I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

Staring at his trembling reflection in the water from the side of the ship, Euron chewed slowly on a nutmeg and sipped his wine. 'The Silent One was moving swiftly across the water, leaving the Iron Islands and heading out to the open sea. The lean, single-masted galleys were followed by a dozen others. Those who had chosen to support it in the Veche and no longer had the option of turning back. Not after the first had spilled blood in a sacred place.

Yep, this didn't go the way he wanted it to, Euron thought indifferently. The inexplicable flash of anger after Theon's words to the little bastard had passed, leaving behind a kind of apathy. The adrenaline was gone from his blood, and it was time to think about what had happened and the future.

They stopped for a while on the other side of the Great Vic, where Euron was able to convince the fugitives that they needed to sail to Meereen. Fighting is futile as long as the big lords like the Harlows, Goodbrasers and Volmarchs are behind the new king.

On the sails was the Codds' codpiece, Netley's square net, the Weavers' sea-dragon. A couple of Humbles had managed to jump into the boats of Euron's men. A few free captains with their crests, and the son of the dead John Myre leading the house.

'Not thick,' another nut fell into his mouth and lately, the hapless pirate chewed it quickly.

About the chase, Euron wasn't worried - Theon wouldn't send it so immediately. The boy needs to be crowned before the faces of all the lords and captains.

Thanks to his keen eyesight, Greyjoy spotted an unusual point on the horizon. If you looked closely, you could recognise the point as a bird with unusually coloured wings.

'So that's how it is,' Euron chuckled, taking another drink of wine, 'Baelon's bastard had a surprise.'

The bird could not be reached with bow or crossbow, so the ship's captain had no choice but to wave his hand. He was not going to stop at the Iron Islands again. Giving them a chance to catch up was not worth it. It had been a day already, and Theon had most likely already sent galleys of those who would not mind gutting him. Victarion, for example.

Gloomy weather, incessant rain and choppy waters make the Iron Islands not too cosy for sailing. But Euron has gotten used to it, and even got used to it somehow. Though the Smoky Sea, with its underwater monsters, seems nicer and cosier to him.

How pleased he was to see Aaron's eyes oozing fear, Victarion's hate-filled gaze, and his nephew's tense one. Euron arriving at the veche last, feeling victorious.

Smiling at his younger brother, he even felt like reminiscing for a moment about the old days.

Unfortunately, things did not go as he had hoped. The boy had been quicker to make promises to the major lords of the Isles. He could have become king, but for some reason he decided to provoke a massacre....

'Coward. 'You lousy coward, I know you were afraid of me. You reeked of fear even more than Aaron.'

Euron had been foolish himself, but he tried to forget it. Ravenclaw was not used to losing, nor did he like it.

What he didn't regret was killing Asha. The only daughter of a foolish brother who thought she was too clever to be queen of the Iron Islands. After meeting her at Drumm Manor during his secret stay there, Euron promised her the Isles in exchange for recognising him as king. The girl tried to joke and snicker and deny him as king, but Ravenclaw had hit a sore spot. She was a woman and would never be queen, even if Theon were castrated and feeble-minded.

If he became king, the first thing Euron would do would be to send Asha and Theon to the other side of the world. The Faceless Ones refused, but the Order of the Compassionate never refuses a rare and generous gift of a dragon egg or a Valyrian dagger. Even as a boy, Euron dreamed of ruling Pyke, but the Gods decided to play a joke on him by making the fertile Baelon his first son instead of Euron.

'If it hadn't been for my brother's death, I would have made it to Qarth in time.'

The defeat at the Veche has made Asha a poor ally - all her men have been slaughtered, and she herself is only a threat. True, she should have been killed differently and not in front of a huge number of islanders, but the adrenaline in her blood and the anger in her chest did its job. There was no point in regretting it.

'Celebrate the victory, dear kinfolk. While you can.'

His small fleet has to make a detour through Arbor and the Shield Islands. The Redwyne fleet patrols the shores of Spaceland, lest it repeat the fate of the West. They will continue across several seas, stopping occasionally in the ports of Essos so that Euron can replenish his thinning crew on the Silent One. There would be enough loot to draw men.

The blue eye's gaze travelled to the hanging body at the bow of the ship. All wet, in filthy red robes, a priest of R'glor who had dared to deceive Euron. The raven-eyed priest had graciously allowed him to have a tongue on the Silent One, hoping that he would be of use in the form of his predictions and prophecies read in the fire as the Volantian spoke.

This priest's name was Maharis, and Euron had met him in I-Ti when he had successfully robbed a small settlement of the yellow-faced inhabitants of the Eternal Empire. Unbeknownst to him, the priest, who had been captured by the Ithians, fell to his knees upon seeing the captain of the Silent One and wailed about Azor Ahai and the chosen one of the God of Light. No doubt this piqued Euron's interest.

For several years the priest had been in command without losing his tongue, unlike the rest of the sailors and believing his visions in fire. It was not uncommon for the prophecies to come true. Needless to say, he found the Horn thanks to the priest. Being caught unawares by Geryon Lannister's ship in the Smoky Sea had given him much - a Valyrian sword and the very same Dragon Tamer.

'Lannister was already doomed anyway... and his corpse and the corpses of his crew fed the krakens well.'

Such helpfulness from the Firebear's servants pleased the pragmatic Eueron. A couple more joined him in Volantis, recognising him as Azor Ahai, according to Maharis.

The Faceless Ones' refusal to kill his nephew upset Euron, and he was about to sail back to Qarth, but the priests suddenly made a new prediction.

'The seven great cliffs will bow to the kraken.'

A priest of the God of Light convinced Euron that the kraken was himself, but it was a lie. The kraken was Theon. Greyjoy fell for it and sailed for the Isles.

- You and I have a very interesting journey ahead of us,' Euron told the deceiver with joy in his voice, 'When we reach the Summer Sea, perhaps out of my great mercy I will cut off your hands and let you go free.

'Right into the mouths of the sea wolves.'

Euron has a trick or two for attracting those toothy sea creatures that inhabit the Summer Sea in abundance.

The priest tried to mumble something, but Euryon didn't even try to listen to what he could hear from the man he had recently robbed of his tongue.

The Raven-Eye would not listen to his attempts to justify himself with words about the mischief of the Great Other or the sea demon. He cut off his tongue and tied it to the bow of the ship. The priest's head hung just beneath the tall breasts of the cast-iron maiden.

Too bad the other priests had fallen by the swords of the ironborn at the party. Greyjoy would have liked to talk to them, too.

- In the meantime,' Euron smiled, 'enjoy the sea.

Enjoy your foolish power, nephew. He will yet return and bring the Targaryen's much-loved words to the Iron Islands.

Fire and Blood.

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

The spacious room of the feasting hall at Riverrun hosted many nobles from the North and the Trident. Tables and benches were pushed aside, huge ceiling chandeliers and an inordinate number of wall candelabras were lit.

Hundreds of lords and knights stood around the edges of the hall, looking up at Robb sitting on his throne and Edmure Tully seated beside him. One could also spot the Blackfish clad in his usual armour. Stark did not take his uncle's seat so as not to offend the vain Tully. The King's throne was made of wood and decorated with First Men ornaments similar to those on the Winter Throne at Winterfell. Needless to say, Stark's seat was more modest than Tully's. Another king would have been offended by that, but he didn't care.

He'd been arriving with his army at Riverrun for a moon now. While Robb was in the West, Uncle Edmure ruled in the Riverlands, fortifying his fiefdom and gathering provisions from his subjects to continue the war. This displeased the peasants, but did the lord care what the villein thought? They would endure, Uncle Edmure said, but Robb wondered if a peasant uprising would happen on his side.

News came from the Iron Islands - Theon was king, and in Old Wick, for the first time in four thousand years, the Ironborn had shed blood. There were only rumours of what had happened from merchants, and Greyjoy was vague in his letters. All that was known was that the Iron Fleet could not support him at the moment, crushing the remnants of those who had sided with Euron Greyjoy, the uncle of the new king of the Iron Islands.

It wasn't too disheartening, given the established calm in Westeros. The Lannisters and Tyrells are licking their wounds after the Battle of King's Landing and preparing new forces. Dragonstone still harbours the remnants of Stannis's forces and his heiress daughter. In the Stormlands, not everyone is willing to swear allegiance to the lions, or is just waiting it out. The Keep is still loyal to the Baratheons and has a sizable garrison.

In the south, the Martells are waiting for something. Though their participation in the war has been ruled out, Princess Myrcella was recently reported to be in the fiefdom of the masters of Dorne.

Confidence in the peace of their southern borders and the mess on the Iron Islands have clearly given the Spacers the opportunity to gather more troops. But that is not the worst of it.

- Lords of the North and the Riverlands! I have gathered you to tell you of Lord Royce's noble deed and my aunt Lysa Arryn's dishonourable one,' the glances and whispers have faded, and all attention has turned to the Grim Wolf, 'the Lord of Runes, in keeping with his honour, has notified me through his secret messenger of a secret gathering of troops in the Vale. Lysa Arryn wants to go to war against me!

A murmur of voices carried through the great hall - such news made many and many angry. There were enough people here who had fought with the Valeans together against the Mad King, and such treachery on their part was quite despicable. In the opinion of the northerners and rivermen.

- But rejoice! Not everyone answered my aunt's treacherous call! Many lords of the Vale did not wish to cross swords with those they fought on the Trident!

A grim Edmure Tully disbelieving his sister's treachery, a brooding Grandfather Brynden, and the angry looks of his subjects. The seated Robb's hand moved down a little, resting on the pleasant fur of the luthwolf. Grey Wind watched the spectacle lazily and with one barely covered eye.

For a few minutes, lords like Amber or Bracken grumbled at the treacherous goat lovers, but subsided when Robb decided to resolve the next impending issue.

- Bring him in! - Robb commanded his guardsmen, and soon Jaime Lannister entered the hall in a plain, clean grey robe. His long stay in Riverrun's dungeon had taken a toll on him - his arm, his health, and a certain amount of hubris.

With a certain mockery in his eyes, Robb looked at the once proud Kingslayer. It was even funnier to know that his house had almost collapsed when Lannister had no idea. The cripple straightened his shoulders, looking straight ahead and apparently proud of his bravado in his heart. It made me laugh and angry at the same time.

- Lord Stark, how good to see you,' Jaime Lannister smiled, showing off a couple of knocked-out teeth. The guards were allowed if the Kingslayer tried to escape or provoke the guards.

The only reason he didn't smell like months of slop was because he'd been thoroughly cleaned by Riverrun's servants. Robb didn't want to smell a 'fragrant' lion.

- How do you address our king, you bastard,' he said with a small poke and the captive's smile grew wider. Apparently, the severed hand has taught him nothing.

- Leave him alone, Snorri,' Robb ordered, and the tall Stark Highland guard stopped poking Lannister, 'let the lion think he's still worth something.

- King of the Tundra,' Jaime snorted defiantly in the presence of the northern lords, 'and... what else are you king of, boy?

- Hold your tongue, Lannister. You're in no position,' Robb warned him, his anger boiling inside him. The direwolf, sensing his master's mood, opened both eyes and stood up. Predatory eyes stared at Jaime.

Lannister chickened a little, but only showed it by twitching his eyes between Robb and his pet.

- Your wolf has grown even bigger,' he assessed, glancing warily at the direwolf, "But you're still a boy," the Kingslayer smiled brilliantly as he thought, but the crooked grin was a mere semblance of the arrogance Tywin's son used to have.

- You lost your hand but never gained your wits,' the Grim Wolf said with a wave of his hand, calming down a little. A clear plan of action appeared in his mind.

Stark's words made Jaime look at the rest of his hand, and for a brief moment a grimace of hatred appeared on the lion's face. Only for a moment, but Robb noticed. And smiled contentedly.

- You summoned me here to mock me surrounded by a bunch of your lords and servants? - Lannister asked loudly, turning to the crowd. But, immediately he turned back, looking firmly at the King of the North. An unhealthy light danced in his dull green eyes.

- Mocking the bald lion was a bit of an honour... especially when he was practically alone.

Jaime was confused by Robb's words.

- No, Kingslayer, I called you for something else.

'There is no turning back... sorry Sansa, sorry Arya. I'm sorry, Father. I could not save you and I cannot even punish your murderers. I have only one Lannister bastard left to console.'

Holding back an exhalation of the hatred that overwhelmed him, Robb stared grimly at the Kingsguard:

- Today you die. Your last words, son of Tywin?

- Tell Cersei I love her,' Lannister, to his honour, did not waver.

- You tell her yourself,' Stark said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Grey Wind, who had been staring at Jaime predatorily, growled and leapt at the defenseless Kingslayer.

The captive cried out in surprise, but that was all he could do as the direwolf bit into his neck, tearing flesh like parchment. The stunned men watched the body twitch and wheeze, and Robb smiled. With bags under his eyes from sleep and fatigue, he watched this execution with joy.

No more mercy for the lions.