Chapter 22

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***

He woke up abruptly. And didn't recognise the place he found himself in. There were many faces staring back at him - chartreuse faces. They surrounded him on all sides, and on the thick branches sat hundreds, thousands of crows. And all of them were saying only one thing:

-A stranger! Stranger! Stranger!

'How clear my thoughts are in a dream... and it all seems unreal and real at the same time... an unusual feeling.'

-A stranger! Stranger! Stranger!

The cawing and words of the crows were beginning to annoy Greyjoy. He felt a kind of pressure... as if someone was trying to push him out. Pushing him out of his body, Theon realised by the sensation. The realisation came suddenly, and fear set in.

-A stranger! Alien! Alien!

Theon began to resist-he made no movement, but began to resist instinctively-as if the ability to do so was born, had been with him since birth.

He noticed that one of the crows landed from one of the branches and flew up and landed next to him - only instead of two eyes, it had a third, right on its forehead.

-"Damn you, Theon Greyjoy. - cawed the crow in a human voice. - Everything has changed! Everything has changed!

The pressure intensified-it was hot, Theon felt sweat trickling down his face.

'This is a dream... this is all unreal...'

He didn't know how long he had been standing there - a day, a month, a year, or centuries. Time had lost its meaning for him - there was only him and the three-eyed raven in front of him.

The crow bowed her head in surprise. She had clearly expected a different result...

-Silön! Strong!

The pressure disappeared abruptly. Everything turned into a white background for a moment, covering everything - the chartreuse, the crows, and even the three-eyed mutant himself. It was gone.

And Theon was finally awake.

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

When he opened his eyes, he felt a soft sniffle in his ear and someone hugging him. Cautiously turning his head, Theon was stunned.

A pretty girl with brown hair was sniffling against his shoulder. Even wrapped up in bed, Greyjoy could still make out that she was quite tall....

Bringing his head back to its previous position, he tried to remember who she was. His memories were a patchwork and trying to remember anything gave him a headache.

The lords had proclaimed Robb King of the North and the river lords had sworn him in. There was no feast - no one wanted to offend the executed Eddard Stark. But no one in the Great Hall was about to leave - there was talk, and sometimes there were cheers in Robb's direction to the clinking of metal cups...

Theon sat apart - he was more interested in his pet, which he fed with bits of rye bread, and occasionally touched some wine, Arborian, I think, judging by the taste. He didn't care.

He did not notice that a girl in chain mail with the crest of a bear on a green background came to him. She watched with interest as Greyjoy fed Cicero, but the parrot didn't even warn him, only swallowed whole pieces of bread.

- What a voracious bird. - Theon flinched and turned sharply in the direction of the sound.

-Milady? - Greyjoy asked politely, not really knowing who she was. There were guesses, of course.

- Daisy Mormont. And I've come to do my duty. - She called to one of the servants scurrying between the long tables and ordered quietly.

A couple of minutes later, two mugs filled with dark ale were brought in - Theon could tell by the colour and faint smell.

- Dark ale? - Greyjoy didn't get it yet.

-'Dark ale,' he said. - The Mormont girl nodded affirmatively, sliding the mug over to him.

Greyjoy took a couple of cautious sips.

- You helped me on the battlefield, so I thought I'd pay you back.

- So it was you. - Greyjoy thought it impolite to tell her that he had mistaken Lady Daisy for a man.

Word by word, mug by mug, they were laughing in each other's arms at some unfunny joke Greyjoy had told. And then his memories became too fragmented....

The jokes got naughtier, the hugs tighter and tighter. Some time later, drunk and heated after the battle, they found themselves in some room where everything happened...

He felt movement - and looked round again cautiously. The eyes of the warrior maiden were looking at him, sleepy, not yet realising what had happened. Was she a knight?

After a few moments, her eyes widened.

-You fucked me. - Daisy Mormont looked under the blanket.

- 'Yes.' The words came out of habit rather than realisation. - No problem?

-Just that I got fucked by an ironborn. No problem at all.

- Consider yourself fucked by a whole ironborn prince.

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

Lacquered and made of local oak, the door opened and let Greyjoy into the great room. Theon looked around - stately dark wood cabinets, carved furniture boasting leather inlays and wall-mounted candelabras with extinguished candles.

At the lacquered table, Robb Stark sat in a curule chair, rearranging the figures on the kaiwasse. Theon took a closer look.

-From where? - He asked in surprise, coming closer and picking up one of the figures he'd carved himself.

-I told him to bring it with me. I've always liked your kaiwassa.

-Maybe because you've never seen a real one? - Robb's interlocutor said ironically. - But let's talk about other things. Like why you need me, for instance.

-Sit down. - Robb waved his hand imperiously, and Theon sat down in the neighbouring curule chair opposite Robb with some hesitation.

There was no crown on his friend's head - but after his vassals had proclaimed Robb king, Stark had been acting a little differently. There was a majestic quality to his demeanour. Theon saw the same thing when the Sea Crown was placed on his father's head.

'Does being king change people like that? It's hardly the fact of wearing the crown itself that changes people...'

It's only been two days since Robb was declared king. The corpses from the Battle of the Camp had already been cleared away - the bodies of the western soldiers were mostly burned, while the northerners and rivermen were respectfully buried according to tradition. Now a couple of high mounds had sprung up near Riverrun.

The six hundred horsemen Robb had sent after the retreating Lannisters had returned. According to their commander, the Westerners, unable to see anything in the pitch darkness, thought they were being attacked by a couple of thousand mounted men, not a measly half a thousand.

The Westerners, who had been retreating in a more or less organised manner up to that point, simply became frightened and started running in different directions, despite Prester Forley's attempts to stop it, who was immediately struck with his sword and knocked out. Some free rider recognised him as an important figure and decided to take him prisoner. Not without success.

The squad had a good time - according to Krigan, they took five hundred infantrymen by the sword and stole the enemy's wagon. Theon couldn't be sure how many soldiers had been killed, but he had seen the stolen wagon of supplies and forage.

Along with the wagon were several dozen captured knights and a couple of minor lords from the Western Lands. Since the captors were free riders, Robb had to ransom them all, including Prester Forley.

- Lord Bolton sent me word of his defeat at the Green Ridge.

-You don't seem too upset. - Theon remarked, not hearing the sadness in his voice.

- Defeating Tywin was not my primary objective-and it was unlikely. All that was needed was to distract the Old Lion. - Robb began to put the figures scattered across the field in their proper places.

- The pieces are scattered. Have you played with anyone yet? - an unexpected question for Robb, but he made no sign of it.

- Blackfish. He liked the figures. Asked where they were from.

- I hope you didn't tell him,' Greyjoy grinned. - I didn't want to spend all day carving figures for the kaiwasa at Brinden Tully's request-I'd be laughed at.

- Of course you didn't. - The King of the North lifted the corners of his mouth slightly. - I'll take the Lannisters.

Robb turned the field over and the figures with the lion crests carved on them were on his side. The Starks were on Greyjoy's side.

Greyjoy decided to move first.

- Now that I am King of the North and the river lords have sworn to me, I stand alone against all. The Lions are beaten but still strong, the Baratheons despite the divisions within are each strong in their own way. Renly has practically 100,000 swords at his fingertips. Stannis has a huge fleet.

- What about the Vale and Dorne? Doesn't your aunt want to help?

Stark grimaced.

-The Vale is silent. I sent a few letters back to Rwe Cailin, but there's been no reply. And Dorne doesn't care about any of us, lurking beyond the Red Mountains. The Dornish will probably sit out the war.

- The Lannisters killed a member of House Martell fifteen years ago, Prince Rhaegar's wife. Not even his children were spared.

-and they tolerated it. - Stark thought for a while and made his own, retaliatory move. - Prince Doran does not strike me as a brave man.

- They lost their entire army at the Battle of the Trident. What other choice did Prince Doran have? Dorne is not as inflexible as you think, Robb. If it wasn't for the Young Dragon's stupidity, the southernmost kingdom in Westeros would have fallen before Daeron the Good.

-You may be right. But let's not talk about the cowardly Dornish and the Valkyries. We can't expect help from them, we're on our own. - Robb's voice turned contemptuous at the mention of the latter.

- We need allies, Theon. - Robb began. - I want to send you to your father, to the Iron Islands.

The answer was a shocked look from Greyjoy. Robb grinned contentedly, and for a moment all that gloom disappeared... only to return again. Stark, watching his friend deep in thought, continued his monologue:

- Our goals are similar, Theon. Your father wants independence from the Iron Throne - we can unite to achieve that goal. If the Iron Islands strike the unprotected western shore.....

- the Old Lion's arse will burn with rage. I understand that, Robb, as well as you do.

The fact that the wolves had decided to let him go home was certainly pleasing to Theon. He'd abandoned his plans to run away after he'd been sent to Cailin's Moat - running away with a bunch of Northerners around would get you caught. But he hadn't given up on his plans.

Perhaps, if given the chance, he would have run away - to the Free Cities, to gain money and position with his sword and bow. But now that there was a chance to return to the Iron Islands.....

'What remains is to convince Robb of that. He's obviously hesitant and would rather have my opinion on it than let me go.'

-The plan is a good one, and my father really won't mind pinching the West when the Old Lion's pretty beaten up. All we have to do is send him a letter and the Iron Fleet will spring into action.

Theon made another move, pawning to Robb's flank.

- Good. - Robb answered simply.

- I forgot about this until now... should I address you as 'Your Majesty' now?

- You can address me that way if you want. - was Stark's indifferent reply. - You lost, by the way.

-Truly...

There was silence. Robb was thinking about something, and Greyjoy was just staring around the room, staring at the map of Westeros hanging on the wall. The Iron Islands, his sister, his father, his father, his two uncles, and more were all in his mind.

- I hadn't told the others. - Suddenly the man sitting across from Theon spoke. - 'But father wasn't just beheaded.

Robb left his chair and walked over to the window. His hands were thrown behind his back and his fists were clenched tightly. The King of the North was overcome with strong emotions, but he tried to keep them in check.

- The Lannisters-' Robb's voice trembled for a second. - Joffrey had my father's corpse dumped right onto the blood-intoxicated crowd. They just tore him to pieces! - The very chair where he himself had recently been sitting flew from the Grim Wolf's rage. Theon flinched in surprise.

With a loud crunch, the chair slammed into the wall and broke apart.

- I can't even get my father's remains back - the lions will mockingly return someone else's ashes to me.

- Is Baratheon really that mad? - Greyjoy asked.

-I don't care how mad he is! - Stark shouted. - I cannot and will not let this go unanswered!

- What are you going to do?

A gleam appeared in Robb's eyes, mad and fearful. But only for a split second. He turned away from Theon and returned to his original position by the window.

- To show the Lannisters that wolves have fangs. And they are sharper than lions.

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

A column of soldiers, as they passed Riverrun's gatehouse, hummed a single song merrily. It had recently appeared, but had quickly gained popularity among the Northerners.

Red Army, lion lord,

They're preparing the Iron Throne again!

But from the Wall to the Dornish Seas,

the armies of the North are the strongest!

So let the North,

Clasp the sword of the North

With sword in hand.

And all of us must!

Unstoppable!

To the last battle of death!

Army of the North, march on, march on!

The Grim Wolf calls us to battle,

For from the Wall to the Dornish Seas.

The Army of the North is the strongest!

Greyjoy smiled whenever he heard that song. After all, he was the one who had borrowed it from a past life and changed the lyrics a bit.

It was harder to find bards and find the right tune - but in a couple of weeks a couple of bards managed to do it and played the song at an inn where the Northerners were holidaying. They really liked it.

'If I go to Hell, the Communists will shake my neck there.'

Greyjoy was amused every time he listened to it, not knowing what the song would become for the northerners in years to come....