Obligatory Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.
Summary:
AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))
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, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.
Theon
Look at her. Just look at her. So amazing. And how she fit in, right in the middle of the feast, right at his father's side. Just look at her! So beautiful.
So elegant.
So powerful.
So exotic, with lips red as fire!
It was no wonder that Cadenzsa turned out the way she did, with such a beauty as a mother. And she certainly had been right about the Veil...if Theon was a woman and had a beautiful face like that, he'd cover it and charge for a glimpse. And everyone in the Iron Islands was absolutely under her spell, for all the men - Theon's father included - were smiling at her and laughing at all of her jokes, drinking toasts to her and all.
He wondered if that would be how Cadenzsa would look when she was older, but he guessed not, since she took more after her father than her mother. Theon took more after his mother than his father, too. Such things happened.
Theon hadn't spoken to his mother yet, but he was apprehensive to do so at the feast, not because he was afraid of her being angry about Cadenzsa and his engagement, but mostly because she didn't seem to recognize him at all.
When Theon glanced down at the far end of the feasting table where his mother was sitting with his sister, he couldn't help but see the glazed-over, far-off looks she kept on getting. Her Cough had gotten quite bad over the years, and ten years was a long time to go between mother and son being together. She kept on hacking through dinner, too, into a yellowed handkerchief. He barely recognized her, in truth, when he saw her. Perhaps she had been beautiful once? Or perhaps she had always looked that way, strong-jawed with Theon's nose. Her brown hair was elegantly pulled up and pinned, and he could see a few streaks of gray here and there, too. Perhaps she always looked like that, and Theon had just forgotten over the years.
"You should say something to her," said Cadenzsa, who had taken her rightful place next to him at the feast. Theon was about to protest and say that now was not the right time, but he lost his train of thought when he was reminded again how beautiful she looked in that gown he'd bought for her the other day. That night-sky blackish-blue. The gold ring she wore on her forefinger. She'd even been kind enough to wear the pretty gold chains and baubles in her hair he had bought for her, even though she really didn't like jewelry. And Gods be Good, did she look beautiful, especially with the night air licking her tits like that.
So instead of responding to what she had said - for, in truth, he had already forgotten what it was - he smiled and twined his fingers with hers and kissed her hand. "Of course, my Princess," he said.
She gave a shy smile and looked down. "I wish you wouldn't-"
"Why?" he said. "You were calling me 'your grace' when I was still a Ward for the Starks."
"That's different," said Cadenzsa. He was still getting used to her talking like a Westerosi, without that silly-yet-lovely accent of hers. He still liked the way she said his name, though, in Braavosi.
"Well, not for long. Soon, my love, we will wed, and then I'll go off to win the War. And the Iron Islands will be an independent kingdom once again. And then," he leaned in close, kissing the flesh on her neck where her jaw and ear met. "we will fuck, and fuck, and fuck until my father dies, and I'll be King."
Cadenzsa recoiled with a tiny laugh. "You shouldn't say such things when your father is sitting right on the other side of you!"
Theon nodded pointedly at his father, who was leaning in to Cadenzsa's mother, laughing and toasting. "Look at him. He's a hundred miles away. And we should be, too. What did your mother say?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "'Let me worry about it,'" she said.
"Exactly. So let her. She's got everything under control!"
She sighed. "It's that damn magic," she said quietly.
Theon grinned. "What's the magic? Being beautiful?"
Cadenzsa shot Theon a nasty look. "It's more than that," she said. With a sigh, his future bride looked down into her wine and thought of, perhaps, the right way to word it. "My mother is the product of magic. Her mother, my grandmother, the Dothraki Maegi, did a spell for a daughter that all of whom shall love with one glance of her eyes. It worked, of course. Even you can't stop staring at her."
He suddenly looked over his shoulder, back over to Cadenzsa.
"See?" she huffed. "I'm invisible when she's around. Just look at the men around her. All under her spell. That's the real reason she wears the Veil."
Theon's stomach grew a little tight, but when he looked at his new Good-Mother, and she smiled at him, he felt the anxiousness go away. Then he felt a hard pinch on the back of his hand and snapped his attention back to Cadenzsa, who was now looking a little more than hurt.
"Don't worry," he said. "If the magic really does work like that then maybe it's a good thing?" Theon didn't know that. He was just talking to see if he couldn't make her feel better.
"But there's more to it than that. We can't keep your father under this spell forever. And quite frankly, the fact that you're so alright with it is a bit..." She then shook her head. "I don't know. I wanted this to happen. But now that it is..."
"My Lady," said Theon to her, gripping her hand tight. "I only have eyes for you. And I don't know what your mother did or is really doing. But my father is laughing and smiling, something I haven't seen in...well, I can't remember. But he's smiling and listening to what I have to say, and he's happy, now. And look, we are celebrating! The whole island is celebrating! We're happy. Why shouldn't you be, too?"
She gave a pained look, but Theon figured that women were just sometimes women and they could perhaps never be truly happy. He turned his attention back to his mother, who was now staring at him quite seriously, hatefully. Theon's heart froze, and for a moment, he felt truly afraid, for that was the look a mother gave to the man that slaughtered her sons. Perhaps in her madness she was mistaking him for a Northerner. Then his mother blinked and looked around, as if lost, and then back to Asha. She kept on fiddling with Asha's short hair and fussing with it.
Then, his father's arm came around him and held him tight around his shoulders. Theon's heart skipped with joy, and when he turned to smile, he saw Balon Greyjoy smiling back at him, with a great and joyful laugh. He smelled that green-nectar wine on his breath, and with how thin his father had become, Theon was not surprised at how quickly he got so drunk.
He caught eyes with Cadenzsa's mother, who was quite easily the most-beautiful woman he'd ever seen. If he were not betrothed to her daughter, in fact, Theon might even be tempted to-
"People of the Iron Islands," announced Balon Greyjoy to the feasters and servants and bannermen alike. He then stood. "Today, we celebrate, for the Iron Islands will have a war once again! We shall spill the blood of Greenlanders and they will know terror at us! What is dead may never die!"
"What is dead may never die!" shouted back the bannermen.
"And we have reason more to celebrate, for this gorgeous Lady - " Cadenzsa's mother rose, looking like an elegant dream in that black silk gown that clung to her generous breasts " - has been gracious enough to allow my son, Theon, to wed her lovely daughter, Cadenzsa Forel." Cheers errupted. "The wedding shall be within a fortnight, and on the day that my son weds Lady Forel's daughter, we shall sail for the Greenlands! The Ironborn will reave and pillage once again!"
"What is dead may never die!" shouted the Ironmen.
"We will take the Greenland ports for our own!"
"Yea!"
"We will burn down their houses! Rape their women!"
"Yea!"
"We will be a free and independent kingdom once more!"
"Yea!"
"What is dead may never die!"
"What is dead may never die!"
Theon joined, of course, with the cries and cheers. The Ironmen were hot with battle-blood, and Theon felt it. Theon felt his father be a Warrior again. And he felt himself be an Ironman again. And he wanted to bend Cadenzsa over and fuck her right there on the table in front of everyone, but she would probably punch him in the face if he did that.
His father turned to him and took his hand, then gestured for Cadenzsa to come forward. She stood shyly and came, giving a low curtsy, and then took his hand. Balon Greyjoy put their hands atop one another's, and looked as if he were about to say something. But then his face snapped to, and looked rather confused for a moment before Cadenzsa's mother came and whispered something in his ear. Then he smiled and laughed again and said:
"To my son, Theon, and his bride-to-be, Cadenzsa! For she is the rock!"
"For she is the rock!"
It was a thing that was from the wedding vows of the Rock Wife. Salt Wives had their own separate vows, of course, for they were more like concubines than wives. They were more things that you kept at ports you visited. It was in this way that the Ironmen kept from overrunning the world with Bastards, for any children that a Salt Wife produced were treated as Trueborn Ironmen. But the Rock Wife? That was a different story.
The Rock Wife is an Ironman's one true bride. She was the rock of your life, the one held in highest regard, and - most-importantly - the one that took your name. Salt Wives didn't take your name, they kept their own, but their children had your name and not hers. The children were yours to take and do with what you liked. If it pleased you to come back once every year and collect any children, you could. Or if it pleased you to have her raise the children by herself, you could. But the Rock wife was the one that was steadfast and there always should you need them.
The Rock Wife bore the children which were the most-important. The Rock Wife kept your home and keep while you were at sea. The Rock Wife was a beacon in the night, and the sturdy thing that you kept hold to when the salt and sea were too much to bear. The Rock Wife wore proudly the jewels and spent proudly the gold you got from the pillaging. She was your way of saying to the world how good you were.
Cadenzsa was going to be Theon's Rock Wife. He would drape her in diamonds and pearls and have her walk around wearing nothing but that to show her off. She would surely be the envy of all Ironmen and Ironwomen. And with her long hair and her fearsome sword, she would certainly gain quite a bit of respect around Pyke. Perhaps when he held Tourneys of his own he would have her compete wearing those diamonds and pearls, and watch all who dared to fight her go dumb at her beauty and her sword.
When she would be the Queen, she'd be the envy of every woman on the Iron Islands. She was already, after all, the envy of his sister, wasn't she?
When Theon looked, his sister was gone, and his mother was gone, too. After dessert, Theon went into Cadenzsa's room to see if she was up for a third fuck that day, but she wasn't there. What he did find, though, was just as interesting.
Her things had already been moved into her suite from their ship, and Theon - for the first time - got to snoop about and get a glimpse of the kinds of things she really liked. There were many gowns, mostly of black, and also many pairs of trousers and dancing blouses that were colored bright reds or blues or oranges. Theon found several gowns of thick red velvet in varying designs, and even found a great silk purple gown that bloomed out impossibly large to the back. It looked rather stupid, but Theon figured that perhaps it was the kind of thing that looked better when it was put on versus something just hanging.
In her jewelry box, he found things that he never ever imagined her owning, and after rooting through the ridiculously heavy and out-there baubles and jewels and moon diamonds and rubies of impossible sizes, he finally figured that they must have been things that her mother had bought for her, but Cadenzsa never wore because she hated them.
He strolled around and found, on the shelves, stacks of old tomes and new books and scrolls of poetry. Her lute was laying on her bed, and there was a strange, crescent-shaped stone flute laying on her table. Theon thought of blowing a few notes into it just to see what it sounded like, but he figured that Cadenzsa would have plenty of time to play music for him throughout their lives together.
By the window, though, Theon found something very interesting indeed.
They were twice as tall as he was, and there were three of them. They were each covered with a velvet embroidered tapestry in a different color. The one on his left was a red velvet-covered one, a golden sun sewn in gold thread on it. The middle one was a regal-looking blue color with a white moon sewn in. The one on the right, though, was regal purple with a five-pointed star sewn in silver. When Theon pulled the fabric on the blue tapestry, it fell off to reveal the Black Mirror that Cadenzsa had spoken to him of.
It was a mirror, yes, but it wasn't made out of silver and glass. It was pitch black, and his reflection was not shown in it. He had heard of this material; obsidian. Dragon Glass. He touched the surface of the mirror, and nothing happened. Nothing magical, at least. He pulled off the tapestries from the other two, and the same thing...there was no reflection in any of them.
Theon frowned, crossing his arms. Surely, if Cadenzsa could do this magic, then he could too, couldn't he? He just had to find out how they worked.
Theon had heard of magic mirrors, but only in old stories. Magic mirrors were supposed to show you what you wanted them to show you. They were also supposed to speak in rhyme. But maybe they really didn't work like that? Maybe Cadenzsa didn't see anything at all in these things, but it was just her mother telling her to say whatever she needed in order to get a Crown?
Now that he thought of it, when he was on his own, he had, indeed, earlier found himself more entranced with Cadenzsa's mother than Cadenzsa herself. Perhaps her mother was the one that had the real magic all along and Cadenzsa was just bluffing? Because if she really was this magical thing, then why didn't she use her magic when she was in Winterfell to keep them together?
And as his head became clearer, he realized that his father, maybe, wasn't really happy to see him at all? He was, after all, acting...not at all like himself. Now that he was free of her face, and her spell, he was thinking more clearly, and how he had seen his father flirting with Cadenzsa's mother in front of his sickly wife.
He took a few steps back and examined each one of them. They just looked like ordinary sheets of black glass. He sighed. "How does this work?" he said to himself. And the mirrors, upon hearing his voice, flashed the symbols of sun, moon, and stars. He stepped forward.
"Which one of you shows the future?"
The mirror on the right, the one that had the star, flashed bright. When he stepped slowly towards it, he heard a sobbing, faint and distant.
Theon came forward to the mirror on the right, and in the mirror he saw across from him a frail figure, hunched over and covered with tattered clothes, that looked stained with dirt and blood and mud and shit. Squinting, and tilting his head, he saw how the figure moved along with him, wispy white hair flowing.
"What are you?" he whispered to the reflection.
The sobbing became louder, and it turned to frightened whimpers. A finger - or perhaps it had once been a finger, for it was more a claw or a bone in tender flayed flesh that, Gods be good, had no flesh on it - pointed at him. From the reflection's hand, Theon saw that a few of the fingers were missing, and he looked down to see its haggard bare feet with missing flesh off its bones and missing toes, too.
"What do you mean?!" Theon demanded. "You're not me!"
The sobbing became louder, and Theon heard screams, and he heard a wicked laughing in the back of his mind that chilled him to the bone.
"Show your face to me! Show it!"
The figure came forward with stark-white hair, scarred and haggard shit-covered face, and teeth all broken and half-pulled out. And to Theon's horror, the eyes that stared back at him - the ones with no light left in them - were his own. Tears of blood streamed down his face, and disfigured and skinless hands and arms reached out to him, and then recoiled as if ashamed of what he was. The figure hobbled as Theon stumbled back in shock.
"W-Who are you?!" screamed Theon. "Are you me?! Is that my future?!" Theon was shaking, his heart racing and his flesh breaking out in a cold sweat. "This isn't real..." he said to himself. "It's that magic...it's evil!" As he did, he saw the figure change and become clearer and clearer. And the mirror spoke without words, but he heard them in his mind. He heard his own voice, only timid and afraid, and broken.
"I'm not the Turncloak...I'm not him..." wept the voice. "My name is Reek...it rhymes with freak..!" The figure fell to his knees, and recoiled with pain for the figure's body was flayed. Theon could see it through the rips on his trousers.
"Turncloak...!" whispered Theon in horror. "Tell me what happened! Tell me what bastard did this!"
"Please, no-" sobbed the voice. "Don't call him that! Never call him the bastard!"
Theon began to panic, for he soon felt the joints in his hands begin to crack, and the bones in his feet begin to swell and hurt, and then snap. He cried out in either panic or pain, and when he looked to his own hands, he saw the flesh on his little finger begin to peel away.
"S-Stop! Stop this at once!"
"We can't stop it!" wept the voice. "We deserve it for how we treated her! For what we did to them!" In his sobs Theon heard his own pained heart, and to his horror, tears began to stream down Theon's face as his reflection wept. "And Robb...butchered at the Red Wedding... I should have died with him..." He heard the reflection become a bit of Theon again, and when Theon looked up, the reflection faded back and forth from the Reek and himself, clad in Ironborn Armor with the Golden Krakken on his chest again. On his normal face was a solemn expression, and then in his hand he saw the head of Ser Rodrik. Theon screamed in horror.
"There are so many ghosts in Winterfell," wept the voice, now of the hobbling freak that he was to become. "And I am one of them."
"Stop this!"
"YOU WILL LISTEN!" shouted the voice with a hateful, bone-chilling screech. And then it softened into heart-wrenching weeping and sobs. "Oh, Gods, somebody give me a sword...please let me die as Theon..."
Theon was shaking, and he felt his skin peel away on his fingers and toes. He tried wrapping his hands with his clothes, but when he looked back up at his reflection, it was far too clear what his fate was to be. And the worst part was he could feel everything that his reflection was.
"This is what she was telling me about..." he realized. "This is the horrific fate of what Cadenzsa spoke... She'll save me from you!" he shouted at the Reek.
"She can't...she tried but she can't," sobbed the Reek, his reflection, other-Theon. "For you are too proud and stupid." The weeping changed from that of a broken and tortured man to the cries of a man who had lost the love of his life. "Theon is dead...he died in Winterfell. I am Reek, rhymes with weak...and the Turncloak left his poor wife a Widow, there to be torn apart by his sister..."
"Why do you keep calling me a turn-cloak?!" demanded Theon, tears streaming down his face, his hands now beating on the mirror's surface.
The vision changed to himself, in Ironborn Armor again, walking and sitting on an invisible bed, with a boy whom he recognized.
"Its Prince Theon, now. I've taken the Castle. Winterfell is mine-"
"No...!" breathed Theon in horror.
"I'll never yield to you," said Bran's little voice in Theon's mind. "We'll kick you out."
"You will yield to me to keep your people safe. That's what a good Lord would do."
"Stop...!"
"I'm a Greyjoy. I can't fight for Robb and my father both."
"Theon. Did you hate us the whole time?"
"That's not me!" cried Theon. "I wouldn't do that!"
"...Doing things I never imagined myself doing..." Theon saw himself sitting in Winterfell in the dark of the castle with the Maester at his side.
"Stop this! How do I make you stop, you stupid mirror?!"
"Theon?"
"STOP SHOWING ME THIS!"
"THEON!"
The purple velvet tapestry went over the black mirror, and Cadenzsa's hands cupped Theon's face.
"You stupid fool, what were you doing?!" Her Braavosi accent came out in her rage, but Theon didn't care about any wrath he might have incurred of hers. In truth, he was shaking inside from the horrible visions. He couldn't stand, for he felt the skin on his feet wasn't there, and his cheeks were stained with tears. He sat there, slumped against the posts of her bed. Cadenzsa's hands held fast to his and she sat in front of him.
"Shekh ma shieraki, what were you doing!" she demanded.
Theon stood suddenly, nearly knocking her back. He pointed at the mirror in a furious rage and began screaming at the top of his lungs.
"What kind of foul witchcraft are you playing at here, woman?! What sorcery is that?!"
Cadenzsa shook her head furiously. "I can explain!" she whispered, her lips trembling.
"Well then explain it before I throw that Evil into the sea!"
His chest was heaving, and his hands were shaking. As the pain began to subside, Theon saw - for the first time - Cadenzsa being afraid. He didn't know if it was of him, or of the magic, or of what he had seen. But he saw her on her knees, shaking. She bent her head in shame.
"You're supposed to yell at me back!" shouted Theon. "This isn't you! This was never you. Gods be good, woman, stand up! Yell at me for being in here without you, or something!" He walked past her and began to pace violently back and forth around her suite. "Has everything changed? Pyke is no longer what it used to be. My father barely looks at me, my mother is half-mad, my sister is... My uncle! He used to be this jovial drunken thing, and now he's a somber Priest to the Drowned God! And nobody recognizes me..." He sank into one of her chairs. "I thought that..." He shook his head, hanging it low. "Seeing you was supposed to be familiar. You were supposed to be the one thing that hadn't changed. But even you've changed. The whole world is changing around me."
Theon looked over to his future bride, who was still sitting, leaning against her bedframe. It should have given him comfort to know that she was just as afraid as he was in that moment, but it gave him a greater pain to know that - perhaps, deep down - she was just like any other ordinary, weepy, weak little slut he'd bedded. She was supposed to be special.
"Well, say something!" His voice cracked.
Cadenzsa licked her lips and stood, turning and covering the mirrors again with their respective tapestries.
"You're a stupid man," she said, her back still turned on him. "Looking at these without me..." She turned around and shot him a dagger-filled glare. "What were you thinking?" Cadenzsa then briskly walked towards him, and Theon took some comfort in the fact that he knew she was probably going to slap him across the face. But she didn't. She instead sat on his lap and wrapped her arms tight around him. He felt her shake against him, and as he wrapped his arms around her, he began to see that perhaps he was supposed to be her rock just as much as she was to be his. "I wanted to keep you from seeing that," she whispered. "I wanted to show you the mirrors by showing something nice." He heard her sob, and felt her sob against his hair. He held her tighter; their fingers twined. "This wasn't a memory I wanted you to have. It's bad enough that I've been walking around with it." She sobbed again, shaking her head. Theon felt her tears on the lobe of his ear.
"When did you see this?" he asked, stroking her long hair.
She took in a breath and sighed against his neck. "When I was in Dorne," she answered. "I was to marry Prince Quentyn Martell. My father brokered an alliance with them. It was easy enough, since I am from Essos and..." She pulled away with a sad smile. "I just couldn't stop thinking about you. So there I was, in Dorne, awaiting my wedding day, when my mother came with the mirrors as a gift." Cadenzsa shook her head with a wistful grin. "I couldn't help it. I asked to see if you had a future as nice as I did. But you didn't. I saw you coming here and being rejected by your father. I saw you burning your letters to Robb Stark and taking on the Drowned God once again. I saw you take a ship and raid the shores of the North, and drown your prisoners in the name of your God. I saw you attack Winterfell. I saw you chop off Ser Rodrik's head. And I saw you hang the burned bodies of little Bran and Rickon - poor little Rickon - over Winterfell's banners."
Cadenzsa swallowed, as if she were going to be sick; she gritted her teeth as she continued to speak. "And I saw you be attacked by your men, knocked out... I saw...him. I saw him take you and pull out your teeth one by one." She began crying again. "I saw him flay the skin off your fingers and send them to the Starks as payment for your bad behavior." She was shaking violently as she stood, walking over to her bed. "And I saw him smear you with blood and dirt and shit, and I saw him make you watch while he raped a poor girl..." Cadenzsa collapsed onto her bed into a pile. "And I saw it all... But I didn't see you die. I wanted to see you die, for then you would have peace...but he kept you alive as his slave." She shook her head. "And I couldn't. I just couldn't let it happen." She swallowed hard. "So I said goodbye to Quentyn and the Martells...and my mother made it so there was no ill-will between us." She smiled. "Poor Quentyn...such a sweet, sober lad. He would have been a good husband to me." Cadenzsa then laughed and shook her head. "I didn't even think to see what kind of husband you would be to me. I just did it. I just left." Cadenzsa laughed again. "Maybe I'm just as stupid as you are."
Theon's stomach was tight as he watched her, shaking, curled up in a ball on her bed. She was so slender and tall, it looked like a rag doll had fallen into the floor in a tangled heap, with hair all in jewels and chains, to boot. She left the Martell's for him? It was a family in Westeros that ruled Dorne for centuries, quite easily the equals to the Greyjoys. She would have been their Princess, and she would have liked it, too, for Dorne was full of sunshine and plenty of sea for her to sail on. He would have liked to been able to make a joke about his deft fingers and skilled cock was to draw her back, but he simply could not. So, instead, he stood and came up behind her on her bed, crawling to her huddled body and wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"You really did all that for me," he said after a very long moment between them.
Cadenzsa nodded. "I'm a stupid woman," she said, choking back more tears. "If you still saw that future in the Star Mirror...then maybe there's nothing I can do to change it."
He leaned slightly over to see her face; he gently stroked her cheek and wiped away a few of her tears. "I can change it," he offered. "Now that I know what not to do. I'm not stupid." Cadenzsa laughed; Theon couldn't help but laugh, too. She turned around and nuzzled into his chest, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He had to admit, in spite of the horrors he'd seen only moments before, it was such a nice feeling to know that - even though they hadn't seen each other in so long - she still cared enough for him to do so many things like that for his sake.
"Want to show me something nice?" he asked, trying to lighten her mood.
She smiled and sat up. "We can try it," she said. She took her thumb and wiped off Theon's face; he had completely forgotten that he cried.
"If you tell anyone I cried-" he suddenly said.
"-I know. Our secret."
"Our secret."
She swung her long legs over the bed and walked to the mirrors. Turning over her shoulder to Theon, who was now sitting at the edge of her bed, she took in a deep breath and began to explain.
"As you can see, there are three mirrors. They are made of Dragon Glass, and are very, very old. The Sun Mirror, here, is the one that shows you all things under the golden sun. It shows what is happening to a man, but it only works during the daytime." She gestured to the blue-covered one. "The middle is the Moon Mirror. I like this one. It lets you see into the Other World. With this one, it shows you those departed in the Night Lands. You can also use it to step into other people's dreams."
Theon frowned. "Did you use that one to-?"
"-I did," she said. "But you can only use this one at night, when the moon is high. And if you are still in the mirror when the sun comes up, you could get stuck in there forever." She turned to the purple. "And this is the Star Mirror. It shows your fate."
Theon's jaw became tight.
"But listen. The good thing about the future is that you can make it what you want it to be. My father told me this. It is known." It was so weird hearing her say 'it is known' in a Westerosi accent. "You can get around your fate by doing lots of things, like asking the right questions. You can say things like: 'what will happen to me today if I choose the red gown over the black gown?' or something. You'd be shocked as to how tiny decisions can affect our lives so greatly. And once you see what happens when you do those certain things, you can begin to shape your fate as to how you would like it." She smiled. "Come on. Stand and take my hand. I want to see something."
The Ironman sighed and obliged, coming next to her, and standing in front of the Star Mirror. She took his hand and laced his fingers with hers, and pressed her full lips against his in a loving kiss; Theon felt his unhappiness melt away. As he gazed into her eyes, he heard the soft rumple of fabric. When he looked, he saw their reflection in the Black Mirror, years from now, dressed in simple yet fine garments, with crowns upon their heads. Theon's crown was of Iron and Driftwood, and he saw himself, older, a bit taller, and still ever-smiling quite handsomely. Cadenzsa was standing next to him, and smiling quite contently at him, with a crown made of gold and in the shape of sand coins and sea stars holding hands in a ring, all dotted with diamonds. Their reflections smiled at one another, and Theon's reflection took the hand of Cadenzsa's with a loving kiss on her fingers. Theon looked back at Cadenzsa, who was staring at herself in wonderment.
"It works," she whispered. "All we have to do is stick together, and we'll end up like them." A beat. "Won't we?"
The reflections of their future selves looked at each other with a grin, and then back at them with nod. Theon then looked at his own, older, yet equally-attractive reflection with the crown on his head, and asked:
"How do I win the war of Five Kings?"
His reflection took his Queen's Crown off her curly black head, and threw it over his shoulder into the black sea. Then he heard his own voice in his head, older, stronger, say: "With the Iron Fleet. And her."
Cadenzsa then shook her head with wonder and smiled. "The future King..." she said to herself, looking at Theon's reflection. The figures suddenly changed into one. Theon guessed that the mirror had thought it was another request of hers.
Before them was a tall young man, about Theon's age, maybe a little younger, but strong-looking. He was wearing the golden Kraken of the Greyjoys on his leather doublet, and a longcoat with a flared tail, quite similar to the one that his father would wear. His hair was black and curled, and his eyes were the same blue-green that Theon and his mother shared. His jaw was strong, and on his face played a grin as he held the crown of Iron and Driftwood in his hands.
"Who is that?" Theon asked, a combination between confused and amused at the boy.
The boy gave a silent laugh with white pearly teeth. He tucked the Crown under his arm casually and pointed at him and Cadenzsa. Theon looked to his betrothed for an answer, but she clearly had none for her face was ghostly pale.
"You're..." she began, "the future King of the Iron Islands?"
The boy nodded with a grin. A beat.
"Are you...marrying our daughter?" she asked, apprehensive.
Theon frowned as the boy laughed silently and shook his head. He pointed to her again, and Theon again. He gestured between them.
"Oh!" laughed Theon. "I get it. You're our firstborn boy." The boy laughed and nodded.
"Oh, Gods..." breathed Cadenzsa. "Is it only you? Are there more of you? How many of you are there all together?"
The boy held up seven fingers.
"Seven?" laughed Theon. "We have seven children?"
"You must have sisters, then? An older sister, perhaps?" Cadenzsa's voice was desperate, afraid. Theon was confused. The boy shook his head with a shrug. Cadenzsa quickly covered the Star Mirror with the velvet, shaking the vision away.
"Hey, I was talking to him!" said Theon. "Think of what we could ask! Don't you want to know what a great King I'll be someday? He could tell us everything! I probably tell him everything. Gods be good, he was tall... And there are six more of him? You should be happy, he's got my face and your hair...he's got my eyes, too. Maybe the rest of them take after the Forels? At least I'll have one Greyjoy."
There was a very long pause. Cadenzsa said nothing. Theon frowned.
"What's the matter? Are you upset because he said we didn't have girls? Because we can change that. We can just keep fucking til we have some, if it means that much to you."
She whipped around, her face neutral yet with a tight jaw.
"What's wrong?" Theon asked.
Cadenzsa gulped. She shook her head. "Nothing. Want to fool around?"
Theon shrugged with a grin. "Alright," he said, taking her into his arms. She kissed him with a strange kind of desperate ferocity that he hadn't seen in her before. She was probably excited about her future with him, mother to seven strong sons in her future. And the future was bright indeed. And as he fucked her, he felt rather invincible, even though she was somewhat hard to come that time. When she finally did, it was with a long, breathy sigh, as if so much pressure had been building up that her coming was her way to release it.
He was about to fall asleep when he felt Cadenzsa turn over onto her side. She pulled the covers and furs over her body to protect it from the cold. Theon stretched, and pulled her lovely black hair away from her neck and shoulders so he could kiss the junction of her jaw and neck when he saw a tattoo on her shoulder of a crescent moon cradling a jasmine flower in black ink. Did she have that before? he wondered. Theon had never taken her from behind so he didn't know. It was a nice-looking tattoo. He wondered if it meant anything, but was very tired so he simply dressed himself and went to his room to fall asleep.
