THEON

His father was dead. At least that was what the red woman had said. Uncle Euron had him assassinated to usurp his throne. To usurp my throne. Theon was angry about the latter, and disgusted by his uncle's act of kinslaying, but he didn't know how he felt about his father being dead. He had not seen his father, or his mother, or his sister, or anyone else from his childhood for a dozen years. Theon tried to remember what his father had been like. He found that he had few memories of him at all. Balon Greyjoy had largely ignored his youngest son while he was a child. He remembered his sister only as pimply and awkward. His mother though—he had fond memories of his mother. She had loved him as much as she had loved the mighty warriors Maron and Rodrik. I must see her.

Theon remembered the terror he'd felt when Robert Baratheon's forces had attacked his home. Father and everyone else on Pyke had all said that the new king was weak and lacked the unified support necessary to defeat the ironborn, nor did he have any dragons. But they were all wrong, the ironborn were humiliated and Theon's own home, the seat of House Greyjoy, was assaulted with siege engines that shattered the main watchtower and brought down part of the surrounding wall. Theon recalled how terrified he had been that he would be killed in the attack, that his mother would be killed, that his home would be reduced to rubble. In the end none of those things happened. Maron was killed in the siege, and Rodrik before him was slain at Seagard, but Theon did not mourn either of them, as they had always been cruel to him. Now I am the last son, he'd thought to himself, now Father must pay attention to me, for I will be his heir. But that didn't happen; Balon Greyjoy had been mute with rage and grief while he signed the treaty surrendering to Robert Baratheon, and, most humiliatingly of all, bent the knee to him. Theon remembered his shock that his father was actually defeated. Everyone had always said what a great and a fearless warrior Father was, and Uncle Euron and Uncle Victarion as well. Yet here was his proud father bending the knee and swearing fealty to this king from the soft green lands. At least, everyone had always said the mainlanders were soft, but Theon saw nothing soft about the huge black-haired king with his mighty warhammer or the stern-faced Lord of Winterfell with his Valyrian greatsword. Robert wasn't fat yet. But the shock Theon felt at his father's defeat was nothing compared to the next one. He, Theon, was to leave his home and become a ward of Lord Eddard Stark at Winterfell, hundreds of leagues from the open sea. His mother had tried to maintain her dignity as she tearfully kissed him goodbye but his father wouldn't even look at him.

"Theon," Robb said, "I know you must be numb with grief and shock at this vile news of your uncle." Nothing Uncle Euron does could shock me, and how can I grieve for a stranger? Instead of saying what he thought out loud, Theon simply muttered,

"Yes."

"Theon, we both know why you were sent to Winterfell to become a ward of House Stark. It was as a hostage to deter your lord father from rebelling again against the Iron Throne." Not just the Iron Throne. Even after you were at war with the Iron Throne you still kept me.

"The whole time I have been a hostage, you never said that to my face. Come to think of it, the first and last time your lord father called me a hostage to my face was when we left Pyke for Winterfell. Not that I was ever in any danger of forgetting. A man cannot forget a noose around his neck."

Robb looked discomfited. Good. "The situation could have been avoided had your lord father not broken House Greyjoy's oath of fealty to the Iron Throne and attacked the mainland without provocation, as the ironborn have been doing since time immemorial."

"I was a child," Theon said bitterly. "I had attacked no one. Yet every day I lived in fear that if my lord father rebelled again, your father, who everyone said was my foster-father but was really my gaoler, would have removed my head with one stroke of his Valyrian greatsword." Robb looked even more discomfited. He bloody well ought to be. "As soon as I left Pyke I started having nightmares about your father beheading me. Every night. The nightmares eventually became less frequent, but they never went away. How could they?" Theon could hear his voice trembling. He had never said any of this out loud to anyone, much less to Robb.

"Theon, nothing I do can make up for what you suffered, even if it was a necessary evil to protect the lives of the mainlanders."

"If keeping me hostage was a 'necessary' evil, than so is the Old Way of the ironborn," Theon said. "The Iron Islands have neither fertile land nor grazing pastures nor forests nor gold nor silver. If we did not raid and reave we would starve."

"That's the problem I mean to solve with you," Robb said.

Theon had not expected that. "And how are you going to do that?"

"Old Lady Whent of Harrenhal has died without any heirs. If you will swear fealty to me, I will grant you and your heirs Harrenhal with all of its lands and incomes." Harrenhal's lands and incomes were considerable, but so was its history of bad luck, starting with the ironborn king who had built it only to be roasted alive in it by dragons.

"That is a generous offer, but only to me. What good will it do the people of the Iron Islands?"

"The North, the Riverlands and the Westerlands have lost thousands upon thousands of lives in the war. In order to survive we need farmers to till the soil, grazers to pasture livestock, artisans, warriors, and, in King Kevan's case, miners. There is room for many thousands of ironborn smallfolk to resettle ravaged and depopulated lands. Farmers would find fertile land, grazers would find green pastures, and miners could mine gold and silver instead of iron."

It was an astonishing proposition. "The smallfolk of the Iron Islands might like that, but what of the raiders and reavers?"

"Once Euron and those loyal to him are executed, the rest of the Iron Fleet will be allowed to swear fealty to the Targaryens and sail with them on their quest to Valyria, where they will find riches beyond their wildest dreams. The Targaryens and their dragons will fly to Pyke and I want you to go with them to make the proposition to your own people. I am not ordering you as a king; I am asking you as a friend. Because despite the unhappy circumstances in which you came to Winterfell, you have always been a true friend to me and I hope I have been to you." It was true. Robb was the only real brother Theon had ever had.

"I accept your proposal. I only hope that the people of the Iron Islands will as well." If they don't, they will be nothing left of the islands but ashes.