I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

War.

The word was literally absorbed into the Great Hall of the Pike, where all the lords of the Iron Islands were gathered.

Hearths burned, spreading smoke - thick and whitish, banners hung - colourful and bright. Long oak tables were bursting with food, and people were beating to the beat of every word that came from the high platform.

Her spirit took in every decoration, and the centre of it all was one man.

Baelon Greyjoy, perched above the throne, spoke confidently, with a great deal of pathos and charisma. Now, the croaky voice was a plus rather than a minus in this situation.

He spoke of the great glory that had covered the Iron Islands in ancient times. Of great conquests, of living independently of the opinions of the lords of the Green Continent.

The dragons are dead and the Stag is weak. So why should the islanders bow to them?

Baelon asked, and many lords echoed him, thus cheering and rousing his father. He spoke of many things, and few frowned at it all.

And then, at the end of his speech, he said:

-We will no longer be slaves to the Iron Throne! Let the Greenbloods know the wrath of the Ironborn! We do not sow! We take what is ours by force, paying the Iron Price! Gather your ships, stock up on provisions, today I declare I renounce the Iron Throne and rebuild our kingdom! The Kingdom of the Iron Islands!

The roar of hundreds of throats shook the halls of Pyke. The crowd chanted, 'King Baelon!', 'King Baelon!', 'King Baelon!', 'King Baelon!'.

Baelon looked around victoriously at everyone. Did the crown of fins that one of the Drowned God's priests had put on him make him... superior to the others? Theon blinked, but the sensation didn't go anywhere. Was it an illusion or did the crown really change people?

Nearby stood a scowling Victarion and a cheerful Euron. Even closer, Rodrik, Maron, and him, in a small black cotta tailored to his size. The brothers were smiling - proud and pleased and only Theon was indifferent.

Everyone was looking at them, and he struggled to keep his face an indifferent mask.

Would he survive the meat grinder of this war? His father had said beforehand that Theon was worthy to go into battle and he would not tolerate even the youngest of his sons hiding behind castle walls. He recently celebrated his twelfth year.

-Euron, my brother,' Baelon shouted through the shouts of the crowd and the crowd of lords fell silent, 'tomorrow you will take our entire fleet and march to Lannisport! Let the Westerners be the first to feel the grip of the Kraken!

-Yes, my brother is king. - Euron replied cheerfully, glancing at the bruised Victarion. He wanted him to lead the campaign. 'I'll go round the Bright Isle and burn their precious city, along with their entire fleet. You can lean on me as the most honourable of all the younger brothers!

The Iron Fleet captain's shriek was heard by many, but Victarion remained silent at the taunt. Euron would be followed by many of his vassals - the Goodbrasers of Greater Vic, the Botleys of Lordport, Harlow, Vinci and Sanderly. Over a hundred battle rooks and three thousand hardened warriors.

Baelon nodded contentedly and proceeded to hand out commands, mostly entrusting the main strikes to his relatives and sons.

Baelon assigned Theon to Euryon, thereby making Victarion even more vulnerable. He wanted to take him into his care, but now it was doubtful it would work.

Theon saw Euryon's face towards his younger brother - smirking and angry. Greyjoy's suspicions were strengthened by Crow-eye's glances with his father. Unbeknownst to him, his uncle had managed to persuade Baelon to give his son as a squire to him.

The war. cruel and merciless, it will leave nothing but corpses and ashes. Theon knew this firsthand and now he has to go through it again.

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

Watching Pike's silhouette recede, he could only sigh. Everything had changed - just as his father had promised. 'Silent' served as a reference point for the rest of the ironborn squadron, sailing ahead of them all.

-P-pike! P-p-pike! - A parrot chirped in his ear, causing him to wrinkle his nose involuntarily.

Theon looked at the bird uncertainly. Should he give the scoundrel a name? And what kind? The parrot had a nasty temper, and Greyjoy was beginning to wish he'd never given it to Eirik to eat.

- Are you afraid? - A voice said above him. Shuddering, the boy turned sharply, meeting Euryon's single eye.

-Yes, I'm afraid,' he shrugged, calming himself down. Despite his uncle's strange and twisted nature, he could sometimes be spoken to openly. Though Theon had shuddered at the mere sight of the man a few years ago.

-Everyone is afraid, my dear nephew. They try to quench their fear by believing in the gods, by boasting, by drowning themselves in wine and blood, by making others afraid, only to stop feeling that fear themselves... but no one has ever been able to get rid of the feeling of fear completely. Fear, Theon, and then fear will give you courage...' Euron shifted his gaze to the parrot. - You have a funny bird. I wonder what it tastes like?

-I don't think you'll like it, Uncle. You'll have to taste my steel afterwards,' Theon said without fear.

Euron whistled. His eye squinted, and his right hand dropped threateningly from its relaxed position to the round tip of his sword.

-Threatening, nephew? I understand, it's brave of you to defend your property,' his grin grew wider, "but be careful with threats, boy..." the grin turned into a dangerous grin, 'you're on my ship. Look at them. You see, they are silent - for they have no tongues.

His fingers pointed at the sailors, all ironborn, stern and silent. Now little Greyjoy knew why Euryon's men were always silent.

He did not answer, continuing to stare bravely into Euron's eye.

It was foolish to lash out at the captain of the ship you were sailing. But it was not worth giving in either. Euron is cruel and ruthless, but he would not touch his older brother's son.

The captain of the Silent One walked away, leaving his nephew alone. He continued to stare at the silhouette of his home castle. And when it completely disappeared from sight, he returned to his assigned quarters. The parrot was nestled in a corner, and Theon, feeling the galleys swaying, drifted off.

He had much to think about.

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

From afar, Lannisport was impressive - Theon could see high, jagged walls, square towers, and a harbour packed with Lannister battle galleys and merchant ships, barrel-shaped cogs.

In the distance stood the hulk that was Casterly Rock, towering over the whole neighbourhood like a lion crouching to rest.

A huge, golden chain blocked the way of the unexpected night visitors - but suddenly, in front of a hundred rooks, it came down. In the light of the distant lever towers, he could see the shadows of the warriors who had seized them and interrupted the guards.

Until the very last moment, the defenders were unaware of the approach of the Iron Fleet - they lowered their sails and sailed only through the oars. No one shouted, no one blew their branching horns. It was only when the first rooks banged against the stone harbour of Lannisport that the alarm was raised - but it was too late.

Clad in iron and wool, the ironborn jumped the bulwarks and burst into the first houses. Specially assigned troops set fire to Lannister battle galleys. Hundreds of bloodthirsty men and women burst into the residential streets.

And the city went up in flames.

The islanders greedily grabbed everything-- jewellery, money, new slaves, salty wives. Houses caught fire, and the streets were filled with the corpses of citizens and guards, merchants and bakers, jewellers and simple children.

The local city palace, the castle, could not be penetrated. The Lannisters had time to lock the gates, and the low walls with windows were bristling with scorpions and arrowheads.

The Ironborn stayed away - their goal was not capture, but the destruction of the enemy fleet and plunder.

Theon broke away from his uncle once more. Euron preferred to go with armed warriors to the sept rather than see to his nephew's safety.

Stepping over the dismembered and naked corpses, Greyjoy could savour the scent of blood and released entrails with all his senses. It was not his first time, but there was something sickening about it, like an indelible stain.

Several figures appeared ahead. The clinking of steel gave no doubt of what was happening-they were fighting. A Latnik with the Lannister crest was fighting against two islanders and crowding them. One he managed to wound in the shoulder and the other was clamped in the wall of the stone house.

Feeling his hands tremble, Theon pulled an arrow from his quiver and took aim. He had opted for a regular bow instead of a goldilocks bow, more comfortable and not as heavy to draw the bowstring.

There was little to see in the darkness, so he could only hope for the glow of burning houses and galleries. Taking aim, Theon made his move.

'Stenk' came the sound, and the iron-tipped arrow sank into the knight's face. It hit. Right through the open visor - though he hadn't hoped to do it even a third time.

There was a clang as the knight fell to the stone paving stones, his armour clinking as he did so.

The islanders looked at the unexpected aide and recognised him as the Iron King's youngest son.

- Prince Theon! - One of them exclaimed. Greyjoy couldn't see his crest in the darkness, but there was no doubt he was a Pyke man.

- Don't thank me,' a twelve-year-old boy in a jacket with stitched ringlets smiled with a heavy smile in his heart, 'go on and take your Iron Price. We'll be leaving soon.

The warriors thanked the prince and left. It was unusual to hear such an address from humans.

Taking only the sword and cloak of the slain footman, Theon ran back. It was better to go with Euron to the sept - less risk and more use. The septs, especially Lannisport, boasted great riches.

They could already hear horses stomping in the distance. Brass trumpets were sounding. Mounted reinforcements from Casterly Cliff had arrived, but all they saw were ashes, corpses, and a burnt-out fleet. The islanders quickly began climbing into their own rooks, pushing off the rocky surface and quickly sailing back.

This is Uncle Euron's triumph, Theon realised clearly. Standing at the stern of the Silent One the man looked out over the blazing city. In the firelight and shadow play, his face took on a strange grimace - mixing contentment, joy and madness.

The goal had been achieved and the Lannisters were knocked out of the naval confrontation for years to come. All that remains is to return to Pyke.

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

The townspeople greeted Euron and his squadron as heroes. Lordsport feasted - in the inns the citizens could enjoy free beer and meat, the names of Baelon and his brothers shouted in every nook and cranny. Peaceful fishermen and merchants shrugged fearfully at the raiders and warriors who crowded the city.

People laughed at the Lannisters and King Robert the Usurper. 'The Greenbloods are weak,' the people said, and waited to see where the king would direct the might of the Isles - to the North or the Vastness?

When Theon returned to Pyke, he had his share of glory - the Pykeans he had helped told everyone about the prince's fighting prowess. To kill a knight with a single shot is worth a lot, even for a seasoned archer. Baelon's youngest son had done it at twelve.

'Theon the Archer!' - shouted the warriors, raising their axes and shields. They were honouring him, Theon realised, as he entered the courtyard, surrounded by Euron's silent men.

It felt good. Luck had favoured him, but who cared? Theon was no longer just the King's son, he was now the Gunslinger. A man with his own nickname, a title not everyone deserves even at the end of their lives!

A week later, Victarion returned with the Iron Fleet. The Shield Islands had been sacked - only one of them was intact. All Shield Isles ships, from battle galleys to merchant cogs, had either been sunk or boarded and were now in the Islanders' formation.

Arbor, with its mighty squadron of ships, was untouched by Uncle. It would take the full force of the Iron Islands to fight the Arborians, not just the galleys of the Iron Fleet.

Ships came from other parts of Westeros as well - a couple of rooks returned from the North, from Cape Kraken and the Stone Coast, bringing mostly slaves and timber.

But one piece of news has darkened not only all of the Iron Islands, but the Greyjoy family as well. The remnants of a fleet under Harras Harlow had returned. He was supposed to take Sigard, but he failed, and died personally at the hands of Lord Jason Mallister.

His older brother had died in the abyss of the sea, having been wounded and capsized.

Baelon no longer smiled and grew dark, his mother locked herself in the Sea Tower, Maron hid his eyes in the floor, and Theon comforted Asha. She loved Rodrik, the oldest of them all. And her brother had always taken care of her. The boy himself was not sad. They were not close to him and Greyjoy had long ago grown accustomed to treating the deaths of family members with indifference.

The war was just beginning.