I'm Theon Greyjoy

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- So you sent two dozen rooks into the Lone Light under the command of Lame Ralph? - Theon asked, flipping through a huge three-volume book of writings on Norse lore.

- He is a loyal and skilful captain and warrior,' Victarion assured him, sitting across from the castle master in his private study. The king has been sitting in Pyke for several weeks now, having returned after pacifying some rebellious clans.

- What about the Humble's? Has Burton Humble agreed to become Lord Humblestone?

Burton Humble was a warrior in Victarion's service, on his own ship, the Iron Victory. Practically, he was the last member of the young house who could still inherit the lordship and lands. Most fled with Euron Greyjoy, and a few went to the Night's Watch under the escort of Theon's men. And not just the Humbles...

- Gladly,' the Iron Fleet captain snorted, a gift he had not expected.

- Good,' Theon looked at his frowning uncle as he reached the chapter in the three-volume book, 'Burton will be a lord and have lands, but he will leave the Iron Fleet and the Iron Victory forever.

- You're too glum for your species, Uncle. Are you really that tired? - Victarion arrived recently, only a few hours ago. His fleet is stationed at Lordporte's anchorage, and Victarion's men are in the city itself. Theon, having finished with the Drammas and Farwinds on the Great Vic, had sent his uncle to suppress the smaller clans, which were of little value individually.

- What's next, Theon?

It's worth noting that Victarion was one of the few who could address him simply by his first name. The others addressed him exclusively as: 'Your Majesty.'

- What next? - Greyjoy asked, putting the book aside. He had a difficult conversation with his uncle.

- What comes next, Uncle, is war. An old, unfinished one with two of the strongest kingdoms in Westeros.

-And what do you plan to do next? -What do you plan to do next?

-Well, for starters, deal with the problems on the Iron Islands. The timing is perfect now, there's a lull on the continent,' Theon leaned back in his chair and extended his hands out on the table, placing them on a pile of parchments. There was no free space on the lacquered long table - everything was piled with paper (parchment). Books, accounts from the last few decades, and notes from previous Lords of Pyke, of which there were quite a few. Theon had learnt quite a bit from these small notes. For example, the Iron Fleet was Grandfather Quellonne's idea, not his father's. Greyjoy was not surprised by that fact.

- There are few left who would dare challenge your authority,' Victarion muttered, 'I wouldn't even count the Farwinds of the Lonely Light.

- Don't forget that my uncle escaped, and many warriors and captains fled with him. He's on his way to Essos - most likely Mierin, to see Daenerys Stormborn.

- Daenerys-' as if tasting her name Victarion chewed his lips unhappily, '-had better send me in pursuit of that bastard.

- I needed you here. It was too late to catch up with Euron, but the rebels could get a stronger foothold in their castles and estates.

Theon had stormed several of those manors himself, Drumm's castle falling first under his assault. There were few defenders, and so the stronghold fell quickly. Lord Dunstan Drumm was killed in the Veche, as were both of his sons, Donnel and Denys Drumm. Only the last member of the family remained, Denis' young son Dagon, named after Dagon the Necromancer.

Those who did not agree to accept Greyjoy rule were sent to the Night's Watch under escort. If the rumours are true, the Black brothers are having a hard time.

The six-month-old infant now lives in Pyke under Theon's supervision, and the Drumm fiefdom will become the Greyjoys' temporary domain. As an appeasement to the local lords, Ralph Stonehouse, one of the captains of the Iron Fleet and a relative of the Stonehouses of Old Vic, was left as Viceroy there. The Goodbrazers of Stonehouse did not object.

- Let my mad uncle sail to Rabortog Bay. More pressing concerns await us. A wedding.

-Wedding? - Lord Goodbrather is a hasty man,' Victarion interjected with a broad brow.

- I'm more in a hurry than he is. We need to strengthen our alliance with one of the strongest houses in the Iron Islands as quickly as possible. The Tyrells and Lannisters are gathering new forces and overwhelming the remnants of the forces loyal to the dead Stannis. I need the tranquil Isles to strike my blow against the Vastness,' Theon looked intently at Victarion during his long monologue, glancing back at the door from time to time. He could sense his pet approaching.

Victarion listened to his nephew without interrupting, sighed with his bountiful chest and asked rudely:

-What do you want from me?

-My father is dead-' Theon continued carefully, hinting at what he wanted, 'and I need someone to replace him at the wedding. Traditionally, the marriage must be blessed by the Drowned God and the fathers of the wedding couple.

- That's how it is. Then I'll tell you straight away: I agree! - Without hesitation, said Victarion, and at the same time with his words, the door began to claw loudly, with a nasty gnashing sound. Cicero finally arrived and announced his master in the usual manner. Greyjoy looking at the front of the door could only cringe at the ugliness the cheeky parrot had left behind.

The King of the Iron Islands stood up quickly, adjusting his crown of fins, which he had been wearing constantly lately, walked to the door and opened it, letting the pet in. Cicero, shuffling his paws in an important manner, entered Theon's solarium. Victarion turned round and wrinkled his nose. The parrot had done something to annoy him lately.

As the bird settled comfortably on the wooden perch, Greyjoy returned to his seat and continued the conversation, returning the door to its original closed position.

- And so, Uncle, I am glad! The wedding will be in a few moons, while the lords and captains gather in Pyke. Now let's move on to another...

They talked for several hours more about other things. About the affairs of the Iron Fleet, some of the lords, the invasion of the Expanse, where Theon outlined his thoughts and plans for taking the Shield Islands and Arbor.

Victarion flaunted his bronze armour, and Theon his ordinary, insulated, everyday clothes, of little use to a king. But the new king was indifferent to riches, for he had learnt in his past life that money was a resource, not the purpose of life.

The captain of the Iron Fleet left, leaving the king alone in his room to ponder. And Theon thought about many things. Different thoughts and ideas came to mind.

What to do with the Valyrian blade of Drumm that he had inherited? It was such a tempting thought to take the blade for himself, but that might cause problems in the future. 'Let it stay with me for now,' Greyjoy pondered, hiding the sword in the depths of Pyke. He had already used it and appreciated the magical sharpness of the Valyrian product. And he felt that the blade would be of great use to him in future events.

Perhaps Crimson Rain would have to be returned to the older Dagon, but that remained to be seen. Theon had promising plans for him.

Victarion was gone, leaving a scent of sea salt, stale sweat, and... women's perfume?

Greyjoy froze and sniffed carefully, trying to identify the sweet odour wafting through the room. Theon didn't dabble in such things, so there should be no such odour.

With a hum, the King of the Iron Islands began writing the letter. The quill wrote sentence after sentence, and when the letter was finished, the sheets of parchment were rolled up and sealed with a kraken seal.

'Apparently Uncle had time to drop in on someone. Wonder what attracted him to the green-eyed and golden-haired beauty?'

Quickly ringing a brass bell, thus summoning the servant-slave to his office, he ordered the letter to be given to the maester with instructions to send the message to Riverrun. The black-skinned summoner, who understood the common tongue perfectly, bowed and went out with the letter in his hand.

'Must visit Aeron,' came the thought.

The wet-headed man had once more settled near Pike, living on the shore of the island. Relations with him had soured badly after the party. Aeron had thought Theon was one of the perpetrators of the massacre at the Veche. And he was right about something.

Greyjoy saddled his horses and rode them to Aeron. As he rode through the corridors of the castle to the courtyard, he could see that there was no lichen or moss growing into the wall. The Sea Tower is the abode of kings and it shouldn't look like an abandoned pigsty. The soot had been scrubbed away by the hours-long endeavours of slave labourers, and some sections of the walls were covered by massive Greyjoy banners. Greyjoy had plans to spruce up certain parts of the castle, but for now, money was scarce - and so was time.

Waiting for him in the courtyard were four bodyguards and one flag bearer. Lord Pike had decided to visit his uncle not alone.

They quickly crossed the stone bridge connecting the castle to the island and immediately mounted their horses and rode to the shore. It didn't take long.

As they approached the shore, the more or less flat surface was replaced by ugly stony terrain, on which it was an easy matter to break a horse's leg. The king and his men had to dismount to get down to the shore.

Theon saw a wooden hut, and out of the door came Aeron, wearing his usual rough homespun chiton. His waist-length black hair and scraggly beard had taken on a ghastly appearance, not to mention the bits of seaweed in his hair. The priests of the Drowned One do not care much for their appearance.

- Nephew,' Wethead addressed him officiously, his black-eyed eyes looking straight into Theon's soul, 'come into my abode, we have much to talk about since you have come to me in person.

-And leave your warriors here. Let them wait outside,' he added, waving a hand in their direction. Suddenly Cicero landed on Theon's shoulder and bellowed in his squeaky voice:

-"Let me in! I'm hungry!

Claws clawed into the leather shoulder pad, but even so the claws of the overgrown parrot pierced the shoulder defences slightly. Lately, Cicero's stature was beginning to frighten Greyjoy: had he been given a mutant by one of the ironborn on the Summer Isles?

-Let that slave of Heaven in,' Aeron said, eyeing Theon's pet with an unkind look.

With a wave of his hand, the king ordered four men to stand outside, and immediately entered the small hovel with Cicero on his shoulder. He saw the rather poor furnishings-a wooden bed without any soft planking for comfort, a few shelves, a couple of roughly hewn chairs, and a table. 'Not thick,' Theon pondered as he looked at it all. Uncle Aeron had been an inveterate ascetic.

It smelled fishy and damp.

Aeron took quick steps to cover the distance between him and one of the chairs, taking a seat behind it. Theon followed him, sitting down across from his uncle.

On the table was freshly cooked fish in a bowl, with a few fat pieces of rye bread? Theon suddenly wondered where Aeron was getting his bread from, if he hadn't been seen in Lordport.

- 'Share a meal with me before we talk,' his uncle said, and immediately set about eating. Theon carefully tore a piece off the fried fish with his hands, not noticing the cutlery nearby. Snacking on bread, the two of them made quick work of their meal. Considering a couple of nibbles from Cicero, it was too fast.

Pushing aside the empty clay bowl, Aeron continued:

-Speak, king. The Drowned God listens to your words with my ears.

- In a few moons I will be joined in marriage to the daughter of Gorold Gudbraser. I want you to be the one to bless our marriage at the ceremony.

Aeron wrinkled his forehead, pondering. His eyes blurred for a moment, then cleared again. His lips made a clear answer:

-I would refuse you if you were not marked by the Drowned God. But your soul bears the mark of the one who Drowned for Us.

Theon's eyes flashed with scepticism, which he could not hide from his uncle's shrewd gaze. The priest stood up abruptly and bent sharply to look into the king's eyes.

- Do you think I do not know what you are thinking, my dear nephew? - Such a heartfelt voice struck fear into Greyjoy's soul, and he immediately wanted to draw his blade. But he restrained himself.

-I know you don't believe in God, and I know that you, you were the one who massacred the Veche, committing a terrible crime in the eyes of the One Who Drowned. You will never enter the Sea Wings, but he... favours you,' the last words were full of confusion and incomprehension.

His uncle returned to his original position, taking the smell of stinky mouth and rotten teeth with him. Theon stared at Aeron motionless, for the first time not knowing what to say in response. His eyes hid behind the fins hanging from his crown.

'How strange I feel here.'

It became stiflingly hot and sick.

- Send a messenger for me when you need me. You have my blessing.

Greyjoy stood up immediately, gathering his wits. He tried to keep the last word to himself:

-"In a few moons, Uncle. I'll be waiting for you,' he turned and walked to the door, intending to open it. But the priest's voice stopped him.

-"Despite all your sins, you're a better king than your father. At least you didn't throw a bowl of fish in my face,' Aeron said grimly, kicking Cicero off the table.

Without answering, Theon stepped out into the freezing weather, the gloomy clouds and the strong wind.

-Let's go back,' he ordered his warriors, and they climbed out of the bank, saddled their horses, and trotted more slowly toward Pike. The king set his pace, not in any particular hurry to get back to the castle. All sorts of thoughts popped into his head.

The naked eye could see the small Lordport, with the small stone castle of Botley towering above it. Hundreds of ships were in the anchorage, which could safely accommodate such a large number of ships. The Iron Fleet, captains personally sworn to Theon, the merchant ships of a few merchants, of which the Ironborn had few, as merchants were not favoured in the society of the Isles.

'It's worth allowing the merchant class to develop... give them a couple of privileges and opportunities to enrich themselves... and then money will flow to the Iron Islands even in times of peace...'

Somewhere out there, the shipwright Sigryn is building a new ship for Theon, a better ship than the Son of Thunder. It will take a whole moon to build, but the king has paid generously, wanting to see a hulk like Uncle Victarion's Iron Victory.

A fine, stinking rain began to fall, and Theon covered his head with his hood to keep from getting wet. His action was followed by the attendants. The group of six approached Pyke, the Greyjoy banners flying on its towers. Once wet, they no longer twisted, but hung on poles like the banner carried by one of Pike's lord's men.

'There is silence above me...

'The sky is full of rain

'The rain passes through me

But the pain is gone...'

-I'm free? - Theon whispered sadly, looking round. In the distance, the figure of his uncle in his sea-coloured chiton appeared to him, but a moment, and that illusion of the mind vanished. Shaking his head, Greyjoy dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to one of the warriors to lead him into Pyke's courtyard.

He wanted to snuggle close to the hearth and warm himself, taking slow sips from a goblet of Arbor gold. To cover herself with warm furs and bury herself in a book, immersing herself in distant lands and great wars of the past.