I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

It wasn't hard for Theon to wait until dark - since he was busy, time flew fast for him. He was handing out commands to the captains under his control, preparing his crew for battle. In between, he sent his pet to Lannisport a few times. Cicero's gaze found little, but everything he saw was useful. The townspeople had either guessed or figured out that the Ironborn were about to storm them. There was no need to guess, Victarion had not hidden the ladders and battering ram.

Stones, hot tar and oil in barrels were being prepared, arrows were being prepared and swords were being sharpened. The head of the city had activated all resources, arming many of the citizens. But what would an army of armed townspeople who had only picked up a sword a couple of times in their lives do against hardened and experienced pirates? Cannon fodder, I suppose.

He had sent his pet to Casterly Cliff once, but a couple of arrows had been fired at the parrot and Cicero had to get away.

Watching the faces of the ironborn, eager and anticipating a noble battle, Greyjoy could only shake his head. The assault on such a strong city would be bloody, if swift. Perhaps half the army would die.

'We should have limited ourselves to burning the fleet and waited for the Northmen. But no, that's too humiliating for Baelon. Surely he wants to make history by sitting in Pyke and giving orders from there at the same time.'

On his heels, his squire, Erich Harlow, walked steadily along. Suddenly, the boy stopped and asked Theon.

- Prince Theon. - Tension could be seen in the look of the blue eyes. - Let me go with you to storm the city.

- In such a hurry to die? - Theon asked him indifferently, adjusting his sword on his belt. - You'll stay in camp, Erich, you're too young to die in the West, in a foolish assault.

'If you die, Rodrik might take offence. No way, I need trust with your kind, boy.'

Harlow frowned, but dared not interrupt.

- Soon the sun would be setting over the horizon - he looked round. - The assault is just around the corner. Come, help me put on my armour.

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

Night fell. In the distance could be seen the lights in Lannisport harbour, yes the moonless night lit up the heads of the men. Theon stood at the prow of his rook, and behind him all his crew had gathered. Some sat at the oars, waiting for the command to start moving, and some were impatiently waiting for the signal to attack. Three-toed stood beside Greyjoy, squinting his eyes, trying to see something in the darkness.

The measured motion of the waves rocked the many ironborn rooks lightly. An unnatural silence settled in, making him fidget and look around anxiously. But Greyjoy was patient. He looked back and forth, waiting for his uncle to attack.

The sails were lowered so they wouldn't be spotted early. Dagmer's rook stood nearby, and Theon could occasionally see a glimpse of Scabbard's grey-haired head on it.

The cold wind caressed his unshaven face, ruffling the armour around him. Theon's skin felt the cold touch of the ringed cuirass with steel inserts on the front and back. In his hands he held his naked sword, and beside it lay a plain half-round helmet with a nanoshell and side bands of chainmail, without any ornaments or decorations like stag horns.

♪ DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO-DOO ♪

♪ I'M GOING TO DO MY BEST TO DO MY BEST ♪

Battle horns howled and in the distance, the clamour and stomping of thousands of feet could be heard on the land. A hail of fiery arrows rained down on the walls, and in return the defenders sent the same 'gift'.

Greyjoy turned round. Many pairs of eyes were staring at him, waiting, anticipating, and gambling.

- Brothers,' Theon began quietly. - Brothers in arms! - he spoke louder.

- Much blood will be shed today. Today we will pay an iron price and take the treasures of the city by right of strength. Today is our glory day! - Greyjoy's voice grew louder and louder with each word.

The Three-Finger struck the end of his axe handle against the wooden planking of the rook. He did it several times, and those holding spears began to do the same. There was the clang of swords hitting shields. The sounds of the blows grew louder and more intense, as did Theon's voice.

-Look over there! There's a rich city just waiting for us to take its treasure! Their defenders are weak and cowardly! We will take what is rightfully ours!

- Our cry is that what is dead cannot die! - Theon continued, and his words were echoed by the whole hundred.

-"What is dead cannot die!

-But today! I will give a new cry! Iron outside, Iron inside!

- Iron outside, Theon repeated.

-"Iron inside. - There was a ragged chorus.

-"Iron outside!

-"IRON INSIDE!

The new cry was already being shouted at the top of their voices by a hundred men. On the neighbouring ships they heard the clanking and banging from there.

-Oars! - shouted Theon and the rooks immediately started forward. They pulled out a little ahead as the others followed.

Greyjoy prepared his battle horn. Taking it with both hands and standing with one foot on the stern, he took a breath of air and blew into it.

For a brief moment, it even seemed to him that everything around him had gone quiet - there were no sounds of battle, no battle cries and the slender clanking of armour and swords. But only for a moment.

The other captains blew their horns too, and the whole armada of ships raced towards Lannisport. The slender, loud exhalations of the rowers rang out.

In a few minutes they were nearing the harbour. Theon turned again, already setting aside his battle horn and placing his helmet on his head.

-Wall of shields! Archers, ready! - And Greyjoy, taking a round, plated shield himself, joined his men. A wall of shields appeared on the long rook, and a dozen archers hid behind it, ready to fire arrows. The same commands rang out on the other rooks.

The shield in his hands twitched as arrows sank in. There were many clangs, the wood taking the sharpness of iron, saving the lives of the ironborn. Greyjoy peered out cautiously. The rowers had not been hit, for they were hidden behind a wall of shields. The rook was now close to the harbour.

- Forward, sons of the Drowned God! Iron outside!

-Iron inside! - his warriors roared, and the ship slammed hard into the stone harbour. The ship jerked backwards slightly from the impact, but immediately a couple of oarsmen pulled the moorings onto the local poles. One immediately fell into the water, shuddering convulsively from the arrow in his neck.

Theon's ship was the first to dock at the enemy port. Behind, the other rooks were already sailing quite close.

Greyjoy jumped over a rook onto the harbour stone slab. He looked round quickly. Ahead stood a slender line of the city's defenders, bristling with spears and swords. The red Lannister banners were flying in the darkness, lit by a multitude of torches.

There were many barely audible thuds as his men jumped to the stone ground from the rook.

Knock! Knock!

The gears of other ships clattered, and more and more ironborn landed on the harbour. The enemy archers let loose another hail of arrows and Theon hid behind a wall of shields, as did the rest of the crew.

After waiting out the hail of arrows and almost getting one in the eye, but the wood was stronger, Greyjoy shouted.

- Kill anyone who raises a sword to you,' the hand with the blade jerked forward. - Kill them all!

With roars and chants, the several hundred ironmen who had managed to land burst into the enemy formation. The first screams of the dying, the groans of the wounded, and the clanking of iron were heard. Some nimble Westerner, right in front of Theon's eyes, put a two-metre tall ironborn man on his short spear. But the spearman was immediately struck in the face with an axe. With a loud clang, it sank into his flesh, crushing his nose, gouging out his eyes from the inside. Blood dripped onto the stone tiles.

Greyjoy's sword didn't stay clean either. Deceiving some guard with a clever feint, he simply tore into his unprotected throat. A little blood splattered across Theon's face, and the city's defender fell to the ground choking.

Reflexively running his hand over his face, smearing the blood, Greyjoy grimaced. I don't want it in my eyes.

The formation was broken in a couple of minutes. A couple hundred guards and militia couldn't hold back the iron men. Many simply ran away, not believing they could survive if left to defend the port. The wounded Westerners were being killed with joyous laughter and jokes. All the stone tiles were covered with blood.

- We must go forward and help my uncle! - shouted Theon and his words were supported by shouts of approval and cheers.

'I hope the Westerners didn't send reinforcements in time. Otherwise we'll get stuck in the city, the streets aren't that wide.'

The entire crowd split in different directions. The horde of ironborn began to trickle into the city, spreading like a plague. But they were all moving towards the gates of Lannisport.

Some decided to start partying already, breaking into homes. The first female shrieks and breaking of doors were heard. Running past one house, Theon saw some ironborn slitting the throat of some young boy of ten or twelve right in front of his apparently mother. She was already being raped from all sides.

Theon gritted his teeth in rage. They're tearing at the gates, and these men are raping and killing the commoners. But there's no time to argue. We must get to the gates quickly.

Greyjoy stopped for a brief moment and asked Three-Finger, who was running beside him.

-You know these? - He pointed his finger at a trio of merrymaking pirates.

Three-toed looked closely.

-No, I don't know. But they weren't ours or Scherbatogo's.

-"Goodbrasers, then. - Greyjoy concluded and ran forward, leading several hundred warriors. They made it several hundred metres ahead before something stopped them.

The guards loomed ahead, led by a strange figure. White, spacious robes, embroidered with gold patterns and paintings. A mace in his hands, and a burning hatred in his eyes. The figure was quite large and swung his weapon with ease, shouting something in their direction. Theon could only make out 'let us punish these heathens' and 'for the glory of the Seven!'

'It's a septon!'

Meanwhile, the enemy was getting even closer. The enemy clearly outnumbered Theon's men.

-Wall of shields! Archers! Stand behind the wall and let the enemy bleed!

A wall of round shields immediately blocked the entire street, and arrowheads immediately appeared from the small holes between the shields. The archers fired a couple of volleys, and stepped back.

Theon himself, standing in the wall, could not judge the effectiveness of the firing. There was little to hear in the cacophony of sounds. He cautiously and slightly lowered his shield down to assess the situation.

VD BAM!

Something heavy struck straight into Theon's shield. Greyjoy was almost thrown off, but several strong arms held him up from behind, supporting him. Theon wanted to cry out, but he gritted his teeth in pain. His arm ached.

- Death to the vile heathen pirates! - shouted a loud voice, and a disorderly crowd of militia, not guards, poured against the wall of shields. Guards or knights would not attack a wall of shields so foolishly.

The first bodies of the attackers began to fall from the stabbing blows of the ironborn's swords and spears. The wall of shields did not waver despite the strong pressure. Archers poured arrows at the enemies from behind the 'shield' wall.

Realising that they couldn't go on like this for much longer, they would simply be crushed as the enemies became more and more numerous, Theon shouted.

-Get rid of the shield wall! Spears and swords! Strike!

Momentarily the dense rows of shields dissipated and the militia were met with swords and spears. Theon's sword pierced someone's shoulder.

The ranks began to mingle. There was no question of any formation on each warring side now. The one who was stronger would win.

Feeling the hand that held his shield go numb, Greyjoy had to fight with one sword. Iron clanked, and the clatter of falling bodies and armour against the stone road of the city was heard again. There was blood everywhere, screams of pain and rage everywhere. And Theon swung his sword time after time, piercing the flesh and tearing open the throats of his enemies.

Suddenly the battle septon's grimace of anger was in front of his face. The green eyes seemed to sparkle with rage, and he spat out the following words:

- LANGUAGE! DIE, BASTARD!

He swung his mace quickly, and all Theon could do was step back a few small steps. That's what saved his life. The mace whistled right in front of his head, not hitting him in any way.

In pain, Greyjoy swung his shield at his opponent. He recoiled.

Another blow, and Theon dodged more confidently, unwilling to take the mace's blow or even fight it off. He kept spinning between the septon's blows, dodging, thereby aggravating the fighting priest.

- You filthy pirate, accept your death with dignity!

Theon didn't say anything in reply, but simply tripped the pirate as he lunged at him. Septon had no time to react when Greyjoy swung his sword and stabbed him in the back from neck to back, unprotected. A few sword thrusts to the throat and the septon was dead.

The battle continued. More and more guards and ironborn were joining the city fights. Something had to be done or they would be stuck here.

The captain of the Son of Thunder spotted one guard about to finish off his kin with the Goodbrasers' crest. The cunning westerner had already thrown him to the ground, disarming him. One moment and...

Theon picked up the axe lying nearby and threw it at the Westerner. It was a single-bladed axe with a wooden handle, and it hit him right in the helmet. The Westerner recoiled, and that gave the Goodbrather warrior time to recover.

The fight continued. The banners had long since been dropped to the ground drenched in blood, and the bannermen had been killed. Abandoned torches burned, lighting the streets slightly. The glow of the fires created and showed the many shadows of fighting warriors. Fear stirred in Theon's soul at such a mystical scene playing out before his eyes.

- Breakthrough! - Theon said quietly, whispering. - Breakthrough! To the gates! - Louder.

He shouted and shouted, fending off enemy swords and spears. Gradually his warriors appeared beside him, forming a speck of order amidst the raging chaos. Greyjoy led them forward, towards the gates. There were few left.

More and more people were joining them. They helped the other groups and they joined them as Theon shouted his commands.

There were no more shouts, no more joyous laughter and taunts towards the Westerners. Everyone was silent. It was quieter now - in the distance they could still hear the echoes of the city's fighting, the clanking of iron, and someone shouting. But much quieter than before.

They came to the gate suddenly - one, and the street was over, and the wooden gate, broken by the ramming, stood before them. There were quite a few westerners nearby, and so the Ironmen dealt with them quickly. All of the main battle took place on the walls.

Except that the iron bars stood, preventing the ironmen from entering.

-Guard the gate and kill everyone there! - Greyjoy shouted, and a couple of dozen warriors rushed to the city gates.

Theon himself led them all towards the barbican, to the walls, to open the bars. There were already quite a few opponents there, and a battle was already underway.

- A fighter running in front of Theon grabbed his throat. The arrow flew out suddenly, and it took a couple of seconds to realise where it came from. An archer hiding at the top of the barbican. Someone roared furiously and let loose a spear.

Theon didn't look to see what had happened to the archer - he made a quick dash into the room of the barbican where the mechanisms responsible for opening the gate bars should be.

- Open the bars! - he shouted, engaging some armoured knight. There were already several corpses of Ironborn and Westerners lying here. Apparently, the stormers of the city were already trying to open the bars.

The arm holding the shield was beginning to ache badly, making it difficult for Theon to fight the knight. In the night, lit only by a couple of lamps, he could see the crest on his surcoat, a golden lion standing up on its haunches.

Nearly losing his head, Greyjoy dodged a swinging blow. The blade sparked from the force of the swing as it struck the stone beam.

The knight, seeing that several ironborn were already turning the mechanism, jerked towards them, but Theon wouldn't let him. Steel clashed with a loud clang as the knight fended off his opponent's lunge.

'The room is too narrow... how do I beat him?!' - A panicked thought flashed through his mind.

Many loud clanks and shimmering of iron chains were heard. The grate was open and surely there were many ironborn already rushing into the city before they could even climb the walls.

Theon was not alone now - the knight was surrounded on all sides. The pirates grinned and shook their axes, poleaxes, and swords. No chance.

- Surrender, Sire,' Theon said loudly. - And I promise you life.

- Shut up, you filthy pirate! - replied the knight in a squeaky voice. - I am Geryon Lanni, and I will not surrender to some brat!

- Too bad,' Greyjoy snorted, and the knight was attacked from all sides. He managed to fend off a few blows, but then a nimble ironman drove his sword through the joints of his armour and into his leg. He went down on one knee and was immediately struck in the throat with an axe. Choking on blood as he fell, he dropped his sword and looked straight at Theon through the visor.

'The same green eyes as the Lannisters. Are the Lanni's one of the clans that have kinship with the Lords of the West?'

Theon and all the Ironborn stepped out of the barbican. Their gaze met the cheering shouts on the walls and the throng of warriors passing through the open gates. Lannisport had fallen.

- Victory. - Theon sighed tiredly as well. Leaning against the wall, he threw off his helmet and stared at one point.

'The withdrawal.'

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

After a dozen minutes, Theon pulled himself together and, finding his team, set off in the direction of the local fortress. More like a villa than a fortress.

The Ironborn had already taken the Lannister fiefdom from Lannisport and were actively plundering it. That's where Uncle Victarion was reported to be camped.

- Uncle. - he greeted him. Victarion, in his armour, looked at the frightened man with yellow hair and green eyes. Lannister.

- Nephew,' he glanced at Theon, quickly assessing the appearance. The younger Greyjoy was covered in blood, just like his uncle. - I've found a couple of Lannisters and I'm wondering what to do with them.

- Take them to Pyke. Hostages are always useful, especially against the Lannisters.

-There's a lot of lions out there,' said Dagmer, who had heard the conversation. - A couple of insignificant Lannisters as hostages is not a good idea.

- They can always be ransomed,' Shooter disagreed.

Victarion looked at them both.

-"I'll keep them in my care for now. Then we'll take them to Pike, to my big brother's delight.

Suddenly one of the ironborn burst into the room. Breathing harshly, he looked at everyone and, stopping at Victarion, said:

- The Northmen have been seen. Not far from Casterly Cliff. Several thousand mounted men.

- Here come the wolves. They're a little late,' Dagmer shook his head and squinted suspiciously.

-"It's for the best. The city is ours now, and the Drevolutionaries won't dare say anything to us. Let the Ironborn pillage Lannisport for three days and three nights, and then prepare for a siege.

The siege of Casterly Rock.