I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

-Ah, Theon! - Dagmer smiled welcomingly with his four lips. He had recently returned from his trek through the local villages, churning out food and weapons. If anyone was impertinent enough to resist, the insolent one was swiftly punished with fire and sword.

- It's only been a week since you left, and you've already robbed everyone. - Theon smiled back, shaking Scrubby's calloused hand.

The courtyard filled with Dagmer's men. Four hundred throats were talking among themselves, laughing and joking. They were all happy - the robbery had been a success. Everyone had gained something - and that made them happy, like cats fed on sour cream.

- I think we should get your boys into the castle and have a chat. A lot of news has come in during your absence. - Greyjoy looked round at the crowd and glanced at Threefingers. He heard everything and nodded, having no trouble taking Theon's hint.

- Say the news now! - Dagmer snorted. - No need to pull the kraken's tentacles.

-My Uncle Aaron doesn't know yet, either. I'd like to tell him that too.

-Good. - Dagmer agreed. - Then your assistant,' Dagmer said, glancing at Three-toed, 'will get everyone settled in?

-Yes, Scratchy. You don't have to worry about your fighters, there are still enough places in the castle.

Probably, Theon thought, Three-Finger would put them in the barracks. They had been washed clean of the blood of the slain warriors of the Bright Isle and were one-third full-the barracks were so large they could hold a thousand men.

Theon and Dagmer entered the castle. In Greyjoy's private chambers, Aeron was already waiting for them, sipping from a glass of water. Cicero was sitting on a wooden perch that a few handy ironborns had made on Theon's orders. He was nibbling rapidly at his feeder and paid no attention to the people sitting there.

Greyjoy himself sat down at the desk with his muddy boots on the Myrian carpet.

Greyjoy wrinkled his nose at his father's desk in Pyke. He didn't like it, though it was expertly crafted, with machined and carved krakens painted yellow. He had never told anyone about his dislike for his father's desk, and he would keep silent about the reasons even under torture. He'd seen some bad things on that desk.

Memories of the long dead Theon popped into his head again. The Universalist grimaced, and took a sip from his wine cup.

- So,' he began. - This morning, I received bad news from my father.

-Dagmer grumbled, sitting down at another chair next to Aeron. With a loud clatter, he set the bowl down and poured himself some wine. The wet-headed man wrinkled his nose at the loud sound.

- Victarion had failed to take Lannisport. - Dagmer spat out the wine furiously.

- How could the Greenbloods hold off the onslaught of the god-chosen people? - Dagmer asked angrily

Theon himself was inwardly surprised at the reaction of his companions. He hadn't thought they would take it all so fiercely and angrily. It seemed that the defeat in the last war had taught the islanders that the people of Westeros were not sheep. The newly-appointed master of the Bright Isle himself expected a defeat for either of his kin on the continent - or even both. But Asha did, and Uncle Victarion did not. It had better be the other way round.

- The Lannister fleet was burned again, but the city held out. The Knights of Casterly Rock arrived just in time. - Theon gave a clearer answer.

'Seems to me that Uncle's main task was accomplished - burning the Lannister fleet. Now the shores of the West are completely defenceless - iron men can attack and flee without fear of pursuit.'

-What else does your father write? - Aaron asked, pushing away the wine cup Dagmer had poured for him. The man gave him a sly look, but immediately returned his serious expression. Perhaps Scabbard took the Iron Fleet's failure more calmly.

-He orders me to help my uncle. Victarion wants to try a second assault, gathering all his forces into a fist.

- Shit. - Dagmer announced his verdict. The lions will be better prepared now and will no doubt be reinforced. To attack Lannisport a second time is madness. We have too much to lose.

- The town has a surplus of gold. Greed must have played into Uncle Victarion's or my father's hands,' Greyjoy said thoughtfully.

'More pride than greed.'

-When do we leave? - Dagmer asked, sipping his wine calmly from his cup.

-"Tomorrow afternoon. I'll leave the garrison here with Harras.

'It was a mistake not to invite him along with Dagmer and Aaron. I forget there's a lot of hard feelings around here. I don't care if Harras is just a simple shirt who doesn't know much about strategy and management. Dagmer at least gave some sound advice, and Aaron...related.'

Keeping Harras here as castellan was a bad idea. But there was no one else. Dagmer needs him, and Eiron... his uncle would rather drown everyone here in the name of the Drowned God than be able to keep an eye on the castle and the island.

'I hope the Reader appreciates what I've done. An ally, after all.'

The next day Theon gathered his fleet into a single unit and set out to help his uncle. He left a garrison of three hundred men on Bright Isle, and made Harras Knight his castellan. He still wanted to leave Aaron, his uncle, behind, but he decided to take him with him. The wet-headed man could do something without the younger Greyjoy's supervision. Like drowning the Farman family after all.

The rooks, which Theon called drakkars in his mind, travelled across the sea with ease, bringing the ironborn closer to their goal. Looking out over the silent sea, as mysterious and uncharted as its impermanence and vastness.

'And yet in my world the depths of the oceans have only been five per cent explored. I wonder what creatures sleep at the bottom of the seas, considering I live in a magical-medieval world?'

Questions he would never get answers to. And that's a good thing, because there's no telling whether he can joke that the local sea god is a personification of Cthulhu or seriously fear for his immortal soul.

'It's getting colder. I've got a bad feeling about this.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

A few days later, they reached the shores of the Western Kingdom. The outline of a large city could be seen on the horizon. Lannisport. And next to it, not far from the shore but far enough away from the city to keep the inhabitants from launching something nasty at the ships, stood the Iron Fleet. That had clearly thinned by a couple of ships, if not more, but the city didn't look good either. Black fountains of smoke billowed upwards, clearly indicating that the townspeople were having a hard time fending off the attack of their eternal enemy.

Theon's fleet quickly approached the armada under Victarion's command, and Greyjoy noticed that the city was besieged.

'Where did Uncle get so many men? It would take at least five or six thousand to lay siege to such a large city.'

As he looked closer, he realised that it wasn't just the Iron Fleet present. The flags of the lords of the Iron Islands, who had joined Victarion before Theon, were flying.

He found a vacant spot on the shore, large enough to hold half a dozen rooks, but it was far away from the Iron Fleet.

A couple of dozen minutes later, as the Ironborn ships sped ashore, Greyjoy and his army headed towards the camp. The Ironborn camp was perched on several hills, far enough away from Lannisport. The ironborn's makeshift tents were enclosed by a moat and small walls of hewn stakes.

'How unusual. The Ironborn, a nation of pirates whose strategy is to attack quickly and then retreat, have begun to lay siege to a major city. I hope it wasn't Uncle Victarion who decided this, or I'm getting embarrassed. I thought he was smarter than that.'

At least the camp could boast some discipline and defence against a possible surprise attack. Strangely, no one from Casterly Rock had yet had the courage to send an army to drive the ironborn away.

They had been seen from afar, recognising the Greyjoy banners. But no one has met them as they do in other kingdoms. They did not think it necessary.

A high mountain could be seen in the distance, on which the outline of a huge castle could vaguely be seen.

'Impressive. Is this the legendary fortress, Casterly Cliff?'

The army set up near the camp, awaiting Theon's instructions, while Greyjoy himself decided to clear the air by talking to his uncle. Dagmer and Aeron went with him. Cicero was flying somewhere nearby. The parrot had become aloof lately and wasn't particularly bullying. It frightened Theon a little, he was used to his pet's different behaviour.

The camp was bustling with life. Everyone was doing their own thing - no one was idle. It was obvious that his uncle was preparing for another assault. Separately lay freshly cut and made ladders, a covered ramp was visible. Still unfinished, several dozen ironborn were working on it.

He reached the tent that towered above everything. Pushing aside the strips of cloth, he stepped into the spacious room inside.

-Hello, Uncle,' Theon greeted his relative. Victarion leaned over an oak table on which lay an unfolded map.

- 'Nephew,' he said grimly. - I hear you won a great victory on the Bright Isle.

- I had to take a risk, and I did not win it as easily as most people think. - Theon sat down at the table, his hand immediately going to the jug of Arbor wine. His throat was dry.

- How could you lose to those greenbloods? - Dagmer asked reproachfully, stepping closer to Victarion. Dagmer, on the other hand, stood at the entrance, looking around the room with interest.

The Iron Fleet captain's eyes narrowed. A frown examined Aeron from head to toe.

- The Drowned God could not give us the strength to win on land. The Knights of Casterly Cliff were able to come to the rescue and the surprise attack on the harbour failed.

-Tell us more, Uncle. - Theon spoke up, drinking some wine and interrupting his second uncle's tirade. - Why did you decide to lay siege to the city? Wouldn't it be easier to continue the attacks through the harbour?

- Your father gave me a clear order, and I am obeying it.

'So this is Baelon's initiative? Dear God... Drowning God save me, doesn't my father realise this siege is a pretty dangerous business for sea raiders?'

-What about Casterly Rock? Have the Lannisters sent reinforcements to Lannisport yet to repel the siege? - The younger Greyjoy asked a new question.

-They have,' a small smile flickered across Victarion's grim face for the first time. And then it was gone. - We ambushed five hundred militia and a couple dozen knights. Do you really think I'm foolish enough not to foresee that?

- We threw the naked corpses into the sea to savour the Drowned God. - Victarion continued, and at his words, Wet-head raised his hands in the air.

- A glorious deed, my brother!

Victarion nodded, accepting the praise of his fanatical younger brother. The map of the West was pushed to the side, and the Ironfleet captain himself drank directly from the jug, spilling drops of wine onto the table.

The jug landed on the table with a loud clatter, and a satisfied Greyjoy wiped his mouth with his hand.

- But our luck didn't end there. The people of Lannisport were foolish enough to try to throw us back into the sea. Unsuccessfully.

'Glorious news indeed. Casterly Cliff has already lost probably half its garrison, and Lannisport is weakened. It's not so bad.'

-I count four hundred dead on their side in the attempted raid. The city is weak. The garrison is made up of armed citizens and guards. Only a couple of hundred knights and foot soldiers pose a threat.

- When will the assault take place? - Dagmer has raised his voice.

- We're waiting for Lord Goodbrather and his fleet. He's sailed from Cayce. As soon as he arrives, we will begin the assault and take what we have at an iron price,' Victarion answered at once, glancing at Scherbatsky.

- What is my task, Uncle? - Theon asked. - Where will I attack?

- You will attack from the sea, once my warriors have diverted the defenders' attention. The huge chain protecting Lannisport from the sea is down and the mechanism is ruined. - Victarion grinned, as if remembering something pleasant. - 'The Lannister fleet has been burned, so you will not be disturbed.

- Very well, Uncle. Then I'll position my men near your camp.

No sooner had they set up camp than new ships appeared on the horizon. The sails were embroidered with a black battle horn bordered with gold on a red field. The Goodbrasers arrived just in time and almost immediately after Theon.

They landed even further away, for there was no more free space on the shore near the camp - the rooks were innumerable. Probably all the ironborn fleet they could muster, with the exception of Asha's fleet and some lords like Rodrik Harlow. He was now plundering the Crakeholes' lands.

Theon was forced to return to Victarion again at the latter's request. His uncle had decided to launch an assault soon, since the Goodbrashers had come so quickly.

- We will attack in the night - Victarion told all the gathered lords in his large tent. He stood in the centre, and on the table in front of him lay an unfolded map of Lannisport. Crookedly drawn, hastily and obviously recent. - All our power would be directed in one direction, drawing the attention of the entire town to ourselves. At this time, my nephew Theon and Lord Gorold, captain of the Iron Fleet, glanced at the grey-haired man. - They are attacking the harbour.

Lord Gorold Goodbrather, already an old man by local time, looked at the younger Greyjoy. It was unclear what lurked behind Lord Hammerhorn's impenetrable mask. Despite his old age, Lord Horold led the troops himself. Old age had not made him weak in mind and body. Shouldered and tall, with a steel cuirass that had the Goodbrasers' crest engraved on it. Grey eyes looked at Theon with an appraisal that Greyjoy himself did not like.

After a few moments, Goodbrather nodded, saying nothing.

- As soon as the city falls,' Victarion continued, confident in his words. - We should head straight for the Lannister villa, fortified enough to be considered a small castle. We couldn't take it last time, but now ...

- I hope the Lannister wenches are as pretty as Queen Cersei? - one of the ironborn said cheerfully, causing the others to laugh.

- I don't know about the wenches. - Victarion chuckled. - But they're shitty warriors. They can't outdo the Highlanders, though. All they can do is stab backs and stage stupid sieges.

There were short chuckles. Theon frowned, realising that they were suffering from the latter themselves.

- All we have to do now is wait for night,' someone said.

- Sharpen your axes, brothers. Tonight we will spill green blood and show who is the true master of these lands! - Eiron said pathetically with a spiritualised face. His hair was wet, as were his clothes. The captain of the Son of Thunder noticed seaweed tangled in his uncle's legs.

- What's dead! Can't die!

- But revives stronger and stronger!