"I am no Stark," Theon Greyjoy told himself. He had told himself that from the beginning, even after living in Winterfell for so many years.
As a child, Theon had always lived beneath the shadow of Eddard Stark's stern face and that terrifying greatsword. Eddard's wife, Lady Catelyn Stark, was even more distant and suspicious.
As for the Stark children, the younger ones had been too young. Only Robb Stark, Jon Snow, and Theon were close in age. That bastard was gloomy by nature and sensitive to every slight, especially jealous of Theon's noble birth and the value Robb placed on him. As for Robb himself, Theon did feel some affection for him, something like affection for a younger brother... Yet Theon was tormented inside. Anyone could see he was a hostage, and most people treated him with wariness and coldness, even toward the Iron Islands themselves.
"The shadow of the Iron Islands rebellion still hangs over everyone. Young men may be more carefree, but old men are cold. They remember every old debt until the day they die, forget no grievance, and leave no room for forgiveness. My father and my uncles are like that. So are the old men in the army. The most worrying one is the Storm. Though young, he has already seen too much." Outwardly, Theon had shown no displeasure when Gendry and the others stopped Robb from sending him to the Iron Islands, but deep down, he was proud and sensitive.
A new chance soon came. Since the Iron Islands had yet to send troops, Robb instead sent Theon with a few Northmen to Seagard to inspect the number of ships there. With old hands like Catelyn and Brynden away from him, Robb grew bolder in his plans.
On the road from Riverrun to Seagard, Theon and Patrek Mallister, who was guarding Seagard, quickly became friendly. Patrek was a decent companion. They shared the same interests in girls, wine, and hawking.
Theon had expected his work in Seagard to be difficult, but to his surprise, it proved rather pleasant. Seagard had been built to defend the coast against Ironborn raids, especially against the Greyjoys of Pyke. The city's "Booming Tower" took its name from the huge bronze bell atop it. In ancient times, whenever longships appeared on the western sea, the bell would be rung to warn villagers and farmers in the fields to hurry inside the walls for shelter.
"If you want large ships fit for sea passage, I don't have many here. But wine, I have plenty of that. Thanks to the Storm," Patrek said to Theon. With The Twins taken, Seagard's power had risen considerably.
"Has there still been no letter back from your father?" Patrek asked.
Theon shook his head. "No."
"None of that matters. Once the Vale is taken, the Lannisters will be at the end of their strength."
The more they drank, the merrier they became. Patrek even mentioned a letter his father had written him. Lord Jason was responsible for guarding part of The Twins, while the other part was held by Lord Jack Crabb.
"My father even warned me not to get too close to you. I think he worried too much. He said Seagard was built to resist invasions from the sea," Patrek said.
Those words made Theon tense, though he still acted as if nothing was wrong.
"As if it hasn't only rung once in three hundred years," Patrek said with a laugh.
"When my older brother raided Seagard," Theon said. In that battle, Lord Jason had slain Rodrik Greyjoy beneath the walls and driven the Ironborn raiders back into the sea. "If your father thinks I bear him any hatred for that, then he clearly never knew Rodrik."
Theon had little affection for his elder brother. He remembered how Rodrik had once slapped him across the face while drunk. But the Iron Islands, that was still the place where he had once lived and longed for. It had once been his home.
"Drink, drink. Once we're done drinking, we'll go find some fun," Patrek told him. By "fun," he meant a woman Patrek knew well.
The two laughed together, then rode hard to find a miller's young wife with whom Patrek was familiar. After too much wine and too much exertion, Patrek simply fell asleep in the mill with the woman in his arms.
Theon had always had a good head for drink, but now he tossed and turned in his room, unable to sleep. Was he really going to spend his whole life doing nothing, enduring other people's contempt?
Gendry "the Storm" and Robb had already shaken the world and commanded thousands of soldiers at ages even younger than his. Even that bastard was now serving at the Storm's side, and the Storm had always been generous to those loyal to him. In the future, Robb and the bastard Jon would become important men under the Storm. And what about him? He was only a piece on the board, summoned and dismissed at will.
"Now... now Robb treats me as a brother. I should do something. I should prove my loyalty. The Storm is invincible, and the lions are about to collapse. If the Iron Islands raid the Westerlands, they can gain a better position." The more Theon thought, the harder it was to sleep. He would bring news of the Storm, and then the Iron Islands would look at him with new eyes.
A raven was only a raven, but he was the heir to the Iron Islands. King Balon would not ignore his advice.
The more he thought about it, the more Theon felt this was his only chance. He would restore the glory of the Iron Islands. He would bring news of the Storm and a fine opportunity for the Ironborn. The Iron Islands would be proud of him.
"Home!" "Home!" The thought burned Theon almost to madness. Edmure had little say now. If Lady Catelyn and Brynden the Blackfish returned, or if a letter came from the Storm demanding that Theon be recruited into his service, then he would never have another chance to escape.
"But would this not be betraying Robb? People will call me an oathbreaker!" Theon hesitated again.
"No. I am doing this to bring the strength of the Iron Islands to the Storm and Robb. When they see longships ravaging Lannisport once more, they will recognize my loyalty and courage." Theon comforted himself, then left a letter in his room and hurried away.
Patrek had not yet woken. Everything fell into place, because Patrek never brought guards when he went looking for pleasure, and Theon's northern attendants understood young men's debauchery well enough. So Theon slipped out of the mill at once, mounted a horse, and rode for the docks.
"I am a traitor. No, I am only a man going home. I am also a man of the Storm and Robb." At that moment, Theon's luck could not have been better. He reached the docks with his heart pounding, terrified that one of the Northmen he had brought would recognize him. Fortunately, luck was with him. There happened to be a ship bound for the Iron Islands.
The Mirahan was a fat-bellied merchant ship from Oldtown, carrying wine, cloth, and seeds to trade for iron ore.
The captain received Theon attentively, but only after the ship had sailed far out and the horizon had grown distant did Theon truly reveal his identity. He watched Seagard recede behind him. Forgive me, Robb. Patrek. Theon thought. I will bring you a gift.
Theon looked up at the red comet in the sky. It was like a sword weeping blood. From Riverrun to Seagard, everyone was talking about the meaning of the Red Comet. Many said it was the Storm's star, lighting the Storm's path ahead.
"It is my star too," Theon told himself.
Out on the sea, Theon suddenly felt a kind of freedom. The sea wind was salty and bitter, and gulls hung free along the horizon. To the people of the Iron Islands, the sea symbolized self and freedom. Theon had rarely seen the sea in the North. The North had almost no fleet of its own, and he could not help lingering on deck for a long time.
He had thought he had forgotten that feeling, but he had not. Once the Mirahan raised sail and left Seagard, he could not help remembering it again and again. It was the sounds that brought it back: the creak of wood and rope, the captain's shouts, the taut snap of sails filling with wind. Each one was as familiar as his own heartbeat, and just as comforting. I will remember them, Theon vowed silently. I will never stray far from the sea again.
"My lord, has it been a long time since you last went back?" the captain asked. From the way Theon behaved, he looked like a man who had not seen the sea in many years.
"A long time." A faint smile brushed Theon's lips. With only a little gold, he had made this Oldtown man bow and scrape shamelessly.
If an Iron Islands longship had been the one to receive him at Seagard's docks, this journey would have been very different. Iron Islands captains were proud, difficult men, not easily ordered about, and the sight of nobility would not make them fuss. The Iron Islands were a small place with little of the wider world, and a longship was smaller still. The old saying went, "Every captain is a king on his own ship." No wonder they called those lands "the land of ten thousand kings."
Still, longships had speed. If Theon had taken one, the time to cross the sea would have been cut in half. Truthfully, the Mirahan was little more than an awkward bathtub. But at least this bathtub was carrying him away. Thank the gods. The Drowned God was protecting him.
"You are returning home in glory this time, my lord, carrying the commands of the Storm and the Young Wolf," the captain said to Theon.
Theon's face darkened at once. He did not dare hear those two names. Robb had given him orders, yes, but only to go to Seagard and look things over, not to go home. He had fled. As for the Storm, those blue eyes made him think of the King from years ago, of the booming of warhammers and catapults.
Theon felt a surge of anger. It seemed this captain was not as foolish as he had thought.
"Call me when we are nearly there," Theon said, then returned to the captain's cabin. The man merely had a soft spine. Iron Islands captains were not like that. They were all hard men. Thousands of years ago, King Urron "Redhand" had said: The Drowned God made men, and men made crowns.
There was still some amusement to be found aboard the ship. The southern captain's daughter was very interested in this Iron Islands lordling returning home. A cup of wine and a few sweet words were enough to make her obedient.
Theon removed his damp cloak, and the girl said, "My lord, you must be happy to go back to your homeland. How many years have you been away?"
"Almost ten," Theon told her. "I was only ten when I was sent to Winterfell as Eddard Stark's foster son." A foster son in name, a hostage in truth. Theon had spent half his life as a hostage. Now, at last, he had regained his freedom and taken hold of his own life again. He no longer needed to be ordered about by the Starks. As for the Storm, the Storm could no longer control him after he had escaped.
"Take off your clothes." Theon looked at the girl and ordered her to undress. To him, she was a little too plump, and her skin was freckled like oatmeal, but her breasts felt good in his hands, and she was a virgin besides. At her age, that was somewhat strange, Theon thought.
"Come here." The girl was shy, but she did as he said. Theon pulled her over. He wanted no distance between them.
"I've never been to the Iron Islands. There must be a lot of wind there," the captain's daughter said.
"Then you're lucky. The Iron Islands are harsh, rugged, and barren. There is no comfort there, and no future either. Life is hard, and death never leaves your side. When people drink and make merry at night, they compare who has suffered more, the fishermen fighting the sea or the farmers trying to scrape a few crops out of thin soil. Truth be told, the miners are the most pitiful of all. They spend their days risking their lives in darkness, and for what in the end? Iron, lead, and tin. No wonder the ancient Ironborn went out raiding." Theon laughed. "You'll understand when you get there. The Iron Islands are not just windy, they are damp and bitterly cold. Honestly, it is a hard place... but my lord father once said hard places breed hard men, and hard men will rule the world. But for now, I must rule you first."
The foolish girl did not seem to take his meaning. "I can go ashore with you," she said, "if you want me..."
"You can go ashore," Theon said, kneading her breasts, "but I fear not with me."
...
Though he felt sorry in his heart, Theon decided he could not let the moment pass. He did not want to think about those days anymore. Winterfell, Robb, the Storm. Now he only wanted to live for himself.
A woman's murmurs drifted through the air, along with the scent of flesh.
The ship would cross the sea, with no wind and no rain.
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