The Iron Islands

"I wish to serve in Pyke, on the Iron Islands," you reply, thinking of the Ironborn culture of reaving and drinking.

Margaery looks taken aback momentarily - "Very well, I suppose if that is your wish, I shall grant it."

"Thank you, your majesty," you reply, with a slight curtsy.

"Ships will set out for Pyke on the morrow, ensure that you are present for their departure. I will not be able to fulfill this request if you are not there when they leave."

"Of course," you reply, before leaving the room.

As the guard outside the solar escorts you out, you have already begun to dream of your new life.