Obligatory Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything. Trying to merge the books and the HBO adaptation. AU-ish.
Summary:
Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel, had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.
AU. Theon/OC. Rated M for later chapters of sexytimes. Possible Throbb. (me gusta face)
Theon
Theon had been called to the Sea Tower very early that morning, quite violently, in truth, from the rapping on the door that came so hard he thought they might break the door down. Theon had dressed quickly in clothes that were plain, of leather and wool, all dyed black, but still with the shined black leather boots which were the closest to the door at the time. He barely had time to straighten his hair, which laid fourteen different ways thanks to the rough dreams he'd had that evening.
In the Sea Tower, he was awaited by Asha, his disgustingly lovely sister, his uncle Damphair, the priest, and his father. All three were glaring at him, and all three were looking quite like they'd had sleepless nights as well. Before Theon could say good morning and attempt to begin the morn with some pleasantries, Balon Greyjoy unfurled a parchment scroll that wafted a perfumed scent of strange flowers that were unfamiliar to Theon's nose.
"'To Lord Balon Greyjoy, soon King,'" read his father from the scroll, "'I, Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, Chief Protector of the Sealord, and Master Water Dancer, do hereby offer the hand of my only daughter, Cadenzsa Forel, second of her name, to your youngest son, his grace, Lord Theon Greyjoy, soon Prince. It is with regret that I cannot be there with you to negotiate the terms, for I am obligated with matters of business, but I know that your youngest son will make a good husband for her. It is with 'great joy' that I have heard of their blossoming romance, and am sending both Cadenzsa and her mother, my good-wife, The Veiled Lady, on their purple-hulled ship to the Iron Islands. With them, I give Cadenzsa's dowry of a ship full of attendants, Braavosi silks, Myrish lace, fine spices, five-hundred swords of Valyrian for your army, and ten-thousand Gold coins from the Iron Bank of Braavos. Cadenzsa is very excited to see her new home in the Iron Islands at Pyke. She will arrive tomorrow with my good-wife. I expect she will find a warm welcome.'"
Balon crumpled the scroll and threw it at Theon's face, his face twisted in an angry sneer. "And what do you make of that, boy?"
Theon could hardly believe it. "She did it..." he breathed to himself as he fumbled for the parchment on the floor, un-crumpling it with trembling hands. To an onlooker, it might appear as if he were nervous to see his future bride.
To his shock, the parchment read:
"Theon, this parchment is enchanted. I'll see you soon. Don't let them see you're afraid.
Cadenzsa"
Asha came and knocked the parchment out of his hand, tearing it straight in two. "You fucking pig," she spat at him quietly. "A 'warm welcome'?" This was said loud enough for everyone to hear. She paced around him, circling like a vulture. "A Braavosi, eh? And I suppose your 'beloved' expects a crown just as you do?" She frowned, her jaw tight.
"If you are to take a Salt Wife, that is your business. But the Drowned God insists that a man's Rock Wife is Ironborn, as he is, as you are," said his uncle, somberly.
"You take a Rock Wife?" said Balon, now standing and coming towards him. "Was this Cadenzsa Forel so bedazzled by your fine clothes and Greenland ways? Did you write her poetry and sing her pretty songs?"
Everything was happening so fast. Theon felt a little faint, as if the room was spinning. His face felt flushed and sickly, and from within him came a tiny laugh that made him feel just a bit mad. Asha came up to him and slapped him across the face, hard.
"Our father just spoke to you!" Asha screamed.
This rapped Theon back into reality, into the moment. "Strike me again, woman," he growled, "and see what happens."
"Oooh, no! The big, strong Northerner! I surrender!" japed Asha.
"Be still!" commanded Balon. "What father is as cursed as I to have you...?" he muttered to himself. "Answer me, boy. Who is Cadenzsa Forel?"
Theon gulped, his mouth dry. He didn't know what to say.
Who was Cadenzsa Forel? Who wasn't Cadenzsa Forel? Who did not know the Dancing Master's daughter, Cadenzsa Forel? The mere thought of seeing her face again, of holding her in his arms again...
"Answer me!"
"She is Braavosi, hair black as night. She's brave and fearsome and beautiful and..." He then shook his head. "I am the rightful heir to the Iron Islands, and I need a Rock Wife to give more heirs and keep the Greyjoy line and name running. That lying bitch -" he said as he pointed to his sister " - will not cheat me of my birthright!"
Uncle Damphair gave a long and chilling look. "You dare speak to your Lord Father in such a way..."
"My Lord Father," said Theon, keeping his eyes locked with Balon's, "will see Cadenzsa soon, and, with one glance at her, know that she will be the greatest Queen in the history of the Iron Islands. She will give me sons with black hair and my name - OUR name. She will bring us swords and turn the Iron Islanders into proper soldiers, not warring blaggards and brigands, but proper proven warriors that all of Westeros will fear."
"You may have 'rules' on the Greenland, but here on the Iron Islands, we make our own rules. Or have you forgotten?"
"What would you know of it, woman?" Theon demanded. "If we are to make our own rules, then my new rule is that our future Queen shall be whomever I please it to be, and it pleases me that it is Cadenzsa Forel."
"While we are on the subject, nephew," said the old priest, "what of this offer from the Lannisters?"
Theon and Asha looked at their uncle. "What about the Lannisters?" asked Theon, wondering if this was also part of Cadenzsa's plan, which seemed to be growing more elaborate by the moment. She had said that she planned for his freedom in King's Landing while she was there with her father. But what else did the clever girl have up her sleeve?
"We have just this morning received an offer from a Tyrion Lannister, and a Lord Varys, Master of Whispers, from King's Landing in the Greenlands. They plan to marry Princess Myrcella to us, in hopes that we give our ships to them."
"Quite popular, aren't you?" spat Asha quietly, sneering at her brother in disgust. "Tell me, brother, do you like the thought of little girls in your bed?"
"I know nothing of that offer from the Lannisters!" said Theon. "That's the truth! The only betrothed I plan on having is Cadenzsa Forel." He argued them with such ferocity that he even began to believe it was all true; they had talked about marriage before, but never had they made anything official. But what else could he think? The dream had been anything but, and now the proof was here. Unless, of course, Asha - the bitch - had slit his throat while he slept and now he was in one of the Seven Hells. Truth be told, he didn't know to which underworld he belonged. While he was baptized in the name of the Drowned God, he didn't pray at all to any of the old gods, or the new. Perhaps in this moment, he was praying. In that moment, perhaps, his prayers were answered.
Balon was silent. He suddenly sank down into his chair, and looked not like Balon the Blessed, but an old, frail man, trembling with a terrible Palsy. Asha frowned, concerned. Uncle Aeron said and did nothing. Theon approached. Balon held up his hand, and spoke quietly now, his eyes a bit glazed over.
"As you like," he quietly said. "Tomorrow we shall greet Cadenzsa and decide from there. Go, now. All of you."
"Father...!" gasped Asha, going towards him. "Father, are you...?"
Balon waved everyone away, looking far-off out the window. Theon didn't know what mysterious magic was going on, but he quickly snatched the letter and left, along with Asha and his uncle.
His eyes quickly looked over the hand of the parchment. He smelled the paper, and touched it. The seal, now broken, was of a wax that was so dark a blue it almost appeared black. Asha slammed Theon against the wall.
"What have you done?"
Theon's rage piqued momentarily, then smirked. "What's the matter?" he said. "Can't stand the thought of me fucking someone other than you?"
She slapped him.
"Come on, harder," he said, his adrenaline pumping. She punched him in the jaw, causing him to stumble. "That's right! My Cadenzsa likes the sight of a man fresh from battle! Hit me harder so to please her more!"
"What have you done to Father?!" demanded Asha, her voice now cracking and afraid behind her harsh bellows.
"I haven't done anything," he said. "He's coming to his senses, and you should, too. Tomorrow we greet the future Queen," smiled Theon. "And I am going to fuck her raw when I see her. She will scream and cry out my name so loud that you'll be able to hear it all over the island. And you can go back to that old man with the withered old cock you've wedded." Asha raised her hand to slap him, but stormed away.
Theon leaned with his back against the wall, a bit breathless, but then realized what just had happened, and began to laugh hysterically. In his mind, he repeated the letter over and over again, and with each breath he took and step he stepped around the castle, he realized that that Red Comet truly was for him. It was a sign for him to change his fate, and for him to become the King of the Iron Islands. And nobody was going to stop him.
He then realized how much work he had to do. The Bloody Keep's suites, while impressive, had not seen attention in many years. He'd already forgotten the name of the old hunchbacked Crone that was head of Housekeeping, but he summoned her nonetheless to his suite, along with Maester Wendamyr.
"As you may have heard," said Theon, pacing in front of them, "we will soon be receiving new guests, whom are my betrothed and her mother. These are Ladies of great import from across the Narrow Sea, and I will not tolerate anything less than perfection for them. They'll arrive tomorrow, two of them, along with all of their attendants. They will also be bringing a great amount of things with them for our treasury and armies, so I expect two of our finest suites to be made-ready for them."
"If I may, m'lord," said Maester Wendamyr, thumbing his chains, "may we know the names of these Ladies?"
Theon cleared his throat and raised his head high, his jaw a little tight, looking as authoritative as he knew how. He was beginning to feel like a Prince again. "You will be receiving Lady Cadenzsa Forel, and her mother, The Veiled Lady. They are Bravosi and will not be used to the cold, so we shall need many candles and a great deal of wood for fires in their rooms to keep them warm at all times." The old Crone wrung her hands nervously, glancing at the Maester.
"And Gods be good, find the finest, newest, cleanest bedlinens you can for their beds. If I must endure mold, so be it, but I will not have my Lady do so." If she was to deliver him a crown, he would make sure she was as comfortable as possible. "Have we new rushes that aren't soaked with mold?"
"I'm afraid, my lord, not," said the old crone, Theon noticing how many of her teeth were missing. "Pyke rarely sees visitors."
Theon sneered, annoyed that Pyke had become such a place of mediocrity. He crossed the room and took his satchel of gold and handed her a handful of coins. "Then have someone go to the harbor in Lordsport and buy some new things. And have a feast prepared for tomorrow. Maester Wendamyr, do you know of what they eat in Braavos?"
He shrugged. "I imagine, my lord, they eat food." He bowed low, immediately regretting his words when he saw the fury in Theon's eyes. "I shall do what I can to find out more of Braavos. There are a few books in our Keep of Essos and their culture. In the mean time, my lord, may I suggest riding to Lordsport and seeing if there are any Braavosi barges in the docks? They will be easy to spot, for the Bravosi always paint their hulls purple."
Theon paused and nodded. "A good suggestion. While we are on the subject, are there books on Water-dancing?"
The young Maester's tired brown eyebrows raised in question. "Water-dancing, my Lord?" he asked. "I'm afraid not. The Ironborn were never ones to, ahem, study the art of war from books. But I shall find you as many books on the culture of the Bravosi as I can."
"See that you do," said Theon. "now get to work, both of you. I'll check in on you later this day to see how you fare. And summon me a horse, I'm going for a ride. And have a servant come with me in case I buy anything."
Theon rode along the beach just outside Pyke's grounds, a young page no more than three-and-ten following behind. The sea air was fresh and damp, and the morning was oddly clear. He looked up and saw the Red Comet, blazing across the sky. He smiled. I knew that was my comet, he thought to himself, clutching the torn letter from Cadenzsa, feeling braver every moment.
He rode up along the coast, his horse whinnying happily at the feeling of the brisk sea water. In his dream, the night before, he and Cadenzsa were on this very beach. His grey eyes looked over the sea, wondering what Cadenzsa would think of the Iron Islands. He had told her many things about his home during her stay in Winterfell, that too-short month where she and he shared a roof. He hoped that she would like it; all he could do was hope and wait nervously for her.
Things were going well. Almost too well, in fact. But they were not going well in the way he had expected them to. While his father was going along with Cadenzsa coming this way, he didn't like the thought of lying to him, especially considering he hadn't seen him in ten years. The look in his eyes...it didn't seem natural. Had that strange scent cast a spell on his father?
Theon, as he rode to Lordsport, began to realize that he had something to prove here. The Ironborn were not subjects - they were not slaves nor miners nor tradesmen. War was their only real trade, in truth, and the islands seemed to be going mad from it. War was bloody business, and the Ironborn liked it. Perhaps he could do good for them by taking them to war, and satiating their appetites for the taste of blood. While he was a proven warrior in Winterfell, nobody had seen that or even heard of it since he'd been gone. He was now a stranger to Pyke; nobody recognized him. The ones that even may have recognized him, like the old Maester, were now dead.
Theon's horse slowed as Lordsport drew nearer. It was not a long ride, and the page-boy was quiet the entire time. He looked behind him to see the boy, who was riding a few lengths behind. "Keep up with me," he called.
"Y-Y-Yes, m'lard!" said the boy. Theon rolled his eyes; they just had to send him with the one boy with a stutter.
"What's your name, boy?" Theon asked.
"C-C-C-Cammon, m'lard."
"C-C-C-Cammon?" Theon japed, shaking his head. "Are there no teachers of speech in Pyke?" The boy, pale-faced and sickly looking, looked down. "Alright, enough of that. We just won't speak to her Grace, the Princess, when she arrives, eh?" He sighed. "But when we're in Lordsport, today, we are looking for Braavosi ships, or people who might know of Braavosi fare. Do you understand?"
"Of c-c-c-c-course, m-m'lard," squeaked Cammon.
"Would you like to know why we're looking for Braavosi things?" Cammon shook his head, then nodded stupidly for he realized that it was the correct answer. "Tomorrow we shall be receiving two very important Ladies from Braavos. And, if all goes well, the younger shall be your future Queen. Would you like that?" asked Theon, feeling his trademark grin spreading across his lips.
"A-a new q-q-q-queen, m'lard? B-b-but your sister, Lady Asha - "
"We shall not be worrying about my sister today, eh?" said Theon, frowning. "Today, worry about finding the finest things you can for our guests."
"Y-Yes, m'lard."
Theon rolled his eyes as they entered Lordsport. "Once Cadenzsa's dowry arrives, we're going to hire Speech tutors for Pyke to ensure I never hear a stutter again..."
The two dismounted their horses. Theon noticed the boy was not only as skinny as a half-starved seagull, but he had a bit of a limp. He was then reminded of poor Bran, crippled for the rest of his days. Theon patted the boy on the shoulder. "Be grateful," he said. Cammon looked at him a bit stupidly, but Theon didn't feel like explaining himself.
Theon and Cammon walked around a bit - well, Theon walked, Cammon hobbled - asking around about a hull or two coming from Essos. Finally, somebody pointed to the far end of the harbor, saying that there was a ship from Lys. It wasn't Braavos, but it was a start.
A plump merchant with a tallow-colored beard and brightly-colored tunic with an even-brighter longcoat was standing at the harbor, calling out to the Ironborn. He seemed to be overseeing the movement of merchandise. For being so round, he was rather tall. A shorter, slight man with black hair and darker skin was coming and bearing boxes.
"Myrish lace! Myrish green-nectar wine, so sweet, so wonderful on the tongue! You, there, young lady! One taste and you'll name your son after me! Tyroshi armor, all the beautiful shapes and colors! You, there! Come buy a beautiful glass vase from Volantis for your good-wife! All the treasures from Essos! All the lovely treasures! Myrish green-nectar wine! "
"Excuse me," said Theon, approaching with Cammon. "You have treasures from Essos?"
"Ah, a man of good taste!" said the Lyseni with a great grin. "What can I do for you, good ser? Oh, such a fine cloak you have - may I interest you in something from Qohor? They have the finest of fabrics-"
"I'm interested in things from Braavos, in truth," said Theon. "And I am no ser. I am Lord Theon Greyjoy, heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands," said he with a smirk.
The Lyseni gulped with a wide-eyed expression in his pale eyes. "My Lord!" he said. "I am your servant! What treasures from the Secret City Braavos do you seek? A Dancing Sword, perhaps?"
Theon grinned. "No, I don't think we'll need those," he said. "But I do have need for things like tapestries, carpets, probably some new rushes. Bedlinens and candles, too, perhaps. Something that will make two Braavosi Ladies feel at home in Pyke."
"Ser-erhm, My Lord!" said the Lyseni. "My trading partner, Soren, is from Braavos. If I may introduce him?
Theon nodded as the Lyseni brought his partner, a slight Braavosi man, adorned in black. He bowed. "Fatel Madesi, at a'your service." His accent was ten-times thicker than Cadenzsa's. He suddenly felt bad for poking fun at her about her poor Commontongue when they had first met. "How may'ah I serve you?"
"You're Braavosi?" Theon asked. "I seek things that will please the eyes of two Ladies of Braavos. They sail for Pyke and shall arrive tomorrow."
"Of course'a, my Lord." The Braavosi's accent was thick, and with many rollings of his "r"s. He smiled widely. "May I know the names of these a'Ladies?"
"Lady Cadenzsa Forel-"
The Lyseni gasped, as did the Braavosi, who clung to his partner's arm like a frightened maid in sight of a big rat. "C-Cadenzsa Forel?" breathed the Braavosi. "As in...Cadenzsa Forel? Does her father come, too?"
Theon frowned. "No, but her mother-"
The Lyseni ran back onto the ship, nearly tripping over himself, pretending to be called on by another member of the crew. The Braavosi's face went purple-ish red. "Does mi'lord speak of The Veiled Lady?"
Theon grew extremely annoyed. "Alright, what's all this, then? Are you men or mice to be afraid of a mother and her little girl?"
The Braavosi choked on his words before squeaking out "The Veiled Lady is a courtesan of beauty beyond belief!" He wrung his hands nervously. "They say that those who see her face fall under her spell forever. And her daughter! Oh, her daughter!"
Theon grinned, remembering her beauty. She was a bit odd-looking for the Westerosi's eyes, but to the Braavosi she must have been one of the greatest beauties of her time. "Have you ever seen Cadenzsa Forel?"
The Braavosi - whom Theon had already forgotten the name of - fanned himself wildly. "Oh, to speak of Lady Forel! Only child of Syrio Forel, Master Water Dancer and First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos! As beautiful as she is deadly! Keep your wits about her, mi'lord! For one glance of'a her eyes - her eyes! - they would burn a city to the ground!"
Theon smiled with a tiny inward laugh. He gave a slight nod of his head as he thought of her eyes, brighter than a dagger fresh from the forge. "When have you seen her last?" Theon asked, wondering if he had perhaps seen her in King's Landing.
"Only since last year, mi'lord! It was a'when she was leaving Braavos for to cross the Narrow Sea. Her mother soon followed after her, leaving a trail of jilted lovers behind, including the Sea Lord..." He then gasped. "But Fatel should not speak of such things! Such scandal... Oh! Wait! I remember seeing her once in King's Landing - or, at least, I thought it was her -"
"It very well could have been. She was in King's Landing for a time just before the War of Five Kings had begun. Do all Braavosi know Cadenzsa's name?"
"Only the ones with eyes, mi'lord!" said the Braavosi, smiling. "Fatel has had the great pleasure of selling to Cadenzsa a long blue gown, once-"
"-Blue gown? The one that has black lace trim and ruffled skirt?"
"The same! It is that color of island blue that is the color of the Forel House - Island Blue field with a golden sea turtle, holding a flower in its mouth. So Lady Cadenzsa sees'a this gown and buys it at once."
Theon nodded, making a tiny note of that being her house colors. "I love that gown on her," he said. "It makes her skin color glow. Should you have anything of that same color, I'd like it for her." The Bravosi nodded with a bow. "What else does she like? What other things have you sold to her?"
"Mi'Lord, another time, she has bought a pair of leather boots, and three pairs of gloves for her to Dance with! Does mi'lord seek Lady Forel's good favor? Are the rumors true?"
Theon had it on good authority that he knew what 'rumors' there were, but he wanted to hear anyway. "Rumors? What rumors?" Sometimes it was fun to play dumb.
The Braavosi gasped again, looked around as if he were being watched. Cammon didn't know what to think, nor did Theon. But they both listened intently. "Rumor has it that Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, would not see his only daughter married to a Bravosi that was not good enough, nor rich enough, nor would make her happy. So, with his wife, The Veiled Lady, not wanting his Cadenzsa to become a Courtesan like her, insisted that she have a husband with a title, with riches, with honor...and Syrio Forel sailed to Westeros to find Cadenzsa a..."
"...A Prince," said Theon, his grin creeping across his lips. He remembered the first time she playfully curtsied and called him 'Your Grace' with a great amount of flourished 'r' sounds on her tongue.
"Yes! But nobody hears from Syrio Forel, until Cadenzsa Forel announces that she is leaving Braavos forever. Oh, so many tears shed by men...so many tears shed by men who would never see her in a Courtesan's silks, or barge. So many men would have killed for the chance for her to warm their beds! To be buried in her black hair!"
"And that honor shall soon be mine!" said Theon, clenching his fist. "We have received the letter from her father this morning. Cadenzsa Forel is my betrothed. She will soon become Cadenzsa Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Islands. And someday the future Queen." The Braavosi's eyes popped out of his head so far that Theon thought they might fall out. "And because of this, I need you to give me everything you can to-"
"S-Say no more, mi'lord! All the treasures from Braavos will be yours! All the things of the Veiled Lady's liking! All the things of Cadenzsa's-you know, I hear that her favorite color is this a'shade of red!" He brought a large cushion of a velvet so red that it could only be mocking either the flaming sunset or the color of freshly-spilled blood.
Theon frowned. "Are you sure this is her favorite?"
"Of course, mi'lord! I know these things because her mother would not let her buy it, even though she wanted to! It is the poor that tend to wear brighter colors such as this, so her mother insisted on dressing her in dark blues and blacks... But, in memory, I seem to remember seeing her last in a color..." he ran to his wares and pulled out a gown that was the color of the night sky, with fabric as light and clear as a feather, or a summer breeze. It flowed and fell, like ashes, like paper, and it looked as soft as a lady's skin. "In this shade of blue, I last saw her. And her sword, around her hips. And I remember her wearing a strand of pearls! The Veiled Lady often dressed Lady Cadenzsa in gold jewelry and pearls. A fellow merchant friend of mine said once that the Veiled Lady said to Lady Cadenzsa - 'precious pearls to light up your face.'"
"I never remembered seeing her in pearls," said Theon. "But I'll take that dark gown. And white linens and silks. Cammon, go bring the horses. I'll need lots of candles, too, because Cadenzsa plays music at night. And let me taste some of that wine. Is it sweet? She likes sweet things."
"Her mother is fond of Dornish wines, I hear," said the Merchant.
"A cask of that, too, then, just in case. And I'll take Myrish oranges, if you have any. Oh, and should you have barrels of Braavosi oysters or clams, I'll take all of it. She loves oysters."
Theon didn't think it was possible, especially with all of the things that he'd come back to Pyke with, but the Braavosi merchant insisted on giving away everything Theon wanted at no cost at all. He said it was an honor to serve the future Queen, Cadenzsa Forel, soon Greyjoy. He also said that he would send word back to Braavos of this, and have the Braavosi people come more often to the Iron Islands to seek the new Queen's favor. With carts in tow of many fine treasures, Theon had Pyke cleaned from top to bottom and decorated.
Every servant, cook, page, and ward was cleaning that day. All the rushes were being changed, and everything was being dusted. Theon had bought a few carpets in black-and-gold that matched the Greyjoy colors. He also found a good deal of jewelry that he liked for Cadenzsa, but not knowing what she would like, he decided to buy it all. At very least, he thought, they'd have some for the treasury should they have any daughters in the future.
As everything was cleaned, top to bottom, Theon felt Pyke come alive again. Nobody bothered him that day, not even Asha. Heyla - it turned out the old crone had a name - hobbled around like she hadn't moved that much in years. He could almost hear her bones creaking as she swept up piles of dust.
Theon smiled as he saw everything shine like it was new. The rooms were smaller than he remembered, and now that the cobwebs were all gone, they were much more impressive. He hoped Cadenzsa would like it all, for it was to be her new home. And she would see him, free, just like she had promised to.
He recalled the day that she had vowed to free him. They had been sitting together in the Godswood where he knelt and asked for her hand. She had said she wanted to, but she couldn't until he was free. Now he was free, for he was home, and he would be the future King of the Iron Islands, and give her the castle, the lands, the riches, the glory that her parents had wanted for her. He felt pride swelling in his chest so great, he didn't even notice the setting sun.
The next day they gathered at the harbor, the entire family, to give Cadenzsa the welcome he hadn't received. Even his mother, who was sick from the Cough, had come. She barely spoke to Theon and seemed to be a shadow of her former self. Theon didn't know what to think when he saw her, for she barely looked at him. Her strong jaw, her graying hair...he couldn't honestly remember if she had ever been beautiful. And on the horizon was the purple-hulled ship of the Veiled Lady, Theon's future mother-in-law, The Veiled Lady, and his future Queen, Cadenzsa Forel.
