Seven Devils

by EchoFallsFromGrace

Placed within the Game of Thrones landscape, the cast of the past four American Horror Story seasons intertwine as they begin their fight for control of the Iron Throne and Westeros. Seven chapters, warnings inside! (Chapter 1: Violet / Chapter 2: Dandy / Chapter 3: Lana / Chapter 4: Misty / Chapter 5: Hayden / Chapter 6: Madison / Chapter 7: The Battle)

1. What the Water Gave Me

Chapter 1: What the Water Gave Me

And the ships are left to rust/That's what the water gave us

Headcanoned with an beta-ed by graceonce

Rated M for rape and language and mention of animal cruelty

3 Months Before the Battle of Visenya's Hill

The wind was cold but the girl was used to it whipping past her salt filled hair, though now it was clean and her strands of dark blonde were smooth and without tangles. She'd tried so long as a child and as a young woman to comb through it but only now, on the mainland, did it comply to her wishes. It was her mother who'd taken care of it the night before, imbibed it with sweet smelling oils and taken good care of it, raking her fingers through it as she talked softly with her daughter. Though she hadn't listened.

She glanced back behind herself, somewhat unsettled at spying her home island off at the horizon, distant rocks, simple cracks in the sky. She pressed her shoe farther into the sand beneath her, it being a different color than the drab one she was used to. It seemed richer, like gold, glinting in the sunlight.

So much sun.

She squinted as she looked up and spied her father standing off the side of their ship, but she looked away quickly, gray eyes flirting back to the hills. She wanted to take the road she could see faintly from where she stood and head south, where it was warm. Now that she'd tasted warmth, she wanted more and only that. The top of her head burned with the intensity of the light above but her coat was still damp, still stiff with salt.

She turned halfway at the hand on her shoulder, fingernails digging into her jacket, and she tried her hardest to mirror her mother's smile but it just wouldn't happen.

She was sneering.

"It's your first time, isn't it."

The girl shrugged. "You tell me."

"It is," the woman began again. She tucked a strand of hair behind the girl's ear despite the way she ducked beneath her touch. "It's a big day, Violet."

"No, it's not. We're not there yet. This isn't where we're stopping."

Lady Greyjoy stared her daughter down. "For you to be on main soil, it is an important day. Your first continent. Aren't you excited at all?"

Violet shrugged again, shoulders raising up to her shoulders and then dropping as far as they could, her hands limp at her sides. "It's just dirt," she finally offered. Her auburn haired mother sighed through her nose but didn't add anything, watching her carefully.

"I guess it is," Vivien tried. Violet turned away, back to scuffing her boots on the golden sands. She listened to the woman walk away and she finally softened, back to squinting at the sun in the sky.

Lord Greyjoy watched his wife approach, his hands on his hips, his chin held high even though it dipped down to anyone who watched. He put her hand over her shoulder once she came to his side and looked down, blue eyes on the ground and ear at the level of her mouth.

"How is she?"

"Less sick than I, for sure." Vivien smiled. "Moody, also. I think she resents us."

"She's the age to. It's alright, she's just new to this sky. Has it changed to you?"

"It's too bright," his lady replied. "It was then, too."

Ben bent down slightly to kiss her on the cheek, his beard scruffing past her skin and she winced lightly but smiled at the token of affection. He passed his hand reassuringly down the slope of her back. "I'll be done here soon. I'll send the ship to cross around Westeros when we leave, they should reach King's Landing when we do, and we'll cross over to Dragonstone then. It's safer this way."

She watched him, blue eyes dim. "Safer?"

The man nodded softly. "Relatively, anyway. I don't trust anyone from Lannisport or the Reach to let us pass so easily if we are a troop strong. I don't trust the riders off the Searoad. Especially not the ones from the dogs' keep." He saw her shiver but didn't move to be closer. "We'll take the Goldroad ourselves, stick to the pavement, all the way to King's Landing. We'll be safe."

"Of course."

They both glanced sideways at Violet, still tiptoeing on the beach. "Travis has gone for the horses. We'll be on our way soon."

Vivien turned, blue eyes scanning the shadows the high walls of Lannisport threw, the ramparts themselves over bared by Casterly Rock, off in the distance. "Good. I can't say I'm fond of this city."

"You haven't even gone in, what would you know?" Violet's parents watched her, Ben's eyebrows were raised, amused. "It's probably beautiful."

"They haven't paid the iron price. It can be beautiful all it wants, it's fake. Smoke and mirrors, sweetheart," he responded. "Smoke and mirrors."

She eyed him almost bitterly. "Are the Targaryens paying the iron price for me? Will blood be shed? Or only mine?"

"That's not the same thing, Violet. A marriage is different," Vivien said quietly. "You know that."

The three turned at the sound of metal shoes on wooden planks, and Ben nodded curtly at the knight approaching them, brown hair flying in the wind. He tugged four horses behind him, two in each hand, all with a bright white coat. They clashed with the gray on his tunic.

"My Lord, your horses."

"Fine steeds, Travis."

The young man bent at the waist, bowing lightly. "Only the best." He smiled at Violet, handing her the reins to the shortest horse, though it still towered above her. "His name's Sugarcube."

"Cute."

He sneered back at her, laughing when she finally cracked a smile.

Her and Vivien watched as the knight and his lord fixed the mounts with their belongings, enough to carry them through their voyage, but light enough that they could ride easily and without problem. Her father hadn't wanted to make a big fuss about their arrival, especially if they were to ride through the Westerlands for so long, flanking the Reach. Only the Crownlands would be kind. The Dragons knew they were coming.

Violet wished she'd brought more to wear, jewels and heavy coats alike, but she didn't own them in the first place. She hadn't paid the price for any of them. She wondered if her arranged husband would care that she wore only shades of grey and that her hair was stiff with sea wind.

She mounted her steed shakily, finding some solace in the rocking of the horse, similar to that of a ship's.

Ben helped his lady onto her own white horse, hands steady at her waist though she pushed him off quickly. She gave him a tight smile. "I can do it myself, my Lord." He nodded back and opened the way with his steed, Ser Travis trailing behind them, Violet left on her own to daydream.

OOOoooOOO

"And your betrothed's name is-?"

Violet glanced sideways at the young knight, gray eyes narrowed at the sudden question. It'd been a few hours and the man hadn't said anything but now he stared evenly at her, smile wide as he waited. "Targaryen?"

Ser Travis laughed heartily, his hand on his thigh as he pushed his horse away from hers, giggles travelling across the wind to the girl as he took a moment to breathe before trailing back to her, knee brushing against her own. "I know he's a dragon, love, we're headed to Dragonstone. What's his first name, I mean?"

"Oh." The girl faced forward, frowning lightly. "Tate."

"That's a nice name. Not as handsome as Travis, but you can't pick your battles." She rolled her eyes and he laughed again, eyes bright. "I'm teasing you. Are you excited?"

"Yes. No." Violet shrugged. "I don't know. I've always known I'd be carted off to some man but I didn't think it'd be so soon," she added, her voice a whisper. The man nodded, eyes on the Greyjoys ahead of him. "What if he's-"

"Mean? Mocking? Smells bad?" He raised his shoulders. "A bath can take care of the last one. Some soap." He paused. "You're a kraken, Lady Violet. Krakens fight back. If he fights, it's for you, not against you. Know that. And if not a bath, then a well placed knife in the dark can fix things right up."

She stared openly at him. "You'd want me to murder my husband? If it got bad enough?"

"I would hope you'd let me, actually."

Violet's eyes moved to her parents and she slowed her horse. The knight at her side did the same. "What do you mean?"

"I've asked your father if I could stay by your side while you're away from Pyke. He's letting me."

"Travis."

"I'm only doing my best to keep you safe, Lady Violet. I hope you won't mind me overstepping my bounds."

"It's-" She paused, eyes falling to her horse's mane. "It's very kind of you. But I don't think I'll need you to murder anyone for me."

He laughed. "Oh, I hope not. I'm sure he's a nice young man. I'm being dramatic. May I hold your flowers at your wedding?"

Violet smirked. "He has a sister."

"Damn." He watched her laugh. "You're prettier when you smile, Lady Violet."

Her blush ran up to her ears. "Thank you. I'm trying."

"It's working." He looked up. "The continent does that, I think, lift spirits? The sun is warmer," he sighed. "I've missed it."

Violet's eyes widened. "Missed it? You've been here before?"

"Of course, fighting wars for your father. And I ran away from my home as a young lad. Younger, anyway."

"But why?"

"Though All Men Do Despise Us." He recited, a hand to his heart. "I wasn't well liked. Seven hells, none of house Codd is liked. You learn to run away, then." He began counting on his fingers. "I'm a bastard, my brother's a bastard, my father was one too, so says my mother. I never met him personally. They only gave me the last name because we're all bastards."

Violet wriggled her nose, unable to strike the truth from his words.

"I'm lucky your father liked me when he met me at the Crag, otherwise I'd still be rowing on a ship somewhere, not a knight, and definitely not as well dressed as this," he added, rapping on his chainmail with an armored fist. "I owe him my life."

"Your allegiance," Violet corrected.

"My life."

They fell silent, the horses' hooves sounding on the road beneath them. Violet looked away when Vivien glanced back at them, offering a small smile. She shifted in her saddle, craning her neck and arching her back, pulling out the kinks.

Her voice carried in the darkening sky. "How long will we ride?"

Ben turned to her, his tone teasing. "Tired already?"

"She's unused to a horse between her legs, as any ironborn," Vivien put in. She ignored the look Lord Greyjoy gave her, one eyebrow raised.

He looked to his daughter. "There's an inn past the next hills, but we'll be riding all day tomorrow, I'd like to make it to Deep Den by the week's half."

"It should easily be done, my Lord," Ser Travis said. Violet listened to his speech change as he addressed her father. "We're few and loaded light. We'll be ready to cross to Dragonstone before the end of the week."

"Your timing sounds impeccable," Vivien offered.

He bowed his head. "I studied the ship's map." A quizzical look passed through Lady Greyjoy's blue eyes and she glanced sideways at her husband who shifted on his mount, uneasy. The question went unspoken. He can read?

They reached the tavern at nightfall, the heavy oiled candles shining brightly in the windows, and Violet couldn't help the moan that ripped from her throat when she touched ground again, thighs aching and knees threatening to buckle beneath her own weight. She dreaded getting back on the horse, her hateful gaze turned on its eyes as she rounded it. It was her lord father's fault too, she figured, he'd never let her ride before. Her mother helped her into the tavern as she winced with each step she took and they were treated to the best rooms her father's money could buy, the coins traded easily between hands.

She didn't sleep easy that night, even though Travis slept with his back against her door and even though her parents slept in the room across the hall. The winds here in the Westerlands didn't howl like they did on the Iron Islands, the rain didn't fall in a gale. It was all too quiet, and she stared up at the ceiling, mind racing in the absolute silence. She felt trapped.

She considered leaving to take a walk through the moonlit hills surrounding the place, but Travis wouldn't let her. The window was too high off the ground for her to climb down.

So she let her mind wander.

OOOoooOOO

"You're practically sleeping on that poor horse."

Violet grimaced at her mother's voice but she didn't open her eyes, lulled by her mount's steady walk.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

The girl's hazel gray eyes cracked open after a moment and she shook her head, too tired to shy away when Vivien reached over and passed a hand through her soft hair, their steeds' flanks touching.

"I'm afraid you're going to fall off."

"I won't, mom. I won't fall off." Violet gave her reins a sharp tug and she peeled away from Lady Greyjoy's side. "I'm fine. I just had a little trouble falling asleep, but I did sleep."

"Then the voyage is making you weary?"

The girl shrugged. "Sure."

"Would you like to stop?"

"Deep Den isn't far, Travis said. I can make it," Violet muttered.

"Ser Travis said."

Another grimace found its way to the youngest Greyjoy's face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Her mother's blue eyes trailed to the knight's figure riding by her husband's. "You two are quite friendly."

"There's four of us on this 'journey'," Violet spat. "What do you want me to do, talk to father the entire time? Let you braid my hair? The horses are in the way," She snapped the heel of her boot into her mount's side and she pushed ahead a few feet, leaving the woman behind.

And she left her behind that entire day, riding ahead of both her mother and Travis, staying just a hair shy of her father's horse but unwilling to address him too as the terrain turned tortuous. The mounts became slower as the graveled road turned into large, uneven rocks, fallen from the hills and low mountains and left there. She thought she heard her lord father muttering that he would mention the dirty work to whoever owned the place. And she wondered if House Lydden would take it well if he did.

A half hour later they were on foot, pulling the horses along as they trudged between boulders and approached one of the higher hills. Violet could only call it that, Pyke itself had mountains that touched the sky, and here they barely grazed the top of ancestral trees.

But the fortress carved into the rock appearing past a corner was a new sight, and she couldn't help the way her eyes widened at the architecture, the front of the castle burrowed into deep stone. Something she'd never seen.

The door was massive oak and ten feet tall, framed by carved rock that was made to resemble bricks and mortar, but they abruptly ended when the mountain turned. Almost as if the castle had been drawn into the stone.

With a shovel.

For a moment she was puzzled, wondering where the rest of the stronghold could possibly be, but she shook the thought of. If the front was carved, then so was the inside. She wished she was a bird, a falcon, so that her golden eyes could see how far the mountain extended from above, how deep the place could possibly be. She wondered if the inside was bigger than the outside. She wondered if she'd have enough time to explore it all.

Her father strode ahead, gaze up on the top of the wall where guards in green and white and brown stood in the shadows, badger framed flags flying beside them in the wind. He called up and they called back down, voices carrying in the breeze and the gates slowly opened a moment later. It was comfortably warm inside the foyer, fires roaring at the end of the grand hall, and the princess of the Iron Islands wanted so badly to cross over and to put her freezing hands, stiff inside her gloves, against the flames. But she stayed put, Travis flush at her back and her mother at her side as Lord Greyjoy walked to meet Lord Lydden. They shook hands and exchanged quick words, and Ben turned back around and held his arm out.

"My daughter, Violet, and my wife, Vivien."

"You are most welcome, my ladies, to Deep Den." He smiled softly, a light in his kind blue eyes. "She looks quite like you, Lord Greyjoy." Ben beamed back and Violet turned away to sneer at a wall.

"What brings you to the Westerlands?"

"Business," Ben replied easily. Violet turned a little farther.

"Would you sell ships to citizens of the plains?" the lord laughed. "We'd have no use for them."

"No, not ships."

"Livestock," Violet blurted, and she hid behind her hair as Ben whipped his head back to stare her down.

"Your girl isn't a clever liar, you have only your horses and your man there." Lord Lydden pushed away her comment with another easy smile and waved them to the end of the hall, to where a long table stood. He sat at the head and the four krakens sat down the length, Vivien nodding kindly at the servant who passed by to leave drinking horns and wine. "I'll admit that I can't care much about why you're crossing Westeros when you could easily sail around her, as long as no troubles are brought to me or mine."

"A ship for four is rather eccentric." The lie came easily.

"You're a lord, why not be?"

"And the continent is so beautiful during the fall."

Lord Lydden snorted as he reached for the pitcher of wine. "The fall. Fuckin' Starks. Winter is coming for once and I hate it when they're right. You'd think we'd have learned not to ask them by now." He eyed Vivien momentarily. "The fall."

Ben smiled. "The fall."

The lord of Deep Den grunted. "To the Starks." He knocked his cup back as did Travis and Ben, Vivien fingering her own delicately. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "I can't say the mountains hold many sights, ever. How was Lannisport?"

"We didn't enter."

"Smart move. That Lannister bitch is all over the place since she married into the name."

Ben's eyebrows raised. "How is the rest of the family taking that?"

"The ones who haven't been executed have all run. I know the Reynes aren't happy, I'd say they're destitute just for standing up to her, but I would be guessing as to how much they've lost."

"Are they so stupid that they'd try building armies against her? Him?"

"They have. And they've been crushed, their home sacked. They're living on scraps."

"No one would help them?"

"How strong are the Lannisters?"

Ben clicked his tongue.

Lydden spoke lowly. "Of course, I'm not suggesting any ill thoughts towards my reigning lord."

"What ill thoughts?" Lord Greyjoy replied smoothly. Deep Den's lord smiled and laid back in his chair.

"How long will you be staying?"

"Only the night."

"Not enjoying the hills?" The older man shrugged lightly. "The east has prettier forests, I'm sure, the Kingswood is quite a sight," he added. Ben stiffened and he ignored it. "Rooms will be prepared for you, and your horses fed and stabled, then readied for sunrise. I can only guess you're in a hurry to reach your destination." There was a note of question at the last word, but his guests ignored it.

Travis spoke. "The krakens aren't well liked on land."

"You're swimmers," Lord Lydden laughed. "Not walkers." He pointed his finger at the young knight. "Even you, fishy." Travis gazed back and Violet couldn't help the smile that overtook her as the man's confusion grew, as he glanced at Vivien and then at Ben.

Lord Greyjoy stood. "We thank you immensely, my Lord, for your hospitality." Lydden nodded from his seat. "You will be repaid kindly. If you would excuse us, my family is exhausted and-"

"I want to explore."

Eyes turned to watch Violet, and she stared back.

"Explore?" Vivien repeated.

"The castle. May I?"

The lord of Deep Den smiled. "Your child has quite the will, the tongue, and tone. How old is she?"

"Sixteen."

"If only we were that young." He turned back to the girl. "You have free range of the fortress, but for the doors you might find locked."

Violet stood easily and began to walk away and Travis went to stand to follow her, hand already resting on the pommel of his sword.

Vivien held him back. "Let her go."

OOOoooOOO

The princess of the Iron Islands had mused herself into a fitful sleep. Though the walls and ceilings had been impressive, the massive cavity within the rock made her feel claustrophobic. She was used to wind whipping past her face and here, inside Deep Den, no wind shifted through the rooms.

It was deathly silent.

She finally sat up in bed, pushing her pillows back until she could rest on the headboard, and stared up at the ceiling, at the off-putting texture of the cave walls and the dampness that permeated through it. Deep Den was relatively dry, like a badger's nest, but it was still beneath rock. Moisture was inevitable.

She followed a trail of glittering stones with her hazel gray eyes, her gaze flitting through the room, the room she'd been given for the short hours she'd be staying, and she scowled. They were nice, happily padded in Lydden colors and silks she'd only heard of, seen off of trading ships that didn't stay long at Pyke. Not long enough to suggest the selling of the goods. Not to the Ironmen.

In some way, she knew these were the best guest rooms, guest rooms not usually given out to strange riders off of the road. She figured her father's title was what had done it.

There was one king in Westeros, that much was true, but the unity within the seven kingdoms was fragile and had been since the Lannister lion had brought them together under his rule through force and hate and death, and even though all lords, Ben Greyjoy included, had sworn fealty to him on their knees, they all waited for the moment that they could finally break free, jowls salivating at the thought.

Her father was a former king himself, King of the Ironmen and the Iron Islands. Being nice to him in a time of such fragility was only the smartest thing to do, even when he had been brought down to the ground and laughed into submission. He still held power, more power than the lordlings and knights that seemed to plague the countryside.

It'd been before her time though, she'd only ever known the Lion King. She'd only ever known the sea surrounded land she called home, and Westeros, though different, was disappointing her in the material of men and mind. Power was always it. It was like they had none.

She only hoped the Targaryens were stronger.

OOOoooOOO

The weather had considerably turned when they had left the castle behind and, much to her dismay, reminded Violet of home, something she was so desperately trying to forget as they traveled further and further into the continent. Gray clouds extended from horizon to horizon in a sheet of color that echoed the mountain stone that hugged the road, the two melting into each other, sky undecipherable from ground.

Ser Travis whistled as he led his horse, one hand against his saddle's horn and holding an apple and the other holding onto his dagger, the knife slicing into the fruit and raising to his mouth every few moments so he could eat. His movements were calculated, careful, so he would not hurt himself as his mount ambled over gravel and broken rock. He turned to her an hour after they had left, close to finishing nicking through the food, and extended his hand out, raising his eyebrows in silent question. She shook her head and he shrugged, happily finishing it himself and then throwing the core back behind him.

He spoke after he swallowed. "Upset stomach or nervous stomach?"

"I'm not hungry, that's all." She turned in her seat to watch her father and mother ride behind them. "I'm pretty fed up."

He grinned at her, whipping his head lightly so that his hair settled behind his ears again.

"Why would they lie?" Violet asked, grimacing. "About why we're crossing through to Dragonstone? There's not reason to, it's a marriage. It'll be known soon enough. People will be invited, people will talk."

"Because the Targaryens are strong, because your parents are strong. And two strong families can be dangerous to another strong family, can't they?" he replied. "And Lord Lydden has sworn his oath to the Lannisters, as his reigning family."

"So did my father."

"Your father has a sea between him and the Lions, Lord Lydden does not." Travis shook his head. "It's all strategy. Telling Lydden might endanger our journey to King's Landing, he smiles and laughs and share his wine, but a raven and an army is easily sent between hearty giggles."

Violet scowled. "Then why even stop at his home?"

"So that he may know your father if the Kraken Lord ever decides to surge again. A fief will follow if they know you personally. He will remember Lord Greyjoy as kind and his wife and daughter as beautiful." Travis smiled at her. "Strategy, Lady Violet, strategy."

"It's complicated."

"It's an adult's game."

She cast him a warning look, finally scoffing out. "I'm old enough."

Travis spared a glance behind him. "Your father was angry last night. You shouldn't have made that comment about livestock, even if it was well placed at the time." He took a moment to think. "I'm sure Lady Vivien will be mentioning it soon, but you'll have to be careful on what you say within Dragonstone. Your husband is your lord."

"I know," Violet replied.

"Though it makes you furious."

"No man should have to hold me. I am my father's only child, a daughter, an ironborn. The islands will belong to me one day, once my parents have gone, and I will be queen of the Iron Isles." She narrowed her eyes. "And I should kneel? Yield? Submit?"

"Before the courts, yes," Travis replied lightly. "But know that a man's strength comes from his wife, do not think that any decision is made without the consent of a woman."

"Would she help him decide on adultery?"

"Sometimes," the knight began gently. "Sometimes a man makes mistakes. That is when you know he did not ask his wife."

"I would decide to leave him. I wouldn't sit there and watch him flirt with the local girls, watch him invite another into his home and watch another leave from his rooms in the morning." She snapped angrily on her reins, the horse doing a half turn so that she could glare openly at her mother, her father, before she straightened back down the road.

"You say that because you're young. You'll fall in love and you'll be blinded to whatever may come your way."

"No, Ser Travis, I'm not some simple peasant girl with only half a mind. I'm not the others," the girl said. "I'm different."

He gave her a light grin. "That you are." She angled away, hiding her sudden smile with a shake of her head, but it quickly faded away.

"Why won't she leave him? Why does she stay?" she asked softly. "After all that's happened?"

"He promised her change."

"You think he'd manage to go through with his word?"

"You don't?"

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, remembering the man would never say a word against his lord, but she pushed on. "He's broken many before. Beginning with his marriage vows." She angled her head towards the dark sky. "I think she's afraid, and that disgusts me. No matter what he may promise, whatever bullshit he may tell her. She's afraid to leave. She's just afraid. But I'm not. I'm stronger than her."

Travis sighed. "She's plenty strong."

OOOoooOOO

The mountains gave way to rolling hills the next day, plentiful trees and grasses and farming men and women, and Violet knew they had reached the north of the Reach from the history lessons she'd received all her life, house Tyrell reigning over the rich brown earth beneath their horses' hooves. But Ben Greyjoy did not bother with sightseeing. He spurred his mount on and the rest of his party trailed after him. Trailed after him all the way to the Blackwater Rush, golden fields turning to oxen grasses and the Reach into the Riverlands.

The river was deep, fast. It looked dangerous and Violet was thankful for the bridge that crossed it, following the road and landing safely on the other side. It rumbled beneath the stone and wood construction, raced like a thousand horses, the storms of the sea confined to a roaring stream. The mounts had no problems crossing over, used to rolling waves beneath their legs, and whatever the danger screaming beneath them,

Violet felt the strength of the sea surging back between her bones. It felt more stable than any ground beneath her feet. She hated thinking of Pyke, but there it was.

The road followed the water's edge, moving from a few meters to a hundred off then back, keeping in a relatively straight line compared to the river's meandering strides.

They'd stopped the night before and had slept beneath the stars, but now as they ambled tiredly, they headed to an inn that Travis had learned about after speaking to the locals, another few miles off. The sun was setting but Ben pushed on and his party could do nothing but follow.

Violet wanted to cry into her stew when they finally sat their backsides on stable benches, but she kept her face stoic as she stared her parents down. They both seemed to ignore her as they ate themselves, Lord Greyjoy heartily and his lady daintily, though she was obviously ravenous.

It didn't take long for her father to speak. "We'll reach the capital tomorrow."

"Do you think the ship will have reached the bay by then?" Travis asked. He threw a bone to a nearby dog and watched it scamper to the scraps.

"If not, we'll stay inside the walls until it has," Ben replied softly. He glanced around furtively, and Travis leaned in. "You did instruct the men to keep the flags down."

"More than once, and in front of you, my Lord, you remember."

"I do." The Kraken Lord chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Good."

"They will know not to, Ben," Vivien said. Her husband nodded again. "Will we stay long before we cross?"

"I don't need my ironborn whoring around with continent sluts," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "The shortest time we spend there, the happier I will be."

His wife bristled openly, then shifted in her chair, her back rod straight.

Violet wondered where his adulteress was from.

"We won't have a look around?" she dared ask.

"What is there to see? The Red Keep? Where our oppressors live and enjoy themselves on the backs of dead ironborn?" Ben replied angrily. "Or perhaps Baelor's Sept, where they follow their false gods."

His daughter squirmed in her seat, anger rising.

"There is nothing to see in King's Landing. It's a city of traitors, of lying cheats and sluts."

All that you are, she wanted to say.

But it was so much more.

They rode in through the Lion Gate, Ben proud as brass though he had no reason to be. Violet had seen the three highest points from outside the city walls as they'd followed the edge of Blackwater Bay, the Dragonpit, the Red Keep, and closest to them, the Great Sept of Baelor, shining with white marble and crystal in the sun, up on what she knew to be Visenya's Hill. She could feel the contempt her father held for the monument rolling off of him in waves.

Her mother herself, from Westeros, somewhere in the Vale, didn't seem as phased by the building as her father and Travis. She'd followed the New Gods before the Drowned one, and took her mount by the white marble plaza easily. Violet had never asked of her life before the Iron Islands, it didn't seem right to. She'd taken to the ironborn lifestyle so quickly.

Ben slowed his horse and came to their level. "Travis and I will head to the port, look for the ship. We'll be staying in Cobbler's Square until it arrives. Head there." He pointed vaguely to the west. He sneered lightly as his hand was pushed away by a passerby, and he retracted it to run it down the front of his shift. "This city is too crowded. Don't let your horses out of your sight." He glanced up at the ramparts. "And don't let the City Watch tell you anything."

"They're here to help," Violet countered. "That's their job."

Ben glanced back at her, but didn't reply. Vivien tugged on her reins and she was led away from the main road and off to the left, towards the side of the hill they would round.

It was tall, though not as tall as Aegon's High Hill that she could see from where she was, the Red Keep glinting crimson in the harsh sunlight, but it was tall. Here, she knew, many had lost their lives on the Great Sept's stairs after contesting a king or another, though the Faith of the Seven, its septas and septons, cried high and low at the injustice of blood spilled on the marble floors.

The sept's seven bell towers were silent today.

Vivien, having watched her daughter crane her neck back and narrow her eyes at the sun as she squinted upwards, spoke. "They only ring when there's a monumental event. The death of a king, or the marriage of one."

"Then why have them?"

"The Drowned God has the sea, and the Seven have their towers," Vivien replied. "It's a game of highs and lows, there's no reason for it, just different ways of worshiping a deity."

"And the Old Gods?"

Her auburn haired mother cocked her head to the side as she stared off at a point, mulling her thoughts over. "The Old Gods aren't revered as the New ones are, or the Drowned God. They do not require ceremonies, or texts, or speeches. They are just there, in every breath of wind and every leaf. To live is to worship. But I would say the closest thing to a monument, would be a weirwood tree. A heart tree." She nodded her head back to the Red Keep. "They've all been destroyed here in southern Westeros, but for a wood in the Riverlands and one heart tree in the castle gardens, though it is oak."

"A heart tree?"

"A god with a face."

"Did you ever believe in them?" Violet asked softly. "The children of the forest? Their souls in the trees?"

"Sometimes, Violet," Vivien started. "Things happen that only a child in a tree could explain."

OOOoooOOO

Their ship had arrived within the night, and Violet had been ushered onto it by her father frantically. They had taken the short trip across the Blackwater as the dawn had broken over Westeros.

They'd stepped off the wooden deck and onto Dragonstone island with a troop of ironborn at their back, a hundred men strong. The procession was obviously larger, longer, than it had been when they'd been four to travel through Westeros, and Violet felt immodest with so many marching behind her and her family, Ser Travis at their head.

Though the young knight was on horseback, the rest of the men were infantry, used to waves beneath their feet and if not water, dirt, and they walked at a steady cadence to his calls.

Ben's steed paved the way with Vivien at his side, and Violet followed lightly behind, unwanting a conversation to be started. Her fingers shook lightly in her gloves as she tightened her hold on her reins. She could only see the top of spires rising from the forest covered craggled rock, the top of the keep, but she was worried.

There, beneath the crow infested skies, was her future.

They moved through the woods, following the way that found itself rising in altitude. They'd come in on the wrong side of the island to appease any suspicions, though their banners had not been flown during the way across the bay, and so they trudged through forests some seldom saw, hidden by the sharp mountains, but the trees here were charred black and dead from the soil they rested in. Black spires ran into the sky but she couldn't see to what they belonged, she'd been below deck when they'd passed the island's keep. She had no idea what to expect, and when they crossed into a clearing a hundred meters long, the roadway leading to the back gates of the castle, she bit back a gasp.

Dragonstone was a fortress unlike anything the young kraken had ever seen, and it wore its name well. Every inch, every rampart, every rock, was carved ornately into hellish hounds, gargoyles, and reptilian creatures. On every level, every corner, the winged beasts stared down with pitch black eyes on their pitch black bodies, melting into the onyx stone they inhabited. Spines, snouts, tails. Violet couldn't help but be amazed at the sight.

She had to tilt her head back all the way to see the top of the keep from where she was, and in the clouds she could see two towers, both shaped into dragons. One screamed out at the heavens, the other watched the stormy sea, almost as if pensive, and she could spy the tip of a tail belonging to a third colossus in between the trees framing the outer forests.

She stared at the castle walls, barely noticing when Travis pushed her forward lightly, and she went to step forward, barely missing a root beneath her boot. The knight grabbed her arm beneath her elbow and began to guide her, throwing her a reassuring smile from above her, though it quickly turned into an grimace, as if he was apologizing for the darkened state of the place.

The keep seemed to bother him, but it fascinated Violet.

The castle's gate had been brought up and beneath it stood a myriad of people, the ones at the head of the crowd with their heads high and the ones behind with their eyes on the floor in what must have been respect.

Maybe it was fear.

At the front was an older blonde, older than the Kraken Lord, with her wavy hair up on her head and attached by a lilac clip, one that just didn't match her dark eyes. To her left stood a young man, a mop of curly sun kissed hair shielding the sun from his black eyes, and the rather bored look on his face seemed to mirror his mother's, for he could only be the woman's son. To his side was a girl, shorter than Violet yet she seemed older than her brother, and Violet stared. Her eyes were too far apart, her nose pushed back, and though her smile was wide, it bothered her. She wasn't natural.

But what was next to her made Violet's blood run ice cold. It was grotesque, this thing that seemed to be a boy, but it stared from beneath a heavy brow as it stood hunched over from a bad back, his hands against his chest.

Violet looked away. Targaryens had purple eyes, yet this woman did not, and neither did the children surrounding her, surely from her own womb. But there was no mistaking they were the dragon lords. And some seemed to resemble their reptile compatriots more than others.

The Greyjoys finished their walk up to the gate, and Ben bowed lightly from the waist up as Vivien curtsied, the side of her dress within her fist. The Targaryen mother did the same, and after a quick nudge at her blond son, the rest of the family bowed, the servants so low that they could have been kissing the ground.

"Lady Targaryen, my wife, Vivien, and my daughter, Violet Greyjoy." Ben reached back to wave his hand over to Violet, and Travis pushed her forward until she took his fingers in hers, curtsying. "We thank you for accepting us into your home."

"And our name." The woman smiled back, laughing lightly. Lord Greyjoy could only nod. "My son, Tate Targaryen, his sister Adelaide, and their brother, Beauregard."

Violet wanted to glance at the siblings, but she had only eyes for the so named Tate, who she knew to be her betrothed. He gazed back, black eyes almost as dark as Dragonstone's walls, and suddenly he smiled softly, dimples showing by his eyes as he rolled them good-naturedly. And she found herself grinning back and looking away.

She didn't want anyone to think she was anything but horrified.

She peeked at the blond, but he was watching her father intently, back rigid, and she took the opportunity and a long moment to gaze him over as Lord Greyjoy spoke with Lady Targaryen of things she didn't care about.

He was taller than her, as most young men were, but not so much that it would be uncomfortable if she stood by him properly. He looked fit, his black oriented red jacket tight on him, and she guessed that as oldest of his generation, he had been trained in the art of combat, of horseback riding.

He glanced furtively at her and she stared back, fighting the blush that ran up her neck, Travis's words echoing in the back of her head. She was an equal. She had not to look down.

There was that smile again, oddly reassuring.

He suddenly spoke and Violet found herself hanging onto his every word, the light musical tint in his voice. "Mother, may I give it to her now?"

Adelaide voiced herself too, clapping. "Oh yes, mother!"

Constance Targaryen shot both her children a well-placed look, her lips pursed, and she turned back to Ben with a light smile. "This might be inopportune, but if you would entertain my kids-?"

He took a step back and sweeped his arm out in acknowledgement. She nodded sharply at a servant behind her and he left through the gate, headed to what seemed to be a guard tower. Tate gave Violet a reassuring smile as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, almost as if he were nervous.

"I would have thought you wanted to wait, Tate," Constance said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the two parties, standing beneath the walls of Dragonstone.

"I like her."

Vivien glanced sideways at the boy, surprised, if not annoyed. but she kept her words to herself. And Violet blushed hard.

There was a horrible howl followed by short shrieks and yaps, and the Greyjoys turned to watch a creature being dragged down the steps and out into the courtyard, dragged into the way. It spat in rapid succession at the pavement, little balls of fire as it struggled with the chain around its neck, and Tate went to take the rein, cooing at the dragon. It was no bigger than a dog, but its talons and horned head were sharp.

"Lady Violet." Tate glanced at her, smiling broadly. "This is for you. Take her as a token of my affection, and as a wedding present."

Travis stared the reptile down, his fingers tight on the pommel of his sword, but he didn't try and stop Violet as she stepped forward. She put her hand out and the dragon crowed, frills passing in waves as it gazed up at her.

"She's beautiful," she finally breathed. "Thank you."

Tate leaned in to speak to her, voice loud enough for only the girl to hear. "I had her bred black for you. I had guessed right, you're not like other girls."

"Perhaps you would like to step into the keep and out of this weather, a feast has been prepared as to your arrival, we would be honored to have you as our guests," Constance suggested. Ben bowed and allowed her to lead the way. He took Vivien's arms in hers and Travis shadowed them, leaving Violet to Tate.

He held out his hand, and she flushed as she took his fingers.

The dragons weren't as terrifying as they'd been made out to be. And neither were the beasts.

OOOoooOOO

The halls had been made up with the brightest of lights, wax dripping down onto the floors in pretty patterns, something her mother would have never stood for.

But here in Dragonstone, it fit the entire look the Targaryens surely strived for.

The candles had been hitched into dragon mouths, the translucent waste falling down between their sharp teeth, the reptiles coming out of the walls in cadence down the halls, encircling them as they walked to the keep's great room. The castle's inside itself was sleek, reflective, made of dragonglass and bouncing off any light thrown upon it.

Sharp blades of the precious stone came down from the creatures' maws, and the biggest sat at the end of the way where a dragon roared at them, it's mouth open in a constant grin and leading to wide wooden doors already thrown open. Its neck ran up into the ceiling, its sharp taloned paws against the walls.

Violet entered the hall, and she entered the dragon's stomach.

Tate let her arm go momentarily to take her hand instead, letting her climb up the wooden dais so that she could sit down first, and he smiled as she sat daintily, worried that she'd make a fool of herself in front of him or his family. He took a seat to her left, and Adelaide to her right as the older men and woman to the middle of the table. Violet shifted beneath the room's gazes, the entirety of the hall having stood to bow to them as they entered, waiting for Constance's little nod before they could sit. They were at least three hundred, lordlings and their wives, men-at-arms, merchants.

A dragon yowled and she glanced to the side to find her own gift nipping at other creatures, all around the same size, though hers was still young. She knew they had once been creatures bigger than mountains, swifter than the winds themselves, but now they could barely reach a horse's shoulder. They were mutated bastards.

She bit back the thought that her new family members were too.

It was horrible of her to think of such things while inside their home, but she couldn't quite ignore the well-known inbreeding the Targaryens partook in as they tried to keep their bloodline pure. She'd been surprised when she'd been engaged to their oldest boy, thinking he'd have married his sister or a cousin, distant if it was a must. Perhaps Adelaide was barren, like mules were. Perhaps Tate had had a say in his marital status.

But she quite liked the keep, its dark edges, and she thought she'd be comfortable if they were to inherit the place. When.

She wondered if their marriage contract could be undone.

A dozen roasted boars were brought out, and she heard Ben ask if it'd been cooked by the Targaryen pets, heard the laughter that erupted on that side of the room, though Constance's smile turned into a light grimace, the corner of her lip dipping down.

"For the wedding," Tate began, waving his empty fork vaguely. "We'll have every fish, every bird, a lizard-lion-"

"Lizard-lion?" she echoed.

He leaned in. "They're bigger than a crocodile, their teeth sharper. We had to go all the way to the Neck to find one."

She nodded slowly.

"They're revered over there, but here they can be a delicacy." He gave her a wide smile. "It all depends who's on top, right?" His eyes narrowed and he looked Violet over. "Do krakens exist?"

"Only in the depths," she replied. "But I don't think they'd be any good."

"I would guess they taste like overgrown squid. A little watery."

They shared a light laugh and he reached for a plate that he placed in front of her. "Hunted yesterday."

"By you?"

"Of course," he replied, his chest puffing out lightly. "I brought down two myself, they were barelling towards me and-" he mimed holding a crossbow, "Pap pap. Two arrows." He shrugged. "I would have used more but then that ruins the meat, the skin. Leather doesn't hold up well with holes." He smiled when Violet giggled and turned to hide behind her hair, trying to find her light frown again.

But this boy, this wavy blond haired boy, somehow understood her. They hadn't spoken much, or at all, but there was a sense of peace around him, as if he knew what he wanted and how to get it, something she greatly so admired as she lived within such a tempestuous house. She wanted to drop her head onto his shoulder and exhale and never leave his space again. She'd have been happy turned to stone, there in the dragon's belly. She didn't know what it was about him that did it.

He gave her the last morsel of boar from the plate, happily sliding the silverware over to her, watching her finish it off with his black eyes. "You're probably tired," he said.

"A little," she admitted. "It's been a long week."

"It must have been!" He stood. "Mother will be taking care of the preparations for our wedding, so for the next few days, we can get to know each other, and you won't have to worry about anything." He leaned in. "We can hide from our parents."

She sighed out. "That sounds amazing."

Tate took her hand. "Tomorrow, the true festivities start."

OOOoooOOO

"Violet? Violet!"

The girl winced as she heard her mother's voice ring out, and she turned lightly to give the Targaryen boy across from her a grimace, one that he easily mirrored. She jutted her chin out, motioning at the door, and he quickly raised himself from where he'd been sitting on the floor to cross to it, to hide behind it.

It was thrown open a moment later by her hurried mother, the woman's gaze finding hers. "Violet, I've been calling you," she sighed, exasperated.

"I heard."

Vivien threw her a cautionary look as she walked to the edge of the girl's bed. "I need you to try on your dress now, Lady Targaryen had it made especially for you in your colors, you won't want to upset her by not wearing it."

"I won't wear one of my own?"

"Not to your wedding, no. We're far from the Iron islands, we have to make friends in these parts. Now go, fetch your shoes."

Violet did as she was told, though she took a moment to grunt. "I won't make friends out of a dress."

Lady Greyjoy shook her head lightly but gave her a smile. "Come," she urged. She walked away to wait for her in the hall, and Violet took a moment to throw Tate a look as she left the room too, one that he answered and winked for.

"I'll see you later," he mouthed.

She nodded back and followed her mother down farther into the keep. The dress the Targaryen mother had had done was black with golden trimmings (real gold, her mother had said) and she couldn't help but think that it matched both her and Tate, the onyx a link between them. It fit her nicely, hugged her waist and the top of her ribs, but flowed well around her legs and shoulders. It reminded her slightly of what she'd seen the women of the Reach wear when they'd passed through, with its open collar and long sleeves

Vivien passed her hands over and down her shoulder blades, gazing at her daughter in the mirror as the ladies-in-waiting finally left the room, bowing low before closing the door behind them. "The dragon red will fit very nicely with this."

"I'm sure it was designed that way."

"I have a present for you," Lady Greyjoy said softly. Violet's hazel eyes met hers and she frowned lightly, following her as she moved back behind her. She waited when her reflection left the mirror, shifting her toes in her shoes. Vivien reappeared and she lifted her arms over her daughter's head to drape a heavy necklace around the girl's neck, successfully covering most of the skin that the dress had left to thin air.

"Mom-"

"It's nice, isn't it?" Vivien murmured. "It was mine when I was young. I never showed it to your father, I didn't pay the iron price for it. But I think this marriage constitutes you doing so."

Violet raked her eyes down to her chest and lifted her hands to press the pads of her fingers to the silver and gold jewelry. The links were meshed together like a spider web, but it wasn't as well versed as a spider's work. "What does it represent?" she asked softly.

"My home. Individual mountains," her mother replied. "You can't tell, but if you ever see them, you'll know which one is which. If Tate asks, just say it's Pyke's rocks."

The two shared a smile and Violet sighed lightly. "Thank you."

OOOoooOOO

"He sounds pretty rough, your god."

The Greyjoy girl laughed lightly as she leaned back against the tower wall. Tate had saved her from her father. He'd been walking down the halls with her at her back, talking with that voice he used when he tried so hard to lay down the law to his own family, but she'd been trudging behind moodily, ignoring his words. She couldn't say now what he'd been trying to get across. She'd yelped lightly when a hand had wrapped around her mouth and another around her waist, but the palm against her lips had muffled her noise, and Tate had laughed breathlessly in her ear as he'd tugged her back and down another hallway.

He'd brought her up to Sea Dragon tower, marched her through the galleries and past the rookery on their way up and up and up. He'd pointed down a dark hallway and shushed her with a finger to his mouth, but Violet had taken a moment to look down it. Gargoyles framed it, and at the far end she could make out stairs and a large metal gate. Voices echoed down against the stone but she knew they were far away.

"What's down there?"

He'd shushed her again and pulled her up another flight of stairs, only looking back at her once they'd reached a landing. "The chamber of the painted table. It's where they hold meetings."

"They?"

He'd shrugged, but suddenly his dark eyes had become shiny. "I wish I could show you the table. It's fifty feet long, it's a map of Westeros, the entirety of it."

She thought back on it now as she looked up at the dark sky, the wind buffeting around them. "I guess he does," she said softly. "But so are yours. The Stranger is scary."

"I like the Stranger," Tate replied. He moved to sit closer to her, their knees now touching. "He's-" the boy paused, mulling over his words. "He reminds me of me."

Violet glanced sideways at him.

"Dark and mysterious," the dragon added. They shared a laugh once he grinned, the Greyjoy following his steps. He sobered. "Explain him to me, your Drowned God."

"He's ruler of all the seas." Violet smiled. "He made us ironborn in his image, strong and leaders and born to sail. He brought us flame, Tate. He tames the seas for us."

"And when they're rough?" Tate asked, grinning.

"Then He's quarreling with the Storm God."

"It sounds complicated, to believe that this god of yours did all that by himself," the boy said. He leaned back onto his hands, shoulders up to his ears as he shrugged. "At least ours are seven. They easily parted the jobs between themselves."

The Greyjoy peered at him but finally shook her head. "What would you say of the Old Gods?"

"Lazy."

Violet barked out a laugh and his grin widened. He seemed glad to find her happy, sporting something that wasn't a frown.

"Tate?"

"Yeah."

She let her voice die off in the wind as she spoke, the air buffeting around them and whipping their hair this way and that, and he leaned in to hear her properly. "Can I ask you something, something personal?"

"If you couldn't, what kind of couple would we be?"

Violet nodded softly, but looked away as she continued. "What's wrong with them? Your siblings?"

"Oh." Tate pressed back against the wall. "Inbreeding, Vi." She glanced at him at her nickname. "It's been a long while since we've been doing it, my ancestors wanted to keep the blood line pure, but it comes with a price. My father died very young because of it, and it's why my mother wouldn't dare marry me to Addie now. She wants an heir to survive so that the Targaryen name lives on."

"You were going to marry Adelaide?" Violet echoed, eyes wide.

"My father was my uncle," he replied, smiling. She nodded, somewhat confused. "But there's nothing wrong with her, except that perhaps she's a little eccentric. As for Beauregard, it's all physical. He's quite smart."

"I didn't think he wasn't-!"

"I know his appearance can be frightful, so don't worry. It was a natural reaction of you to ask." Tate looked away. "Most don't. Most just think what they think. They assume, when they don't know shit."

"I get that."

He turned to her, hope shining in his dark eyes. "You do?"

"Yeah. I'm not my parents, you know?"

The Targaryen boy nodded sagely, biting on the inside of his cheek as he mulled his thoughts over. He glanced sideways at her again, little gazes that she wondered at as they sat silently but didn't ask about, knowing he's speak if he wanted to, when he wanted to. He threaded his fingers with hers and dropped his head to the side to bump his forehead into hers, and suddenly his lips were against hers, rough yet sweet and she pushed into the kiss, though she had no idea how to do it.

He fumbled with her too and it lifted her heart a little.

OOOoooOOO

Violet couldn't help but notice that little looks Travis gave around the room when she arrived at the hall for dinner. It reminded her of the ones she gave Tate now, little glances thrown sideways that had her blushing and him biting the inside of his cheek, both their mouths burning with the taste of each other from hours before.

She wondered who the knight had kissed recently.

She took the seat next to the young man and nudged his knee from underneath the table, grabbing his attention from whoever it was he stared at, and she smiled at him knowingly.

Travis blushed and turned away. "Stop staring."

"Who is it?" the girl whispered. "You can tell me."

"Are we sharing stories now?" he asked back. "No, this concerns old men and salt wives."

"I'm to be married, surely you can say." She shrugged. "I'm going to be a salt wife soon enough."

"A dragon wife. A fire wife," he corrected.

"If you're going to be staying at Dragonstone with me, you can't go around falling in love with whores and keeping their names from me!"

"She's not a whore!" Travis replied hotly. "She's-she's just not a whore, Lady Violet. Forgive me for my yelling."

"Don't watch yourself around me, you know that," she snapped. She fell back into her chair, annoyed that the man beside her wouldn't give up his piece.

It didn't take long for him to talk.

He squirmed lightly in his seat before leaning into her side. "I don't think she likes me as much as I do her, in any case. I'm afraid to be just a diversion."

She grinned. "Maybe you're not."

"Maybe," he grimaced.

"Did you kiss her then?"

"I, yes." The man blushed deeply and shifted back into his seat. "It was nice."

"Nice?" Violet echoed. "Is that it? You know you won't go very far if you say things like that. She's a lady, you've got to sweep her off her feet. 'It was nice' won't get you very far."

Travis glanced sideways at her. "Since when are you romantic?"

"I'm more romantic than you."

The knight looked her over and he began to mirror the bit back grin she wore. His eyebrows raised into his hairline as she began to scowl at him, and she bared her teeth.

"Don't."

"I wouldn't dare, Lady Greyjoy." He let out a little hum as Violet fell back a little farther into her chair. She began to pick at the side of her mouth, where Tate had left his last kiss, and she knew she was turning a darker shade as she noticed Travis doing the same to his own lips. She figured they both looked like idiots, the both of them not touching their food and with their fingers to their faces.

"What's her name?" she asked gently.

He shook his head vehemently. "The island is big, my lady, but not that big. I won't tell."

"For your sake or hers?"

"Hers."

"You're a good man, Ser Travis," she sighed.

He nodded gratefully at her and they both fell back to silence, picking around their plates aimlessly.

She braved a smile when her mother and her father came in, Vivien's arm draped over her husband's and her head held a tad high as they walked to the dais. They were a little late and she thought she heard Lady Constance mention it to them, and she knew from the angry red color on her lord father's neck that they'd just fought. If it was verbal or physical, she wasn't sure.

She met Tate's gaze, the inside of her ribcage feeling as if it was about to burst and it bothered her that she didn't exactly know why, but she knew she wanted to be seated next to him. She knew she wanted to have her parents and the dragon lady disappear in a cloud of red tainted smoke, the crowd too, so that it would only be her and the blond boy. She ripped her eyes away from him, suddenly feeling breathless from the intensity of his own black stare.

Violet drunk too much, about as much as her mother was drinking, their horns refilled every time they touched dry bottom, and when Vivien threw her a cautionary glance she raised her eyebrows back.

Her mother ignored her then.

The wine filled her belly with warmth and made her forget about the distance between her and her future lord husband and if she'd been closer to him she'd have leaned her head on his shoulder to close her eyes, the drink mellowing them both to sleep.

It was suddenly too loud in the belly of the beast and she stood, noticing the candles had burned low and that Ser Travis was long gone, chair pushed away from the table, and that she was dangerously tittering in her heels. She turned to excuse herself at her father's side, and he nodded to her, barely glancing at her.

The walk towards the hall's door was long and she fought to stay upright, and she was glad she didn't feel like throwing up. The black walls helped her keep her on her feet in the suddenly silent hallway, and she took her time walking back to her room, passing by a couple too busy connecting their lips and running their hands up and down each other's frames to notice her.

The kraken girl fell into bed, groaning at the light headache that sunk in behind her eyes and not caring enough to untie her corset, and she smiled to herself as she felt sleep coursing through her veins, running alongside the drink.

She suddenly sat up seconds later, confused and awfully sober, thinking of the man and woman she's seen kissing at the bottom of the stairs. She thought the wine had warped her vision, her senses, but no.

She had seen Ser Travis kissing Lady Constance.

OOOoooOOO

"And then you wipe it underneath your eye, too."

The kraken was holding coal between her fingers, watching Adelaide's reflection in the mirror on the ornate desk. She'd been dragged to the girl's bedroom by the excited lady herself, Addie had wanted Violet to see the dress she'd wear for the wedding, and the Greyjoy hadn't been able to refuse when she'd been asked her to help her with her makeup, Addie wanted to look like a girl from Dorne.

Violet hadn't had the heart to tell her she had no idea what Dornish girls looked like.

The door opened behind them and Tate appeared, his golden grin a reprieve for his wife-to-be, and Adelaide matched both their smiles.

"What do you think, Tate? Do I look good?" she asked.

"Do the other eye and you'll be the eighth of the Seven."

Adelaide giggled and he laughed back, taking a moment to kiss Violet on the cheek. He broke away to pass his fingers over the shape of his sister's dress.

"Is this what you'll be wearing for the wedding, Addie?"

"Do you like it? Mother helped me pick it out."

"I love it." Tate glanced sideways at Violet. "Can I see yours?"

"I don't think you're supposed to see your wife's dress before the wedding," she teased back.

He shrugged. "You won't wear it for long, anyway."

A heavy blush ran up Violet's neck and she tore her gaze away from the boy's amused gaze. She fought to change the subject. "Do you know what I saw the other night?"

"No, will you tell?"

She leaned back on the desk's edge with a grin like a cat who'd gotten the cream and she looked him over smugly as he raised an eyebrow, waiting. "I saw Ser Travis and your mother kissing the other night."

"Oh, that's alright," he replied cheerily. "My mother's always sucking men's cock. She once sucked a guy off from the Twins, you know? I don't think you can fall any lower than the Twins."

"And here I thought you'd be surprised!"

"She's not a septa," he laughed.

"And no one said she was sucking his cock," She added. She fought her skin turning pink at the use of the word. "Only that they were kissing. Ser Travis is a good man, I wouldn't want his heart broken."

"She might use him for a few months, his heart won't break right away. But she'll do it so that he still pines after her, she's good at that. That man from the Twins, we get messages from him every moon." Tate shrugged. "She burns them."

"Tate!"

The two abruptly turned to Adelaide, finding her annoyed and she reached for her brother's hands.

"You're getting blood all over my dress-!"

The Greyjoy girl's mouth fell open, she hadn't quite realized that the Targaryen boy's fingers were coated in red from nail to elbow. He shied away sheepishly, hiding his arms behind his back.

"You were out hunting again!" Addie scolded. "You know you're not supposed to without permission!"

"Don't tell mother, I'll go clean up. I have something to do, anyway," Tate said as he glanced around. He leaned in and kissed Violet quickly. "I'll be back before the end of the night." He nodded at Adelaide and left, taking the time to close the door behind him.

Violet handed Addie the coal when she asked and reached for it, eyes still trained on the door.

"What kind of hunting does he prefer, Addie? I didn't think there'd be much game on this island."

"There's not," the girl said easily. "He likes hunting cats."

OOOoooOOO

Violet, though night had fallen and Tate had left her room long ago, had stayed up and had her ear to her bedroom door, listening to two krakens' voices echoing down the hallways. Her parents hadn't even bothered to reach their room before they'd started yelling at each other. What had marked her the most was her mother's harsh whispers of I don't think this is right, Ben, something's wrong here. And if you don't cancel the marriage, I'm taking Violet home myself.

She wondered what was wrong, what had happened to make her mother sound so shrill and ready to leave in the night and what had made her father yell back that there was no going back. The Iron Islands hadn't burned from what she knew, wouldn't let itself be taken so easily, and she herself was comfortable here at Dragonstone. She hadn't heard of anything happening to any of the kraken wearing men. What had annoyed her mother so?

Their footsteps receded and she could hear their bedroom door open, but one pair kept on going, the heavier set, and she knew her father had passed the corner, not following her mother inside and out of the hallway.

Violet waited a tense moment before opening her door and slipping out, her bare feet padding on the stone floor. She moved silently, not knowing where her father truly was and not wanting to meet him in the darkness, and sighed lightly when she reached their bedroom door, hand reaching up to knock on it.

But she refrained.

There was noise from inside and it puzzled her, she thought she'd been sure Vivien was alone. No one was allowed in their room.

Her eyes widened when she heard a muffled scream and she took a step back from the door, staring at it as if it'd just growled, and she suddenly felt vulnerable. But another scream snapped her out of her fear induced trance.

She burst into the room and bit back a scream.

Someone, something, lay over Vivien, its hand over the woman's mouth as he thrust in and out of her, tears streaming down her face as she managed to turn to look at Violet, pleading silently. He wore only black, black trousers and a black coat and a black cowl over his face. The man suddenly turned to stare Violet down, his movements stopping though he stayed buried in Lady Greyjoy, and he tilted his head to the side slowly. Violet began to scream, her Father!s quickly turning into Dad!s and Daddy!s as she backed into the wall, and what scared her the most was the way the man didn't seem to flinch or blink or care at all. He pulled out of Vivien and took the seconds it took to press his finger to his lips at Violet.

There was a shout from outside but the black wearing man stayed another moment to gaze the youngest Greyjoy down, eyes as black as hell itself, before he leapt through the window.

OOOoooOOO

"I swear to you, father! I swear to you!"

Ben Greyjoy turned sharply to watch his daughter as he continued to pace back and forth in front of the chair he'd sat her on hours prior, his eyes steeled and his jaw set. "Do you?"

"Why would I lie about this?" she cried back. "Why would I lie about what I saw? About what happened?"

Her father sneered, but there was no joy behind the gesture. "You realize we only have your word on this? You realize that while your mother sits in bed, unable to answer any question we ask of her, you sit out here proclaiming the the wildest accusations?"

"Why wouldn't you believe me? Why would I make this up!" Violet yelled back. "She was raped, dad! I saw it happen with my own eyes and when she decides to answer you she'll tell you the exact same thing! She's in shock!"

Ben stabbed a finger at her. "You shut your mouth! Do you realize where you stand? Would you like to be the one to tell our host that one of her men did this? If it happened at all?"

"Your wife, my mother, was raped and-"

"So you say! Why should I believe you? Don't act like you haven't been a pain in the ass since we announced this marriage to you. All you've done since we left the islands is complain and bite and snark at the both of us. This could be your sick revenge."

"Dad!"

He came to stand flush to her, voice no louder than a harsh whisper and his blue eyes menacing. "You keep your mouth shut around the Targaryens until your mother feels well enough to tell us what's happened. You are not ruining this for us."

"Don't you mean 'don't ruin this for me?'?" Violet growled. " You seem so quick to push away any blame, just like last time. Why did she want to leave so badly? I heard you two yelling, what happened? Did she disagree with you and you thought sending someone to off her was a good idea until it went wrong? What aren't you telling me!"

"Violet!"

The girl let out an exasperated yell and stood, her chair scraping back and falling over as she stomped out of the room.

Ben didn't try to stop her.

She ran straight to Tate's room, knowing he wouldn't shut the door on her and knowing he'd listen and believe her. He'd heard Vivien hadn't left her room that morning, asking about her at breakfast, but the Greyjoys had kindly ignored him. Now, Violet wouldn't. She figured that if they were to be married, he'd at least act like he cared.

He held her tight for as long as she asked, her head in the crook of his neck as she breathed raggedly, anger coursing through her veins at her father only to be replaced momentarily with guilt for her mother.

"Ser Travis'll let me see her in an hour or so, he said she needed rest and to be alone but he hasn't left the room."

"Protection from nightmares, most likely."

"It wasn't a nightmare, Tate, not if we both had it." She closed her eyes. "He was so…He stank of evil, Tate. The way he walked and breathed and what he did."

"I believe you."

She extracted herself from his grip to look into his eyes. "You do?"

"Of course." He smiled as he lifted his hand to tug at a strand of her hair. "Why wouldn't I? The world isn't perfect, not even here at Dragonstone. These things happen, as horrible as they are."

"I need her to be better before we get married, Tate," Violet murmured. "You understand that, right?"

He glanced at her, alarmed. "We can't change the date, Violet," he pleaded. "Everyone's come to see us, some for only a day. We can't let them down."

"My-"

"I swear to you we'll take care of her, I swear to you, Violet, but marriage first. Marriage first and then we'll take the utmost care of your mother. I realize four days isn't long but you have to trust me"

"You promise?"

"Of course. She'll be safe now that I know," he said softly.

"Don't tell anyone, please, father would have my head if he knew I'd told. Don't tell your mother."

He shrugged. "She's probably too busy with your Ser Travis, like she has been since she met him. I don't talk much to her, anyway." The tip of his thumb pressed against her lips and he leaned in to kiss her lightly. "It'll be alright, Violet. We'll be married tomorrow, and I'll take care of everything."

OOOoooOOO

"Your father thinks I'm trying to take you home, that I'm making this up, but we both saw it, right? That man? I didn't have a bad dream like he's suggested?"

Violet blinked, her chin where she'd placed it against scratchy covers, looking towards Vivien who sat with her back to her bed's headboard. She'd woken and asked for her daughter almost straight away, but Violet had had to wait a half an hour before her father had let her in as he spoke to her himself. He hadn't looked to her when he'd left, only grunted at her to go in.

"I'm questioning my sanity now, mom." The girl looked away as she fought back tears. "He was very real."

"I was afraid he was," Vivien sighed out. It unnerved Violet how dead she looked, how unaffected she seemed, when she knew inside her mother screamed and cried more than she had herself.

The younger kraken spoke softly. "Why are you trying to take me home, mom? Why would he think you'd stoop so low to take me back?"

Set eyes met hers and she shifted, knees smarting from kneeling on the floor too long, and Vivien beckoned her up to her. She laid against the covers, playing with the fur there, as she was tugged up into an awkward embrace.

"The Targaryens-" Vivien paused. "They're not any good for you, Violet. I wasn't on board with this in the first place but I wasn't sure why, now I know my gut feeling was right."

"Tate is incredibly nice," Violet protested lightly. "I know they've got, I know they've got family sicknesses but that shouldn't stop them from trying to change, right? Why should we ostracize them?"

"Oh Seven Gods, Violet, I don't mean Adelaide's, or even Beauregard's, afflictions, I would never," her mother said. "They're greedy, just bizarre. I don't trust Constance."

"She's not the one I'm marrying."

"Violet, why wouldn't your father tell her of what's happened?"

The girl fell silent as she ducked her head away from Vivien's probing gaze.

"I don't want you married."

"It's tomorrow, mother. I can't say no now. There'd be no way to protect ourselves if I did. If they're as bizarre as you say, they'd attack, wouldn't they?"

"You grew up too fast."

Violet spared her mother a look, an angry flush running up her neck.

"I'll have this fixed, I swear. Tate and I," she said softly. "I'm sorry, I should let you get some sleep-"

"Stay, Violet. Let me have you to myself one last night, even if its in these circumstances."

OOOoooOOO

The black she-dragon snapped angrily at her own chains and Violet tugged her back, wincing lightly when a hiss was thrown her way. She knew the creature would never dare bite her but she still jumped at every sound, every flame, the thing produced.

Though her fire had been doused that morning.

They stood on one of the island's rocky shores, knee deep in a foaming sea warmer than the one she was used to, watching as an old man called out to the skies. Violet hadn't even known that a drowned man had come to Dragonstone with the rest of the krakens, but it didn't surprise her too much, Ben loved asking his clergymen for advice.

But it was Tate who'd asked to be ritualized into the Drowned God's halls, wanting to feel closer to his future wife.

He'd waded to water chest deep and stripped down to nothing but his underwear, Violet wanting to rather look into the sun than at him, getting the same reaction in both cases. He stood next to the man, his head tilted up as the priest angled his own down.

"Kneel, Tate Targaryen. Kneel and be ready to join fire and brimstone and sea foam."

The blond haired heir did as he was told, hands to his chest as he gritted his teeth against the cold waves.

The man picked at the skin at his side, full of sea water from Pyke, and upended it slowly over Tate, wetting his hair down. "Let Tate of house Targaryen, your servant, be born again from the sea, as you were. Bless him with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel."

"What is dead may never die," Tate recited, voice strong.

"What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger."

The drowned man pressed his hands to Tate's head and pushed him down until he held him beneath the crashing surf. From where she was, Violet could see him thrash lightly. She'd told him he would be held long underneath it but he'd brushed it off, now she figured he regretted not listening. They waited almost five minutes before he gave up, arms floating back to the surface. He was dragged back out onto the beach, rocks leaving red marks along his skin, and the drowned man bent over him to breathe life back onto him.

It didn't take long for Tate to sit up and stutter out sea water, his lungs begging for air as he coughed wildly before falling back onto his spine.

Violet looked up when Ben draped his arm over her shoulder, his pride rolling off in waves.

"Now he's a man worthy of you."

"He was before." She pulled away from him and walked down the slope to meet the Targaryen. He looked up at her from where he was, black eyes bright as he smiled and reached out for the edge of her dress.

"What is dead may never die," he said softly.

He'd changed into his wedding garb and met her again at Dragonstone, taking her hand in his as he looked up at the ramparts. She knew Ben would take her moments from then to get her ready, the dress she'd wear tightened around her waist by a lady-in-waiting, but for now she admired Tate's own clothes.

His coat was blood red (and in the back of her mind she thought it slightly resembled the blood he'd been covered with hours before), dotted with vines of black and his trousers themselves colored like the midnight sky, his boots with crimson laces.

She wondered if, like the gold on her own dress, he wore rubies on his chest.

Her father dragged her away minutes later, Tate taking the time to kiss her temple beneath Lord Greyjoy's critical gaze before he did.

The wedding would be in Aegon's Garden, beneath the dragon's tail and between sweet smelling trees. From her tower window she could already see the place being filled with guests she herself hadn't had a choice on inviting, all little lords. No honorable family would have dared go to an ironborn wedding, and especially not when dragons were involved.

She'd thought she'd spied the Castamere flag on one of the ships in the harbor but she knew they had none anymore. They didn't have much of anything.

Her mother had managed to rise out of bed for the occasion and now stood behind her, fixing her hair for her, this supple mess of softness she was far from used to but that she herself had grown up with in the Vale. They didn't speak, only worked diligently to be ready for when the sun was high in the noon sky. Violet didn't know what to say in any case and instead gazed at her own reflection in the warped mirror. She had to admit to herself that for once she felt good taking care of herself. Ben would have hated to hear her say it, her, a true ironborn. She wanted to laugh now, thinking of Constance and all her jewels.

A soft song played when she walked out, the sun cold enough that it didn't leave her hot and gasping for breath in the black cloth she wore. But the sight of Tate waiting for her at the edge of the garden had her flushing.

OOOoooOOO

The ceremony had left place to the feast, a thing so big it extended past the hall's doors, the tables running out into the hallways, all full.

The Targaryen matriarch shifted her chair closer to the Kraken Lord's, his wife having long since gone to bed and her and his child at the middle of the table and too wrapped up in each other to pay attention. She gave him a smile paired with her usual predatory look, her chin hidden behind her hand as she leaned in. "Have you, my Lord, heard of the Lannister father? The Lannister king of Westeros?"

"Not since we weren't invited to his last wedding," Ben replied shortly. "An insult, if you ask me."

"The new wife is obsessed with money, she always has been." Constance waved her hand vaguely. "She wouldn't have spent it on guests, now would she?" She fell back into her chair. "No, you have not heard then."

"Heard what?" he asked, slightly annoyed. He moved to make some space between them.

"He died."

Ben paused, hand frozen above the table as he'd reached for his cup of wine, and he struggled to stay calm, his heart beating in his chest. "He did?" he asked, trying to stay uninterested though his mind ran with the possibilities already. "And?"

"And so the iron throne is crown less, Lord Greyjoy. Fiona Lannister isn't strong enough to keep it for herself, with her family in Highgarden and her new last name simply bought through the means of a ceremony. Her mistress is a simple sellsword. I expect the stags to be at King's Landing's doors in a fortnight, asking to be let in and on the throne."

"What should I care for this information?" he replied bitterly. "You would not expect me to bend the knee to this new woman? To help her and send my armies? We ironborn do not bend the knee."

"Oh," Constance laughed lightly. "You mistake me, my Lord." She glanced sideways at Tate and Violet, the two sharing a soft conversation with their heads bent over a plate. "No, you and I may have bigger plans."

He looked at her for a long moment. "What would you suggest?"

"A future." She shrugged. "One in which the dragon and the kraken sit on the throne and rule the seven kingdoms."

He followed her gaze to the young couple.

"How does that future look to you, Lord Greyjoy?"

"Bright."