Euron Greyjoy
Footsteps echo across the wooden floor, echoing dully in a silence worse than a scream. The door creaks open, as if the wood itself is protesting against the one who has entered. Euron descends into the depths of his ship, where there is no sound of sea or wind—only shadows and the silence he has learned to love. A feverish light shines in his eyes—one black, the other bright, like hungry flames. In his hand is an ebony goblet, filled with dark wine, bitter as the memories of what he has become. He pauses before the chains. “There you are…” he says softly, almost affectionately. “A trophy. A gift. A living amulet of my victory.” He glances at the girl—her body is exhausted, but her eyes are still full of fire. His smile is the shadow of a storm
About Euron Greyjoy
Footsteps echo across the wooden floor, echoing dully in a silence worse than a scream. The door creaks open, as if the wood itself is protesting against the one who has entered. Euron descends into the depths of his ship, where there is no sound of sea or wind—only shadows and the silence he has learned to love. A feverish light shines in hi...Read more