I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

-There's a storm brewing,' Lord Rodrik reported. Standing at the small window, square and thin, he peered out at what was outside.

They were in a library - a library richer in books than Pike's. The place was externally spacious and decorated with pillars, with Harlow's coat of arms carved - obliquely. Scenes of the history of the ancient family of the Iron Islands were visible. The rulers of the island had been both kings and mighty lords, and their history was rich in events.

-Did you choose this place for the library on purpose? - Theon asked, hinting at the chill in the room.

-No, Your Highness. It was chosen by my great-grandfather. This room was always too cold because of that window. - He pointed to this window, which was more of a loophole than a window, -and it was difficult to live here. My ancestors, like many ironborn, despised books, but they couldn't give them up - it was a matter of prestige. He chose to put the library where the chambers could not be. This room.

- It's not hard to move a library, and this room would make a good storage space.

-Consider it my whim, Your Highness,' Lord Harlow shrugged his shoulders, thin and hunched. 'Childhood memories are so soon forgotten that I have to use strange methods. At one time, secretly from my father and relatives, I used to come here - to read about the ballads of antiquity and the treatises of the Maesters of Staromest. The cold reminds me of that.

- Don't call me Highness,' Theon smiled wryly, 'for I shall soon lose that title.

- Are you so sure of that, royal nephew? - There was a hint of irony in Harlow's tone, 'Can the green-blooded really break the iron men?

- We lost our chance as soon as Stannis Baratheon defeated us at Bright Isle,' Theon walked over to one of the shelves, running his fingers along the spines of thick books. Clean of dust. Greyjoy had seen a couple of septons tending to them.

If his father had seen them, he would have been furious. He banished the septons from all the Isles and told them never to show their faces in Ironborn territory again. It is said that Pike's master wanted to banish the Maesters as well, but soon changed his mind, leaving the 'grey rats' - as the scholars of the Citadel on the Archipelago were contemptuously called.

-You're quite intelligent for your age, Your- - Rodrik corrected himself,' Prince Theon.

-And I won't be a prince any time soon,' he said snidely, pulling out a book on Ancient Valyria, 'I'm in danger of becoming Prince Rhaegar's children. Robert Baratheon is renowned for his cruelty to children, as is his father-in-law, Lord Tywin Lannister.

- And you're not afraid?

-I'll try to take the killers with me if I have no choice. Or I'll run for my life. Essos to one of the Free Cities.

- I'm sorry your father didn't listen to me,' Lord Rodrik said bitterly, and Theon looked at him in surprise, 'I lost two sons. They died out there at the Bright Isle. It is doubly distressing to watch my sister's son contemplating death so calmly.

Theon said nothing, and slammed the book he had read years ago to the back of his mind. He put it back where it belonged and walked over to the window.

-Lord Rodrik, you must realise that some of the army that came to put down the rebellion will be coming here to Harlow. Starks, Lannisters, Tyrells. Or maybe the army of the Demon Trident himself, led by one of the White Cloaks.

- They won't be coming anytime soon. The storm will keep the Baratheon ships from reaching the castle,' he shook his head and continued:

- 'And many would say quite the opposite - a war of independence, but no rebellion. 'The Dragon is dead - and the Stag has no right to rise above the Kraken,' your crowned father said.

- It's not the opinion that counts, it's the result. What good will those words do on the Isles if the Maesters of Staromest write about it as just another failed rebellion of the Islanders.

-Those are wise words for someone only twelve years old,' Harlow remarked, adding bitterly, 'Your father will not approve of them, boy.

- My father is blinded by the old glories of the old days. But they are long gone, since Aegon the Conqueror burned Harrenhal and destroyed the Hoar dynasty.

-Your speech sounds like your grandfather, Lord Quellon. He once persuaded me to follow him and his idea - the New Way. Something that would change the Isles and the Ironborn.

A New Way. Theon knew exactly what it was. Partial integration with Westeros, putting slavery aside and taxing sea wives were some of the features that made it not particularly popular.

Greenbloods from the continent are despised, slavery is too lucrative for the islanders, and sea wives gave them the ability to recover quickly.

It was his grandfather Quellon who had started the flow of the New Way. He brought maesters and septons to the Iron Islands, and with them came sane medicine and raven communication.

There are no more septons on the Archipelago. Theon had seen Euron personally drown one in the harbour of Lordport - and the people hooted and cheered. But the maesters survived, and with them the ravens.

- I'm not my grandfather, Uncle,' Rodrik said, surprised at Theon's reference to him. The glory and power of the Iron Islands are long gone, and it's too late to start a New Path to try to save a doomed kingdom.

-It is unfortunate that you feel that way, nephew,' the Reader grew even sadder, a small look of disappointment in Harlow's eyes, 'Drowned God, you would have made a good Lord Reaper. You have common sense and cold logic, a quality I don't see in your older siblings.

Theon was silent for a moment. He looked again at Lord Harlow's vast library, wishing he could read all the books in it.

- I don't intend to change my mind, either. Living in the shadow of their great ancestors has made fools of the ironborn. There will come a time when there will be a man on the continent who wants to slaughter everyone on the Isles, from simple fishermen to lords.

Rodrik didn't answer. He looked gloomily at the tall Greyjoy and sat down thoughtfully on one of the reading tables.

With a nod to his uncle, Theon left the library. But Rodrik didn't notice - the man was completely immersed in his own thoughts, sad and bleak.

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

The young Greyjoy stroked the parrot. The bird rumbled contentedly and stood flush against the boy's black doublet. It began to grow - in height and breadth, slightly, but noticeably.

And the intelligence of this bird is quite advanced - sometimes too much so.

- Idiot! Sv-sv-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve-ve! Wh-wh-wh-wh-why are mermaids all over you!

The parrot's anger was directed at one of Harlow's sentries who had nearly shot the feathered man. The man even cringed with shock and surprise - a bird shouting at him was a surprising event for him.

-It was said for good reason that Prince Theon had a talking bird,' grinned one of the Ironborn, a surviving warrior from Victarion's Iron Fleet.

The captains of the two Gaels were under Theon's command - formally - but in the absence of Victarion and the other older Greyjoys, they had no choice. Lord Rodrik was a Harlow, and the Iron Fleet only reported to the lords of the Isles.

They were not embarrassed by the boy's submission. Prince of the Greyjoys, that's what he was, already earning the apt nickname, The Gunslinger.

Theon had overheard him being compared to a distant ancestor, Dalton Greyjoy, the Red Kraken, a man who had made a name for himself in the Basilisk and Summer Isles in his younger years.

-What news? - He asked Lord Rodrik, who held a small letter in his hand. Theon had spotted the raven flying in from Pike before it landed in one of the castle towers.

- Lordport has fallen, Pike is besieged. The king's men are building trebuchets and battering rams. So said the men of Orkmont.

Theon noticed a coat of arms on an unfolded piece of paper - a field densely dotted with trees. Orkwoods, one of the houses of Orkmont.

The men who had heard it clamoured - Harlow had spoken of it in the main hall, among Victarion's men and Harlow's surviving warriors.

-Silence!' Harras Knight bellowed, hitting the oak table loudly.

- Isn't that all the news? - Theon stared at Rodrik expectantly. There was an uncomfortable silence in the hall.

- 'True,' his uncle admitted, 'Old Vic has fallen. And with it the Great Wick and Salt Cliff. Tully and Baratheon forces from Storm's End landed on Orkmont, and the Tyrells laid siege to the Black Wave.

There was the unbearable roar of a hundred angry throats. Theon's ears ached from the sudden noise. No one had hoped for the fortresses of Salt Cliff, but the fall of the Great and Old Vic was a shock to the islanders.

Warriors and captains cried out for revenge and a punitive campaign. 'Let us strike back at the green-blooded and their usurper king!' - said the Ironborn. The plan looked convincing to many, but not to Theon. To stab a hardened army with a powerful fleet in the back would be foolish and could lead to the deaths of everyone sitting here.

Lord Harlow hastened to explain why it was impossible. Theon remained silent, not wanting to incur the man's wrath - not everyone understood the simple truth.

- We are few. What would a couple of dozen galleys and rooks with a thousand warriors do against the mighty army of Robert Baratheon and the Royal Navy of Stannis, the king's brother? Trying to attack us in the back will get us killed,' Rodrik said, causing more rumbling.

Theon had been in Harlow for a whole moon - and he hadn't acted. He didn't know what to do - the situation was too catastrophic. And Lord Harlow's reluctance to do anything about it could not be dismissed. Strange that the Greenbloods hadn't landed on his island yet. The storm had been over for a week, but not a single enemy galea had approached the Ten Towers.

Greyjoy did not fear death, but he would rather die honourably than foolishly.

Going on the attack was foolishness, the omnitool repeated to himself. But at times, a strong excitement gripped him - not for himself, but for his sister. Even less so for his mother and brother Maron.

The legacy from the long-dead first owner of the body still lived in him - emotions and attachments. And he himself has long since come to regard the Greyjoys as family.

-Lord Rodrik is right,' Theon said coldly, 'we cannot die foolishly, making the servants of the Iron Throne laugh. But we can't wait either.

He looked round. Everyone in the hall was looking at him - seriously or hiding a smile, it didn't matter. The prince's word was the deciding factor in this dispute. Theon looked at those who didn't hide their mockery, and the faces of the brave were stony with the cold squint of the children's eyes.

- Uncle,' Theon's hoarse voice drifted through the hall again. Not the boy's voice, but Greyjoy's. 'Send ravens to the islands that haven't fallen yet. Find out how many ships and warriors they've managed to save. Summon them to the Ten Towers in my name-we cannot stand aside when Pyke is besieged and half our kingdom has fallen.

The crowd, like an insatiable beast, fairly roared. There were shouts of approval and loud cheers. The Ironborn shouted the name of the boy who wasn't afraid to go up against Robert Baratheon.

-Yes, my prince,' his uncle bowed briefly. There was doubt in Rodrik's gaze, and Theon was about to have a conversation that would convince his uncle that the youngest of Baelon's sons was right.

The boy had no idea whether the lords would arrive or ignore him, preoccupied with the defence of their own fiefdoms. But there was no other choice, as Theon had become convinced. All that remained was to wait and hope that the reaper lords would be reasonable.

If they could gather the rest into a tightly clenched fist, they might be able to inflict on the King of the Iron Throne a blow that could turn the tide of the rebellion in a different direction.

If Theon had the gift of foresight, he would have realised long ago that all his actions were pointless. It's all been decided long ago.

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

-Ahahahahahaha! Ned, you should have seen that proud squid kneeling before me! - Robert Baratheon, a stout and tall man with hair as black as pitch and a muscular figure, laughed.

The king drank the cup of golden Arborian in one gulp. Despite years of drinking and revelry, the lord of the Seven Kingdoms had managed to keep his body from becoming completely obese. And the Greyjoy rebellion had restored Robert to his former glowing health - but only temporarily.

- You gave him no choice,' said Eddard Stark, Keeper of the North and Lord of Winterfell, a man with a long, drawn-out face. In public and in private, the king did not hesitate to call his old friend brotherly Ned.

- Shit,' Robert chuckled again. - That Baelon thought too much of himself when he challenged ME! That'll teach the Ironborn a lesson!

They approached Robert's regal tent. Behind the king were several royal pageboys to help him remove his armour and the White Cloaks. Eddard noticed that one of the king's squires looked too much like a Lannister - blond hair and green eyes, a sure sign of lion blood.

'The Lannisters have too much of a hold on Robert. A Lannister wife, one of the Lannister bodyguards, a Lannister squire. They say Crown Prince Joffrey is like his mother, blond and green-eyed,' Eddard thought as he cautiously made his way into a spacious tent with a bed with a soft featherbed in the centre and a table with many viands.

- Word has come from Varys,' Robert said as he changed his armour into cloth and silk, 'it appears that one of the Old Kraken's sons has survived.

The squires were kicked out, and the white-cloaked knights guarded the outer entrance. No one can hear their conversation.

- I assume we're talking about the youngest? - Stark asked. It was no mystery to him - Rodrik Greyjoy, the eldest of the rebel Baelon's offspring had died in Sigard, and the middle son had been found dead in one of Pyke's collapsed towers. A rock had crushed his head.

The sight of dead Maron Greyjoy reminded Eddard of the Targaryens - little Aegon and the girl Princess Rhaenys.

- Yes, Theon Greyjoy, the youngest of Baelon's offspring,' the king took a sip from a large goblet of wine, 'You know, that boy's had his fill of blood. He's only twelve years old, and this...' the King grimaced. - piece of goat shit sends him to spill blood for his pathetic crown. Twelve o'clock, Ned! We were just kicking sand in the Nest courtyard at that time.

The Lord of Winterfell remained silent, but he was in complete agreement with the king. The first time Eddard had bled at sixteen and it had been an accident. An ambush by Highlanders on the way to the Gull City.

Sending all his sons to war, even the youngest... is the old law of the islanders really that cruel? Would a Stark send little Robb to war in his place?

The answer is too obvious.

- And who are you going to give the boy hostage to?

-Who, who,' Robert mumbled, popping a piece of boar into his mouth, 'Tywin fucking Lannister, of course. I've had enough of Cersei's father talking about the broken honour of the West and the lion family. Let him wipe his face with Baelon's heir.

Eddard kept his face from contempt for Tywin Lannister.

- Robert, you must realise that the boy's life at Casterly Rock will be unpleasant and not the sweetest. The Keeper of the West is not a good educator.

-Oh, Eddard, this nobility and honour won't do you any good. Who is this boy to you, protecting him?

Theon Greyjoy was no relation to Eddard, or anyone else. But remembering the bloody bodies wrapped in red cloaks before the Iron Throne. The Old Lion's cold stare, Robert's mad laughter... he shuddered.

King Robert did not notice the shaking of the Guardian of the North and the contemptuous grimace on his old friend's face. Baratheon's entire attention was drawn to the boar's meat brought from the Bright Isle, right on his table.

- Robert, the Lannisters wield considerable influence in the realm. Your wife is a Lannister, and one of the squires looks remarkably like one of Lord Tywin's distant relatives. What did the lions do to deserve such a valuable hostage as Theon Greyjoy? A fleet lost due to blindness or a couple thousand foot soldiers sent by the lions?

Many might have had the idea that Eddard Stark was cunningly trying to take a valuable asset and heir to the Iron Islands away from the Lannisters. But people who knew the Lord of Winterfell well would not blame him for scheming.

Robert Baratheon was a man of the second category.

-Okay, Ned... let the Old Lion be content to have me at his tournament, ha! I leave the hostage to you. Keep the boy and raise him to be a worthy man.

A look of surprise blossomed on the Guardian of the North's face. The Northman had expected Robert to give little Greyjoy to Stannis or even Jon Arryn. But the king's choice had fallen to him.

- As you wish, Your Grace.

-Ned, sometimes I want to punch you. You've got a lean face, miss your wife, don't you? - Robert laughed loudly, spilling wine and the remains of the boar from his mouth all over his black beard.