I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

Lightning flashed, and a torrent of water nearly pushed Theon off the side of the drakkar. He held on with all his limbs, but the growing storm was trying to throw all the sailors off the ship... including Theon. And it had started out so well.

Half a day after they'd left the West and its rich shores, the Ironborn had sailed smoothly. Greyjoy already expected to be on Bright Isle in a few days to pick up the rest of the loot still on the island. And take the prisoners to Pyke.

Theon had had a bad feeling when Cicero had suddenly flown off in an unknown direction, as if sensing something. And a couple of hours later, he realised exactly what his pet had sensed. There was a storm ahead, and there was no way they could get around it or get back.

The Storm God had struck his cunning blow, said Uncle Aeron, as he boarded Theon's ship. At the invitation of the captain himself. He had something he wanted to discuss with him, but apparently it was not to be.

It was raining and windy, and his clothes were soaking wet, so he would have to be careful not to get sick if he survived. The ship was constantly rocking in different directions, and already a couple of unlucky ironborn had fallen overboard, giving their souls to the Drowned God.

- They fell victim to the Storm God's perfidy,' said Wethead mournfully, standing on the deck as if he didn't feel the pressure of the wind, the rocking of the ship, and the downpour. He was wet and his hair was sticky, but the priest of the Drowned One looked forward and prayed. Quietly, almost silently, but praying.

Theon looked round, the rowers were working hard, and the sails were furled to keep them from being carried back. Night had fallen, and the storm was still raging.

Greyjoy could see the shadows of a few drakkars in the distance, and he could not tell who they were, but the very fact that they were there pleased Theon.

- Hold on tight,' Greyjoy said to Erich, and the drakkar rocked too hard. Greyjoy fell to the planks, as did many of the warriors on their feet. Only those at the oars were lucky.

- Wulfric has fallen! - shouted someone and Theon had time to see someone's feet disappear over the side of the ship - no doubt the named Wulfric was already, it could be said, dead.

'That's the third one,' Theon grudgingly muttered in his thoughts, realising that the storm had thrown his plans into disarray and caused considerable damage to his... resources.

The situation irritated him. The blatant disregard for the storm by Aeron infuriated him. The terrified faces of the pirates, superstitious to the core. The swaying drakkar from the storm. Theon felt like jumping into the water. Could this all be a dream?

'Strange thoughts,' Theon immediately reassured himself. There was no telling what had come over him, but he really did want to jump overboard already.

Lightning was flashing, large raindrops were hitting his face, and his feet were barely keeping him on board.

It was going to be a rough night.

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

-Hail to the Drowned One, we've managed to escape the Storm God's trap! - Aaron proclaimed to the younger Greyjoy's crew when we first got out of the storm. Theon would have said it wasn't about the Drowned One, but he decided to keep quiet. It wouldn't do him any good.

The Ironborn were a seafaring people, and therefore quite superstitious.

The sea has calmed down and the strong winds have stopped rocking the drakkars, due to the disappearance of the first one. They would need a few more hours, if not a whole day, to rejoin the others. Nearby sailed all four of his ships, and a little further out, Uncle Victarion's Iron Fleet, also a little battered from the sea's fury.

- 'Hail to the Drowned,' Theon repeated after them all, but somehow without the fire as the other Ironborn said it. He counted the ships carefully, trying to figure out, 'How many are missing? How many did we lose?'

'It turns out that some only deviated a few kilometres, while others sank altogether... somewhere, five to six drakkars definitely went to the bottom. If the Storm God is real, he's got us in for a real treat.'

In the distance, Theon noticed a small dot rapidly approaching him. A few minutes later, he identified his pet in the multicoloured haze. Cicero was flapping his long wings vigorously, eager to return to his master. Greyjoy lifted his hand when the bird was quite close.

Cicero nuzzled into the tough skin on Theon's arms without harming his master. After receiving a few strokes, he exclaimed in a ringing voice, with the customary mate in his words:

-Sh-Storm B-b-God! Ob-shit! S-s-s-s-hail K-ktul-hoo!

Hearing the parrot's words, the whole crew laughed. Theon himself let out a few laughs, but it wasn't the insults directed at the Sea God's eternal adversary that amused him.

Aaron looked at the bird curiously:

-Strong words from a sky dweller. What was the talking bird saying at the end? Is Cthulhu some kind of bird god on the Summer Isles? - Greyjoy's sudden interest in Shaggyhead was new to Greyjoy. Usually he spoke of his god or the greatness of the Ironborn, but this was a new topic of conversation with this fanatical man.

- Cthulhu is the name of the Drowned God of the Summer Isles. That's what the Summer Islanders call him.

'It's all lies, of course, but they can't prove it. There's not much interest in the culture of other peoples here, and that goes for the ironborn as well. Especially the ironborn.'

- Cthulhu,' my uncle said, as if tasting the word. - There's really something about it. It's a name that stirs my mind.

This turn of events was beginning to worry Theon.

- Uncle, I think we should do something else,' Theon said. The crew was already scattered around the drakkar, busy with whatever they were doing. Some were sharpening swords, some were working the oars. And some were counting their loot from the West. No one was left without booty.

- Yes,' Aaron shook his head, turning his attention back to Greyjoy. - How long before we reach the Bright Isle?

- A day or two. The storm has changed our plans considerably.

- What's next? - Aaron asked inquisitively, looking at his nephew with fiery black eyes.

- Then we take all the loot and hostages and leave a strong garrison. Pike awaits us, where I will rule in my father's name.

- You're going to proclaim yourself ruler of the Iron Islands, bypassing the Veche? - An even closer look. The wet-headed man tensed.

- No, Uncle,' Theon smiled, seeing how tense his body was, 'but let me remind you that it's the party that chooses who will rule the Iron Islands. And Pyke is the ancestral land of House Greyjoy. And with my father dead, I'm Lord of Pyke.

Aaron's relaxed.

-You've been spending too much time with the Reader. -I don't see the problem.

- I don't see the problem. Lord Harlow, despite his nickname, is a good ironborn.

- He rejects the Old Way, extolling the ravings of your late grandfather Kvelonn,' Aaron said angrily to Theon, clenching his teeth.

- 'Yes. He rejects the Old Way,' Greyjoy agreed, 'He sees no future in it.

He was suddenly drawn into a conversation with his uncle. In the process, he tried to convince him of the New Way, but it was a mistake. Theon had only aroused the anger and irritation of the Wethead.

'It was a mistake,' Theon admitted to himself, marvelling at his impulse. Cicero had long since left him, flying somewhere nearby.

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

They quickly found the stragglers or splintering Ironborn. Victarion's Iron Fleet had suffered virtually no losses. But the rest of the iron lords' fleet was not so lucky - at least five drakkars, along with their crews, went down to the Drowned God.

The whole sea armada grouped together and headed towards the Light Island, where the Ironborn would take a break and finally head home to the Iron Islands.

They made it in less than a day. The garrison greeted them cheerfully, hooting and ringing shields from the castle walls. Harras Knight, appointed by the castellan, came out to greet them.

- How are things on the island, Ser Harras?

Theon asked without any mockery in his address to the Knight.

- Quiet. It took a few times for the villagers to explain who was master of the Light. But now they're as humble as sheep. Green-blooded, that's what they are.

Castle Bright was a sight to behold, with its high white walls and Greyjoy banners on the towers. The domain of the Farmans, now Greyjoys, was quite beautiful.

'Now, the important thing is to hold this island. The Lions will never accept its loss.'

About Cayce and Lannisport, Theon had no illusions. They would lose those lands as soon as the West recovered from the wars. The Lions would likely lose the war for the Iron Throne, but it was doubtful they would lose the Western Lands.

All the loot has been taken to the drakkars to transport it to Pyke, now Theon's ancestral domain. But it is still necessary to return to the family nest to assert their power. There must be a steward in charge of the castle. Maesters on the Iron Islands were not trusted to run a fiefdom.

The entire Farman family was put on the drakkars. If the lions want to take over Bright Isle, they will have to free the past masters... or negotiate a ransom. Unless, of course, the island is lost to the Greyjoys forever. We need to consider all eventualities.

'If the lions want to ransom them. But they are the rightful rulers of the Isle of Light and a ransom refusal would be met with mixed reception by the western lords. Tywin is dead, and the Lannisters will be treated a little differently now than they were before.'

The castellan will now be Threefingers - Theon has become convinced of his ability to control people. He had lost one of his closest aides for the time being, but for now there was no particular choice for this role of castellan of Light. Greyjoy didn't trust everyone. He wasn't king yet. Not yet.

The gunslinger clenched his palms into fists, remembering Asha. It would be unpleasant if she decided to try to vie for power. She had little chance, but Theon didn't want to spill his own blood. And he would have no other choice. He knows very well from the history of his past homeland that rivals for power should never be left alive. Dangerous.

No sooner had they settled in than they sailed back the next day. Theon decided to do something else. He invited all the lords of the Iron Islands to his late father's send-off feast. Few could refuse him. And almost no one refused.

It took a few more days for the whole huge armada of Ironborn ships to reach Pyke. Theon's Drakkars were now leading the way, a sign of his supremacy. Even Victarion had relented with his Iron Fleet, which was understood by others to mean that his uncle was submitting to his nephew and recognising him as lord.

But unfortunately, his sister managed to get to Pyke faster and even managed to command. Before Theon arrived.

- Thank you, sister for your concern for my castle,' Theon smiled quite genuinely at Asha, sitting down at an ornate chair. They were in his father's private room, and now Theon took the seat where Baelon had once sat.

Asha looked at him gloomily.

'What a pity Robb is already married.'

-Now sit down, dear sister. We have much to talk about,' Greyjoy indicated his relative to the seat across from him. Asha complied. She was somehow too quiet and still. She only stared at him grimly, waiting for some sort of...mischief or definite action?

- What is it you wish to talk about, my dear brother? - she copied Theon's manner of speech, adding sarcasm to her voice. Lord Pyke only shook his head at that.

- You know what you mean,' Greyjoy leaned back in his chair. - You want to be Lady Pyke and Queen of the Iron Islands. You think I don't know that? Your father nurtured your ambition, thinking you were the heir while I was a prisoner of the Northmen.

- And then what? Shackle me or marry me off to some lord?

Theon was surprised at his sister's words.

-What makes you think that? - He was going to do the former if Asha started doing something stupid, and he wasn't even planning on the latter.

Asha snorted:

-You men like to dispose of women like things. I'm not a thing. - She said with Mad-Eye glaring at him.

- I wasn't going to treat you like a thing,' Theon tried to reassure her, but got only a sceptical look.

-I know you well, brother. You know,' she said sadly, 'I once dreamed of freeing you from Stark captivity, but in time I realised it was foolish. And--' The sadness faded, steel appearing, 'I realise that I was more foolish in my intentions than I had previously thought.

Theon was starting to get annoyed with this whole conversation. It was like a pea against the wall....

'You're being stupid now.'

- Do you want to stand for election at the Veche? - he asked cautiously. Asha snorted again, glaring at him.

- Yes!' she looked at him defiantly.

'My worst fears are coming true.'

-You don't have many supporters. The Ironborn would rather elect a cripple to the throne than a woman. I will give you freedom and power. Refuse to take part in the Veche. That was a last ditch effort.

- Keep your power! I will take more!

- You forget yourself, woman! - Greyjoy bellowed. You'll have to play by the rules of this world with Asha. - If you're so stubborn, then so be it.

The Kraken's daughter tensed. But Theon wasn't going to go the way she thought. Not in front of a bunch of lords.

- I won't shackle you or kill you - no Greyjoy blood will be spilled in Pyke. But you are no longer welcome here,' Theon's angry gaze met Asha's equally angry one. For a few moments, they tried to sell each other with their gazes. Finally, Asha exhaled in one breath.

- Well fuck you into the abyss, you Stark bastard!

- Careful what you say, Asha,' Theon said in a frankly quiet and threatening voice. There was no longer any doubt about his sister. The conversation had put everything into perspective. Asha wants to rule alone, naively believing that she will be allowed to do so.

The sister left with a loud slam of the door. Within an hour several ships had already left the dock of Lordport, leaving the rest of the islanders who saw Asha Greyjoy's departure in incomprehension. The Lords of the Iron Islands only looked at Theon with interest during the feast he had arranged for the evening.

There was plenty of food, much of it taken from Lannisport and the Bright Isle. It was rare to see roast boar or goose on the islanders' tables, but there was plenty of it tonight.

Theon himself was walking pensively after his difficult conversation with Asha. Aeron had already left Pyke, travelling to Old Wick. Only two Greyjoys remained in the family castle, Victarion and Theon himself.

The feast that Theon had thrown was quite lavish. And afterwards was his father's funeral. All the lords of the Isles were present. One of the priests of the Drowned One had agreed to let Baelon rest in the Sea God's halls.

As he watched Baelon Greyjoy's body sink into the water, Theon thought about the vicissitudes of fate.

All his brothers were dead, his only sister a mortal enemy, one of his uncles an outcast and an outcast, another a fanatic who had gone completely into the service of the Drowned God. All hope was in Victarion, but he was not old and could only obey and fight.

To survive, he would have to twist and turn with all his might. And he would have to spill a lot of blood.

Especially the blood of relatives.