I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

Time is a funny thing. It flies fast like a leaf in the wind, and then it drags like some kind of jelly. In Greyjoy's case, for him, time flew very fast. Before he knew it, months had passed.

He was still master of weapons, making the soldiers sweat every day, and he was still thinking about his escape plan, which was becoming clearer and clearer. But Theon had his doubts... what did he want to achieve in the Free Cities?

He didn't even think about the option of returning home, as long as King Robert was alive, no one would let him go to the Iron Islands so easily. And the prince heir is not optimistic about going home. He'll be a hostage as long as his father lives. And it's doubtful the Iron Islanders will be very happy to have him back.

The free cities as a place to make a living and a good place to live looked better. Theon showed no arrogance, considering himself a good fighter and an excellent archer. Everyone around him recognised that. Even Ser Rodrik lost to him in sparring, though not always....

He could become a mercenary, joining a famous unit like the Golden Swords. Make money, maybe rise to prominence. Becoming captain of a mercenary unit is actually a great prospect for medieval realities. Much better than a hostage...

The escape plan was ready, all that remained was to wait for the moment... Westeros was on the brink of a new war - it was obvious. As Theon realised, one of the Great Houses had gained enormous influence, and many on the continent did not like it. And the Lannisters themselves were throwing in the towel, if what they'd sent an assassin after Bran was true.

It was a kind of War of the Roses that took place in fifteenth-century England. Only Westeros, though similar in proportions to England, could rival the size of his former homeland.

He was going to escape through Barrowton.

Lately, he'd often travelled alone to the Wolfswood to put the Starks on their guard. He'd take a horse with him, and after catching a few birds, he'd always come back. Lord Eddard is cool about it, knowing that his ward will not run away. His son wasn't particularly worried about it either.

He would leave towards evening, so that Robb would think he was missing, not running away. The Wolfswood is a dangerous place, teeming with wolf packs. And to provide some false evidence for that theory, he's going to visit a woodsman who lives in the Wolfswood. He'd have to get dirty, but he didn't see any other way out. Well, he did, but he chose the safest one. And bloody.

He'd mutilate the poor woodsman's body so badly that everyone would think Theon had been eaten by wolves. It's cruel, but Greyjoy doesn't care much for it. He's used to other people dying at his own hands.

If the Starks realise his deception, he'll have a couple of days' head start before the crows are all over the North and he'll be sailing from Barrowton. He'll sail to Lannisport, where he'll either go straight to Essos or to Staromest. It all depends on whether or not Greyjoy can find the right ship.

He'll take the bare essentials with him, much of which he'll have to leave behind in Winterfell. Money, a bow, clothes, and a small number of household items that he would hide in small sacks.

But there were many doubts about this decision....

What if he were captured at Barrowton? Surely the Starks might think he wanted to return home to the Iron Islands, and they would be right. But Lady Dustin, née Risswell, doesn't like the Starks and the wolves' power there is weak compared to the rest of the North.

He could have gone another way, but going across Isthmus is foolish, he'd be captured as soon as he tried to cross the Cailin Ditch, not to mention the marshes and the ruggedness of Isthmus. There is only one small road through the vast expanse of swamps and to capture him there would be spitting.

White Harbour was a tempting target, for from there he could go straight to Essos. But the Manderlys were more loyal to the Starks and it's doubtful they'd ignore the letters from Winterfell.

Maybe Winterfell won't realise that Greyjoy faked his own death and fled. And all his fumbling all over Westeros is pointless. But he's used to being on the safe side.

He's already prepared to flee - all his belongings are packed, his route is set, his victim to deceive is chosen. In a couple of days, he would have made a habit of training his soldiers and set off into the forest....

But he was too late.

-"There was a letter from Mother today, - Robb told him, summoning him to his upper room. - I'm afraid we're going to war, Theon.

-What has Lady Catelyn done that we are to be at war now? - Theon asked, almost slurring the word 'did' instead of 'did.'

- She snapped at Lord Tyrion.

- What had the dwarf done to Lady Stark that she was capturing him? - It was a rhetorical question. Apparently Robb's mother was convinced Tyrion was behind the attempted murder of Bran or the whole Lannister family.

- Mother would not say...but he was most likely behind the assassin. - Stark gritted his teeth in anger. He was sure Lady Catelyn could not have made the mistake of capturing Tyrion for nothing.

- I don't understand what the dwarf's motives were. - Theon grew tired of standing and sat down in a chair opposite a slightly long desk littered with papers. The desk was probably made of ironclad wood, but painted with a dark varnish, so it couldn't be determined for sure. Greyjoy's keen eye could spot a couple of ink blots standing out on the black.

Robb didn't mind, so Theon sat on it, leaning against the hard, uncovered back of the chair.

- Perhaps Brandon had seen something in the tower since he'd been pushed out of it? I'd never believe my brother would just fall from a height like that. He's always been a good climber.

- Anything is possible, my friend. - shrugged his shoulders. - But you're right, an assassin wouldn't be sent to your brother so easily. And in the name of Prince Joffrey. Could it really be him?

- I don't like the Prince, but I don't think he'd have the guts to kill a rabbit. He didn't strike me as cruel. Cowardly, arrogant, but certainly not cruel. - Stark's gaze drifted down to the many stacked sheets of parchment. He was clearly more concerned with them than he was with talking about the murderer's alleged clients.

-So why did you call me here, Robb? I don't suppose just to talk about the contents of the letter and Tyrion Lannister's arrest?

- I want to fortify Moat Cailin, Theon. And I want to send a force to take over an almost empty castle. I want to send you. - Stark stamped his foot.

- Me?' Lord Stark's ward wondered. - I don't really understand how to fortify a dilapidated castle or how to manage a squad. - Greyjoy tried to deflect.

- Maester Luwin had a different opinion. And you've done well as weapons master. I feared the soldiers would slack off after Ser Rodrik left, but now they seem to be practising even more than before. - Robb grinned.

- Still, Robb, I'm not sure I can do it. I don't think the Northmen will obey me.

-You don't have to worry about that. - Stark confidently refuted Theon's next words. - I've already warned everyone, and they don't seem displeased. They respect you, Theon, and they call you the Sharp Eye. Haven't you heard rumours about yourself?

-'I have,' Theon muttered. He didn't like the nickname he'd earned among the Northerners. - On the Iron Islands they call me the Gunslinger, and I like that name better than Sharp-Eye.

- I've never heard of it. - Robb was interested. - Theon the Gunslinger.

Robb knew that Greyjoy had fought in the bloody battles of Baelon's Rebellion when he was eleven. He'd gloried in them somehow, but Stark had never asked his friend about it. His father told him Theon lost two brothers in the war and became a hostage. A hostage at his house. He tried not to touch the subject, lest he accidentally offend.

- What about Cailin's Moat? - Theon returned to the old topic. - If you're so sure... then I'm certainly willing to take command of a squad and head for the Moat.

'Where am I going to go?' - Theon thought. - 'Stark is persistent in sending me there. I don't think he suspects anything, it's impossible. But he was advised by Luwin... has the old maester figured out my plan? Or am I being paranoid and it's all just chance?'

- I'll send you four hundred lancers with forage and provisions. A couple of builders and carpenters will go with you to fortify the castle and renovate the local rooms.

- Apart from fortifying the castle, is there anything else to be done?

- Nothing else. If there are any serious problems, send me word.

-When do we leave? - Theon asked another question, realising that his whole escape plan had gone down the drain. It was pretty sad... planning and calculating for a long time and then screwing it up at the crucial moment.

-Tomorrow. The squad's ready, all we have to do is fill the wagons with everything we need. Including tools and supplies.

- Good. Then let me get back to my duties. The soldiers must have been bored after I left. - Theon smiled a wide grin and Stark nodded tiredly, also lifting the corners of his lips slightly.

Greyjoy was leaving Lord Stark's chamber in frustration-if he ran away tonight, it would be too suspicious. And given the possibility that Luwin had guessed his plan... they'd send a chase right away.

We'll have to go to Kahlan's Moat and do Stark's bidding.

'When did I become a servant of House Stark?' - Greyjoy asked himself as he stepped out into the fresh air and saw Robb's younger brother, Brandon, riding a horse in the courtyard. He was attached to a special saddle and could safely stay on the four-legged beast.

Next to him was Hodor and a couple of guardsmen, watching to make sure Brandon didn't accidentally fall off.

Sighing and seeing Cicero flying nearby, Theon headed back to resume the Guardsmen's training.

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

They set off the next day. Four hundred heavily armed foot soldiers, most of them on horseback, rode out of Winterfell. The fluid column slowly made its way out of the huge castle. Wagons laden with food, forage and tools followed the troop. On the wagons were a couple of servants Robb had sent to help Theon set up the castle and a couple of masons, with carpenters.

He rode ahead of the column, leading it. Beside him rode a foot soldier holding the Stark banner. They slowly passed through many fields, dense forests and even crossed a couple of small rivers. The North was vast and the distance to the Moat of Cailin was corresponding.

None of the northerners showed any displeasure at being commanded by Theon. They were all Stark guards and Greyjoy was used to being obeyed. There was a reason he'd been master of arms at Winterfell for nearly four months.

They didn't stop anywhere in particular, just lingered at the lesser settlements. Three weeks later they reached the Moat of Cailin.

The ancient fortress of the First Men may have once inspired awe and fear in the Andals, but now it was a shadow of its former self. Legend has it that the fortress once had as many as 20 towers - and looking at the huge three towers that Moat Cailin now had, Greyjoy understood why the Andals could not take the stronghold.

The fortress was not derelict - it had its own steward with a minimum of servants - the Starks did not care much for the Moat, as it had lost much of its importance after Torrhen had knelt before Aegon the Conqueror.

He stationed the footmen in the castle and distributed forage and provisions. The local steward removed himself from power, leaving everything to Theon. Robb gave command of Moat Cailin to him and House Stark's ward had to take full responsibility.

The stonemasons and carpenters immediately began to survey the castle and assess the scope of the work - and they all clucked in frustration, realising that it would take a long time to repair the Moat completely. All that remained was to patch up the ancient giant.