AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back pitches! Sorry, i just love pitch perfect and have always wanted to say that. Anyway... Hello my lovely, lovely readers! Gosh, have I missed you guys so much! Life has been crazy! Exams. Work. Placement. Sigh is life. But this story has always been playing in the back of my mind, and while the plot further down the road has been developing, thd more immediate storyline had given me a case of writer's block. I figured I had to step away from this story and distract myself... by planning other stories. *Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge* Teen Wolf fans.
In penance of making you wait so long, i give not only this chapter (from Theon's POV!) but I also promise the next chapter to be posted next week. However, after that updates will be restricted to once fortnightly or monthly (most likely monthly, depending on how my Uni work accumulates over the Semester).
Now before we get onto the story... reviews!
Masquerade Flower: I'm glad you're enjoying the interactions. I hate verbatim fanfics because then it feels like the OC really is just an extra. Repeating dilogue is fine, and works incredibly in some stories where they've added to the story while still keeping it canon but original. But running lines from the show bugs me. For this storyand any other fanfic I write, I tend to write around existing episodes or scenes to avoid verbatim as much as possible except where unavoidable as with major scenes. I hope you continue to enjoy.
Rainsfere: Tyrion will be careful. Tywin is watching him as is Cersei. He has some strange allegiance to Cat, more out of fondness and wanting to do the right thing by everyone rather than feeling obligated. How he uses Bronn... we'll have to wait and see.
Jean d'arc: Tyrion has the kingdom's best interests in heart. Saving Ned Stark is in the best interest. He will arrive in King's Landing while Ned is still alive. However with Cersei and Tywin suspicious of him (as per usual) releasibg Ned Stark is easier said than done. And it's not easy to be said either. Hope Joffrey's not around to hear about it.
Spicyrash: to kill Ned or not to kill... that is the question on everyone's mind. Let's just leave it at that. I will say this, Nadia will mess up. A lot. But she'll get some things right too. Why? Because she's human. She's only a twenty year old girl from Melbourne. Even knowing what she knows, she is not meant for the world of Game of Thrones and does not know how to handle the information, because she's not a god and the idea of fixing other people's lives scares her when she was still figuring out her own in our world. So yes mistakes are expected. Drastic ones. From her. From Robb. From Theon. From Cat and everyone else. Her choices alone do not dictate thestory line. As for the weight of her actions... one of my favourite quotes: "Anybody capable of love is capable of redemption."
Now onto the story...
THEON
Dragons. These soldiers, warriors are headed to war against the crown and yet they seem to be all in a tizzy over a something little more than a myth. Theon rolls his eyes at the childlike wonder with which the eldest Tallhart brother's eyes alight at the mention of the lost Targaryen princess and her dragonstone fossils. This is a point the ironborn stresses to the fair-haired Northerner, but Benfred seems not to care. If anything he looks accosted. "Come now, Greyjoy," Benfred begins, "You cannot say such whispers do not call unto your sense of adventure."
Theon scoffs, "Adventure? How is chasing fallacies an adventure?"
"It's no fallacy."
"Aye, it's true," Eion Blackwood agrees.
Theon shares a look with Silas and Arthur as if the three of them silently questioning why they had abandoned their post by Robb and his counselmen to ride along these idiots. 'Because these idiots are friends you've not seen in years.' Aye, that is a true, Theon is reminded. It's been – what? Two years since Bolton's wedding; that was last when most of the Northern bannermen feasted together. For Silas and Arthur, mere guards of Winterfell, it must have been longer since the old 'gang' (as Benfred likes to call them) had been all in one place. Save for the Glovers visiting Winterfell ten moons ago, yes it has been quite some time since this raucous group of young men had been acquainted.
The only two missing from their little party are the sons of Eddard Stark. Robb understandably must remain at the fore of their ensemble, but Jon… Theon cannot help but pity his old comrade. The ironborn and the bastard were never particularly close – Robb has been their common ground. But their roles in Winterfell had placed them in an exclusive group of outcasts. Like Theon, he had always been overlooked. Which meant more mischief was to be had with Jon than with Robb. Jon would always protest… at first. He had been quiet and brooding, never much fun to be around really; even with these friends today, Jon would be the silent figure in the background offering little for conversation but listening on intently with amusement alight in his eye; and when the bastard did offer his words, they were so trite and witty.
He'd assuredly have something to say about Benfred's eagerness for "real adventure".
Blackwood is still going on about the late Robert Baratheon's conspiring against the last of the Targaryens. Apparently the Beggar King met his fate at the hands of the very same barbarian that he'd sold his sister too. Perhaps the Targaryen Madness had not died with the Mad King.
"How can you even be sure that these tales are true?" Arthur Mollen questions from Silas' right.
"Merchant from Bravos passed through a tavern in town one night. Essos – the land of eternal sunshine. That is where the real fun is my friends."
"Fun is for boys," Theon spits. "We're riding a rebellion. So either shut it with your fantasies or turn home to your mothers' teats."
Benfred gasps mockingly. "When did Theon become the sourpuss? You compensating for the bastard or something?"
Theon kicks his leg out at Benfred, causing the blonde's steed to startle almost unsaddling it's rider. And much to everyone's delight, the eldest Tallhart son let out a rather undignified womanish squeal. There was no doubt in Theon's mind that this would be a point of jesting for days to come.
"Can't you act your age, honestly," Silas betates, shaking his head in thinly veiled amusement.
"Don't tell me," Theon nods over to the eldest Tallhart, "Tell them."
"How is the bastard anyway?" Eion calls across Benfred.
"His cock frozen off yet?" Benfred adds.
Theon assures them that Jon is well, cock and virginity still intact. Much like Theon, Benfred gawks at the notion that Jon hadn't taken the opportunity to bed a whore in Moletown. "If I knew I'd be going celibate for the rest of my days… well I'd cut my days short I think."
"Don't do that," Brandon tells his brother.
"Do what?"
"Think. You could hurt yourself." The jest earns another round of laughter at Benfred's expense.
"Spoken like a boy who has never fucked a woman in his life," Benfred replies.
"Not all of us are whores like you and Greyjoy." Both men share a look as if to ask what the problem is.
Sidling up to the young Tallhart, Theon says, "Well it's not too late for you Brandon. There's a whore in every town we pass."
"And if you play it smart, you could even convince a silent sister to scream for you," Benfred adds. His eyes seem to be boring into Theon's however. The ironborn quirks a brow at the challenge. Wouldn't that be a tale. A true battle: to tame a shrew.
Brandon scoffs at the pair of them. "Whores and women of the cloth? You couldn't aim much lower could you?"
Benfred replies, "Would you like me to aim higher, brother?" His grey ryes stray towards Theon, who returns it bemusedly. "Say… a certain ward of Winterfell?"
Theon cannot hide the disgust on his face. He knows it to be a joke, and yet the thought is simply so abominable, so crude even for him. "Fuck off, you perverse bastard," he spits at Benfred. "Keep your cock to yourself or I'll chop it off."
Benfred chuckled but shakes his head. "I suppose I should say I'm flattered, Greyjoy, that that was your first thought. But I'm afraid to say you are not who I'd implied."
Theon's face furrows with confusion, one which he notices is shared by Silas and Arthur. Who else… oh. His green eyes narrow in search of a familiar head of raven locks. He spots her in usual place, riding the back of a rickety wagon amongst bags and boxes of Winterfell's medical supplies; her head down, nose buried in the book she scribbles away in. Theon almost snorts at the amusing sight. The banshee has clear cratered a man's head with her screech and yet she still has a fear of riding horses. 'Not fear. Discomfort,' he can almost imagine her snarky voice correcting him.
"Forget about it," Theon says firmly, eyes still on her.
There's a brief silence before Benfred exclaims, "Is Theon in love?"
"I don't care for her you idiot. It's that she's Robb's ward."
"So? She's not actual nobility," Eion asks, not with spite but genuinely curious.
"She's the one who killed the assassin sent for Bran," Silas answers. Theon bites back a scowl at the soldier. This fact was no secret but neither was a public affair made of it.
The men in the group turn to look at the girl. Almost as if sensing their eyes, she glances up, face screwing with confusion. They all quickly return their gazes to the road ahead, except Theon and Silas who try to grin and wave away the curious look she throws them. From this distance, Theon can see her bite her lip with frustration. If he's lucky she'll forget about it. But he's learnt during their short acquaintance that she can sometimes be irritatingly stubborn like Robb to not let some matters go. Theon suppresses a shudder at the memory of her first few archery lessons.
"How in the seven hells did she manage that? I don't think she even comes up to my shoulder!" Benfred says. To be fair, Benfred could easily be confused for an Umber on height alone.
Theon rolls his eyes but catches Silas and Arthur's subtly perplexed expression. Seems even these guards find the story the Starks had fed to them, hard to swallow. "She turned his knife on him," he tells those unwitting.
"Right in his face," Arthur adds. "Didn't think a dagger could do such a thing. Looked like he took a hammer to the head. Valyrian steel I suppose."
"If you thought the he was a sight, you should have seen her. Drenched in his blood. I didn't think she could go that white… beneath all the red that is," Silas tells them. Theon suppresses yet another shudder, recalling Nadia confessing to himself and Robb how sometimes she can still taste the man's blood in her darkest times.
"Bloody hells," Eion breathes.
"Tough as nails," Benfred says after a few moments. "Just how I like my women."
Brandon scoffs at his brother. "I thought you preferred them to be mewling quims, on their backs and easily spread."
"Always up for a challenge."
"Like I said, Forget about it," Theon reiterates. "Robb's vowed her his protection in repayment of the near sacrifice."
"Not to mention the boys were rather fond of her," Silas adds, to which Theon nods. "Robb wouldn't appreciate you lusting after her."
Benfred smiles. "I get it now. Robbiekins likes the healer."
Brandon rolls his eyes. "Honestly, Ben, you're as bad as a gossiping hag."
"What?" the blonde shrugs in defense.
"It has nothing to do with affection. Robb feels he owes her a debt. He values her," Theon ends the conversation regarding the banshee. He sets his gaze on her again. A small voice in his head whispers, 'Not enough though… or perhaps he values her too much and won't admit it.'
His eyes then lift above her head, catching sight of a very familiar she-bear. "You know if you really wanted a challenge…"
The conversation continues with lewd detail but safely steering away from Robb's female ward – thankfully. He's not sure how his friend would react should he learn that the banshee is getting far more attention than any if them would be comfortable with. Attention leads to questions. Questions they don't have any goods answers for.
Somehow they manage to circle back to the topic of dragons.
"Imagine it though, if we had dragons, those cocky blonde cunts would be knocked right off their mighty pedestals. Who needs an army if you have a dragon?" Benfred says like a little boy playing soldier.
"Viserys Targaryen apparently," Eion replies.
"You recall the dragon eggs are fossils, do you not?" Theon has lost count of how many times he must remind these two knit wits of the extinction of all things magic. Each time he gets a clawing feeling at the back of his mind that tells him he is a hypocrite (and each time he'll sneak a glance at Nadia).
"Yes but… just imagine it."
"Imagine the dragonlords coming back to Westeros?" Brandon asks.
"I'd pay anything to see Tywin Lannister's face when that happens." Arthur chuckles.
"Yes because Westeros prospered under the Targaryen reign," Silas quipped.
"Like we are now?" Benfred argues. "First a Mad King. Then a drunken whoremonger of a King. And now a spoilt boy King."
"Aye, he's right," Eion says after a moment or two. "We've not had much luck with kings lately. At least Robert never demanded raised taxes on the North."
"No he simply squandered the Royal bank's attributions, bleeding the kingdom into a slow and painful debt," Silas adds scornfully.
Theon reckons it must be the Iron Throne. All those swords so uncomfortable it turns whoever sits their arse on it into a royal twat.
Hours pass by swiftly. Theon found himself passing between Robb and the old gang several times, at one pint all of them together. He is mightily grateful when dusk comes and their called to draw the tents. He was born of the sea, so there is only so much horseback riding he can tolerate.
He is even more grateful for the dornish wine Robb pours for him as they settle down in the Stark's tent. Just like he'd been doing since they set out, Robb is curled over the table, eyes going back and forth over the map. The scouts had returned not long ago, informing the counsel of the quiet hung over the Twins. No Lannister forces. And no Frey forces.
The old cunt still has not declared, his arms safely lounging away within his lands while the Tully's are caged in their own keep. Loyalties are such fragile things.
"What are you thinking?" Theon breaks the silence with a phrase that is becoming far too familiar on his tongue.
Robb's eyes flicker up to him, returning to the map all too quickly. "Walder Frey."
"He'll want recompense for an army and a bridge."
"I know."
"And he's got more children than he cares for."
"I know."
"Sansa. Arya. Bran. Rickon. Hells, you might have to legitimise Jon just to appease him."
"Jon's already said his vows," Robb says, brows crinkling with upset. Theon wouldn't have put it past Jon to try to run from the Wall to aid Robb. As much as the ironborn would have loved that, he's grateful for whatever divine intervention kept the bastard back. Can't have Robb chopping off his own brother's head because the law dictates it.
Theon takes another swig of the rich crimson liquid. Replacing his cup on the wood he squares Robb with a scrutinising look. "You think you could do it?"
"What?" He knows Robb knows what he's asking but is trying to prevent those actual words from being voiced.
"Marriage."
"Of course," Robb scoffs. "It was bound to happen eventually."
Theon hums, "True. But you must have hoped to marry for love."
Again Robb scoffs. "Love is a luxury. I've always known that my bride would be chosen for me."
Theon shoots him a pointed look. "I think we both know that your mother would have allowed you some choice in the arrangement, unless there was absolutely no bargain."
"Like now?" Robb shot back. "I'll marry one of Walder Frey's daughters if I have to."
Theon's face darkens with concern for his younger friend. "I know you would," he says after aa few moments of studying Robb's brooding figure. "You would do whatever your duty asks of you. Whatever it takes to save your father and your sisters. But when this is all over and done with, do you think you'd be happy?"
"What does it matter? I'm not the first to be put in this position, and I won't be the last. If I'm lucky, at least my bride and I can be amicable with one another."
Theon stares at his friend, feeling proud and saddened of the maturity he shows. Robb has always been polite, dutiful but just months ago he'd still very much been a boy.
Theon feels the corners of his lips pull upwards, his infamous sly smirk painting its way onto his features. "If you are truly lucky, the Frey girl may even be a looker."
"Is that all you care about?" Robb chastises, but he can't help the small grin.
"Makes fucking her a lot easier," Theon retorts into his cup. He hears Robb snort, no doubt rolling his eyes at the comment.
"Is sex really the only thing you can talk about," a raspy voice snarks from behind him. He turns to look at the woman; her arms crossed and hips cocked as she shoots him grin. "And here I thought you were smarter than you look. S'pose I was wrong."
Theon rolls his eyes at her. "You wouldn't have me any other way."
"Don't be so sure," she quips. Her grin falls, as does her arms and coy attitude as her dark eyes slide past him to Robb. The Stark seems indifferent by the exchange, face completely void of expression save for the tiniest hint of irritation which Theon knows stretches far deeper, anger well concealed but buried beneath the façade. "We need to talk," Nadia exhales, tension heavy in het voice.
"We have nothing to discuss," Robb turns away, silently dismissing her.
Nadia shares a look with Theon. He shrugs, silently telling her to get out while she can.
She ignores both messages and pushes past, nearing the Stark but still keeping her distance. "Actually we do," she insists. Robb is silent, so she continues. "You need to change course."
"What?" Robb turns on her, incredulity and mild frustration on his face.
"Change course. Head directly for Riverrun instead of crossing at the Twins."
Robb stares at her. "Are you crazy?"
"Probably, not the point. You can't go to Walder Frey," she replies smoothly, ignoring the crazy comment. In the past, Theon's known her to flinch at the words, recalling her sensitive mental state those first few weeks of her arrival. Now she breezes over it, though he's not ignorant of her fingers nervously drumming on her thighs. 'She must really be determined to have her say,' Theon thinks.
"Why not?" Theon asks. "He sided with the Lannisters?"
She looks at him, her gaze losing focus as she disappears into her mind again. Nadia's brows are furrowed, her lips wearing a small frown. "No?" she answers, though it sounds more like a question.
"Then what's the problem?" Robb demands.
"You'll have to marry one of his daughters." Both of them frown at her. "It's part of the toll. A bride for the bridge, among other things." They continue to frown at her. She glances between them. "Yaknow, 'cause he always asks for a toll to use the bridge."
"We know," Robb quips. "It's obvious what he'll ask for."
Nadia frowns this time. "So what's with the braindead expressions?" she asks as if Robb had not almost killed her just a month ago.
"We don't understand what your concern is?" Theon offers, seeing his friend's darkening features.
She states at him like he's an idiot. "The marriage pact! You're not actually considering it?" she says looking at Robb again, though judging by her expression she already knows the answer. "You can't!"
"Why not?"
That shut her up.
Robb raises a brow. "Well?" he huffs, his patience running thin.
"Be-because-"
"Because what?"
"Because he's not trustworthy," she replies in a small voice after a few moments of internal debate. "He-Ther-I just….don't think making a pact with him would be smart."
"Smarter than travelling an extra week to Riverrun sans the 4000 soldiers he could potentially give us?" Theon asks, raising a brow at her. She shoots him a dark glare, but honestly he defense is weak. If she wants to persuade Robb, especially with the Stark still angry at her, she needs to do better than this embarrassment of an argument. A small part of Theon feels bad for her. He can tell that this means something to her. Perhaps something more happened between herself and his friend during their walks in the glasshouse in the months before Ned Stark's arrest.
Nadia tears away from glaring at the ironborn, returning he attention to Robb. "You can't trust Walder Frey. He's bad news, Robb." Theon's brows raise in surprise. She'd been careful not to use his name when talking to Robb was unavoidable, recently.
"If his grandchild is the heir to the North, his alliance would be assured," Robb replies calmly.
Nadia's jaw drops comically, though Theon feels far from laughter.
"You can't be serious?" she breathes. Eyes wide she looks at Theon. "He's not serious?"
"I am." Robb answers for both of them.
"No! Robb, you can't. Trust me on thi-"
"Trust you?" he seethes, and the girl is forced to step back, falling in line with where Theon remains in his chair. "You've given me little reason to trust you."
"I am giving you plenty now."
Robb scoffs, shaking his head at her comment. "We cross at the Twins."
"Bu-"
"We cross at the Twins," Robb repeats, his voice low and deadly, silencing Nadia. He turns on her, pouring himself another goblet of wine.
Nadia watches him, while Theon watches the pair of them. After a moment, Robb turns back to her, raising his cup to his lips with a look as if to say, 'You're still here?'
The girl clenches her jaw. "For months you badgered me to use what I know to help you. Now that I do, you're telling me to fuck off? Fine." Nadia points her finger at Robb threateningly. "You wanna make a deal with the devil. Go ahead. Just don't expect me to raise your entitled ass outta perdition."
If the circumstances were lighter, Theon would be parading a smirk at her snark. But seeing the broiling temper in his friend'a eye, he can't help but grit his teeth, green eyes warily bouncing between his companions.
In the blink of an eye, Robb crosses the space between himself and the girl. The Stark grips her arm – painfully if her wince is anything to go by.
"You would do well to show me respect, girl." Robb hisses.
A brief look of fear flashes across her brown features before she swallows it down, a fiery glare overcasting them. "Respect? You know nothing of respect, boy." Theon notices Robb's grip tighten on her, but she shows no effect of it. "From the moment I got here, you've had me imprisoned, chained, starved for some of that time; you've insulted me, manhandled me and threatened me!" As if to prove a point she tugs at her arm, the one in his grasp. "I fucked up! I will most likely fuck up again. Because I'm a collateral fuck-up. But at least I'm trying to help you now."
Robb is silent a few moments before he speaks four words. "I don't trust you."
The tension is so thick, Theon reckons he could cut it with a knife. He's pretty sure Nadia and Robb have forgotten him. He's sure he's forgotten himself. It's only the sound of the drapes being pulled aside that draws his attention and his attentions alone to the newcomer.
"Milord I…" Silas trails off, clearly not expecting the standoff before him. The older man's eyes flicker to Theon carefully, a silent question in them. The ironborn merely shakes his head subtly. 'Don't ask,' he wordlessly tells the other man.
Silas crosses his hands behind his back, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. He coughs after a few moments.
"Sorry Silas," Nadia says, her dark eyes still boring into Robb's heatedly. "I was just leaving." She turns on her heel and storms out of the tent. If Theon's honest, he does stare at her sashaying hips a little too long. What? Just because he's not pursuing her doesn't mean he can't her admire her few assets.
He's pretty sure the wind carries her mutterances of "dickheads" and "dipshits".
He's also pretty sure he'll spend the next few hours getting an earful from Robb and how the boy loathes the girl. Honestly, Theon wishes they could fuck each other, get rid of all that tension even if it's not entirely sexual. He's not even sure if Nadia has a sexual bone in her body, despite having the crude demeanor of a sailor. The girl is positively green.
One last thing he is sure of, is he still has no idea who the devil is. It's on his mental checklist of things to clarify with her, just under enemas.