The winds howled around the towers of Pyke, waves crashing against the black rocks far below as they had for thousands of years. Yet tonight the castle felt different. The Seastone Chair had a new ruler.

The kingsmoot had spoken. Against tradition, against the mutterings of priests and captains alike, the kraken crown had been placed upon the head of Asha Greyjoy.

Now Queen of the Iron Islands, she had returned to Pyke with the Black Wind riding proudly in the harbor below.

Her solar still smelled faintly of salt and wet leather, maps of the Sunset Sea spread across a rough wooden table. Asha leaned against the stone window with a cup of wine in hand, the iron circlet of her crown resting crookedly in her dark hair.

Across the room lounged Qarl the Maid, watching her with the same amused loyalty he had shown since long before she had been queen.

The stormlight flickered across her wicked smile.

"So tell me..."

She tilted her head slightly, dark eyes glinting.

"Did you ever imagine when you first climbed into my bunk that one day you'd be bedding a queen?"