Theon Greyjoy found himself oddly disappointed by the sight before him, Pyke, home of his father and his father before him, seemed small and not exactly the embodiment of safety and strength that he'd grown accustomed to from Winterfell. Pyke was dreary, nothing but a scrap of land jutting forth from the waters dotted with fishing villages under a sky darkened by a constant gloom, dark grey clouds blotted out the sun. The castle, though run-down in appearance, was built into the cliff face and overlooked the ocean. He couldn't help but pictured it crashing into the sea if the cliff was eroded any further. As his ship emerged from a heavy fog it was greeted by the smell of salt and rotting fish.
Theon wondered how he'd be received. He knew his father, or at least what he could recall of him, had been a hard man not prone to expressing emotions beyond anger. But surely he'd brake at the victorious return of his only son and heir? With a mental shrug he tossed some coin to the ships captain as payment for the journey. "Captain," He began. "thank you for your service. The food tasted like dirt but at least I'm here in one piece." Theon smirked at his own jest. "Good day, Captain!"
Without bothering to turn around to look for what would've been a look of indignation on the captains face, Theon bounded onto the pier and processed to find a horse. That was easy enough, as the old man he'd found slumped off to the nearby stables to fetch a mount, leaving Theon alone to admire the view. The view was dreary and smelled of fish. When the old man returned Theon tied down his bag of what little belongings he'd taken south onto the horses flank, leaped into the saddle, and set off for Pyke.
"Theon Greyjoy, and my business is none of your concern." He told the guards at the gates when they'd asked his name and business with Lord Greyjoy. They'd fallen over themselves trying to welcome him after that, he made for an imposing figure attired in black trousers of sturdy linen, and a grey-and-black doublet of finer material. His only ornament was the Lannister brooch which held his black cloak in place, a small souvenir that he'd borrowed from Jaime Lannister after the Whispering Woods.
Walking through the halls very little seemed to have changed from what little memories he had of growing up here. The color 'bleak grey' was apparently all the rage.
After he was escorted through the halls he reached the doors to the great hall, which were open and pouring light into the otherwise dark corridor. Theon stepped inside and noticed several things at once. First, his eyes went to the high table where he saw his father, Lord Balon Greyjoy, for the first time in years. The man had changed little, perhaps growing even more stone-faced than Theon remembered, but losing a war and ones children Theon guessed would do that to any man. To Balon's right stood a women, more attractive than any other he'd seen on the islands thus far. Theon's uncles were here also, Victarion and Aeron. He identified a few others, like Harras Harlaw, wielder of the valyiran steel sword Nightfall. Several other powerful captains stood by also, watching from the sidelines.
Theon decided that the only way to address his father would be head on, as showing fear or hesitating would get him nowhere. He set his shoulders and strode forward into the hall, back erect and the kraken emblazoned proudly upon his chest. His cloak was thrown back over his shoulder to display his castle-forged longsword and the brooch he'd claimed in the Whisper Woods glinted in the light of the nearby roaring fire. As he approached the table, he called out, "Lord Balon!"
The voices in the room fell silent at his interruption, heads turning to greet the new arrival. Lord Balon's eyes widened visibly in surprise, but his voice remained emotionless.
"Theon."
Theon bowed respectfully. "Father. I have come-"
"-Dressed like a whore?" His father interrupted and the hall erupted into laughter. His uncle Victarion pounded on the table with his fist, joining in with the others. Aeron remained silent.
Theon waited for them to stop, silently fuming. Clearing his throat, he continued, -"I have come as an emissary from the King in the North, Robb Stark. He would ask that you fight beside him against the false king, Joffrey Waters."
Lord Balon stood, staring down his son. "So, your nothing but Starks lapdog now?"
"I fight with Robb because I choose to, no man makes that decision for me!" Theon roared in reply. Why he cared what this old kraken thought of him was a strange thing, the man was abandoned him, his last living son. Why should he care now what he thought of him?
Balon spat on the ground. "That whores ornament of yours: did you pay the iron price?"
Theon snapped. "You dare question my courage, old man? You, who cowered behind high walls and failed to keep your own blood safe?" He drew his steel and pointed it towards the man that claimed to be his father. "I paid the iron price for this gold father, with this very sword and the blood of lannister filth!"
The hall fell silent, none daring to speak before their lord. Victarion was the only one to react, beaming with a smile.
Theon continued, having lowered his sword to his side. "King Robb would have your friendship, father, and your alliance. But what he wants is your ships and for the west to be burnt to ashes, one way or another. House Lannister will fall, with or without you, that must I swear to the Drowned God..."
Victarion stood up from his seat, the commander of the iron fleet was an enormous man. After what seemed to Theon like an eternity, he grabbed Theon completely off guard and hugged him, one fist tousling his hair like he was a child. "This ones a Greyjoy alright, brother. No doubt about it."
Aeron stood and spoke for the first time. "I must agreed, my lord. The boy is certainly worthy of the Drowned God."
He turned to Theon. "Do you remember, boy, after so long in the greenlands?"
"What is dead may never die." Theon responded without hesitation.
Aeron might have smiled, but Balon stepped in, now shouting loudly. "This boy would have me bend the knee to another boy, who's father saw both of my sons dead, and my third made into a bloody women!"
Theon's anger began to boil. "Aye. I love the family that laid you low. But they and I have been spilling blood while you hide behind your walls like the old craven you are! If you will not call your banners and reap the riches of the west, then perhaps it is time Pyke saw a new lord!"
Suddenly his father laughed, a strange sound to say the least and what happens next was even stranger. Balon embraced him, and said loudly, "Now that is a Ironborn! More balls than brains or ability!" Theon was insulted, he had far more ability than this old kraken, but he'd accept the haft-insult for what it was. Acceptance.
The entire hall shook his laughter and Theon sheathed his sword, Balon smiling with approval of his son. Aeron came forward and clasped his hand while Victarion began enthusiastically pounding him on the hand with his hand. Suddenly the women from earlier was in front of him and she embraced him, to Theon's shock and confusion.
"What's the matter, little brother?" She said with a devilish grin. "Afraid to hug your sister?"
Theon pushed her away. "Wait-wait-wait... Asha?"
She winked at him. "The one and only."
His jaw dropped. "Your... different."
"You mean, not horrendously plain?" She asked with enough sweetness to kill. "Don't strain yourself, Theon. That changed about the time I received breasts."
Theon, effectively embarrassed, turned back to his father and the high table where he was no offered a place of honor to the right of his father and left of his uncle Victarion. "So, what of Robb's offer father? The West is weak and ripe for the taking..."
Balon huffed as he read the letter Robb has written for Theon to deliver, his expression did not inspire great confidence in the young krane. He knew in that moment, he should have proof-read the letter. "I am Ironborn. If I wish a crown I will take one, not accept one as a gift from some wolf pup."
Theon replied, attempting to reason with his father. "A poor choice of words, what is meant is-"
"What is meant is what is said." Balon spat, "The boy will give me a crown. And what is given can be taken away."
"The West has far richer plunder." Victarion joined his voice to the others present, giving a nod to Theon to indicate that they agreed on the matter.
Balon sighed, clearly tired. "What word from the Rock?"
"The lion has agreed to your demands." Euron stepped out of the shadows, speaking for the first time since the meeting had taken place.
"I thought he was exiled?" Thought thought to himself and tried to hide his shock, eyeing Victarion to his wide whom was clearly unhappy to see his elder brother alive or simply at all. "Demands?" Theon barked, "Your seriously considering working with those bastards over Robb?"
"Insurance to keep the lion off our back while the North bleeds." Balon smiled at his sons reaction. "I'll work with no greenlanders, boy."
"You'll take their bribes however." Euron spoke again, causing a few hushed mutterings from others in the room.
"Shut your mouth." Victarion snarled at his brother. "If you don't like it your welcome to bugger off back across the sea, and this time bloody well stay there!"
"Enough!" Balon commanded. "If the lion fulfills it's end of the bargain we will spare it our wrath, for now. If it dose not we shall burn the West. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Victarion said, slamming his axe on the table.
"Agreed." Theon said with a sigh as he thought to himself.
"The lions will never honor the deal... would they?"
"Agreed." Euron smiled before turning around and storming out of the room.
"Good," Balon declared. "we'll meet again tomorrow and go over the plans."
Theon was about to make his way to discuss attacking the West with his father, sure that he could persuade him if he pushed the right buttons, when a crowd of various minor lordlings surrounded him, and subsequently forced the young kraken into a drinking game. It would be a long night, his father and the Lannisters would wait until morning.
Several skins of wine and piss-poor ale later, Theon found himself stumbling back to find his father, leaning against his uncle Victarion who was in a similar state of drunkenness. As they lunged through the door to his fathers room Theon tired his best to focus through his drink-induced haze. His father was at his writing desk, Asha standing beside him with Aeron in the corner. "Have you considered my message?" Theon managed the words with little effort, this wasn't the first time in his life that he'd been drinking. Far from it in fact.
Balon nodded slowly, seemingly unhappy about it. "I have. I had feared your time with Eddard Stark had made you soft, or forgetful about your heritage. But," his eyes laid on Theon's sword that hung from his belt. "you have proven I have nothing to fear it seems. Peraphs I should be thankful that the greenlanders have refined you into a man of salt and iron..."
Theon kept his face blank. "Aye. But what of Robb's request? Will you go to war with me against the Lannister bastards?" His fingers rested on the pommel of his sword, desperately hoping that the answer would be-
"The North-"
"What dose the North have to offer?!" Theon's fists slammed down on the writing desk, loud as a thunder clap. "Snow and Ice? Who would know better than I? What madness would compel us to ignore the gold and riches on our very doorstep?"
"I agree with the boy." Euron spoke with a devilish grin, once again appearing out of the shadows. "He's got more balls and brains than you Balon... perhaps he's mine and not yours?"
"I agree father, the North offers us nothing." Asha's support was enough to tip the scales, Balon sighed in defeat.
Victarion placed a hand on his brothers shoulder. "It was not the North who killed your sons brother, and besides the point both Eddard Stark and Baratheon are dead while Tywin remains free and proud. I stand with Theon. The boy has shown strength and with some training, the ability to wield that strength." Theon's uncle turned to face him with a smile. "You have my axe lad, best put it to good use as we burn the West to ashes. Your grandfather died fighting in the Reach, we own
them blood too."
Theon gave a nod in response. "In time uncle, for now we focus on the enemy at our door. We can discuss the future once Casterly Rock is naught but rubble."
"We Do Not Sow." Balon said sternly, his way of agreeing.
"We Do Not Sow." Theon smiled at his father. House Lannister's days were now numbered, the beginning of the end.
[Westeros] A Song of Turmoil
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Originally Posted by Teabagger69420
Good work taking Lannisport though!
