I'm Theon Greyjoy

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A woman's warm hand clung to his calloused palm. Standing knee-deep in the water, Gwyn Goodbrather, in her ceremonial dress, peered curiously at her future husband. Her cloak, lined with fur and decorated with the symbols of her family, hid her back and shoulders from the cold weather. The bottom of the cloak dangled in the water.

Theon, dressed in a leather camisole with a golden kraken stitched on his chest, had his own eyes on the young Goodbrather. She was four years younger than him. Also dressed in a long cloak with a kraken stitched on it, Greyjoy noted her brown eyes, wheat-coloured hair and slim waist. Her pretty face had some delicate features, and her upturned nose made her look even lovelier.

The weather had cleared up a bit and it seemed like the perfect time to hold the ceremony. The bride and groom wore knee high boots and did not go any further into the water. At one time, many islanders died after their weddings, contracting illnesses after swimming in the cold water. The custom has changed and it is now customary to stand only knee-high, rather than waist-high.

There was no crown on his head - Greyjoy preferred not to wear one. All are equal before the Drowned God, Aeron used to say. And Theon was afraid to show his indifference to the Sea God in front of the indifferent gaze of his black-eyed eyes. His uncle had changed a lot. Or did Theon feel differently about him?

- Do you swear to the Drowned God? To keep the household safe and always be faithful to my husband,' Wet-head looked at Gwyn.

-I swear it! - She said it clearly, without wavering in the priest's gaze.

- Do you swear to the Drowned God,' Aeron's gaze shifted to Theon, 'to keep Gwyn of House Goodbrather safe and to be her faithful protector?

-I swear it! - Theon looked at Aeron defiantly, not taking his eyes off him. The wet-headed man nodded and raised his hands theatrically. The crowd of lords and captains gathered on the shore behind them listened attentively to his words:

- From this day forward, Theon of House Greyjoy and Gwyn of House Goodbrather are bound in marriage! The Drowned God is witness to that!

Standing behind them, Victarion and Gorold Goodbrather stepped closer. Their presence is a sign that the fathers are blessing this marriage. But, in fact, the blessings of the fathers are not so obligatory in the traditions of the Iron Men.

Gwyn's father removed his daughter's long cloak and Theon threw his own over it, fastening it at the clasps. Their eyes met for a moment and then immediately broke apart, slanting their eyes away from each other, in different directions.

Henceforth and forever.

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

The huge hall in the Great Castle was overcrowded today - not everyone could fit, so the small captains with little to show for their time had to stand aside, giving way to the venerable lords and powerful captains. A few merchants and common landowners who didn't own a ship or castle, but who owned a lot of land and a fertile farm, managed to sneak into the wedding feast. In the Iron Islands, that meant a lot.

Theon sat on the Sea Throne, with his newfound wife sitting beside him. His forehead was adorned with a newly made crown in the form of an iron hoop with pointed ends. A kraken with tentacles was carved on the front, and on the rest of it the blacksmith had engraved the words: 'Iron on the outside is iron on the inside.

It was inappropriate for the king's consort to wear any jewellery on her head.

There was a multivocal roar in the dormitory. Hundreds of people were laughing, drinking from wine goblets, joking, groping unwilling slave girls for certain parts, arguing and shouting. Toasts to the glory of the king and his queen came every five minutes.

The tables were bursting with food. Ladles of bread, of all kinds and qualities, a great number of fish dishes, ducks in honey, pieces of bacon, roasted pigeons specially caught on the Bright Isle, whale meat bought from Ibbenian traders, pork, several roasted boars and much, much more. All of this was fortified with drinks, mostly alcoholic. Golden Arborian wine was next to red, Dornish wine, Lordport beer, so beloved of the common Ironborn. Theon found it disgusting. He disliked beer in this world very much, both northern and island beers. He had never had the chance to taste beer in other kingdoms, but the best results were questionable.

On the walls hung many banners of all the clans whose representatives had come to Theon's wedding. A mark of respect and honour for them. It's doubtful they'd appreciate it, given that the tradition began long ago, before Aegon's Conquest. And the lords were too accustomed to such honours to pay much attention to them.

The bards played, invited by Theon. Mostly ironborn - and there were some among the Isles. Each played in turn, and only songs popular among the ironborn. 'Old Kraken,' singing about one of the greatest kings of the Iron Islands, "The Duel," a song recounting the legendary duel between King Harron Harlow and Garreth the Merciless, King of Spacious, at the Battle of Staromest.

'The Saga of Dalton,' "The Cruel Quored," "The Coming of Harmund the Merchant," "The Curse of Agnes," 'The Last of the Greyeyrons.' All these songs were sung at the feast, pleasing the ears of hereditary pirates, reminding them of the greatness of the past.

- To King Theon and his Queen Gwyn! - One of the lords rose heavily and gave a loud toast. He was met with repeated cheers and a mass tipping of mugs filled with wine and beer down their throats.

Greyjoy, seated on the Sea Throne, looked on with interest and took a few sips from his cup as a toast. His newfound wife repeated after him, only taking a small sip of wine. They never said a single word to each other after the ceremony. Only occasionally their gazes crossed.

After looking at the young Goodbrather for a few moments, Theon looked the other way. The party was already in full swing in the Great Hall of Pyke. The noise, the many smells, the smoke, and the small amount of wine was starting to give him a headache. Theon's eyes spotted a laughing pupil, Erich, who was in the middle of one of the long tables. Right on the table, Cicero was walking importantly beside him, spreading his coloured wings. Some of the guests began to toss him pieces of meat, and the bird blessedly accepted them, showering the pirates with a carload of profanity and insults.

The ironborn laughed, and, beckoning to the bird, threw more pieces of meat and fish.

It should be noted that there was no so-called high platform in the hall - all the lords, regardless of their power and influence, sat at common tables, together with free captains, priests, and even merchants, who were quite few on the islands. The common warriors and indentured servants sat in the courtyard, or even outside the walls of Pyke, getting their share of the feast, a tradition that must have come from the First Men. Greyjoy knew that in the southern kingdoms at feast times, the servants of lords and kings received little at the behest of their masters. It was not customary, and was seen only as a way to placate the rabble.

A large, bulky man, in whom Theon recognised Lord Rognar Goodbrather of Rasselin, rose from the table and shouted loudly.

-Bedtime!

He was supported, then rising from the table and shouting in support, then frequently banging wooden goblets on the surface of the tables.

There was no seeing the young ones off to the bedroom, as was the custom on the continent. They walked hand in hand across the great hall between two long tables and marched to their private chambers to the sound of cheers of approval and the measured clatter of mugs.

They walked down several semi-dark corridors, lit only by wall torches. Alone, without any escort.

Theon closed the door and turned round, seeing Gwyn looking at him. Her hands undid the clasps of her cloak and the long, black cloth fell to the stone floor.

It was up to Greyjoy next. He took quick steps across the distance separating them and began to unlace the dress.

When the dress fell down, followed by the cloak, Theon embraced his wife's naked body. Gwyn's pretty face was next to his eyes, and she pressed herself against him.

-My king? - She asked with a smile, and Theon reached for her soft lips without further ado.

Tonight had been a beautiful night, and all worries and troubles had faded into the background. It was just Him and Her.

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

Several days passed after the wedding ceremony. When the lords had recovered from their drunken frenzy and cleaned up, the King decided it was time to hold a council of war. The council was held in the Guest Castle because of its convenience. The Sea Tower would not hold such a large number of people, and the Great Hall, where the wedding was being played out, was inconvenient because of its sheer size... Something in between was needed, and the Guest Castle was just right.

Greyjoy sat at the head of the long table, leaning against the back of a chair with a kraken carved into the top of the backrest. Next to him sat Victarion and Lord Harlow.

Farther back sat lords and captains of various stripes and powers of influence. And most surprisingly, Theon noted, no one cared if a free captain sat closer than Lord Blacktide or Goodbrather. In the noble society of the Ironborn, such things were not given importance.

Remembering how the festivities were conducted at Winterfell, Greyjoy could only chuckle mentally. The Northerners, descendants of the First Men in all things, had learnt more from the Andals than the islanders who lived closer to them. Thousands of years of isolation, right?

'I'll never be Sun King...' - Greyjoy thought as he looked around the long table of people. Forty or fifty people.

God forbid that such a king should appear in Westeros. In some ways he was beginning to understand the inhabitants of the 'little snot over Europe.'

The map of the Expanse was spread out on the table, enlarged.

- I have gathered you today to discuss our next steps,' Theon began to say, trying to look at each face in turn, not in the eyes, but as if through....

- The whole coast of the West is ruined, its fleet destroyed, and Cayce and Bright Isle are ours now,' Greyjoy continued, watching the general reaction of his subjects.

- Obviously, we must go to the Expanse,' one of the captains muttered, drawing the attention of all present.

The captain was of medium height and thin, sitting next to Dagmer Scherbatny. His name was Halleck, and he was a well-known captain who had fought in the Baelon Rebellion. As Greyjoy knew, Halleck's involvement in the Rebellion was not limited to that. He'd sailed to the Steps, where he'd plundered a couple of fiefdoms of local pirate lords serving the Fox. For which he earned the wrath of the Lissenians, and was sent to Tyrosh's service.

He went from side to side, robbing caravans and raiding. In the meantime he had become rich, famous, and aptly nicknamed 'The Destroyer'.

Theon even felt a pang of envy. To get such a nickname among a nation of hereditary sea robbers, it would take a lot of effort. Greyjoy himself was no longer called The Gunslinger, and the other nicknames didn't really stick. In the taverns, they used to go by the likes of: 'The Bloody One,' "The Northern Kraken," and many others. But none of them ever caught on.

Halleck arrived in the Iron Islands a few months before the war of all against all began. As soon as Lord Baelon began to call the banners, he joined the Greyjoy family, swearing a temporary oath of allegiance.

After looking at the insolent man for a few seconds, Theon showed a faint semblance of a smile on his face:

-And as Captain Halleck says, our next target is the Expanse. Once the Arbor and Shield Isles fleets have been burned and destroyed, there will be no one to oppose us in the Sunset Sea.

Greyjoy's words elicited a universal roar of approval. To be honest, despite their defeat in the last war, the islanders still thought of the Spaniards as easy prey on the sea. In some ways he agreed with his kin, but not now. They were outnumbered, even though a certain portion of the enemy fleet was in the Narrow Sea, blockading Dragonstone.

'So why didn't the Tyrells send the Arbor fleet to help the West? Were they afraid, cautious, or out of self-interest? They must realise that the next target is their fiefdom.'

While the lords and captains argued among themselves about the best way to take the Shield Islands and defeat the Spartans' fleet, Theon pondered. He listened half-heartedly, but he didn't want to miss anything important. A useful skill from a past life. Being a student had its effects.

'They're waiting for us,' Greyjoy realised, 'not in the waters we know, but in their own territory. They know we've suffered many casualties, and they hope to run us over with meat... ships?'

Greyjoy had no time to sit and recover. If the Northmen were defeated, it would only be a matter of time before the Iron Islands were defeated. The lords of the green land would have to be worried and send some of their troops to defend their castles and cities.

After all, Mace Tyrell is no Kiwan Lannister, and he cannot keep his vassals in place.

The tone of the voices began to rise - and Theon decided to intervene.

- There's no point in arguing about which island we'll take first as long as Arbor's fleet is in our way. They must be waiting for us,' the king interrupted in a loud voice.

- Then we must strike at once, so that these spacious rats will realise who is master of the sea,' exclaimed one of the lords.

- We will,' nodded the Master of the Iron Islands, picking out the lord with his eyes, 'but first we must agree on something.

Despite his hunch, he decided not to abandon the plan. And he told the lords about it, running his finger over the map. The first stage of the plan was to defeat the naval armada with as few casualties as possible.

After a few hours of council, Greyjoy decided to end it with one statement:

-My uncle, Lord Harlow, is appointed Lord Steward of the Iron Islands. He will be my Viceroy, keeping the Islands in order and peace in my absence.

- I would be honoured, my King,' Rodrik the Reader rose.

The whole plan for the invasion of the Expanse had already been discussed with the lords close to him and his uncle Victarion. And this crowd had been assembled for a few purposes: to convey the plan to them and to announce Harlow's appointment.

Rodrik the Reader isn't a military man, but he's capable of ruling the lands. And loyal to Theon, which is the most important thing. Greyjoy understands his uncle, and knows of the Lord of the Ten Towers' ambitions. His grandfather's New Way has darkened his eyes as much as the Old Law did his father's.

All that remains is to gather the fleet into a single fist and strike. A blow that would probably decide the outcome of this war.

At least, Theon hoped so.