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

Music erupted all over the small village of Oxcross, and every Northern soldier and Ironborn was shouting and dancing, and Theon even recognized some of the songs the Ironborn men were chanting and shouting in the Hall. The Lannisters never stood a chance against them, thought Theon, and this was proof. The Ironborn were not soldiers, Cadenzsa had said. What did she know? They were ferocious warriors. They were mighty men, many of them far rougher than the Northerners would ever be. Theon was proud to have a good portion of the Iron Fleet at his behest, awaiting at Fair Isle for the next move. He'd taken a small battalion of men with him of five-hundred, as well as his crew from the Leviathan. More men came, of course, when battle came, but many were still waiting with his uncle Victarion at Fair Isle.

From what they had surmised so far, the plan was to keep Fair Isle as a colony of the Islands, and reave along the western coast, for it seemed the best. Fair Isle had fallen shockingly quickly against the Ironborn, and Theon had even sent the Fair Isle flag to his father. Robb had gone on a full-on invasion of Oxcross, and therefore was beginning to declare war on the Westerlands, the place of the Lannister's strength. It was an underhanded move, but Theon had suggested that they call Cadenzsa to make the call for the Iron Bank of Braavos to collect on their debts. From a raven from his mother, he had learned that Cadenzsa's uncle, Mercurio, was the one that could make it so Westeros was in economic ruin, and his brother, Cadenzsa's other uncle, Fiyero, had come to Pyke to become the Master of Coin to the Kingdom of the Iron Islands. And, apparently, Cadenzsa's Gran-mama had sent all of the necessary paperwork to make it all so. Cadenzsa was far wealthier than any Lannister, and her family could rule over Casterly Rock as another colony to the Iron Islands. The Forels of Casterly Rock, Lords of the Westerlands...he liked the sound of that, which was the sound of Cadenzsa getting her family back.

It had been a short three months since he and Cadenzsa were wedded, and every moment he wasn't with her, he thought of her. He wrote her when he could, but, in truth, he didn't write as often as he had said he would, mostly because he assumed that she was watching him with her magic mirrors. The strange thing was that she rarely wrote back. She had written him three letters in response to his dozen, and while Theon found it rather queer, he reckoned he ought not to stew over it too much. What could she really be doing there other than learning how to be an Iron Lady? Was that truly interesting in comparison to war? In truth, she had most-likely, and rightly, thought that her daily activities were too boring and unworthy of writing about. He was the one fighting the war.

This war was profitable, it was, though. In truth, Theon felt himself becoming more and more accustomed to his people, and his people seemed to be liking him more and more. The Ironborn did not have value in song or word, but rather in strength and in deeds. Theon liked it; Theon understood it. What good were words, anyway? Words are just sounds you can make with your mouth, said Cadenzsa once. Gods, he missed her. At night, he'd sometimes wank himself into a coma just thinking about her. Waking up without her, though, wasn't as queer as one might think. He was used to waking up alone. Though they were wedded now, and had been in love for nearly a year, they had only slept next to each other once, on their wedding night.

She was fine enough to sleep next to; he didn't notice her tossing or turning, and when he woke up, he was tangled up in her beautiful hair, all braids and curls. Theon loved her hair, for it reminded him of soft seaweed, and he imagined that it was what a mermaid's hair would be like. He woke up next to her, and saw her asleep, and he loved her, over and over again. He wanted to fall asleep next to her again, but he told himself that he'd see her as soon as he took King's Landing. Theon was going to sit on the Iron Throne, and Cadenzsa was going to be his Queen, and then he would leave the Five Kingdoms - Five, not Seven - in ruin, and then go back home to the Iron Islands, to sit on the Seastone Chair.

Robb was seated next to Theon, a bit sour-faced, and he didn't really like the thought of celebration, but Theon's Ironborn men were too rowdy, and Theon wasn't about to deprive his people of a celebratory romp. They were dancing and shouting, and making eyes at only the prettiest of Northern women. Had they taken Salt Wives? Theon didn't know, nor did he truly care. The laws of the Salt Wife were clear: you only took the prettiest ones, and you cared for them and provided for them; it's not like they were being raped and left to raise bastards on their own, were they? If things were different, he could think of a few pretty girls and whores he'd bedded in the past that might have been good enough to be his Salt Wives, but things were the way they were, and Theon only needed Cadenzsa.

"Smile, your Grace!" said Theon with a nudge to his friend's shoulder. "Yet another victory against the Lannisters."

"The Ironborn are more ferocious than I had heard," said Robb with an even tone. "Blood-thirsty axe-wielders."

"What of it?" Robb shrugged, quiet. "You're worried I can't control them?" japed Theon. "They're loyal to me, I know it. They fight for me. And they've all been itching for a good fight since the rebellion. And be grateful, for now we have the mines of the Crag, and we have taken Castamere, as well. It can be a stronghold for us, and for our cause." He snapped for his squire, Wex Pyke, to bring more wine, which he did.

"Ser Stevron Frey died," said Robb grimly.

"So did Ser Stafford Lannister," said Theon with a grin. "Let not Lord Frey grieve too long over his children. He's got a hundred of the little weasels around, and his daughter shall be a queen. Remember?"

"Kind Renly was murdered recently, too," said Robb. "An assassin came...what do you think Stannis Baratheon would do to us?"

"Be brave, Robb, you always were." And Theon squeezed his hand. Then there came a great bit of crashing, and a throng of Ironmen wearing the Greyjoy Krakken emblazoned on their shields came in, pounding the broadside of their axes against the metal of their chestplates. Theon and the Northmen all stood. He took a step forward as Robb put a hand in front of his mother to keep her behind him. Theon did not recognize these men, and feared that his sister had come to tear everything down. "Who are you to wear the Greyjoy's Krakken on your shields?"

"Take a wild guess," came a voice, and the men stood to attention, then parted to form lines on either side, and Theon's heart soared at the woman all clad in a gown of black silk with grey lace trim at the sleeves and collar.

"Cadenzsa!"

And then she laughed, and Theon launched himself over the table and into her arms. She laughed and he spun her around in his arms, and the air around him became sweet and fragrant from the jasmine in her hair. Her feet came to the ground and she pulled away and smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story," she confessed, " and I swear I will tell you, later. But first, let me see this King in the North."

He smiled and put her arm around his, their fingers twined. When he looked up, Robb's face was stone with combination of shock and happiness and confusion. Lady Stark's face was like stone, full of that sour disapproval, and Theon couldn't think of a happier moment to throw his head high and march up to the Northern King and the Queen-mother and bow in a grand fashion.

"Your Grace, Lady Stark, may I present my wife?"

Robb's smile grew. "Princess Cadenzsa," he greeted, carefully.

"Oh, piss on that, come down here and greet me properly!" The Ironborn laughed as the King in the North came to greet their Princess, their beloved Princess, and with a kiss on the cheek and arms wrapping around each other. Robb smiled and laughed over Cadenzsa's shoulder, and looked to Theon in disbelief. She then reached out and grasped Theon's hand, and looked between them with that pretty smile of hers, white pearls on gold sand, with pink flower petals as her lips. "Look at us, the three of us, the way it should be, together." Robb was smiling at her new voice. "I always hoped that we would be together." And then she looked up. "Lady Stark," she dipped low.

"Lady Greyjoy," she said. "You look well."

"Thank you," she said. "I am." She then cleared her throat and motioned for two knights to come forward. One of them was tall as a young tree, and thick as an old one. He didn't know if it was with fat or solid muscle he was so thick, and he had a beard of reddish-brown and teeth that could make keys. The second was slender with a pretty-enough face for a man. Theon frowned, for he did not ever remember there being Knights on the Iron Islands. "May I present Ser Claron Volmark of, well, Volmark, and Ser Tristifer Botley of Lordsport, Knights of the Jasmine Order."

"'Jasmine Order?'" repeated Theon in confusion.

"Absolutely!" said Cadenzsa. "An order of Knights that will swear themselves to selfless virtue, to divine hope. It was my idea. Ser Tristifer is my First Knight, for the many great things he's done for me on the Iron Islands...and Ser Claron saved my life from a shark while I was swimming. He dove off of his boat and beat the thing to death with his fists."

"A shark?" gasped Robb in shock.

"I wouldn't lie to you," said Cadenzsa. "But it doesn't matter, now. I see I have interrupted a celebratory feast."

"Join us, Princess," said Robb, leading her up to the table where they sat.

Cadenzsa turned to her battalion, and her two knights. "Join them! The Northerners are our allies! Be merry, Ironmen!"

"You heard Her Grace!" came the rough-and-boisterous voice of Ser Claron. "Let's be merry!"

"'Her Grace?'" asked Robb, pulling the chair out for the Princess, who gracefully sat.

"That reminds me-" she turned to Theon. "Your mother has decided that the Princes and Princesses of the Iron Islands should be addressed as 'Your Grace, and the Kings and Queens addressed as 'your Majesty.'" She raised her goblet as Theon poured her wine. "Your Grace," she addressed him, and he liked the sound of it. He came and kissed his Princess's hand, and she smiled.

"Princess," said Robb. "You look well, royalty suits you," he said. "I take it that you like it on the Iron Islands?"

"I love it," she said, sipping her wine. "Cold and wet and rainy...it reminds me of Braavos in the autumn."

"You never told me it was like Braavos," said Theon.

Cadenzsa turned to Theon and smiled in a manner most flirtatious. "Well, you never asked me, my sun and stars."

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he sat with her, and Robb, and they tried to ease the tension between the Starks and Greyjoys, but Robb couldn't help but ask Cadenzsa:

"Your Grace, what brings you to the battlefield?" He seemed to have no problem calling Cadenzsa 'your Grace', and Theon wasn't surprised, for who else had that regal air about them other than Cadenzsa Forel. She was the one, between the three of their Houses - Greyjoy, Stark, Forel, Krakken, Direwolf, Sea Turtle - that seemed most at-home with being royalty. Theon loved it, of course, but Cadenzsa was the one that was the true leader of the three. Cadenzsa threw her head back and commanded, Cadenzsa raised a sword and led, and Cadenzsa commanded a loyalty with both strong voice and gentle heart, which neither the Direwolf nor the Krakken could do.

"We'll talk about that later," she said. "I don't believe that now is the time nor place to discuss such matters. Now is a time for celebration."

"How can we celebrate when-?"

"Robb," she said gently, "We will discuss the matter before the night is up. But it is unhealthy to forget to celebrate life's small victories."

Much to Lady Stark's chagrin, the Ironborn began to dance and make merry. And so the Ironborn that had come with her began to sing, some songs he recognized, but then they began to sing a song Theon did not recognize, and yet every Ironborn on the island seemed to know. Even Cadenzsa knew it, and as she sang along, and when her knights pulled her up to dance with them, Theon slowly realized that this song was one that was written for her.

"Start wearing purple, wearing purple/
Start wearing purple for me now-
For the Iron and the Gold, they are melding, it's coming
It is just a matter of time/
So I say!
Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!
Start wearing purple for me now!
For the Iron Age and Golden Age, they are a-melding, it's coming!
It's just a matter of time-
Just watch the ships that are sailing, that are sailing
Across from the Summer Sea/
It is our Queen, you will see her, she is coming,
And a corpse for her you'll be, unless you
Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!
Start wearing purple, now, you should
For the Iron Age and Golden Age, they are a-melding, I swear it!
It's just a matter of time-
The jasmine flowers that she's wearing in her hair, they are falling/
And laying stones of white and blue/
For the Ironborn to march on, to spill blood/
When the Iron Price gets its due/
And how I know this, how I know this, I tell you
When the purple ships come to town/
There will be coin and cloak and all of them are made of gold
the Iron Queen will strike you down, unless you-
Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!
Start wearing purple for me now!
For the Iron and the Gold, they are a-melding, it's coming!
It's just a matter of time-
And so I tell you that the Queen of Swords, of Iron Swords/
There will be nobody left to bow/
Unless you start wearing purple, wearing purple/
That is how she will know how!
So! You! Must!-
Start wearing purple, wearing purple - tra-la-la-la-la!
Start wearing purple for me now!
For the Iron and the Gold, they are a-melding, it's coming!
It's just a matter of time!"

Theon hadn't realized what gifted song-writers the Ironborn were until then, and when he came up to dance with them, he realized just how merry they could be. It would have been horrifying, he was sure, to those who had feared the Ironborn for so many years, to see them dancing in such a way. Theon had been dragged up to join the dance, too, and he knew that Lady Stark's least favorite thing, as of late, was to see anyone having a good time. She was rather sour at him, of course, for proving her wrong in that his father was a trustworthy ally, and that he was now to be the one to handle all of the Northern King's negotiations. With this in mind, Theon was to leave, soon, to see about reforging the alliance with Stannis Baratheon. Perhaps he would even take his Princess with him, now that she was at his side, to warm his bed at night? Gods, the things he was going to do to her once he got her alone...

And once the feast was cleared a bit, and once everything calmed down, the royalty of the North and Iron Islands retired to Robb's tent, along with Greatjon Umber and Lady Stark, and several other of Robb's generals, and Cadenzsa's Knights.

"I suppose that the three of you are wondering why I'm here," she said, sitting. "Not you, though, Lord Umber, since you haven't a clue as to who I am."

"I've some clue, mi'Lady, if you are the Wild Sea Rose, we've heard about. In truth, I thought you were just a passing myth, mi'lady."

"You will kindly address the Princess of the Iron Islands as 'Your Grace,' Lord Umber," announced Ser Tristifer, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "And you should bow in her presence."

"Ser Tristifer, that's quite unnecessary," said Cadenzsa with a grin most royal. "Nobody needs to worship at my feet, yet." Theon bowed his head a little to smile.

"Your Grace, with respect, the Queen has instructed us to ensure that you are treated properly," said Ser Tristifer, who bent his knee to her, and his head.

"If we could get on with all of this pomp and circumstance, perhaps we could get something done about this whole thing?" said Robb's Uncle Blackfish, who looked rather annoyed.

"Of course, my Lord," said Cadenzsa. "I have some rather painful news, I'm afraid," she said. "Theon, I'm afraid that I have news in regard to your sister, Asha." Theon's heart stopped, and a lump in his throat grew. Cadenzsa stood and began to pace. "It's hard to say, you see, but Robb, you must send men North, to Winterfell. We have received news that Asha Greyjoy has taken Winterfell for her own."

"How?!" shouted Robb.

Cadenzsa shrugged. "I don't know. But you should get word soon of her demands, I expect. Word travels fast between the Ironborn. I had hoped that she wouldn't do anything like this but...she attacked Torrhen's Square, and while the men there were distracted, she traveled inland with a hundred men and took the castle. We received a raven at Fair Isle about it, and I came straight here to tell you."

"Why?!" demanded Robb. "What does she want?!"

"I don't know," said Cadenzsa.

"Does she want ransom? What of the boys? What of Bran and Rickon?" Lady Stark's voice was cracking, afraid.

"I do not know, Lady Stark," confessed the Princess, "but I think that she is too wise to want them dead. She knows that they are valuable, and I think that she knows that it is wiser to wait and keep them alive." Cadenzsa must have felt their eyes on her, for she faltered and leaned towards Theon.

"You'd best get up there, Greyjoy!" shouted Lord Umber. "Get up there and spank your sister's arse and tell her to go back home!"

"You would ask me to slay my own sister, Lord Umber?" Theon demanded. Why would she do this? Is she mad? Or perhaps just angry... 'Your other family', she'd called the Starks. Perhaps she was taking her own sweet revenge against Winterfell for keeping him captive all those years?

"The price of attacking the North, especially Winterfell, will be her head. Should you not do it, I will."

"Everyone please, let's be calm about this and be reasonable!" said Cadenzsa, holding her arms up. "She holds the North, but we still have a war to fight." She took Theon's hand. "Theon, my sun and stars, I have been instructed by your father to have you bring Asha back."

"I can't," insisted Theon. "I'm supposed to go and attempt to reforge the alliance with Stannis Baratheon tomorrow."

"We can't just let your sister sit in Winterfell," said Robb.

"So what can we do?" asked Lord Umber. "Sit on our thumbs til something comes up? Winterfell is the heart of the North."

"I think the first step is to figure out why she wanted it," said Cadenzsa, looking to Theon. "And the first step to that is you talking to her."

"We don't have time for that," replied the Ironborn Prince. "I have to ride east tomorrow and meet Stannis Baratheon. We have to get him to join our cause, so Winterfell will have to wait."

"Why?" asked Cadenzsa indignantly, throwing her hands up. "What does a Baratheon care of the Northern and Iron Islander independence? If he's anything like his brother, he'll want to rule Seven kingdoms, not Five. Power is like a box of sweets - once you have a taste, you want to eat the whole damn thing, no matter how sick it might make you."

"We'll outnumber the Lannisters two-to-one should we gain the support of Stannis Baratheon. Renly would have been ideal, but now that he's dead..." Robb sighed, and looked to his mother.

Cadenzsa gave a questioning glance. "Was it illness?"

"An assassination," said Lady Stark, who wrung her hands together quite tensely. "I saw it. I was there. His..." her voice shook a little before continuing. "I would tell you more, but I cannot. I just saw a shadow, creep into the tent, quick as the wind, and stab through his heart. And, though it may seem mad, it looked like Stannis Baratheon." Cadenzsa came closer as Lady Stark turned. "It was that Red Woman. I know it seems mad, but I know it was her. She kept on talking about the 'Lord's Chosen.'"

"Red woman?!" Cadenzsa gasped. "Do you mean...a priestess? Of R'hllor?"

Confused looks were exchanged. "Do you know of this woman, Princess?" asked Robb.

"Not of this woman, but perhaps of her sisters," she sighed, suddenly sounding a little afraid. "Lady Stark, what you saw was..." She paced a bit, as if suddenly quite nervous. Theon reached out and took her by the arm; she turned her head to him, and her eyebrows tilted, as if looking for some kind of assurance that things would turn out fine. Theon had rarely seen her afraid, but when he nodded her head to her, she continued. "Lady Stark, did this woman have a flaming heart sigil somewhere on her person?"

Lady Stark's face changed with shock. "Stannis Baratheon changed his personal coat of Arms to a stag in a flaming heart."

"Gods almighty, this is the last thing we needed!" bemoaned Cadenzsa.

"Well, stop moaning about it, and fucking tell us!" demanded the Blackfish.

"Hold your tongue at the Princess, Ser, or lose it!" barked Ser Claron, his hand on his axe.

"It's the priestess of R'hllor," said Cadenzsa. "R'hllor is known as the Lord of Light, the 'one true God.' He comes from the city of Asshai, by the Jade Sea. Their Priestesses engulf themselves in flames and read magic in smoke and...bend shadows to their will." Cadenzsa gulped. "It is a dark, evil, and terrible magic. They say that Fire is the purest way to die, and demand that their enemies be burned alive as sacrifices to their Red God. The Dothraki say that the people of Asshai are shadow-demons themselves." She went and sat, as if suddenly overwhelmed. "My mother always told me to stay away from them. Their God is no God, she said, but a Demon. Their followers are cultists that say that they are the Chosen ones to wipe out and purge the world of all non-believers of the Red God, and that all other Gods are demons and must be smited from this world."

"That's stupid," said Theon, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Stupid and dangerous," replied Cadenzsa, making sure to emphasize the word 'dangerous.' She sighed. "There's a Red Temple in Braavos. I snuck in once, when my mother wasn't looking...it was awful, like something out of a waking nightmare. Their magic, though, is real, and that's the worst part. It's granted to them by their Demon-God. Lady Stark, what you saw was most-likely some shadow-spawn of the Red Woman." She sighed and held her head. "'For the Night is long and full of Terror,'" she said. "That's what they say. 'Lord of Light, guide us.' They speak of a sword called Lightbringer, forged for a hundred days and a hundred nights by Azor Ahai, the Chosen Hero to bring light to the world, one that was tempered in the living soul and human heart of his own wife. Tell me, what kind of religion preaches of a hero that slays his own wife? The kind that worships a Demon, that's what!"

"So, wait," said Robb, "how can we stop it?"

"You can't stop a God," replied Cadenzsa. "Or a demon. They have no bodies, no blood, and cannot be killed."

"But priestesses can be," said Theon.

"I don't want you going there," said his Princess, her tone stern. "I don't want you negotiating with that demon around. Especially when your sister holds Winterfell under the Greyjoy name."

"We must repair the bonds between House Baratheon and Stark," said Robb, sitting and looking at his maps. "This war is more than just about revenge, now." It's true, thought Theon. This is about justice. The Lannisters must be brought to justice. "My father is dead. And I will not stop until I kill them all. Stannis must be brought to our cause. He is the King, by right, since Robert Baratheon has no sons."

Greatjon Umber snorted. "Robert Baratheon has sons and daughters all over the Seven Kingdoms-"

"-Five Kingdoms," said Theon.

"If Robert Baratheon has bastards," began Cadenzsa, "doesn't that mean that they have a claim to the Iron Throne? Why don't we just find one of them and say that they're the rightful King?"

"That's not how it works," chided Theon to his naive little wife. "No bastard has a real claim to lands or titles."

"Unless a King decrees him a Trueborn," said Robb quietly. "Unless a King legitimizes him, by royal decree." And Robb slowly stood, his eyes glancing around at the maps of the Realm. "A bastard may inherit if there are no other trueborn children." The young wolf looked up. "I, as the King, could proclaim any one of Robert Baratheon's bastards as the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. But how do we find Robert Baratheon's bastards?"

"Do you truly mean to find one of Robert Baratheon's bastards and make him a legitimate heir to the Five Kingdoms?" gasped Lady Stark.

"If blood is all it really takes to make a claim to a Throne in Westeros, then why not? One cannot change their bloodlines," asked Cadenzsa, thumbing one of her braids.

"That may be fine for you, in Essos, but in Westeros, we are civilized," snapped Lady Stark suddenly.

"Oh yes, I agree. You know, one can really tell a culture's values by how they wed. Deciding the marital fates of those that hadn't ever met, wedding ancient old Lords to frightened little maids, the 'First Night' custom, the Westerosi 'bedding ceremony'...very, very civilized, indeed" japed Cadenzsa.

"Ladies, please, if we war amongst each other, then what chance to we have against the Lannisters?" asked Robb, who then came between his mother and Theon's wife. Theon came and put his arm around Cadenzsa and kissed her forehead. She was too tall for him to do it without reaching a little.

"If one of Robert Baratheon's bastards are proclaimed, what good will that really do? A lowborn bastard has no family, no army, no money. Stannis Baratheon is the better choice." Robb looked down, then to his mother, then nodded lowly and shrugged his shoulders.

"What of Winterfell?" asked the young wolf.

"I'll send a raven to her tonight, asking why she did what she did." Theon knew why she did what she did, though. Women were irrational creatures, and Asha had always been blessed with a terrible temper, much like the rest of the Greyjoys of Pyke. "If worse comes to worst, I'll go," said Theon, "But I think it unwise to proceed without something further mapped out. It is wiser to have a plan. And, right now, Stannis Baratheon is the plan." He felt Cadenzsa's eyes on him. Were she no Princess, she would have given him quite the earful. But Westeros had gotten to her, now, and his little foreign beauty had become something of a Lady, here. They had gowned her and jeweled her, and it seemed to have sunk into her skin, instead of the boiled leather trousers and Dancing gloves of fine suede. She might have even spat in his face if she hadn't been tamed not to. He wasn't sure how much he liked it. She leaned against him, defeated, seeming tired suddenly. "Let's all get some rest. We'll all feel more clear-headed in the morning. Come, my Princess." And Cadenzsa sighed and leaned into him as they walked together. Theon heard Robb and his mother and the Umbers talk, still, but he eventually heard their heavy footsteps follow out behind.

Cadenzsa held her head a little, and then brushed her long curls back. On her brow, Theon saw her crown, a thin circlet of iron with a single, impeccable, round black diamond in the center. She wore a crown well, he thought, but when she was queen she would get a much better crown. He then remembered that he still had her crown, that golden crown of starfish and sandcoins and diamonds. He had it in his sailor bag, where nobody would see it or try to steal it. He still had that Phial, too, which he kept in his pocket. He hadn't used any, yet.

They reached Theon's tent, and he opened the flap for her. It wasn't fit for the two of them, necessarily, but it would do for tonight. The bed was large enough, and had fresh linens just the same. Theon liked being wealthy, and fresh linens were afforded well for the Greyjoys now. She immediately went and laid down, kicking off her pretty black shoes and sighing. She turned over as Theon smirked to himself, removing his gloves and Wex coming in to remove his armor.

"Long journey, my Princess?" he japed. He turned to Wex. "Once you're done with me, see to it that the Princess's attendants are taken well care of before you go to sleep." The boy nodded silently and lifted Theon's chainmail over his head. The roughspun coats, the blue boiled linens...Theon had forgotten how much he liked the clothes of the Ironborn. He was stripped down to his tunic and breeches when he bent to take off his boots. He then poured some water from a pitcher and soaked a rag, washing off the back of his neck. "Are you alive, sweetling?"

Cadenzsa grumbled wordlessly, pulling a pillow over her head. "Just tired. And a priestess of R'hllor..."

"Think nothing of it. She's probably just a woman."

Theon smiled and gave a laugh as he stripped his tunic off and tossed it over a nearby chair's back. He came and crawled next to her, laid down behind her. He kissed the back of her head, inhaling the wonderful scent of jasmine from her hair. His hands ran over her firm curves, her strong arms. He kissed her cheek and nipped at her earlobe, and then grinded his hips up against her taut arse.

"I must tell you, sweet love," he whispered in her ear, his hand wandering over her throat, and reaching down into her gown to cup her breast. "I'm still a little drunk. It's going to take me awhile, tonight." And when he felt her firm flesh, and frowned. He gave her tit another gentle squeeze; it felt different, swollen, full. "Are your tits getting bigger?"

Cadenzsa then smiled, a reserved, secret kind of smile; it was the kind of smile that you smiled when somebody was about to discover a prank you had just pulled on them, and you were trying not to laugh and give yourself away. "I don't know. You tell me." And she cupped her hand over his and squeezed it into her full breasts.

"I've got to have you now, or I'm going to die..." he moaned, and sank his teeth into the flesh of her neck. She giggled shyly and turned over to face him, meeting his lips with hers. He loved her lips, and he loved her tongue, especially when it was soaked with wine. He brought her closer and peeled away her gown, and let his hands wander over the curves of her hips and her small belly.

Wait. Small belly? Not flat belly? Theon pulled away and looked down at his half-naked wife. Her normally softly-defined muscles seemed...softer.

"Are you getting fat?" he asked, confused.

Cadenzsa guffawed. "I'm pregnant, you idiot." Theon's heart stopped in his throat. He waited for her to break into a laugh, to tell him it was all a silly jape. But her eyes were stone-cold serious. A smile began to form on Theon's lips.

"Truly?" he heard himself say.

She smiled, and then nodded. "I haven't bled since our wedding night, which was three months ago. This will make it four." Their fingers laced together. "This was another reason I wanted to come here to talk to you. I didn't want to just write 'Dear Theon, I'm pregnant, signed, Cadenzsa.'"

A thousand thoughts began racing through Theon's head all at once. He sat up on the bed and looked away, not really focusing on anything, but just looking. He then laughed a short breath in disbelief. "I can't believe it," he said. "It's really happening. My life is really happening." He didn't mean to say that last part out loud, but he did. And then he turned around to see his Cadenzsa, his beautiful Cadenzsa, sitting up on her elbows and smiling. "You..." He said. "You..."

"Yes, 'I, I,'" she japed playfully with a pinch on his arm. "Who else would be carrying your child?"

I don't want to think about that... "Only you, sweetling. Only you." And he kissed her. She smiled and laughed. "And now you carry the heir to Pyke and the Kingdom of the Iron Islands. You have a little Prince inside you."

A beat. "Or Princess," she said.

She wants a girl, he thought, even though the Mirror said it would be a boy. Well, he thought, let her have her fantasies. "Or Princess," he said. "She'll be pretty, like you."

"And you'll love her just the same, even if she is a girl? And you'll raise her to be the heir to the Iron Islands, even if she is a girl?"

Theon blinked. "What, now?"

"No matter how many children we have, this is our Firstborn. And the Firstborn should be the heir. Girl or boy."

"That's not how it works."

"Why?!" Theon felt Cadenzsa's anger flare. "You think men are better than women? Name a man better at the sword than I! Name a man braver than I! I am a woman and I am twice the warrior of any man you have! And I'm growing a person inside of me! I'm growing teeth and toes and lungs right now as we speak!"

"Alright, alright!" soothed Theon, his hand over her small belly. "Hush, sweetling, we don't want you getting too worked up in your condition."

"'Condition?' 'Condition?!'" she screeched. "You planted that seed! And you'll be happy with whatever I give you!"

"Cadenzsa, please!" He held onto her hands. Her eyes were wild, angry, faintly arousing. But she was to be his queen, and though the Mirror said they would have a boy, Cadenzsa seemed to have her heart set on a girl. It didn't matter, of course, what she wanted. They were having a boy; Theon felt it. But if her heart would rest easier this way, he'd say what he needed to say. He wrapped his arms tight around her and kissed her neck. "If it means that much to you, our Firstborn will be the heir. Alright?"

"You swear?" he heard her whisper.

"I swear," he lied.

"Would you put it in writing? Make it a royal decree when you are king?"

Dangerous, he thought, very dangerous. But he wouldn't be king for at least a few years. And they could address it again later. But Cadenzsa wouldn't ever let him live it down were he not to do it. Cadenzsa was a dangerous woman, a formidable woman. Perhaps if their daughter were something like her, it wouldn't be so bad. "If it means that much to you," he said, "we'll cross that bridge when it comes. But we have to win a war first."

"I'm going with you," she then announced as she pulled away. "I'm coming with you to speak with Stannis Baratheon. I need to speak to this woman myself. I need to see her."

"Does she have magic like your mother?"

Cadenzsa glanced away for a moment, then shook her head. "The Dothraki fear the Red Priests and Priestesses. I don't know if my magic can surpass hers. But I need to see what it is."

"I don't like the thought of you riding," he said.

"Dothraki women have been giving birth since long before our time, and they ride every day up until the day of birth when they're fat with child. It can't be that dangerous."

"Are you Dothraki or Bravosi? Pick one."

"I can be both," insisted Cadenzsa. Theon sighed through his nose. There was no use arguing with her, and he couldn't think of any safer place for her than by his side. She was, indeed, a formidable and capable warrior, the most-terrifying of which he might have ever seen, and yet he'd only seen her fight once. That day in the Wolfswood she was like a wild animal, ferocious and precise, quick as a snake. She could be both, if she wanted to be, he supposed. He ran his fingers through her long black hair.

"I do all the talking," he began, "and I say when you come with me or stay in the tent." She frowned, rather annoyed, but she nodded in understanding. "It's because I care for you, sweet love. I swear it."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry about my bad temper."

"It's part of what I like about you. You don't take shit from anybody."

"I'm a Greyjoy," she said with a rather sweet grin. "Greyjoys don't take shit from anybody." Theon laughed, and stood, and pulled her up to stand with him. He knelt down and pulled her pretty silk dress down over her hips, so it fell at her naked feet. He stood up and kissed her full lips, and felt her body pressing hard against his. He kissed his way down her neck, the space between her full breasts, down over her belly and lower still to eat away at the curly black hair at her cunt, all briney and earthy and irresistible. "Oh, Theon," he heard her sigh. He smiled between her legs, and squeezed her tight ass, feeling her lovely black hair tickle at is knuckles.

"I've missed you so much," he said, quickly standing and sweeping her into his arms. She squealed and laughed when he did, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist when he tossed her on her back. "Gods, I'm going to fuck you raw..." Cadenzsa sat up and put her hands on his stomach.

"Wait," she whispered seductively. And she kissed down his chest, and ran her tongue down past his naval, and down further to the laces on his breeches. She then twined her fingers with his and began unlacing the ties with her tongue and teeth.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" gasped Theon in elated disbelief, his cock throbbing at the thought of her perfect lips.

"With his Grace's permission?" she purred, batting her eyes.

"Granted!"

She curled her tongue and brought his throbbing hard cock into her mouth, just as sweet as her cunt, and sucked hard. He held tight onto her hands and threw his head back with a deep and long moan. It felt so good that, were she not cleverly holding onto his hands, he might have taken her head and thrusted into it. She was too smart, almost, but Theon didn't mind it so much. A queen should be smart. A queen should be clever and strong. A queen should suck her king's cock with the kind of vigor that she was doing it with now. He came in a great rush much more quickly than he had anticipated to, but she swallowed nonetheless, and was well enough with the whole thing. He collapsed next to her on the bed.

"Give me but a moment, my love," he said, breathless, "and I shall return the favor." Cadenzsa laughed and ran her fingers through his thick hair. He did, of course, because he was a man of his word, but not after a long moment of staring at her gorgeous face. Then, he took one of the pillows off their bed and dropped it on the floor to rest his knees on. He spread her perfect legs wide and sucked and licked and tasted her delicious cunt for as long as it took until his face felt numb. He fondled and pleasured her with his fingers after that, and then they fucked until he felt the dawn beginning to rise on the skin on his back. Both of them were slick with sweat, and cum, and the best part about all of it was that the Starks were nearby, and they could hear them, and there was nothing they could do about it. She screamed his name over and over again, 'Theon! Theon! Theon!' They could be as loud as they wanted, for Cadenzsa was his wife, and he was her husband, and he could take her whenever he wanted. Or she wanted. Her appetite seemed just as great as his on many occasions.

After a short two hours of sleep(it couldn't have been more than that), Cadenzsa's envoy was packed up with Theon's, making a rather sizable bunch of one hundred men. Her Knights were among them, as well as Cadenzsa's handmaidens (when Theon asked if she had to bring them, she had said 'Well, somebody has to dress me') and the crew from the Krakken's Kiss, one of the fastest ships in the Iron Fleet. It was fitting for her, for her kisses were most memorable indeed, and she was a Krakken, now, too.

"Has Stannis even agreedto meet with you after everything?" asked Cadenzsa as they rode over the early morning light, far east toward Strom's End.

"He has agreed to meet with us at Grassy Vale, the seat of House Meadows. It sits on the border of the Stormlands," answered Theon.

"What are you going to tell them? Will you grovel at his feet if you have to?"

Theon shrugged his shoulders, hearing the soft grind of the chainmail under his clothes. "I don't think I'll have to grovel. We need Stannis' support for our independence. In exchange for marching on King's Landing with him, and my father's ships, he acknowledges our independence. It's a fair exchange."

"What if he doesn't want to?" she asked. "I hear that Stannis Baratheon is one of the most stubborn men in all of creation."

"He is," answered Theon, who then reached into his pocket and held up the little golden phial that Cadenzsa had given to him, the one that held a power greater than any he had ever known. "Which is why I am going to use this."

Phew! That one was a doozie!

I wrote a song(kinda), and now Asha's sieged Winterfell. Who knows what will happen next? I DO! MWAHAHAHA!

Speaking of siegeing Winterfell? I want to clarify a few things:

The thing about fate is that you can't escape it. The Gods weave fates the way they do, because somebody has to play a part. Just because a person decides to change their fate, doesn't mean that this particular act in the play must go undone. There must be an understudy. Winterfell is destined to be doomed, and that's the scary/wonderful thing about tragedies: the Hero dies, but the story lives on forever. Speaking of Heroes, will I be killing off people? Yes. Yes I will. Because it HAS to happen. Remember, kids, the ONLY difference between my world and the George R.R. Martin-verse is that CADENZSA FOREL EXISTS. The Gods are still unjust, and the Lords are still dicks. But Cadenzsa's mirrors and her new magic is going to see that just because she changes the fate of one, doesn't mean that it will all be alright. She's basically disturbing the WHOLE UNIVERSE, and that cannot be good. Because she erases one death, another will still be in its place. Who will I kill? I DON'T KNOW YET. Wait...yes I do. :3

Oh, and to clarify a few things from the previous chapter: Cadenzsa does NOT follow the Seven, Aeron just assumed she did because she didn't say that she DIDN'T follow the Seven, and she's also Essosi and he assumes her to be one of the descendants of the Andals. Cadenzsa doesn't actually hold ANY Gods, really. She believes in the God of Death and, somewhat, of the Gods of her mother's Dothraki heritage. But she's not really religious. She's also just too polite to say "Hey, you're wrong, I don't believe in the Seven, I'm an Athiest" to her new family, which she's really uneasy with to begin with. But, if you were all curious, she was baptized at the Temple of the Moonsingers in Braavos, which is the religion that her family has historically followed. But more on that later.

Stay tuned! It gets REALLY FUCKED UP FROM HERE ON OUT! :D

Also, thank you SO MUCH for your continued reading and support! It really does mean a lot to me! R&R!