fics I read

Valon watched, wide-eyed, as his daughter, who was merely eight years of age, grabbed a jagged, iron-tipped harpoon from the Wave-Catcher's leviathan-hunting arsenal and ran straight towards the ship's edge. Their eyes met briefly and, between father and daughter, Valon knew what Hela wanted to do. He'd seen that murderous and excited glint in her eyes when they spotted the largest Kraken ever seen in the Iron Islands. And he knew that there was no stopping her, no matter how dangerous it was. And though there were many who might've seen his inaction as folly, Valon knew otherwise; his daughter was blessed by the Drowned God. A mere Kraken, no matter how large, would not stop her. A few of the sailors tried to stop her, but a raise of his hand stopped them as well. No man can or would deter his little miracle. "Iron Men... watch and learn, witness the miracle of the Iron Islands, witness the strength of my beloved daughter!"

Hela leapt right off the side of the ship and dove headfirst into the ice-cold waters. A part of him felt a sliver of worry for his daughter. How could he not? Hela had been the only child of his Rock Wife, who passed in childbirth. The rest of Valon knew there was little to worry about.

"But, my lord!" One of the sailors yelled, Dagmer, Valon mused, the one who held command over all other sailors. "She didn't even have a rope around her!"

Once again, Valon merely raised a hand and smiled, shaking his head. "Stay your heart, sailor. And worry not for my daughter. Now, drop anchor and let us wait for her return."

"... Aye, my lord – by your will." Dagmer bowed. "Oy, you useless lot, lower anchor!"

Not a moment later, something came bursting out of the water, like a projectile, exploding with seawater as it flew over head and landed right on the main deck of the Wave-Catcher. Valon's eyes widened and his lips widened into a grin. It was a tentacle, thick as a tree-trunk and covered in vicious suckers and teeth, the biggest he'd ever seen. The crewmen stood, frozen, as they stared at the tentacle, eyes wide with awe and horror. Valon laughed heartily. "See? No beast is a match for my beloved daughter!"

The most interesting part about the tentacle, Valon noted, was the fact that it hadn't been a clean cut at the stump, which meant Hela had torn it right off the Kraken's body. That sort of strength was... godly. Even when drawn from the sea, a Kraken wasn't so easily hacked apart. Its flesh was hard and stiff, like boiled leather. In the water, the tentacled beast was powerful enough to drag even leviathans to the depths.

This was the largest Kraken ever seen in the Iron Islands, large enough to destroy even the largest vessels. And his daughter were ripping it apart.

"Blood in the water!" One of the sailors yelled and Valon could not help but rush to the edge of the boat. And, true enough, the normally-gray waters of the Iron Islands had turned into a deep black. Krakens were known to emit an oily black substance when under sufficient pain and duress, and their blood was a dark blue, which appeared almost black underwater.

"By the Drowned God's murky balls!" One of the sailors pointed at something that flowed up the surface of the water, another tentacle, still thrashing and writhing. Valon grinned. This one, like the last one, had clearly been ripped right off the Kraken's body. "The little lady's ripping it apart!"

Valon hissed. "My daughter is no mere lady, sailor. You'd do well to watch your tongue. She is no weakling Greenlander lady. She is Ironborn, through and through, blessed by the Drowned God!"

He saw it now, Hela Greyjoy, leading a fleet of a thousand ships, prowling the seas of all the world, like a great predator, her name whispered in awe and fear, in the same breath as dragons. Hela Krakenkiller. Dragonslayer. The Queen of the Sea.

And, for ten thousand years, the Greyjoy name shall forever be feared by all. Valon hoped her future children would inherit her power and their children after them. But, he could hardly think of a proper betrothal for Hela. No man was worthy. Indeed, his daughter would be akin to the Conqueror Queens of old, who maintained harems of consorts.

The thrashing waters calmed. And Valon looked down from the side of the ship's railing. He didn't have to wait long. Hela swam up from the murky depths, her kicks pushing her faster than any man could swim. She then reached up with one arm as she breached through the surface of the sea, wheezing as she breathed in the cool air. Valon reached down and held her hand and pulled her up. She wasn't holding the harpoon anymore. Instead, as Valon pulled her over the railing, he found that Hela was holding the black beak of the Kraken, bleeding blue, ripped right out of its massive head; the hardened appendage was large enough to swallow a man whole. "Ah, that was a bit challenging."

The gargantuan sea beast's body then floated to the surface as Hela stepped aboard, grinning. Her clothes were... gone, her tunic and pants ripped apart. Her pale skin glinted. But, no sailor dared stare. Here was a goddess of war among them. Valon removed his cloak and wrapped it around his daughter, who tossed the beak onto the middle of the deck, without a single care in the world. "I'm adding these to my collection, father."

Valon nodded and grinned. Ah, she had a habit of collecting trophies from her victories, much of it came in the form of weapons, helmets, or armor pieces, taken from some of the greatest reavers of the Iron Islands, men of great renown. It was only proper that her first bestial trophy came from the largest Kraken ever seen. "Of course, Hela."

Her little body was covered in rapidly-closing cuts and holes, each one slowly disappearing as ghostly emerald lights overcame them.

Valon glanced over his shoulder, overboard, at the Kraken's carcass. It was bigger than the fucking ship. Definitely the largest Kraken on the Iron Islands. The thought that next came to mind came unbidden; could his daughter kill a dragon? If not? Then at what age? It was only a matter of time. Soon enough, the Ironborn would rise again. And, with Hela Greyjoy at the helm, not even the Targaryens and their fire-breathing beasts would stand a chance.

Ben Skinner watched as the little devil disembarked from the Wave-Catcher.

The slaves who accompanied her and her father, the Lord Greyjoy, followed close behind her, dragging behind a massive tentacle and a massive black beak that looked as though it belonged to a dragon. She succeeded, then? The little devil succeeded in hunting and killing a Kraken. And, by the size of her 'trophies', it wasn't a small Kraken either. This thing must've been large enough to drag entire ships into the depths of the sea, never to be seen again.

Ben Skinner swallowed the lump in this throat and stepped forward, bowing his head as Lord Greyjoy approached. And by his side was the little devil, a girl, eight years of age, who was strong enough to break men apart like they were little more then wet parchment. Ben wouldn't be surprised if she came from the Seven Hells, a demon, a herald of a time of great evil. Ben shuddered as Hela Greyjoy came up to him and pointed at her trophies. "Get those cleaned. I want the beak in my Trophy Room before the day ends. Make sure the tentacle is sun dried. If it spoils, I'm going to rip your arms from your shoulders."

That was no idle threat. One of the slaves, whose name Ben had now forgotten, made the mistake of dropping and breaking one of Lady Hela's trophies, some sort of bone necklace or some such. Regardless, Hela Greyjoy ripped the man's head clean off his shoulders and tossed his bloody carcass into the sea, right in front of all the other slaves. No one defied her. Not even the Ironborn.

"As you say, Lady Greyjoy," Ben's hands shook. To stand before Hela Greyjoy was akin to standing outside in the cold, drenched in water, naked. He was far taller than her, but her presence was so large and so powerful that he felt absolutely tiny. He felt like an ant, next to a mountain. The thought was preposterous. Hela Greyjoy was just a little girl. And yet, here he was, shaking like a leaf in the wind. A demon. The other slaves whispered that she could sprout knives and swords from her body. Ben didn't want to find out if that was true.

When she finally walked away, Ben could only let out a sigh of relief as he turned to the other slaves and began barking out orders. "You, scrape off any remaining flesh on that beak and treat it with boiling water. This... err... tentacle must be cleaned; we'll remove the outer skin and cure the flesh in sea water. After that, we'll dry it in the sun and hope it doesn't spoil."

Ben turned and stared at Lady Hela's form, small and lithe, pale skin and hair as black as night, eyes of emerald fire. Her very presence was death. He prayed to the Seven for a hero, a true knight, to strike her down, like the devil that she was.

"They call her Krakenkiller. You believe any of that shite?"

"Aye, I know. I was there when her servants dragged a giant fucking tentacle out of the Wave-Catcher. They said she jumped off the ship and wrestled a Kraken to death."

"I heard she dragged it into a rock island and ripped it apart before her lord-father."

"I saw the thralls in Pyke cleaning up the biggest fucking Kraken beak I've ever seen in my entire life. The servants whisper it's another one of her trophies. Can you believe it? A girl, no older than ten, ripping apart giant Krakens?"

"I don't. But I was there when she beat Lorek Thornbrow almost half-to-death, twisted his arm and ripped his pinkie finger from his bloody fucking hand, kept it as a trophy. That child is a monster."

"Lorek fucking Thornbrow? The Terror of the Summer Islands?"

"Just another legend in a long list of legends she's already defeated. A Kraken, i think, stands no fucking chance."

Yarek Greyjoy, Captain of the Bronze Kraken, scoffed as he listened to the reavers in the tavern, swapping stories and whispers, while drinking grog, as men oft did in their time on land. The latest and most common topic of gossip across the Iron Islands now was his niece, Hela Greyjoy. Yarek wasn't sure what he thought about his niece. Because, as much as he hated gossip and the fanciful exaggerations they often reached, many of the rumors that surrounded Hela were, against all he knew about little girls, true. Because Yarek himself had seen her reduce a living legend, Bjorn Blackhand, into a whimpering, broken heap of a man – all his limbs broken. Hela then took the man's right gauntlet, made entirely of blackened Valyrian Steel, as a trophy.

That was two years ago.

But he still saw that moment in his dreams, his nightmares – again and again. His niece was terrifying. Her green eyes glinted with a malice that only the most bloodthirsty reavers possessed. With her strength – and whatever else the rumors said about her – Hela Greyjoy was destined to become a true terror of the seas. Already, she terrorized the Ironborn with her mere existence. Yarek could hardly imagine what she'd become in the next few years. She was still growing, after all.

But, then again, he wouldn't have to imagine anything.

Because, by the orders of his brother, Valon Greyjoy, Hela Greyjoy, the Krakenkiller, was going to join his crew.