10.
While Yara was with Theon I explored what little of the castle I could. There hadn't been much chance the last time I'd been here. There were no walkways on top of the castle. There was no need for it. The towers ended at small rooms that looked out over the harbor, which wasn't the same. I'd grown used to being able to look at the world from up above, be it at Winterfell or at the lighthouse. Once I reached the limits of what I could see from above I headed back down below. It seemed there was nowhere that wasn't dark, dreary, and wet. Candles and firewood must have been far too precious to waste as there were hardly any fires lit. I stumbled around in the darkness. The lower passages had a thin coating of water that soon soaked through my boots.
I didn't see very many other people in the hallways. What few there were had little interest in me. They pushed past me without a second glance. The further down I went the wetter things became. The walls had a line of salt from the last time they'd flooded. It smelled of mold and damp. I found a few closed doors that led down into the depths. Water splashed against the steps and lapped at the doorway.
Living here would be like living in a cave. It really wasn't all that different than the crypts at Winterfell. My thoughts drifted to the statue of me that dwelled there in the darkness. A cold shudder raced through me. The thought still remained that I should have died all those years ago. This could all be nothing more than my mind's last gasp before the soldier's knife finished severing my head.
Panic spread. I had to get out of here and up to somewhere there was air and light. Energy I didn't know I had flowed through my body. I ran up and down stairs that seemed to have no end. I had lost all sense of where I was and what I was doing there.
Eventually I burst out onto one of the many bridges that crossed the castle. I emerged into fresh air and the sea. I gasped for breath. The strip of cloth around my neck felt like it was tightening. I fell to my knees and tried to regain control over myself. I had to be strong before I went back to Theon. He would see any weakness as a sign that what I'd seen really had driven a wedge between us.
"M'lord are you alright?" A comforting feminine voice. A hand on my back. I forced myself to take a few shaky breaths before I let them help me to my feet. "It's not safe out here when it's raining." A steadying arm went under mine and stayed there until I regained my footing. We moved until we were just inside the castle.
When I looked at her it was to see a servant girl, barely out of her teens. She tried to help me stand up straight again. It took longer than it used to for me to rise to my full height. I tried to keep as much of my weight off of her as I could. "Thank you," I said.
She kept her arm around me. "Are you going to be alright?"
I gently pulled away. Now that there was a witness it was harder to sink into despair. One had to maintain appearances. My feet soon found their footing and I didn't fear falling. "I'll be fine. Thank you again."
She looked at me doubtfully but had no reason to contradict me. She started to walk away. I realized I had no idea where I was. This could have been any of the hundreds of dimly lit hallways that made up the maze that was Pyke.
"Wait! Could you tell me how to get to the East Tower?"
Something like disgust slowly crossed her face. Instantly I figured out that word must have gotten out about who was up there and not everyone was happy about it. "Why do you need to go there? It's off limits," she demanded, all politeness gone.
"I'll take him there," the maester said from behind us. The servant's face went white. She immediately bowed and moved out of the way. He waited until she had walked away before he took my arm firmly. "I wouldn't talk about anything having to do with Theon with the servants," he scolded. He continued holding my arm until we'd made it to a different area of the castle. I snatched it back as soon as I could.
He led me to the East Tower. It was only then that how alone we would be here became apparent. There were two guards standing by the stairway that led up to Theon's room. It looked like the same guards that had first welcomed me to Pyke so long ago. They appeared to be in a constant state of readiness. Both of their eyes focused on me and the maester as we approached. The lighthouse was one thing. It was a safe harbor because no one knew who we were and no one cared. Here everyone knew Theon and few of them wished him well.
Yara had already gone by the time I got back. The servant was busy cleaning out the fireplace. As soon as I entered the room he gave me a short bow and then left. I wondered what instructions he'd been given. It was hard to avoid noticing that a small bed had been hastily set up in the corner near the window. I guessed that our prior sleeping arrangement had been noted.
Theon gave me a grim smile as I sat down in the chair next to him. There was a sheen of sweat covering his face. A half empty bowl of soup sat on the table next to him. It looked like he had only eaten the broth and none of the meat that came with it.
"Did you eat anything?" I asked.
His face twisted in a grimace. "I tried, but nothing tastes right." He had his hand clamped over his abdomen. "It hurt too much."
"Yara gave you something for that, right?" I couldn't imagine her doing anything less.
He nodded and closed his eyes. The shallow breathing was back. Maybe the medicine hadn't started to work yet. It was hard not to notice the way his hands tensed on the bed.
"What did you and Yara talk about?" I asked him. He was pale in the bed, his skin was almost white and sweat had settled in the hollow of his collarbone. Dark circles lay under his eyes. It seemed hard to believe that he would be able to pull himself through this, no matter how much he'd started to recover since we'd arrived.
"She told me she was leaving for a while," he said. A weak smile crossed his lips. "She gave me this." He pulled something out from underneath the covers with great difficulty. A knife. Not a fancy one, just a simple one that any of the fishmongers down at the beach might have used. Its handle was wooden and the blade was short. He held it shakily before it slipped out of his fingers and dropped on the bed. I picked it up carefully and put it on the table next to the bed out of his reach.
"What are you supposed to do with that?" It seemed ludicrous for her to have even given it to him. If she was worried that he was going to jump off of one of the bridges surely he could have slit his wrists with that knife just as easily.
"If the pirates come back she said I'd need something to protect myself." His eyes filled with sadness. "But I think it's in case anything happens to her. No one here likes me very much." The way he said it was a statement of fact. And from what I'd seen so far I couldn't argue with him.
I took his hand. Even if that might have been true there were other things he had to know. Maybe I had to speak them too. "Once you're better we can leave. We don't ever have to come back. Until then I'll look after you."
Theon's smile was as lopsided as ever. "I know you will." The words were laden with meaning. Maybe he couldn't say he loved me, but he at least knew I loved him. And in the midst of all of this uncertainty that was as good as it could get. He closed his eyes and took another pained breath.
"You should rest," I said.
Theon's eyes half-opened. "You should rest too."
I took another look at what had been left for me to sleep on. They'd probably dragged it up here from one of the water-logged rooms below. It was lumpy and the fabric they'd used to cover it was threadbare and threatened to burst when I sat down on it. There were a few hole-filled blankets but thankfully no furs. I laid down and tried to go to sleep.
This close to the window it was much harder to ignore the sounds outside. It wasn't raining but all I could hear was water crashing against the rocks far below. That had been the case at the cabin by the lighthouse too, but the rhythm here was different just enough that I couldn't relax completely.
Exhaustion finally won out. I drifted into a dreamless sleep. Or one that should have been. It felt like I'd barely closed my eyes before I was opening them again. Theon was screaming in terror, flailing around in the sheets.
I ran over to him, trying to get him to wake up. His thrashing around was uncontrollable. I tried to catch his hands before he hurt himself anymore.
"Theon, come on, wake up!" I said, trying to get him to come back to his senses.
Instead that only seemed to make him more upset. I didn't want to have to hold him down but the way he was struggling made it almost certain he was going to hurt himself. It took most of my strength to get him to stop moving. Through it all he didn't say anything, he only let out howls of pain that had no words. Before it was done he'd thrown all of the blankets on the floor and almost acted like he was going to tear his shirt off too.
After a few attempts to talk to him I realized there was no point. He was beyond the reach of words. It was easier to try and keep him still and calm until whatever was eating away at him from the inside grew tired.
His skin was hot to the touch. Sweat covered almost every inch of his body. I didn't want to think about what that meant. Eventually his energy ran out and he stopped fighting me. It was almost as if none of it had happened. When it became clear there wouldn't be anymore outbursts that night I gathered up the blankets from the floor and put them back on the bed. Then I grabbed the pitcher and cloth. I wet the cloth and patted his forehead with it. He seemed to lean into it so I continued.
The rest of the night was relatively quiet.
In the morning the servant came in with a fresh pitcher of water and a bowl of some kind of thin gruel. If he cared that I was still in bed with Theon he didn't let it show on his face. He went over and tended the fireplace for a moment before taking the old pitcher and cloth and leaving the room. There was light coming in through the window. Perhaps the storm had passed.
I'd only managed to catch a few minutes of sleep in between wondering if any movement from Theon would herald a repeat of that nights events. Thankfully it never came to that point. I was still worried about him. It looked like he was still in the throes of the fever that had plagued him last night. His skin had turned an awful shade of grey and there were pronounced dark patches underneath his eyes. He barely stirred when I tried to wake him. It took coaxing but I was able to get him to open his mouth and swallow a few spoonfuls of gruel and a bit of water. I had to hope that if he was still able to eat and drink he would survive.
I ate a few bites of gruel myself. I didn't relish the idea of going down to the Great Hall to get food myself and I was sure that the servants had only be instructed to take care of Theon. That same care would not have been applied to me.
The morning passed slowly. I was not used to inaction, to fighting enemies that had no shape or form. Mother had always been the nursemaid. Father had always been completely useless when we were sick, hovering ineffectually in the background providing no comfort. Talisa had been almost businesslike in her care for the wounded, but that made sense as there were so many and there was so little she could actually do. I wished I knew what to do. It seemed all I could do was sit by him and try to ease his pain.
Maester Quenton came bursting into the room in the late morning. He tried to appear nonchalant as he took in Theon's form on the bed. He probably had had years of practice in minimizing crises to worried patients. Still the hurried way he touched Theon's forehead and felt for his pulse gave him away.
"He woke up in the middle of the night screaming and burning with fever," I said. "He threw all the blankets on the floor. I tried to cool him down with some water but I don't know if it helped."
The maester had brought his bag with him and he started to pull out vials and bandages and set them on the table. "Lady Yara wanted you to ride with her to her ship," he said.
"I'm not leaving..." The idea of leaving him alone with the maester was unsettling.
"You won't be any help here. I'll stay with him until you get back," he said. It took him stopping everything he was doing completely for me to follow his orders and go do as I was told.
Yara was waiting for me down in the courtyard. No one else was around. They must have gone off ahead of her. There were two horses equipped and ready to ride. She held their reins tightly. From down here I could see the East Tower off in the distance. I noticed that she was looking everywhere but at it. "Good, you're here," she said, handing me the reins for the closest horse. It looked at me doubtfully. I didn't blame it. It had been a long time since I'd ridden a horse. The last time had been riding back to Winterfell from the Twins. My leg was better now but that didn't mean that I still had the knack.
"I couldn't refuse your summons, could I?" I mounted the horse with some trepidation. Everything felt wrong at first and I was sure I was going to fall. The only thing that kept me on my seat was the thought that Yara seeing me prove inadequate at something yet again would destroy me. She mounted her horse with ease and started to head for the gates. "Why didn't you go to see him before you left?"
Her face hardened. "I said all I had to say to him yesterday. We can talk again when I get back." She gently nudged her horse to go faster. I kept pace with her. This wasn't going to be something I would let her run away from.
"The maester is with him, he has a fever. I'm not sure what's going to happen." I said. "He might not be there when you get back."
She stopped and glared at me. "I've done what I can for him. I said my goodbyes yesterday. He understands how it is."
"But what if he's not here when you get back? Or if you don't make it back?" I'm not sure what prompted me to talk like that to her. It wasn't likely that she'd suddenly soften up and go to him.
"Then you had better pray whoever takes the Seastone Throne after me is sympathetic to your situation." She started to ride off again.
"Who is next in line? Your child?" I asked. In my wanderings around the castle I'd seen little sign of it. Judging from how irritated she'd been at it's mere existence the last time I'd been here it wouldn't have surprised me if she'd gotten rid of it.
At that she stared to laugh, a harsh bark that had no bite to it. "My child? You know our family's words don't you? That should answer that."
"You mean it's not yours?"
"I don't have time to bother with marrying and having a child of my own. Not sure I'd even want to. My advisors said there needed to be someone to carry on the Greyjoy name. And since Theon isn't really in the right shape for it anymore, I went down to the whorehouses and found a likely baby." She gave me a sick smile. "There's probably enough Greyjoy blood running through the veins of the bastard children down there that it's related to us anyway."
We rode on a little bit further. "If I don't come back you'll both need to leave," she said. "I can't guarantee who would win a King's Moot, but I'm sure none of them would be happy to keep you around."
We continued on in silence. I tried to think about what she had said. It appeared she led a tenuous existence here. If one thing changed it would be easy for someone else to take control and destroy everything she'd built. The people who were loyal to her were only loyal to her, not to her family, not to her name. She was an exception to a rule, not the standard. I supposed I hadn't really fully believed Theon when he'd tried to explain it to me. It was different than the way it was back at home. There castles passed on to the presumed heirs, it didn't go up for a vote after the previous leader died. I wondered who would have won after Father died if we'd followed that practice. I didn't think it would have been me. If that had been the case maybe all of this could have been avoided.
"How long are you going to be gone?" I asked as we got nearer to the town.
"A few weeks perhaps. There are only a few ships left. Last sighting of them was up the coast by your lands. Maybe I can stop by your castle and meet your family." If there was a joke there I didn't see it. She hadn't looked back at the castle once. I hadn't been able to keep myself from looking back. The East Tower was so far away. It scared me that I might go back and find the maester washing off Theon's corpse. "When I get back and Theon is better we can talk about what to do next."
"I'll keep him safe," I said. I had to, there was no other choice.
She kept her face firmly ahead but I could see her jaw clench. "I know you will."
Once we got to the outskirts of town she stopped again. "You can head back. I don't think my sailors will be very happy to see you talking with me more than necessary." I turned to leave. "Thank you for coming with me," she said. When she looked at me there was some unnamed emotion held back behind her eyes. I knew in her own way she was thanking me for taking care of Theon. The burden had been hers for so long she must have been relieved to find someone willing to share it.
"Good luck on your voyage," I said. "I'll see you soon."
The ride back up to the castle was chaotic and rushed. I made the horse run as fast as I dared. A part of me thought I should have waited by the outskirts of town to make sure Yara's ship left port safely, but I weighed the chances of something bad happening to her and something bad happening to Theon and thought it much more likely Theon would founder.
The horse was breathing heavily and was covered with flecks of foam by the time I reentered the castle gates. I barely stopped in time to avoid hitting the stableboy who was standing in the courtyard. He gave me a reproachful glance as I handed him the reins. At that point I really didn't care about what was going on outside of the events in the small room up in the tower. I could make it up to the servant later.
Everywhere I went in the castle there was someone standing in the way or blocking the hallway. My sense of direction had never been very keen so it took me longer than it should have to find the guards watching the staircase that led up to the tower. Neither of them looked very formidable. One of them was the one-eyed guard who I'd met at the front gates the first time I'd met Yara. I wondered where his twin was. If someone had been determined to attack Theon, to attack us, it wouldn't have deterred them. I contemplated sleeping with my sword next to the bed.
Each of the steps up to the room pulled on my leg. Riding all the way down to town and back hadn't really helped it much. It was still stiff and didn't move quite right. I was painfully aware of each step and how many were left until I reached the top.
The maester was sitting with his back to the door by the fireplace surrounded by medical supplies when I opened the door to the room. For a moment my mind flashed back to a kaleidoscope of other nights long ago sitting with Talisa by the fireside as she went through her bag of supplies and packed everything away tightly. It made me falter in the doorway. She was the last person I had loved like this, unreservedly and with no concern for what others thought. I had to do whatever I could to make sure the same thing didn't happen this time. I'd already brought down an army and my family with my hubris, I didn't want to make the same mistakes.
From this position I couldn't really see Theon in the bed. There were a few bloodied bandages on the floor in a pile. There was no movement from the huddled mass covered in blankets.
Maester Quenton must have drifted off to sleep while waiting for me to return. He all but leapt to his feet when I walked into the room. "You're back," he said, like he was expecting me to have left with Yara.
"I am," I said. "How is he?"
Maester Quenton must have been accustomed to giving bad news. I supposed serving the Greyjoys for as long as he presumably had he must have gotten used to it by now. There was little happy news on Pyke. "He's got a fever. The wound on his stomach is the culprit, I think. The surgeon on the island didn't treat it right." He stepped over to the bed and pulled the blanket down with little care to how Theon might have felt. It didn't really matter as Theon wasn't conscious. Still a part of him must have been aware because his body seemed to pull away from the air, preferring to curl back in its protective slumber.
When he pulled the nightshirt up I had to look away. Theon wouldn't want me looking at him like this. Maester Quenton didn't seem to care. Waiting for me to give in and look seemed to give him an almost perverse pleasure. He pointed to the growing red radiating out from underneath the bandages. I tried to keep my eyes focused on that, and not on the part down lower. My eyes didn't obey, they were drawn to the scars and hurt that lingered there. I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep myself from crying out. "Here, you can see how it's getting worse," he said, his finger trailing along the boundaries of red flesh and white.
"Yes, I can," I said. I roughly took Theon's nightshirt from away from the maester and pulled it down so he was covered again. Had he been awake Theon would never have let either of us do this. I didn't want to betray him like that. Anger burned deep in me. It was all that kept me from breaking down in front of Maester Quenton. It was all that let me ask the question I knew neither of us wanted the answer to. "Is he going to die?" It only occurred to me that maybe I should have phrased it the other way around, was he going to live?
Maester Quenton's face didn't betray anything. "I'll tell you what I told Lady Yara. He's obviously survived much worse. He's capable of surviving this too." He bent over with some difficulty and picked up his supplies and the dirty bandages. "I'll be back in the afternoon to check on him." Then he made his way out of the room. I followed him and closed the door before taking up his seat by the fire.
My hands went to my thighs and grabbed hold so tightly I thought my fingernails would tear holes in my pants. It was impossible to escape the thought that this was all my fault somehow. All of the gods had gotten together to try and correct that mistake they'd made all those nights ago when the knife to cut off my head had stopped before the deed was done. Except they kept missing, hitting other people who had nothing to do with my folly. The only thing that got me to stop was feeling the scab on my arm burst, bringing a warm flow of blood out onto my sleeve.
When the servant came in later he nearly dropped what he was carrying when he saw me sitting there. He put the tray on the table and left without turning his back to me once. I could smell something earthy and rich coming from the bowl on the tray. It took me a while to force myself to get up and investigate.
The bowl held a stew full of chunks of fish and bits of seaweed. I ventured a taste myself and found it relatively palatable, though it didn't have any flavor other than that of salt. Theon was still unconscious. I debated whether or not to try and wake him. The decision came to a head when his eyes briefly flickered open and he stared around the room in confusion. I took the bowl and sat next to him in the bed. He wasn't awake enough to protest as I tried to coax him to eat something, anything. He ate a few spoonfuls of broth and a bit of fish before slipping back into the darkness.
I wound up polishing off the rest of the plate. I threw it up a few moments later. Everything churned inside of me, making nothing feel quite right. The thought that this would be my existence for who knows how long loomed heavy in front of me. And there were no guarantees Theon would come back from this the same as when he'd left.
When Maester Quenton came back in the afternoon I took the opportunity to leave while he did the dressing change. He appeared to expect this. My feet took me to the one place here that I'd been able to find an escape from the sense that everything was wrong and it was all going to collapse in on us, taking everyone I knew and loved with it.
There were beaches near the castle. I'd seen them the few times that I'd ridden here. Waves splashed up against the craggy shore. If I closed my eyes I could pretend I was back on the lighthouse sitting down by the water with Theon. My worst moments had been on beaches like this, trying to drag him back into a life he didn't want to live. My best moments had been there too. Such as the day I was finally able to get him to smile the way he used to. I'd found a spiky seashell with a pattern I'd never seen before. For once he actually accepted my gift with some interest instead of staring at me like he had no idea what I was doing. He held it in his hands with a reverence that gave it more significance than it probably deserved. The shell took up an almost hallowed space on top of one of the cabinets in the cabin. I had a vague idea I'd try to find him another one.
While I was walking along the beach I realized that there was someone already there. A man was standing in the water up to his chest near the shore. He let the waves wash over him without opening his eyes or faltering. I realized he must have been one of the priests of the Drowned God and gave him space. I had no idea what form their worship took but I didn't want to get closer and find out they needed a human sacrifice. If he noticed me watching from the shore he gave no sign.
There was plenty of flotsam and jetsam strewn upon the beaches, but there was little in the way of seashells or items worthy of notice. I gave up the search as soon as it became clear I wasn't going to find anything. It hadn't all been for nothing. I'd been able to escape the oppressive feeling of hopelessness that being in the castle had given me. At least out here I could pretend that Theon was waiting in the cabin for me to bring back something we could eat for supper.
The priest was still in the water when I walked back. This time I thought I caught him looking at me. His robe was battered and worn and he was covered with seaweed. It had draped itself over his body and almost looked like tentacles in the water. There was something almost unearthly about him. I could feel his eyes watching me as I walked back up to the castle.
The next night the same thing happened again. I'd taken up my familiar position in the bed by the window without much hope of getting any sleep. At that point I wasn't sure I wanted to. My mind was whirling with possibilities and plans. It didn't feel like I could leave things up to chance. Every day had to be planned out carefully or else it would all fall apart.
When Theon started screaming I was ready. I jumped to my feet and ran across the room to him. This time there were words among the screams, garbled ones, but words all the same.
"I'm sorry!" he yelled, alternately grabbing hold of me and pushing me away. "I'm so sorry!" His eyes were so far away, maybe back in the dark where Ramsay had kept him so long ago. "Please stop! I'll do anything!"
I tried to hold him still, ignoring his cries and rubbing circles on his back until it felt like the worst of it had passed. I leaned against the wall behind me and let him rest his head in my lap. He'd wrapped his arms around my bad leg loosely. I ran my hand over his forehead. It was still hot to the touch. He barely reacted as I wiped the worst of the sweat off of him. "I'm sorry," he muttered one last time. I didn't respond. There was nothing to say-I didn't know what he was apologizing for or who he was apologizing to.
My hand went to his hair and gently ran through it, not caring that it was dirty. It reminded me of that night at the inn when he did the same for me. I hoped it would help keep him calm. It was the least I could do to keep him safe. I had no way to protect him from the war raging inside. All I could do was sit and wait.
I spent every day with Theon. His condition fluctuated between feverish rambling and unrestful sleep. I was not the best nursemaid, though I tried to do whatever I could to keep him comfortable. Cold compresses seemed to help for a time, but even with them he burned with fever. Half the time he had no idea who I was and seemed hellbent on fighting against anything I tried to do for him. It was hard to watch him like this. I didn't have the right temperament for any of it. It was a struggle not to take all of it personally. My only respite came when Maester Quenton would come to change Theon's dressings. Then I'd have a chance to go and escape for a while before jumping back into it again.
As I walked through the castle I heard muttered insults about Theon from everyone around me. From time to time I'd hear them whispering about me, but the insults they made up for me were never as biting as the ones they reserved for him. If it had been like this the entire time Theon had come back I couldn't blame him for trying to throw himself off one of the bridges.
If the castellan ever heard any of it he swiftly took care of the offender with a few nights in the cells. But he couldn't be everywhere and if there was one thing the Iron Born were good at it was being pleasant to someone's face while stabbing them in the back.
As there was no relief to be found in the castle I found myself drawn back to the sea shore. The sea and the shore reminded me of the lighthouse. There was nothing more that I wanted to do but go back there with Theon and slip back into the way things used to be. It wasn't the life I'd imagined I'd have when I was growing up, but at least there we'd been relatively safe up until now and it wasn't a constant struggle for survival.
When I went down to the water sometimes there were priests there. Sometimes there weren't. We had a tenuous unspoken agreement between ourselves. No one ever bothered me when I went out on the rocks.
I would take my boots off and roll my pant legs up before wading into the water. It was never any temperature other than freezing. The cold would swim up through my toes and settle in my bones. I could feel it spread out through my body before it painted itself over my old scars. In some ways it was like early winter mornings back at Winterfell. Those first few steps out of a warm bed onto the cold stone floor of my room had always been a struggle.
It was a way to let myself remember I was still alive.
Sometimes there would be storms and the seat would be choppy. I'd be pelted with rain and seaweed from the water. I never let that discourage me. The alternative to this was staying in a room that was increasingly smelling like death.
The other choice I had which I didn't take as often was going to the village. The first time I'd done it I'd managed to beg for a ride with one of the fishmongers who had an agreement with the palace for first pick of the day's catch. The fishmonger glared at me suspiciously before gesturing to the empty wagon. I settled into the back and tried to keep the contents of my stomach where they were on the rocky ride down to the town. He drove on like he was carrying fish back and forth, not a person who might have had preferences about how fast he was going. I managed to keep from throwing up by keeping my gaze firmly centered on the East Tower until it went out of view.
This far away from the castle I was struck with how foreboding and menacing it looked against the blue sky. Then again I really couldn't say that any castle looked welcoming for someone who wasn't wanted there. The Twins certainly hadn't been. I tried to think of fond memories of coming back to Winterfell. There would always be a stablehand to take the horse and then a servant to take you to the Great Hall where someone would always be waiting to make you feel welcome. Pyke was nothing like that. It had no reason to be.
I hadn't really had an opportunity to look around town much when I'd first come here before. The small glimpses I'd had of the inhabitants and their habits hadn't been very friendly. They weren't any friendlier as I came back down with the fishmonger. Once he'd pulled up to his stall he grew irritated that I hadn't hopped out once we'd reached the town limits. I pushed myself off of the back of the wagon and tried to get my bearings.
A few cargo ships had just docked and the port was alive with hundreds of people working to unload and load them. They formed human chains to pass bags of flour and bolts of cloth to and from the creaking hulls. I watched this for a while, in awe of their organizational skills. I was also watching to see which storehouses they didn't use, hoping that would give me a clue as to where the villagers were. As I narrowed my choices to ones that were further away from the center of port I started to make my way through the crowd.
The Iron Born weren't very happy to have a Northerner in their midst. I had to duck a few elbows and spat curses. I still had no idea what marked me as someone different than them that they could tell just by looking at me. I wasn't wearing my armor and I'd left my sword up at the castle. My clothing wasn't very nice anymore, it was just as ratty and salt soaked as theirs.
Finally I came to a storehouse that had a few guards standing out in front of it. They didn't appear to be paying all that much attention to any passers-by. When I went to open the door they didn't stop me. What I found when I went inside was much like what I'd found in the bowels of Yara's ship.
They'd set up crude pallets for each of the villagers to lie on and divided them off with pieces of sail. What I assumed was a mixture of ship's surgeons and townsfolk who were willing to help wandered in between these tending to the injured's needs. Carefully monitored lanterns were at a few key spots in the cavernous building. It was still too dark. The only audible sounds were moans and screams from the dead and dying. The smell of decay and dirt filled the whole storehouse, overpowering everything else. As I stepped further into the storehouse I passed a small pile of dead bodies. A quick glance gave me the momentary relief that none of them were anyone I knew.
The further I pressed in the more I realized that most of the villagers wouldn't be making the journey back to the island. Some of them were missing limbs or had serious wounds that would take more time to heal than they probably had here. Yara had taken them here to make them comfortable.
I didn't see the woman from the beach anywhere. Still it was hard to tell who anyone was in the dim light and with pieces of sail blowing this way and that. One of the men lying on a pallet reached out for me, his hand reaching out past the sail. When I looked at him most of his face was covered with a bandage. His other arm had been cut off at the elbow. The pieces of his face that I could see didn't look familiar to me. "Robb..." he said. It was only after I heard his voice that I recognized him as the blacksmith.
I hadn't realized how wonderful it was to hear someone say my name. I knelt down next to the man. He seemed to be happy to have the attention and caressed my hand like it was someone's who actually meant something to him. "I'm here," I said.
"We got those pirates good, didn't we?" he said hopefully.
"Yes, yes we did." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Yara's going to get the rest of them now. They won't bother us again."
"Good. It felt good to pick up an axe again. Thought I'd given that all up. But I guess the Drowned God didn't want me to die without taking our enemies with me." He closed the one eye that I could see in what I assumed was happiness. "I can't wait until I get to see him under the waves. I'm sure they've got such a feast prepared for us."
At that I let go of his hand. I was sure he was probably right, he was going to die. But the matter of fact way that he accepted it was foreign to me. No matter how benevolent and loving the Seven appeared I never had the illusion that they would rejoice to see me after I died. And Father's beliefs were even less sure. I'm sure the Old Ones would want to see me after I died but they wouldn't want me to hasten my travel there.
The man was beyond caring that I'd let go of his hand. He had slumped back to where he was lying and wasn't responsive anymore. I pulled the blanket up around him and walked through the rest of the storehouse. The woman from the beach wasn't here. Or if she had been she wasn't there anymore. I was struck with a twinge of regret. She'd been my companion at arms for a few days and I had failed her. I should have protected her no matter what. I would have liked to have seen her again, even if it was only her body so I could pay respects.
When I went outside it was later than I thought. Most of the crowd around the cargo ships was gone back to their own storehouses. The pubs around the outside of the port were full of drunken sailors. They spilled out onto the streets yelling at anyone who walked past. I'd hoped to get a ride back up to the castle with someone taking supplies there but it seemed like they had all already left.
I walked to the edge of town and looked at the long path up to the castle. A part of me would have liked to just stay at one of the inns in town and find a ride up to the castle later. But I couldn't do that to Theon. No matter how disoriented he was I knew that he would notice if I wasn't back by nightfall. I guessed if I headed out now I would be able to reach the castle gates before they closed for the night. My leg twitched in anticipation of the long climb.
As soon as I started to walk the road I started to regret it. The most walking I'd done recently was from the lighthouse to the village and while that was treacherous sometimes it didn't have the added bonus of random changes in elevation to complicate things. The road was uneven and rocky. I was never certain that if I put my foot down it would land on solid ground. It was far more likely it would land on a pebble that would slip down to the rocks and water below. Still I forced myself to go forward, ever forward.
I got there just in time to watch Theon's fever get worse again.
I didn't have much time to think about how bad my legs felt after I got back to the room and found Maester Quenton trying to calm Theon down through one of his fits. Theon was fighting against him with all he had, which wasn't much. His nightshirt was soaked with sweat and his eyes stared out without truly seeing.
I ran over to the bed. "Theon, calm down. You're okay," I said, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"I'm burning alive!" he screamed, pushing against me. "I'm sorry!' I grabbed hold of his arms while Maester Quenton took his legs and tried to get him settled back in bed. "I'm sorry, I should have never left you," he sobbed, closing his eyes.
I kept my grip firm and stopped listening. Over the past few days I'd lost count of how many times he'd apologized to me for leaving all those years ago. There was still a small part of me that rejoiced to hear that he realized how much of a mistake he'd made. But even that part would never have wanted him to suffer for it like this.
Eventually Theon weakened and stopped struggling against me. Maester Quenton slowly stepped back. I made a cold compress and put it on Theon's forehead. "Is he getting any better?" I asked.
The maester appeared to consider the answer to this for longer than I thought was necessary. "It's too early to tell," he said. "A lot of it is up to him."
Theon was still weakly trying to fight against me, but his arms had no strength and soon fell to the bed. The maester took this as his cue to leave, abandoning me to deal with whatever came next. I looked longingly at the bed underneath the window before I crawled into bed next to Theon. He slowly pressed up against me, his arms holding me close. It was stifling but I felt I had to endure it. At least he seemed to be calm.
Morning came. Real actual sunlight came in through the window. It bathed the bed I should have been sleeping in with light. The fire had gone out during the night. There were only faint embers in the fireplace. It didn't matter, there was enough warmth in the room for both of us.
Theon didn't feel as hot as he had before. At my touch his eyes slid half-open. It was hard to tell if they were twisted with fever. He slowly disentangled himself from me and rolled onto his back with difficulty. He closed his eyes. I shifted and he grimaced in pain. "Sorry," I said. He didn't respond. I'm sure he didn't have the energy.
I sat up as slowly as I could to avoid jostling the bed more than I had to. The servant came in a few minutes later and set a bowl of gruel and a new pitcher of water on the table. He had a broom with him and he made a little show of sweeping ash out from in front of the fire.
I watched him with little interest. If he was hoping to catch me and Theon talking about anything he would be disappointed. At this point there was nothing to talk about. Once the servant was done with his busywork he gave a short bow to the bed and left.
I'd been sitting on the edge of the bed and realized I would have to move at some point. "Do you want to eat anything?" I asked. The gruel was no different today. It was a thick paste that stuck to the ribs and gummed up teeth. I liked to give him the illusion of choice and let him think he could refuse to eat if he really wanted to.
Theon didn't react in a noticeable way. I took the bowl and held it in my lap. It was warm, but the heat was leaving it quickly. It was a long journey from the kitchens to the tower. I took an exploratory bite. It wasn't bad, though the texture ruined any redeeming qualities it might have had. I swallowed heavily and held the bowl out to him.
He eased himself into a sitting position with great difficulty. His hands shook with the stress of suppressing pain. His nightshirt hung awkwardly about his chest. When he saw me looking at it he clutched it close around his neck.
I took another spoonful. The texture was slowly making me want to vomit. Still I forced a smile on my face before I held the bowl out to him. Theon took the bowl with trepidation. He ate a few scant spoonfuls and then put the bowl down between us.
I opened my mouth to start to argue with him but I didn't feel like there was much point. "Maybe they'll have soup for dinner. I don't think they can make that as bad as this, do you?" He smiled politely but didn't say anything. I picked up the bowl and set it on the table next to the bed. "How are you feeling?" I asked him.
"Tired," was all he said. He rolled over on his side facing away from me and pulled the blanket up around himself so he was almost completely covered.
I'd dared to hope that this change in his health might lead to a return to the way things had been before. Instead he pulled away. Theon stopped talking to me. Any question I asked him was answered with a grunt or silence. He pulled away when I was close to him. He turned away from my gaze. When I was in the room he would flop over onto his side facing away from me. He pulled the blankets up around himself until he was completely covered. If I accidentally touched him he'd recoil as if he'd been burned.
I don't know if he was conscious of it. I wasn't sure if he was conscious of any of what had happened the last few days. For all I knew in his mind he was still lying in that ditch waiting for someone to find him. The knowledge that I had seen everything that he'd been hiding for years must have been a lot to take in all at once on top of being injured. Why else would he pull the blankets up around his neck and face the wall whenever I was in the room?
Now it felt like he purposely stayed up at night so he wouldn't fall asleep and have nightmares. I spent every night on the bed next to the window. The weather was getting cooler so often I wound up waking up freezing. Water spilled in through the window and onto my face during the night. Eventually I wound up sitting up in the corner covered by a blanket trying to stay as warm as I could.
I could have dealt with living here if he'd continued to act like I existed. If he didn't feel like talking that was fine, I could live with silence. If he didn't want me to touch him, that was fine, I could live with loneliness. But he seemed to be trying to give me unspoken permission to forget about him. I didn't want to think about how he would react if I told him I couldn't take any more of this and wanted to leave. I almost imagined I would see him slowly uncurl from around himself, revealing the person within that I hadn't seen in months. But the other alternative was worse, what if he told me to go? Then there would truly be no place to call my own.
I found myself completely alone with no one really to talk to. The servants avoided me because I was associated with Theon. The captains and sailors that congregated around the castle ignored me because I was of no consequence to them. If they knew what part I had played in fighting the pirates it obviously wasn't important enough for them to take any action. The only place I got any kind of human contact was down in the town with the injured villagers. They knew what I had done and I knew that I couldn't have done it without them. I would find a way to get a ride down to the town with one of the supply carts and leave and hopefully come back while Theon was having his dressings changed. There was one stablehand who eventually took pity on me the third time he had to let me in after I'd walked back to the castle from the village. As long as I slipped him a few of the coins Yara had left us before we left he'd find a horse capable of making the trek. A few times I wound up walking the horse back to the castle after it tired on the way home, but at least there was the option.
It was heart-breaking to watch the number of villagers who survived dwindle. Some of them got well enough to move around and walk out into the sunlight. But there was no talk of taking them back to the island. Talk in the pubs was that while Yara had sent supplies to rebuild everything was still far too damaged to even think about moving back there yet. I wondered if the cabin and our lighthouse were still standing. The pirates hadn't seemed very interested in either of them.
Every day became an exercise in endurance. Whenever the maester came in the room Theon would look at me like he wanted me to leave. He didn't say anything, which would have lessened the blow. It had been days since I'd heard him speak. I could have held out a lot longer if I at least knew that I had an ally. Now there was nothing.
I found myself returning to my old habit of writing to Sansa. There was little to do in the hours when Maester Quenton would tend to Theon and this was a way to escape all of what was happening to me at least for a little while. There weren't that many ravens on Pyke, let alone ravens who could make the long journey. I had to write letters and hope that they made it to their destination.
It took days to get a response. And when the first one came it made me feel even worse about my situation than I had before. While everything had changed for me in a negative way, everything for Sansa had changed for the better. One of the lords of the Riverlands had come to visit Winterfell and she'd fallen in love with him. They were going to get married and move to his keep. It was far away from everything and everyone who would want to hurt her. She sounded more optimistic about it than I thought she had in quite some time.
The rest of her letter was about me. She wanted me to come back to Winterfell, with or without Theon. She said we'd always be welcome there, that Bran and Rickon had even suggested it themselves. And if I didn't want to do that she would be honored if I would visit or even live with her and her new husband at their new keep. It was heart-warming that she still remembered me and wanted to have me around.
I even got a few letters from Rickon and Bran. They talked about what they'd been able to restore at the castle. Somehow part of Father's remains had finally turned up. The Silent Sisters had arrived after all these years with what had remained. He was finally laid to rest where he belonged. They'd both taken up most of Sansa's suggestions for rebuilding. Rickon included sketches of the improvements they'd made. Most of what had been destroyed in the fire had been rebuilt. They were also expanding, adding walls and towers around the village. It was impressive. Bran was taking over for his namesake. It only further impressed upon me that the place I'd once called home no longer existed.
A few days later I was walking back from the beach barefoot, my boots trailing from my hand. I'd stayed in the water so long I'd stopped feeling the cold, or much of anything. My feet slipped on the uneven rocks beneath them. A fine mist was in the air that soaked everything. My clothing clung to me in a soggy mess. I should have been more careful. I didn't have an extra set of clothes to change into. There was a piece of seaweed stuck to my shoulder. It dragged down my arm and brushed against my hand.
When I got to the courtyard there was a cart holding sailors who must have just come in to port. They were carrying what I assumed were the fruits of their labors, bits and pieces of treasures taken from far away lands. They must have been required to give part of it to Yara. Even though the Iron Islands had been forced to give up reaving as a lifestyle they must have been able to search out distant lands far outside the reach of the Iron Throne to subdue and plunder. There was another cart behind the first piled high with gold and silver, along with exotic fruits and cages holding live animals I'd never seen before.
The castellan was busy directing an army of servants in unloading the cart while the captain and the first mate watched suspiciously. A few other crew members milled around joking with soldiers from the castle.
I watched for a moment, waiting for an opportunity to sneak past them. There was no point in attracting any attention now. The less people noticed me the better. However one of the crew members noticed me and stared a while before nudging his friend. They started to walk toward me.
Inwardly I braced myself for whatever they had in mind. Strangers, in my experience, never had anything good to offer and often only had bad. It was hard to look intimidating while my clothes were soaked. I wished I hadn't left my sword up in the room. At this point I would have even been okay with the knife Yara had left for Theon.
"I didn't know there were any new priests," the man who'd noticed me first said, stepping closer. He hadn't had any time to wash off the remnants of his travels at sea. His shaggy hair and unkempt beard framed a face that appeared to be actively looking for ways to cause mischief. His friend followed, almost mirroring his movements. No one was paying any attention to us.
"There aren't," I said, finding a way to duck past him and head for the East Tower. He yelled something after me but at that point all I could hear was the rushing of blood in my ears. All it would have taken was something being thrown at me and I would have been back in the courtyard at the Twins fighting back as I was sewed back into a wolf skin.
Maester Quenton stopped me coming back into the room when he came by to check Theon's dressings the next day. Normally we did not speak to each other unless something had changed with Theon's condition. There was no need to. I'd gone back to the beach, hoping that it would settle my mind. It hadn't worked. Now all I wanted to do was sleep.
I looked down at the hand he'd placed on my arm. "There's a feast in the Great Hall today. One of the raiding parties brought back a big haul from the other side of the sea." The expression on his face was kind, so possibly he really didn't have any ulterior motives. "As a guest of House Greyjoy it would be expected that you attend."
"I don't think that's a good idea," I said. Eating by large groups of people always put me on edge. Ever since the war it seemed that common courtesy wasn't a guarantee. There was no need to expose myself to another situation I wasn't prepared for. "Theon..." But Theon had covered himself with a blanket and didn't appear to be paying any attention.
"I'll watch Theon," Maester Quenton said, gently guiding me to the doorway. "Go and enjoy yourself."
I still remembered the feast from when Sansa and I had first arrived here. No one had really taken any notice of us. While the other diners had been rowdy they hadn't let that escalate into anything against us. The part of me that still believed in the good in people wanted to think that this feast would be the same. Maybe I'd have to share a few war stories, but that would be it. If things got too uncomfortable I could leave. And it would be nice to not have to eat only liquids for once.
I took a seat at one of the lower tables with some of the older men. I hoped that they would be less likely to get caught up in whatever contests or pranks the younger sailors would get up to. None of them took any notice of me other than making space for me on the bench. I ate hunched over, my arms around my plate, hoping that I wouldn't attract any notice.
The man from the courtyard the day before slid onto the bench across from me. Some of what I assumed were his friends followed. He kept to himself and ate what he had on his plate with the normal amount of vigor. They ate with their elbows spread wide on the table, almost pinning me in place. I finished what I was eating but found I couldn't get up without bumping into one of them.
The man across from me looked up at me as if it was the first time he'd ever seen me. "It's my friend the priest who isn't a priest," he said loudly, pretending to be surprised. "I asked around, they said you're a guest from the North. Is that true?"
It took all I had to resist shrinking down in the bench in the hopes that no one would notice me. Everyone was staring at me. Right then it felt like their friendly demeanor could change in a moment. "Yes," I said after a long silence. I put my hands underneath the table. I wished I'd brought along the knife Yara had given Theon. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know who you are." In the scheme of things knowing who he was really didn't matter. At least if I knew his name I might have some sense of how important he actually was.
This seemed to delight and surprise him. I'm sure most of it was an act. "Lady Greyjoy didn't mention me? Names Ivar. Third mate on the Morbid Cry." He spat on the floor. "We used to be the best reaving ship in the fleet until she told us to stop. Now we have to make do with plundering lands across the sea."
I nodded politely and tried to get up. The men sitting around me had made an almost living barrier that I couldn't escape. I struggled for a moment before realizing I'd have to sit here and listen for a while longer.
"Anyway, I heard about you. They said you fought like a madman against those pirates." Ivar kept cutting the fish on his plate with his knife. I wasn't quite sure if I was supposed to respond. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" he asked.
"A knight at the castle where I grew up taught me," I said.
Ivar speared a particularly large piece and shoved it into his mouth. He pointed the knife at me. "They say you know Theon from before all of this." When I didn't respond he continued, a small smile curling his lips. "So a few of us were thinking about who he would know from that long ago that would still be alive. And who would actually want to come all the way here to see him again."
Instinct was telling me to get up and leave. No good could come from this conversation. No good but a lot of bad. Instead my legs felt like they were rooted to the floor. Even if I could have moved their bodies made a prison around me.
"You're one of the Starks, aren't you?" He continued smiling at me. "You're too old to be Bran or Rickon. And Jon Snow would be too busy to spend any time here on the Iron Islands."
I kept my hands underneath the table. Unconsciously I held onto my thighs. I hoped my face was as expressionless as a stone. I had no doubt he would pick up on any change and use them against me.
"They said that the one they all thought dead was really alive. Found him in one of Walder Frey's dungeons. By the time he got back home they'd taken away his title and his land. Now what was his name?" Ivar asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully. If he wanted me to provide it for him he would be disappointed.
"Robb, wasn't it?" one of his friends said. "One of my friends who went raiding with Yara saw the last bit of his rebellion. They were calling him the King in the North." At the words my throat felt like it swelled shut. The cloth around my neck was impossibly tight. Sweat ran down my face.
"That's you, isn't it? Robb Stark. King in the North." My mind was struggling not to give any sign that what he had said was true. My body wasn't strong enough to resist. I nodded before I could stop myself. Ivar gave me a toothy grin. "Makes sense that he'd be here with Theon. Failures have to stick together, don't they?"
I glared at him, the only thing keeping me from jumping up and attacking him was the knowledge that he'd probably win. I had no doubt his friends would jump in to help him. The older men at the table had slipped away while he was talking to me, leaving me alone with them.
Ivar took a big swig of his drink. "I didn't realize we were in the presence of royalty, did you?" he asked his friends. They all laughed obediently. He leaned closer. "Where's your crown? A king has to have a crown."
My mind filled with visions of the crown I'd had so long ago. Grey Wind's face superimposed itself over it, threatening to swallow me whole. Speech was beyond me. My mouth went dry. I don't even know what I would have said. It took all I had to push free from their bodies and get to my feet. I could hear their mocking laughter behind me.
Maester Quenton was gone and Theon was asleep by the time I got back to the room. I had to wonder if the maester had had some idea of what was going to happen. It only reinforced the idea that there was no one here I could count on for support if I fought back. There was always the chance they could turn on me. I would have to be more vigilant from now on. Right then all I wanted was told hold on to something that I knew. But when I touched Theon's shoulder he pulled away. Even in sleep he couldn't let things be the way they had been before.
I went back to my bed underneath the window and tried to calm down enough to get some sleep. Sleep was always elusive, so any chance I had to get more of it was welcome. I only hoped it would be a restful sleep. Of course it wasn't.
Grey Wind, it appeared, had not forgotten about me. He loomed above me, sitting on a pile of broken Greyjoy ships. He was massive, he was almost as large as a castle itself. For a moment I thought he had Father's eyes. When he spoke, he had Father's voice. It boomed and echoed, a pronouncement on high. "I told you they weren't your people. They were never going to accept you." He shifted, sending pieces of Greyjoy ships tumbling to the earth. I had to jump out of the way.
In my dreams I found the spirit to fight that I didn't have when awake. "They don't matter. Once Theon gets better we can go back to the village. It'll be back to the way it used to be," I protested. My voice wavered and all the strength was fighting to leave my body. Still I forced myself to stay standing. I knew if I wavered at all I would fall and he would devour me. "I love him."
Grey Wind smiled indulgently, as if I was a child. His mouth opened wide, baring what looked like thousands of sharp teeth. "He's not going to come back to you. Once he gets better he's going to send you away. And there's nowhere for you to go."
Once the fear was spoken out loud it was almost as if it had become true. I knew it wasn't true. I knew even if it was true there were a thousand places I could go. The only problem was I'd told myself all this before. And there were only so many times I could convince myself things would get better. Any fight I had left me and I sank to my knees. All I could hear was the sound of waves pounding against the shore. "What am I supposed to do?" I said. My voice was so quiet I barely even heard it.
"I'll show you," Grey Wind said. His voice was warm and kind. A massive paw reached out for me. With a delicacy I didn't know it possessed it took hold of the bit of fabric around my neck and pulled.