Baron turned stiffly. Every step felt heavy, as if he were dragging invisible chains, and his boots rang across the cold stone floor with a clear but sluggish clatter. The pride of Pyke's lordly heir had been crushed beneath his father's harsh punishment. The words "Howling Cape" were like cold iron hooks, piercing his seething anger and leaving only a dull ache of humiliation. He had expected a whipping—skin split and flesh bruised, but at least it would have been the exhilarating pain of a warrior's medal. But hard labor? Scrubbing barnacles among sun-scorched rocks like the lowest salt slave? It was an insult to his station! In the corner, he glimpsed the spoils glinting in the firelight—Myrish gold coins, Qohori silks. Their shine brought him no comfort now. Instead, they seemed like countless mocking eyes, silently jeering at the humiliation behind his "victory."
Yulon seemed much calmer. He gave one last thoughtful look at his father's back, straight as a reef and all the more stark and heavy in the shifting firelight. He had expected his father's anger, and the punishment of confinement had been no surprise. It was even just what he wanted. The mountain of spoils seemed cursed in his father's eyes, but to Yulon, they were merely cold, exploitable resources. At last, his gaze settled on Lysa, standing quietly in the shadows of the corner. Her calm, gray-blue eyes were like two deep wells, reflecting the wavering firelight in the hall and seeming to mirror thoughts in his mind that had yet to take shape. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then turned and followed his brother.
The two walked side by side in silence toward the heavy doors. Anger and humiliation had nowhere to go inside Baron; they threatened to split him apart. Just as he was about to reach for the door ring, he stopped abruptly and seized Yulon's thin shoulder with an iron grip! His fingers dug in so hard that Yulon let out an involuntary groan of pain and stumbled as Baron pulled him off balance.
"You little bastard!" Baron's voice grated through clenched teeth, full of hatred that even the sea wind couldn't dispel. His scorching breath brushed Yulon's ear. "If I hadn't brought you, you little curse, Father wouldn't be this angry! I'd have taken a whipping at worst. Why should I... why should I have to go work like a laborer at Howling Cape!" The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. His grip tightened, as if he meant to crush his brother's shoulder blade.
Yulon grimaced with pain, but there was no fear in his deep blue eyes—only icy mockery and a hint of offended anger. He endured the pain and met his brother's blazing gaze without backing down, his voice low and cold. "Hmph. Without me, dear brother, you and your band of louts would have been shot full of arrows at Havana Port! You owe me your life. Forgotten already? By the Old Way of the Iron Islands, how do you repay a life debt?" He put deliberate emphasis on "Old Way."
"One thing has nothing to do with the other!" Baron growled, like a sea beast struck in a sore spot. "Ironborn know how to settle their debts! I'll repay you for saving my life! But this punishment is all your fault!" Stubbornly, he blamed his brother's presence for everything that had gone wrong.
"Ha! What a fine sense of fairness!" Yulon sneered, twisting his shoulder in an effort to wrench free of the iron grip. "Father punished you! He thinks that as the eldest son and future King of the Sea Stones, you led the way in acting recklessly and nearly dragged the whole House Greyjoy into the abyss! You were the fool. Don't blame me!" The words came fast, each one like a knife.
"Spit!" Furious, Baron spat onto the stone floor by his feet with a loud sound, as if that were his entire response to his brother's words. He let go and shoved Yulon hard, sending him stumbling several steps.
Just as the brothers stood at daggers drawn, the tension so thick it seemed ready to spark, King Kolen's cold, weary voice came from deep in the hall, dousing them like a bucket of ice water. "Enough! Before you go off to your respective 'reefs' and 'desks,' go see your mother!" Kolen did not turn around. His voice was full of impatience and a hint of pain he could barely conceal. "She's been weeping all day over you two reckless fools. Her eyes are nearly cried blind! Give her some peace!" He paused, then his tone hardened back into a command. "Daggmo, you stay!"
Baron and Yulon froze at their father Kolen's roar. His rebuke about their mother crying herself blind struck their hearts like a whip. Their father did not turn around, but the pain he held back in his voice weighed more heavily than any scolding.
In silence, they turned and headed for their mother Sansa Greyjoy's room. The air was thick with medicinal herbs and stifled emotion. Their father's rebuke had lashed away the anger between the brothers. Baron's face instantly shifted from fury to a complicated mix of concern for their mother, embarrassment at having his weakness exposed by their father, and a deeper sense of guilt. He glared at Yulon, said nothing, then yanked open the heavy wooden door and strode out into the shadows, his anger still simmering and his steps heavy.
Lady Sansa was propped against the pillows, her six-month pregnancy swelling beneath a thin blanket. Tear tracks still marked her pale face, and her eyes were red and puffy. When she saw her two sons enter—especially Baron—anger surged over her grief.
"Baron!" Her voice was hoarse but sharp. She pushed herself upright, and before Baron could react, she struck him hard across the face with a loud smack. The blow was so powerful that even eighteen-year-old Baron staggered, a clear handprint rising on his cheek.
"If you want to get yourself killed, fine—but why did you take Yulon with you? How old is he? Is that any place for a five-year-old child?!" Lady Sansa's chest heaved, her eyes blazing with fear and anger.
Baron clutched his cheek and stubbornly held his head high. His expression was dark, but he did not dare talk back to his mother.
Then Sansa's gaze swept over Yulon and froze on his shoulder, exposed beneath his torn sleeve. A terrifying swath of purple bruising covered it, and at the edge was a shallow graze from an arrow, its skin blanched from soaking in seawater.
"Gods!" Sansa gasped. Her face turned even paler than before, white as paper. She whipped around to face Baron, her eyes nearly spitting fire. She raised her hand and summoned all her strength—
"Smack!"
Another slap, even louder, landed hard on Baron's other cheek!
"You wretched brother! How could you let this happen to your little brother?!" Sansa's voice broke with grief and despair. "Are you trying to get him killed?! Do you want me to lose both of you?!"
Both of Baron's cheeks burned and swelled. He clenched his teeth, his fists tightening at his sides with a creak, while his fierce gaze stabbed at Yulon like a poison-tipped dagger. It was full of fury at being humiliated in front of everyone and resentment toward his brother.
Yulon flinched beneath that gaze. His mother's protection had become a perilous death sentence. He knew Baron too well: Baron would not dare take out his anger over the beating and humiliation on their mother, but he would absolutely repay Yulon tenfold, a hundredfold.
"M-Mother," Yulon said, enduring the pain in his shoulder. His voice held just the right mix of weakness and alarm. "I...I feel dizzy, and my wound hurts... Maester Craigon said it needs to be dressed right away... I...I'll go find the maester!" He spoke so quickly that he gave his mother no chance to reply or Baron time to lash out. Like a frightened fawn, he turned and stumbled out of the room, leaving his furious brother and his worried, weeping mother behind.
He had to leave this powder keg before it exploded. Baron's gaze told him that a beating he would remember for the rest of his life was only a matter of time.
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