I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

The letter in Baelon's hands crumpled sharply

-The offer isn't very interesting to me anymore, though... kha! - coughed his father. - A raven came this morning with wonderful news from the Riverlands.

Again, the elder Greyjoy shuffled back to the bed and wrapped himself under a couple of thick blankets, hiding his old bones in the warmth. Theon stepped closer to the bed.

- 'And what was the news that made you so happy?

'Has something happened to Robb? Did he lose the battle? Is he dead?'

-Tywin Lannister is dead. - Lord Pyke's loud words echoed. Theon fell into a stupor.

-Dead how?

- In his bed at Harrenhal. Perhaps the old Lion had poison in his wine cup. - A sickly Baelon, making repeated coughs, chuckled, mixing it with his coughs.

- The Old Lion is dead, Theon. The Northmen and Rivermen have risen to leave the Seven Kingdoms for good. This is our chance. The king's a sucker king who thinks he's invincible.

'You're one to talk,' came the amusing thought.

- Bright Isle was once our land. The Hoar flags flew there, and now the Lannister flags fly there. It's time to set that right.

There was a scraping sound. Someone was scrabbling at the door, tapping it visibly. His father stared at the door in incomprehension. The younger Greyjoy sighed, realising who it was, went to the door and let his pet in.

Cicero, sitting on the stone floor, flapped his wings and flew into his father's chamber, sitting on the table. He walked round the table as if he were a king. The parrot's little eyes stared at Baelon.

- T-why id-dei n-paul...' he started to chirp, but Theon nudged him with his hand just in time, kicking him off the table before he could finish.

- Is that nasty bird still alive? - Baelon asked in surprise, watching the parrot fly into the wall candelabra. - As soon as I think of your naughty Uncle Euron, I think of your nasty pet.

'So, a little joke on you, I suppose. She liked to mark Lord Eddard, and he took no offence.'

-I heard my uncle was banished from the Isles. Why did you banish him?

- My mad brother thought he could do anything. - There was steel in my father's voice. - He seduced another man's concubine and she bore his child. He touched your Uncle Victarion's property. By all laws, I should have drowned the Crow's Eye, but I chose to banish him.

- I don't see my mother and sister in the castle. Did you send them away? - the younger Greyjoy asked a new question.

- Your mother's in Harlow. She hasn't been well lately. - Baelon coughed sharply. It took a moment for him to feel better. - And your sister's travelling to the Great Vic. On my errand.

- I have also heard that my sister is renowned as a glorious raider. The Kraken's Daughter, is that her name?

- She is the only thing left after the death of two sons and the capture of a third. - Abruptly answered Baelon the Bold, as he was known among the islanders.

-It's usually the men who inherit. - Theon smiled. - Do you really want to change the old law? Kings are elected by the Veche.

-I will not wear the crown a second time. - Baelon rumbled again. His voice was hoarse. Theon Greyjoy took a jug of wine and poured it into an iron mug.

- Give it to me. - Lord Father said irritably, snatching the mug from Theon's hands. - I am not yet weak enough to accept offerings from my son.

- You said you wouldn't wear the crown a second time. Did you...

Baelon took a sip or two and interrupted him:

-Do you really think I am afraid to wear the crown? Oh, no, my dear son. I'm not afraid of much. No, when I die in my bed and not with an axe in my hand, I will not wear a crown. It would be my shame.

The elder Greyjoy suddenly became angry and threw his mug at the stone walls. There was a loud clang, and the spilled wine spilled over the stone slabs.

A cough sounded - clamping a hand over his mouth, Baelon clutched the other blanket.

- Robert Baratheon be damned... Go, Theon. We'll talk later. I'm not feeling well.

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

Theon had been in Pyke for a week now. In that time, he has had time to get a sense of what has changed on the Iron Islands during his absence. Very little has changed.

The fishermen were fishing, the peasants, who were few in number, were still ploughing, trying to work the unfriendly land. The dashing lads go off to raid distant lands like the Summer Isles or West Essos.

Now the master of weapons in Pyke was Dagmer Szczerbaty, a famous raider. Even in the days when Theon was not yet a hostage, he had gained fame as a successful and strong fighter and captain.

Pike didn't have Scherbaty at the moment. His father had sent him to Old Vic on his errands. As Greyjoy realised, probably to round up local vassals.

Different ships with different crests were appearing more and more in Lordport Bay. Harlows, Goodbrasers, Stonetrees, Stonehouses, and many others.

Met his uncle Victarion as well. He was taller than Theon, with broad shoulders and strong arms. Grey had appeared in his hair over the past fifteen years, but the Iron Fleet captain was still strong and sturdy in spirit.

- Theon. - A sullen look came into Greyjoy's eyes when they saw each other in the harbour. Behind Victarion, tucked away in the harbour, stood his flagship, the Iron Victory.

- Uncle Victarion. - Greyjoy smiled at his straight-faced relative. - You haven't changed since the last time we met.

- Perhaps. - He muttered, turning his gaze away. - How long have you been back?

-A week ago. I came from Sigard.

-So the Starks have decided to let you out? - The clouds and dampness didn't make the mood of a sullen Greyjoy any better. He wore plate armour and held a helmet that looked like a kraken's head.

- Robb Stark hopes for our alliance. While he's crushing armies in the West, we can strike from the other side. - Theon explained. The Iron Fleet captain hummed.

- Robb Stark can hope for anything but an alliance. If Baelon strikes the West, it will only be to win new lands for himself and go down in history as a conquering king. He doesn't care about the Northmen or the Starks.

-I know, Uncle. - The younger Greyjoy nodded. - But a war with the Northmen would give us a welcome chance to reclaim the old days. The Seven Kingdoms are falling apart, and we should try to pick up some of the pieces of this rotting giant.

- Clever words, nephew. - Victarion hummed again. - But I'm interested in something else. Have you not yet lost your skills to the care of the green-blooded?

-No, Uncle Victarion. Rather, they've gotten better.

-Well, let's see. - He smiled. And it was a rather creepy smile, in the younger Greyjoy's opinion.

After a couple of hours of sweaty and exhausting sparring, Victarion and Theon boarded the Iron Victory. Victarion did not circle around as many nobles of Westeros like to do, but offered to speak privately on his ship.

Greyjoy trusted his kinsman - for he knew his character. And he guessed the topic of conversation.

- Your father will die soon. - He began roughly. - And when he dies, there will be a Veche.

- That's rather obvious, Uncle. - Theon sighed. - Do you want to stand for election? Should I fear for my life when I board your flagship?

- No.' I could hear the irritation in his voice. - I want you to become Lord of Pyke after your father dies.

Theon was surprised. He knew, of course, that his uncle Victarion wasn't particularly ambitious and liked to fight, but still... he had a good chance of becoming something more than a captain of the Iron Fleet. And he just turns them down?

- Father considers Asha the heir.

- He thought she was the heir while you were a prisoner of the wolves. That's all changed now. - Victarion scratched his unshaven face irritably.

-And Asha is a woman. - He continued, snorting dismissively. - Who would elect a woman to the Sea Throne? There never has been and never will be. They'd rather put Aaron or some bastard on the throne than a woman's arse on the throne.

- How cruel you are to my sister. - Theon shook his head. - Well, why not sit on the throne yourself?

- I don't care about the Sea Throne or Baelon's dreams of reviving the old law. - Victarion gritted his teeth. - All my life I have fought and campaigned at sea. My life belongs to war, and my wife and children are my axe.

- Then you will support me? - Theon said affirmatively. - But it's not that simple, Uncle, is it?

-Of course. - The younger Greyjoy noticed that it wasn't just Ironborn ships in the bay. There were quite a few merchant galleys from Westeros. Father had forbidden anyone to leave Pyke, and now there were many merchants trapped in their ships. I don't think they'll be released so easily.

- I'm sure as soon as my brother dies of his sickness, Euron will come. - his uncle clearly had a problem with the name. - He'll run for king at the council and he has a good chance of becoming king.

- We're not a kingdom yet. - Theon corrected him. - But you're right, Uncle. If Ravenclaw becomes lord, Asha and I will have to worry for our lives. As should you, apparently?

- You know why I hate Euron.

He said nothing to his uncle, but looked glumly out at the vast sea. The weather was still as foul as ever. The cold wind was blowing in his face, and the frowning clouds spoke of heavy rain.

- What else do I need to know?

- You need to prove yourself worthy. That's what your lord father expects. Everyone remembers your bravery during the war against the Greenbloods. But that was a long time ago, and everyone also remembers that you were a hostage for ten years.

- So I have to prove it? - rhetorical question. - In Father's new march on Westeros, I suppose. Father wants to take the Iron Fleet to the Western Kingdom.

- He wants to take the Iron Fleet to a lot of places. - Victarion retorted. - Before news of the Old Lion's death came, he was ready to invade the North.

- The North? - Greyjoy wondered. - How on earth was he going to conquer that huge piece of land?

The Iron Fleet captain shrugged.

- Perhaps he didn't intend to conquer the whole of the North. That's not my concern. All I have to do is chop off enemy heads and take fortresses by the sword in the name of my brother, the king.

'Baelon's not a king and he's not likely to ever be.'

- Where's your ugly bird? - Victarion suddenly asked. - I'd missed his cries by now.

- Probably sleeping or stealing from the local fishermen.

-Eating fish? I've never seen her do that. - He said.

- Worse, she steals them and then throws them in someone's face.

- Nasty bird. - Victarion grinned, stroking his axe.