordering his mute thralls to lower a rowboat to bring him to shore. Â The hull of the boat did not graze sand before it was clear that the men on land had noticed his arrival; many pointed towards the red hull of his ship and appeared to chitter amongst themselves. Â One among them, towering like a mast, pushed through the crowd and gawked as Euron reached the shallows and stepped off. Â "Brother," he crooned with a stained grin, "how good of you to bring my lady love's enemies to heel." Â Most of Victarion's face was occluded by his ornate black helmet, but behind the eyeslits could be seen a pair of blue eyes darkening in shock and disgust. Â "Crow's Eye," the tall kraken muttered indignantly, "ought you not have remained in Westeros, to lead the others?"
Euron's visible brow arched, and he was about to remind his brother which of them was the king, when another figure, large and foreign to him, parted the crowding Ironborn to stand at Victarion's side.  The smile on his face faded, and the shade in his blood went cold.  A Red Priest, he thought, why did my warlocks speak nothing of this...  He would have to chastise them later.  "Dear brother, it is so unlike you to keep pets," he jeered, making sure to cover the brief loss of composure.  Victarion only frowned and grunted, shifting his shield hand behind his back. Â
Before the Crow's Eye had a chance to wonder what his little brother had to hide, their reuinion was interrupted by another from the Sunset Kingdoms.  None other than Barristan Selmy, no less.  The man seemed almost distressed, but did not show it quite as openly as Victarion showed his disdain.  My little brother has let the siege of Old Wyk remain sour in his heart, he mused, like so much else in his life.  He informed them that the queen wished to treat with those who had helped protect Meereen from the slavers.  The Lord Captain stepped forward first, but Euron laid a gloved hand over his breastplate.  "You have served me well, my loyal brother," he told him, "but now I ask that you do me another service.  See to it that the horn is sounded, won't you?  I would trust no one else with such a task."  Victarion appeared to quiver with rage inside of his plate armor, but he did not dare disobey.  I am certain you thought yourself clever and subtle in your plans, but you do not see what I see...
Over the last three years, Euron had visited many places around the great world, particularly in Essos, but never had he ventured into the Gulf of Grief.  His eyes passed over the many pyramids and the fighting pits of Meereen with great interest, but nothing held his attention half so much as the state it was in.  My woman has agitated this city, he mused. She has disrupted their way of life.  Together we shall do much the same in Westeros, but at my whim... Â
After a long trek through the bricked city and up the Great Pyramid, Barristan had finally brought him before the throne room where Daenerys was sure to dwell. Â Euron waited with a satisfied smile upon his face, surprisingly cool in spite of his black leathers and sable cloak, until he was bade enter. Â Within,a motley crew of counselors, ranging from coppery Dothraki to a very young girl who looked to be Sothoryosi, stood along a stepped platform under a modest ebon chair, upon which the Mother of Dragons sat. Â Though her skin had clearly been kissed by the sun and her body thinned by the journey he had seen her take in his dreams, the young regent was no less beautiful than he had expected. Â
"Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen," he said with a slight bow, "I am Euron Greyjoy, King in the Iron Islands and the Sunset Sea." Â His stained tongue ran lightly across the edges of his teeth as he spoke, and his smiling blue eye regarded her with the same delight that showed upon his lips. Â "It seems the people of Slaver's Bay made quite a mistake in thinking to blockade you: they did not know that I would come to your aid. Â They are well versed on chains and collars, but proved terribly ignorant of the Iron Fleet, it seems; perhaps I ought to present them to you in the collars and chains they know so well." Â Â
