I'm Theon Greyjoy

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The bow of the drakkar stubbornly continued under the pressure of several dozen men and thick ropes into the sandy shore of Old Vic. Theon's warriors were dragging the ship far enough to keep it from sailing backwards. There were no piers or harbours nearby, and it was doubtful there ever would be.

A deserted shore, a couple of black mountains, and an absolute absence of trees. Old Vic, like almost all of the Iron Islands had rocky and even mountainous terrain. On the other side of the bay the Great Vic was also visible, its high peaks clothed with the bluish needles of the Guard pines.

Theon and his ship were among the first to stand on the shore of Old Vic. From behind could be heard the plural sounding of menacing horns and the commanding shouts of captains. A minute and dozens of rooks 'invaded' the sand of the shore.

Soon a huge camp would spring up here. Tents would be pitched, warehouses with plenty of food to feed a thousand men, fires would be lit and the banners of the houses to which the captains had sworn would be put up. Theon immediately got to work on this, giving orders to his captains - he had several dozen of them under his command. The Iron Fleet of Victarion was not far away.

Other 'guests' had already arrived. The horns of the Goodbrasers, the sickles of the Harlows, the fish shoal of the Botleys, the dark green trees of the Orkwoods and many, many others were visible. Eyes were diverted looking at the hundreds of banners. There were quite a few priests of the Drowned God looming on the island - they were at the very end, closest to Naggy Hill.

It is said that there had once been a great palace here, built by the Sea King after his victory over Nagga, the dragon that dwelt in the sea. But after the death of the first lord of the Iron Islands, the Storm God tricked and cunningly extinguished the eternal hearth of fire in the palace. Naggy's bones were all that remained of the palace - and what had happened to it, Theon did not know and would never know again.

'Was there a wormhole? Or is it the ravings of the priests? There are only Nagga's bones here, and no evidence of the Sea King's throne. Although, in eight thousand years, much could have disappeared under the influence of time. The Stone is no exception.'

Theon's subordinates quickly set up camp and put up banners bearing the yellow kraken. Lord Pyke had arrived - a message for the others. But the party would not begin tonight - not all the lords had arrived yet.

Sitting down at the newly built fire, Theon gazed into the faces of his captains, who sat beside him. Calm, mostly young, some with scars. A few Theon remembered from the Rebellion.

The slaves were cleaning fish, cooking the meat they had brought with them, or gathering brushwood, which was scarce on the island, but still available.

- Erich,' Theon said to his squire, who sat beside him, 'what do you see?

The squire looked at the lord in bewilderment. Erich Harlow was already a twelve year old boy, wearing a ringlet to match his height and a small axe and shield of appropriate proportions.

- A bunch of lords and captains,' the boy muttered.

-What else? - Greyjoy asked, taking freshly cooked meat in a deep bowl and a three-pronged fork from his slave's hands.

- Well,' Erich Harlow thought for a moment, 'are there many priests of the Drowned God here? - he said hesitantly, looking into his tutor's face. He stared back.

Theon grinned.

-You're travelling a roundabout way to the true answer. Tell me, why are all these lords, captains, and priests gathered here?

- Did they come for the Veche? - It was a rhetorical question and answer.

-Yes. They've come to choose a king,' Greyjoy nodded in agreement, 'And you're looking at a historic moment. A return to an old tradition, in fact.

'And the laying of a noble pig on the Greyjoy family by their own representative. Aaron, you bloody bigot!'

- Wasn't there always a Veche? - The boy asked a stupid question. Theon could only shake his head, and the captains sitting nearby, who had been silently listening to the conversation until then, either snorted or smirked. Erich looked around with a huffed look, not understanding the reason for this reaction.

- No, Erich. The last real Veche was held four thousand years ago.

'And it ended in a great bloodbath on the Iron Islands.'

- I see,' he mumbled, and turned back to his bowl of meat and fish.

Theon mentally sighed, not the least bit surprised at his squire's ignorance of his history. No, young Ironborn absorb tales of heroes and the great conquests and exploits of their ancestors with their mother's milk, but can legends and tales of elders convey the entire eight thousand years of history of the Isles? No, Theon thought, but books could. It was from books, not stories, that he had learnt about the history of the Veche.

The sea captains sitting next to him knew it too.

There was a reason Theon was having this conversation - he wanted to release some of the tension he had built up, and talking to his squire had certainly helped. The feeling of heaviness eased.

After eating a few cauldrons of meat and fish that were hot and boiling, Theon looked up at Naggy Hill again. The ribs of the unknown creature inspired respect and fear with their height and thickness. If she had indeed been killed by the Grey King, what was its power? Who was this mysterious figure who, according to the legends of the Ironborn, had ruled for three thousand years? What is false and what is true?

'Well, he certainly didn't rule for three thousand.'

Drakkars arrived every hour with different banners. Soon the small island became too crowded. Arguments and even fights broke out on a domestic basis, whether it was a copper cauldron stolen or a sheep's wool blanket lost. Theon saw for the first time the local nationalism of the Iron Islands - people from different islands often had verbal skirmishes, reminiscing about grievances from the time of the Hoars, if not the Greyeyrons.

It is frightening to imagine the localised attitudes that existed in the North or in the Expanse.

Such attitudes were mostly among the common islanders - among the nobles it was different and more complicated.

By evening, the Drakkars from the farthest island and the extreme point of the civilised world - the Farwinds from the Lonely Light - had arrived.

No one else arrived after the Farwinds. And a few days later, the Vespers began. The event for which Theon had been working hard of late.

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

The roar of battle horns and the clattering of fin batons against each other woke all the ironborn in the early morning. Theon was already awake, clad in his breastplate, under which he wore a thick shirt for cushioning and warmth in the cold conditions of the Iron Islands. Theon wore plate cuffs to protect his arms, and for his legs he chose warm leather trousers with greaves and boots.

A sword forged by a blacksmith in Pyke not long ago. The blade was of excellent quality, but without any pompous adornments. Greyjoy was indifferent to jewellery on weapons and decorations. Simple markings that showed clan affiliation were enough. Like the engraved kraken on the hilt of his sword.

As he stepped out of his large tent, Theon looked up at the frowning sky and the light rain falling on his face. Aaron's drow had already stopped beating with their clubs, having achieved their goal. Theon's men were already awake and were currently dressing and walking towards Naggy Hill, where his uncle was already standing.

Theon saw Erich's sleepy face, squinting unhappily at the small drops of rain.

- Bring me a bucket of water,' he ordered his henchman, and the boy ran off. It was too early to go up the hill - Greyjoy was waiting for his uncle and Lord Harlow.

A bucket full of seawater was promptly delivered, and the Pike master rinsed himself off with a sense of satisfaction, fighting off the remnants of sleep and the effects of lack of sleep.

Every morning Theon steeled himself and washed his face, hoping to gain some extra modicum of health. Twenty-first century scholars said that diseases in the Middle Ages were treated on a whim, and Westeros, his world's analogue of Western Europe, fully confirmed that.

Today, Theon had decided only to wash his face.

And by this point, Lord Rodrik and Uncle Victarion had arrived. Each had donned armour to show off their nobility and wealth to the other lords and captains.

- I think,' the Reader said thoughtfully, looking at the captains and lords climbing the hill, 'we should hurry. The party is about to begin.

-Let's go,' Theon agreed. Victarion looked at his nephew in silence and followed them. He had a look of concern on his face, in Lord Pike's opinion. It was as if the Iron Fleet captain had a premonition of something, but didn't want to share his concerns with the others.

They quickly made their way up the hill, making their way through the crowd of assembled captains. There were a lot of people here, both free and sworn home. Hundreds of faces looking either at Aeron or the candidates known to all - Asha and Theon.

A path immediately appeared in front of Theon and his entourage as the captains parted before Lord Pyke. As Theon walked past the captains, he caught many glances - wary, curious, and respectful. No mockery or scorn he noticed. Greyjoy hoped that was the case, but who knows what lurks behind a man's soul? A smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder to your face, but in your mind a sneering scorn.

Near the hill stood mostly captains, but at a distance there were other ironborn - ordinary warriors. There wasn't enough room for everyone - some had to be accommodated directly on their captains' ships. All in all, the island was filled with thousands of heavily armed men.

- Today God's work will be done,' Eiron began to speak when all the captains arrived on the hill, 'Glorious King Baelon, my brother is dead, and now it is time to choose a king.

The captains listened in silence to the words of the honoured priest of the Drowned God. Eiron's loud bass reached everyone - even the warriors standing behind and at a little distance listened attentively.

Having finished his ceremonial speech, Aeron exclaimed louder than before:

-Whoever wishes to become king of the Iron Islands, come to Naggy Hill!

Gilbert Farwind, Lord of the Lonely Light, was the first to speak. His intercessors were his sons, and his gifts were sealskins, walrus tusks, whalebone bracelets and bronze-plated horns. Such gifts did not impress anyone: the captains looked at the whole offering with squeamishness.

- I wish to become King of the Iron Islands! - Gilbert, a grey-haired man with many wrinkles on his face, said loudly.

Aeron looked at him with his fiery black eyes and said nothing, giving Farwind the floor.

- Why do we need this cursed by the Drowned God of Westeros when there are better and more beautiful lands for our people! - I will lead you to the West, beyond the Sunset Sea, where there is no winter, where death has feared life, and where everyone will be a king with a queen-wife to match! Gold, immortality, and a better share!

Theon was stunned, and he wasn't the only one. The captains looked at each other perplexed. Promises rich and handsome, of course, but no one believed them.

Gilbert Farwind's name was shouted only by the Farwind family, and not all of them.

Theon could only marvel at the Lord of the Lonely Light's eccentricity - what was he hoping for?

'If there are unknown lands in the West, they are likely to be teeming with unfriendly natives, uncharted diseases, and maybe even an entire bloodthirsty civilisation where the basis of life lies in endless sacrifices to non-existent gods'

The first willing man went down the hill with his intercessor sons. It was the turn of the next. Greyjoy took his time.

He was carried in on a carved chair by his grandchildren. A paralysis-ravaged ancient elder from the days of Dagon Greyjoy. Looking at everyone with his clear and undaunted brown eyes Eric Ironmaker inspires even as an invalid. White-grey hair and a luxurious beard reaching down to his hips, huge stature and a massive polar bear skin, obtained in the days of his youth in Zastenje. On a carved chair was leaned his hammer with a head the size of a loaf of bread and a handle wrapped in leather.

- I will be your king,' he said authoritatively in a hoarse voice, 'it is time to bring back the days of the Last Destroyer. And I will be the one to do it.

The gifts were more impressive now. Silver-plated and bronze jewellery, steel blades and armour. Some of the free captains took gifts, thus supporting Lord Erik.

- The time of the Greyjoys has passed, but now it is time for those who will lead the people chosen by the Drowned God into a great future,' Ironmaker continued. Theon had no reaction to this statement, but Asha, standing with her loyal warriors, booed the old man.

- If you can lead the Ironborn, at least try to stand up! Or are you going to lead us in your carved chair?!

Eric became angry, and the captains stared at him expectantly.

Ironmaker tried to stand up, but he failed - the paralysis was stronger. Laughter erupted and the disgraced lord was led away by his grandchildren.

Lord Pike met his sister's gaze - Asha was looking at him, smiling. She was clearly confident of her victory. Greyjoy would not dissuade her, but the fact that Lord Botley had come to him just after the Kraken's Daughter had tried to poach him was very telling.

Her sister had hoped that Lord Seywin would fall for her promises, but she had forgotten that he was Theon's bannerman and Master Pyke had already promised him something....

In all likelihood, she wasn't limiting her negotiations to just Botley. But tradition and patriarchy played into Theon's hands - despite her martial glory, few took Asha seriously in the presence of the living Theon and even Uncle Victarion.

Theon looked around the crowd of captains and lords - no one else dared to come out. He didn't like Drumm's expectant stares and glances - he'd assumed he'd want to be king, but he'd been wrong.

- Does anyone else wish to claim the Sea Throne? - Aaron asked the crowd, and Asha came forward with a determined look in her eyes.

- I do! - she shouted and looked round.

She took a quick step up Naggy Hill and looked at everyone. Following her came out her supporters, warriors unknown to Theon, loyal to Asha.

Silver, jewellery, and a variety of weapons were presented as gifts. Some immediately stepped forward, taking something they liked.

- I will be your queen! - she shouted.

- We will never be ruled by a woman,' said Dagmer Scabbard, standing in the front row. His words were echoed by many of the captains.

Theon grinned, finally showing some emotion on his face.

- Why do we need a woman on the throne when Baelon has a legitimate heir! - shouted someone from the crowd. A surcoat with a golden kraken on it flashed, but no one realised who was shouting. It didn't matter to the islanders.

- The heir who spent half his life a prisoner of the Northmen,' Asha said venomously, 'is he the one who will lead you? A Stark mutt?

Greyjoy could no longer stay silent and stand aside. He moved forward, followed by his three supporters-Victarion, Dagmer Szczerbatny, and Lord Harlowe. Those who were respected, those who had great influence among the Ironborn. Theon had chosen them for those reasons, to show that he had the support of those who could become kings themselves. If they wanted to.

As they climbed Naggy Hill, Theon looked out at the huge crowd.

- 'Yes, I spent ten years in Stark captivity,' Theon agreed with his sister's words, 'but did that make me a Northerner or a Stark mutt? No!

- I was there,' Theon continued, gaining momentum, 'in that battle where we were soundly defeated. Do you remember?

Many captains and even the common warriors behind them nodded their heads in agreement, shouting and whispering.

- I fought for my father's crown as I was ordered! I fought for our freedom from the Greenbloods as my father told me to! And I was a hostage - by my father's will! I am ironborn from hair to toe! And if anyone doubts that,' a mocking glance at his sister, 'they can try to dispute it.

None of the captains dared to do so, and Asha gritted her teeth and clenched the tip of the axe attached to her belt.

Theon's personal captives began to arrive on Naggy Hill, carrying large chests of four.

After placing them down, they opened them, and stepped aside. Dagmer and Victarion kicked with their feet, tilting the chests down, spilling directly onto Asha's gifts, heaps of gold, gems, ornate decorations, and more. A wave of Theon's riches flooded what Asha's acolytes had laid out. A fat hint to his favourite sister.

Another dozen slaves brought a pile of steel weapons: swords, maces, poleaxes, axes and hammers. A dozen swords, most skilfully decorated and of excellent quality, were inserted directly into the pile of gold. It was an extraordinary picture. Big piles of riches, studded with beautiful swords, and just an outrageous amount of weapons all around.

- Not only the captain can take them, but ordinary warriors as well! - Theon proclaimed, 'I value the opinion of every Ironborn!

Immediately after Theon's words, many warriors and captains began to come forward, taking something that caught their eye - a sword, a gold coin from the time of Deiron the Good or Mad King, a gem from the Western Lands, and more.

Such great riches have been taken from the Bright Isle, Lannisport, and from Pike's caches.

- That gold taken from the plundered castles and cities of the West! These weapons are taken from the dead hands of our enemies! All this is taken with iron! - pointing to all this treasure, Greyjoy spoke. More and more captains approached the gifts.

- If you make me king! I promise! The Vastness will be your next target! The fertile lands of the Greenbloods will be yours! Arbor and the Shieldlands have been held by the Spacers for too long. It's time to take them back!

At this, the Ironborn raised their swords in joy and shouted 'Theon!' loudly.

Harlow's men cheered Theon, Sanderley and Botley echoed, and the Goodbrashers did their part. The Orkwoods, the Blaytides, some Ironmakers, the Walmarts, the Saltcliffs, the Townies, the Stonehouses, and many others of various clans shouted his name. Quite a few free captains joined the general chorus as well.

Theon was smiling broadly, raising his hands imperiously, though inwardly wary of the silence of some of the lords. Something was not right. Oh, and Asha didn't seem particularly upset by such overwhelming support for her brother.

And just as Aeron was about to proclaim the results of the party, the air was filled with the unusually strong and deafening sound of a battle horn.

Everyone's eyes turned towards the sea. A huge ship was sailing towards the shores with sails bearing the image of a flaming eye, painted too brightly and colourfully.

Lord Pyke would be a fool not to recognise his uncle's ship.

Euron Greyjoy has come to the feast. Why is clear to a fool.

His hand moved arbitrarily to the sword's hilt, gripping it tightly.