I'm Theon Greyjoy

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***

A quiet drumbeat pounded in multiple whispers throughout the vast royal hall. A large number of the nobles of the Prostran and the West were crowded in front of the Iron Throne, trying to quietly discuss something amongst themselves. The coronation had not yet begun, and there was time to reflect on House Lannister's predicament.

Keevan had lost weight and gained grey hair since Tywin's death. The duty of leading his family through the hard times of civil war in Westeros had taken its toll on him. Now Kiwan Lannister was no longer a Ser - but a lord. Lord of Casterly Rock and Guardian of the West. Did Lannister ever dream of such a thing? Never.

Tyrion, Tywin's heir, is dead. Cersei is dead. Jaime took vows to the Kingsguard, but nephew to uncle is already dead too....

Remembering the interrogation of the captured cod lords who had served Stannis before, the newly appointed regent shuddered.

When Red Castle had been surrounded by the host of the West and the Vast, Stannis had found himself in a desperate position. And not surprisingly, Lord Velaryon was able to convince Baratheon to send a letter to Robb Stark about his sister's death. Sansa Stark, as well as many of the court ladies at Joffrey's court, were slaughtered by Ilyn Payne after Stannis's men broke into the capital.

A kind of revenge on the part of the doomed king. Stannis Baratheon gritted his teeth and personally wrote a short message to Riverrun in the presence of all the cod and storm lords.

'What Robb Stark will do to Jaime not even the Seven know.'

Kiwan stood in front of the entire crowd, carefully turning his head in different directions, scrutinising those in front of him.

Mace Tyrell. Lord of Highgarden, Guardian of the South. An obese man with a noticeable grey streak in his hair. An ambitious and vain man, easily manipulated. And the only person who had power over this man was his mother, Olenna Tyrell. The Queen of Spikes was in Highgarden, but even from here her threads could be seen braiding around the younger man - Kiwan knew that Tyrell was constantly sending her mother letters about what was happening in the capital.

Standing beside him was his middle son Garlan Tyrell, nicknamed Gallant. A tall and broad-shouldered man already married. He was said to be as good a fighter as the Knight of Flowers, but he did not seek glory.

Unlike his father, dressed in rich silks and smelling like a fresh, bright flower, Garlan wore steel armour straight to his coronation. But his lats were decorated with openwork lines, reminiscent of roses, the symbol of his family.

But Garlan was the only close relative who was anywhere near Mace. Loras Tyrell had been wounded in the assault, and the heir and first son was in Highgarden. Yes and a crippled man was of little use in military affairs.

Standing a little behind from the other shoulder of the Guardian of the South was his best general. Randyll Tarly preferred to dress in boiled leather and chainmail, expensive but simple. Already balding but with a thick grey beard, the tall and lean Lord of Horn Hill was, in Kivan's opinion, the best general in Westeros. It's worth remembering at least his victory over Robert Baratheon. Everyone knows who defeated the Demon Trident at the Battle of Ashford.

The ruby-adorned scabbard and the four-edged tip of the Heartbreaker, the Valyrian sword of House Tarly, caught the eye. He wore it at all times and wherever he could. The head of House Lannister even suspected that Lord Randyll preferred to sleep with his ancestral sword rather than his wife.

Against the backdrop of his son and powerful vassal, Mace Tyrell seemed an alien and unsavoury element.

Behind them stood other powerful and influential bannermen - Lord Roland Crakehall, boasting a luxuriant mane of grey hair and large proportions. The lean and slouchy Lord Paxter Redwyne, who has the only huge fleet in Westeros capable of opposing the Ironborn and the Northmen. Not to forget the captains of the Royal Navy loyal to the late Stannis. Many of them have fled to Dragonstone and there's no telling what they'll do next. There is still Shireen left, the traitor's daughter, and it is likely she may be proclaimed queen.

'Doubtful, there is no strong banner in the form of an experienced and dangerous warlord to lead the remnants of Stannis' forces. Many storm and cod lords have either been killed or are languishing in the dungeons of Red Castle'

Lord Roland is now Master of the Laws and Paxter Redwyn is Master of the Ships. Renly and Stannis once held these positions....

Petyr Baelish was still Master of the Coin, and still alive. Kivan was a little surprised at the location of the petty lord of the Feathers - in the Vale, in the Gull City. And now, perhaps, in Eagle's Nest. Having managed to visit the Vale, return to the capital and leave it on Joffrey's orders before the siege. Baelish was able to assure members of the Small Council, the king and queens that he would be useful in the Vale and even induce Lysa Arryn to join the king in his just war against Robb Stark.

In his letters, Littlefinger had already assured Keevan that all that he had planned would be accomplished. And hinting at a reward. The old Lannister didn't believe him and decided to wait to see if Baelish could fulfil his promise. If so, he would receive a certain gift. But something about this lean and smiling middle-aged man did not please Lord Casterly Rock. Too cunning and clever.

He had been temporarily replaced by Charis Swift, his father-in-law. Remembering the Swift surnames, his heart immediately twitched. Keevan was afraid to go home and look into his wife's eyes. Their children were dead - every last one of them. And it was Keevan's fault. Lancel died honourably, fighting for Joffrey in the battle for the capital. His ashes were sent west across the Vale. The Riverlands are swarming with brigands and Northerners.

Glancing at the red ruby on the tip of Mace Tyrell's sword, Keevan was reminded of the news of the corpse of a decrepit old woman in bright, red robes. The corpse had been found in the shallow alleys of Flea End with several bolts from a Myrian crossbow. As the spies reported, she had been killed from the back and clearly from the roof of a house. It was Melisandre of Asshai, a witch in Stannis's retinue. Determined to abandon her lord in his time of need, but someone prevented it. I wonder who?

Varys, the master of the whisperers, disappeared with his life. Probably dead, too. They haven't found a suitable candidate to head the King's spies yet. It takes a certain kind of mind, or at least the presence of one. It also requires a lack of squeamishness and the ability to keep your mouth shut. Few lords can boast of that.

The newly appointed Hand stared pompously at everyone. Mace Tyrell is inimitable.

Kivan couldn't find anyone to appoint to the Lord Commander's seat either. Lannister wanted to appoint Loras Tyrell, but he is clearly unfit for the role now. In the future, perhaps... if he survived.

The doors of the hall, which looked more like gates, opened and, accompanied by two royal guards in white cloaks and full robes, Tommen Baratheon entered the spacious room.

Green eyes, under which stood shadows from lack of sleep, golden curls, the childish puffiness had disappeared a little, showing thinness. Recent events had greatly affected Robert Baratheon's second son.

His clothes consisted mostly of Baratheon colours - the Guardian of the West had chosen to emphasise Tommen's affiliation with the Baratheon family.

Waiting for him before the Iron Throne was the High Septon, quickly chosen by the Council of the Righteous. Renouncing his name, like all past heads of the Holy Faith, he wore a white vestment, with a tiara of twisted gold and crystal. Absent from his hands was a staff of chardwood - it was not needed in such events as a coronation. To crown a king, the High Septon needs two free hands.

The boy tried to appear confident under the gazes of the many armoured knights and lords. Few were those clad in rich robes. There were no court dandies and clowns. There were no society ladies. Tommen's coronation was not lavish, everything was done hastily at Keevan's behest.

Everyone could see that the boy was nervous, even frightened. But what can you ask of a child? There were no taunts, no ironic smiles. There were many looks, but none mocked the little king, and who would dare?

After reciting all the vows in a thin voice before the priest, Tommen tilted his head slightly. The High Septon loudly blessed his reign in the name of the Gods and placed the crown on the now little king.

In silence, Tommen walked up to the Iron Throne and sat on it without the help of anyone. Everyone watched carefully - and saw that the boy managed not to cut himself on the iron ends of the throne.

'The Iron Throne has accepted him. Tommen's reign will be a long one,' thought Kiwan.

There was silence in the royal hall until Ser Addam Marbrand, standing in the front rows, drew his sword and loudly proclaimed:

- Hail King Tommen!

A forest of blades from several hundred coronation spectators immediately rose to the heights. And the hall shook with the roar of hundreds of throats:

-Hail King Tommen!

Holding his sword and shouting loudly enough, Kiwan met Ser Addam's gaze. Nodding slightly, thereby thanking him for a perfectly executed request, the Lannister turned his gaze back to Tommen.

'Crowned amongst heavily armed knights and lords. Seated on a throne drenched in the blood of his brother and uncle. The reign will be long but hard, Tommen Baratheon.'

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

Columns of soldiers carrying the banners of the ancient Northern Kingdom marched down the dirt road towards Riverrun. A brown tree against a white background. Robb's plan was to bring back the meaning of this half-forgotten flag - a symbol of the unity of the North.

Whether you were a Stark, a Bolton, or a Dustin, it was under the banners of the Northern Kingdom, not their own houses, that everyone fought. But after Aegon's conquests, the banners were forgotten and thrown into the stack of history. The Targaryens had made sure of that.

The road was strewn with yellowish leaves that had fallen. A freezing wind blew across the exposed, unshaven faces of the northerners. But for those accustomed to the harsher cold, it was nothing to them.

They were returning to Riverrun with victory. With the sacked home of the enemy behind them, and their homeland ahead - Trident was now part of the North.

Robb rode his horse slowly, sullenly pondering. His retinue of Northern lords followed him, and Grey Wind rode beside him, his wolf's head peering around. A strange bond had formed between pet and master. The King of the North had been feeling strange lately - sharp smells, incomprehensible desires, and visions in dreams. Before, all this was minor, almost not felt, but now it has intensified.

Unpleasant news from the far North, from the Wall. Robb had paid a hundred recruits fairly, but the sentries could not fulfil their promise. Gior Mormont had time to march beyond the Wall, taking four hundred black brothers with him, including Jon himself. Stark did not understand the Lord Commander's intentions - what motivated him to go beyond the Wall? The Old Bear was not known as a madman or a fool. A note appeared in his mind to find out the reasons for such a strange act.

If Jon returns home, a new letter must be sent immediately, demanding he be released from his vows and taken to Winterfell. Robb has kept his end of the bargain, and now it's the Watch's turn.

The new King beyond the Wall has inspired certain fears for his northern borders. The Night's Watch could no longer be relied upon - how many times had they let the Northmen down? It would take a long time to count, but the fact that wildlings roamed the lands beyond the Wall as if they were at home clearly showed the strength of the Watch.

Something had to be done, and Robb did it. Lord Karstark's heir, Harrion, Lady Maege and one of the Amber captains travelled back to the North. Karstark took a few hundred lancers, Lady Mormont the entire Mormont army and her daughter, who for certain reasons will not be able to fight anytime soon, and Captain Amber, one of the personal vassals of the 'giant' family with another hundred lancers. All together, that adds up to almost five hundred men, which will greatly strengthen the walls and hardly weaken Robb's army.

At the same time, Lady Maege has received a copy of the will, which states that Jon is now Robb's heir and officially legitimised. Several more copies of the will have been given to the most trusted lords, demanding that it be revealed if Robb dies.

Mormont is to deliver the letter to Winterfell, personally in the hands of the castle castellan.

His wife carries a child beneath her heart, but Stark is not complacent - there is a good chance he will die and his kingdom will fall for lack of an heir or because he is too young.

'What shall I name him?' - A silly thought ran through his mind. After thinking for a few moments, a name immediately popped into his mind.

'Theon.'

In honour of his best friend and brother, not by blood but by spirit... and one of the greatest kings of the North, the Hungry Wolf. There was no doubt that a boy would be born. The King was sure he would have a son.

And Robb hoped with all his soul that his son would be like his late namesake and like the living one - warlike and able to think in cold blood. One who could defend his kingdom and preserve his legacy.