Prologue: Theon I

He felt the cold before he felt the pain. It was almost a blessing. His body was too numb to feel the spear pierce his skin, and even inside his body it was more like he could feel it moving, like feeling cold water move down the throat. Time slowed as he died. The fall to the snowy ground felt like ages, and in those ages Theon pondered the meaning of everything he had seen and suffered. All his life he'd never known his real purpose, or the meaning behind anything.

Even his death brought him questions. He'd thought it'd hurt, like gripping ice or the ache of harsh winds on his jaw and ears. Bran had said that the Children of the Forest made the White Walkers to fight the First Men, killing the Essosi invaders and raising them as Walkers. He wondered if maybe, in being tools of death made from men, the Walkers possessed some twisted form of kindness. Their instant, unfathomable cold made death far less painful, and staved away rot, which would make your corpse more whole when you rose undead.

Was it possible that the Walkers saw their purpose not as slaughter, but as mercy? To fulfill their mission of extinction, but to end each life quickly, rising as whole as possible? Doubtful, but not impossible. How often had he begged for the sweet taste of death when lashed to Ramsay's cross? In the grand scheme, it wasn't hard to see life as suffering. Every religion certainly did, promising something better if you could just grit your teeth and suffer through until you finally died well by the faith's standards.

That brought Theon's rambling, dying mind to wonder: had he died well? And who would judge him?

He hadn't lived well. An ungrateful ward to his true father, a backstabbing traitor to his brother and king. He hadn't even been a true ironborn. Posh and hedonistic, believing birthright meant he deserved the world, and incapable of earning the respect of his crew. Yara had shown him how a real Ironborn lived. Yara, who he'd abandoned to Euron, the fear Ramsay Bolton had carved into him growing too much to bear.

But he had worked to right his wrongs. Freeing Sansa, helping her, sailing with Yara and pledging himself to Daenerys Stormborn. Boarding the Silence and freeing his sister, fighting beside Jon Snow. And here he lay dying, giving his life to buy Brandon Stark more time to do whatever it was he needed to do.

"You're a good man. Thank you."

Simple words. Nothing poetic or grand, nor anything that hadn't been said to a thousand other people. But it had come from Bran. Bran saw more than anyone. Past, Present, Future, Theon didn't really understand how it worked nor felt he needed to. But he knew Bran had seen a thousand lifetimes, had seen the lives of so many people who have been, and who will be.

And he had deemed Theon a good man. He wasn't sure he believed him. Maybe it was just courtesy, or motivation offered to a man certain to die.

But for so long, Theon had lived in shame, had felt deep in his bones that he deserved nothing but pain. So he chose to believe Bran, to believe the seemingly all-seeing, all-knowing being that resided in the body of the boy he'd known since he was a babe.

He was a good man. He hadn't always been. He had sullied his honor and thrown away family, he'd been cowardly and cruel and crude. But at last he believed he had finally been forgiven. It had not been easy, it had been painful, and it had taken his life. Theon Greyjoy paid the iron price for his redemption.

And then he died.

But what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger.

Death was not what Theon expected it to be. The darkness was predictable, but the floating was not. As he drifted, he feared taking a breath, as his limbs and hair felt like they were in water. While he could see nothing, his eyes stung like being in the ocean.

I guess the Drowned Men were right in the end.

It filled him with a sort of pride, that his culture, out of them all, was right about it all. About death and the afterlife. But then this did not seem like the feasthall he was promised, nor were any mermaids swimming up to feed him food and drink.

Suddenly, there was a current in the water that jostled him. He was on edge immediately. It had felt like something had swam behind him in the darkness. Then suddenly, there was light. It was dim and distant, and the way it flickered made it clear it was not the sun.

Fire… Fire beneath the waves.

Theon swam, towards the light, still afraid to breath but feeling no need to. He swam closer and closer and the fire grew clearer. It emerged from a large rock. It was a strange orange yellow glow, and where fire on land flickered and curled, this one bubble and boiled. Entranced, Theon stared at the column of bubbles and light. Then he felt the current behind him again. Now in light, he knew he was naked, and being aware of his body had heightened his fear. He looked around, but caught only a shadow disappearing into the darkness. Theon felt the rock upon which the fire burned and sunk lower to press his back against it.

Then came the sound. That strange sound that he'd never heard before and yet had known forever. It started like a ringing in the ears, before rising. It had a light, mirthful gurgle to it, that confused more than unnerved. But that gurgle grew louder and louder until it became a deafening horn, a rumble that made the waters quiver.

It was a sound that filled Theon with an indefinable dread.

Theon braced against the rock, desperate not to be thrown adrift. Though the sound carried in the water, he was certain the source was behind him. As he opened his eyes and looked around, he saw shadows around, swimming on the fringes of the light. All seemed to be swimming towards the noise.

Steeling himself, Theon prepared to meet his maker. He peeked over the rock shelf, next to the fire. There was nothing he could see, only more vague shadows. But much like the horrid sound, a voice seemed to rumble through the water. It spoke a strange, ghastly language, which was simultaneously indecipherable to Theon's ears and yet he understood every wood.

Be not afraid, Theon Greyjoy.

The words rumbled deep into his body. Slowly, he rose more and more from behind the rock. The fire bubbled beside his foot as he made to stand on the pale grey surface.

You, who are my servant-son, my flesh-reaper, be not afraid.

In these depths you are not prey-weak-slave but predator-killer-king.

Theon didn't even pretend to fully understand. He merely gazed into the darkness and spoke, his voice clear, if shimmering and waving in the water. "Are you… Are you the Drowned God?"

Drowned, yes. But a god-boy is nothing. I am elder-greater, harder-stronger.

The tone in the voice was different. It almost sounded…

Is he amused that we call him a god?

Yes.

Theon felt himself jump at the response. It seemed, spoken or thought in his mind, the Drowned God heard. "You are… He Who Dwells Beneath the Waves. Am I to enter your halls?" he asked, his voice desperate, almost pleading. After so much pain in his life, might he at last be granted a reward?

I am He. But you shall not enter.

You must use your gift-blessing-curse.

"My… my gift?" All ironborn were blessed with one gift, one skill the Drowned God gave them. "What is my gift?"

Goodness-Bravery-Will.

It was one word, one that possessed an intricate meaning. The Drowned God had spoken several of these words, though Theon had grasped the basic understanding needed. But Theon didn't understand what that word meant for him. "How?! How can I use my gift when I'm dead?!"

He was deafened by the horrid call again, which rapidly rose from gurgle to horn this time. While thankfully it was a shorter blast, Theon was left disoriented and thrown back a few feet in the water. He floated behind the fire and tried to swim closer as the Drowned God spoke.

WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE

But rises again, harder and stronger…

Theon grabbed his head. "But what does that mean?"

You shall rise-fight-live. You shall right what gods-boys-fools have ruined.

This is your duty-destiny-function. You have faced children-tools of He Who Brings the Storm.

You will again. But first you shall prepare-create a world that is harder-stronger to face them.

"I don't understand…"

Drown the world, Theon Greyjoy.

Suddenly, Theon felt himself need to gasp for air. He did, taking water into his lungs. His hands grabbed at his throat instinctively. At the same time, he began to rise in the water, as though he were being pulled by a rope. As he was hauled higher and higher, Theon gazed down, looking for his god. But he saw only shadows, that now, with a view from above, were all connected. Tendrils, or tentacles, that flowed into the darkness. Somehow, in that pitch black, Theon could feel the eyes of the Drowned God upon him.

A burning spread in his lungs and he felt unconsciousness creeping. Could one die in the afterlife? It certainly felt like it to him. But the waters were getting bluer, light piercing through the waves. His eyes fluttered shut and all was black but he could still feel himself moving in the water. As Theon broke the surface, he opened his eyes and coughed out what was in his lung.

And there, looming over him, were Ned and Robb Stark.

"Are you alright, boy?"

[A/N]: Alrighty! Here is one of the fics I've been working on in my spare time. I did a rewatch of Game of Thrones, then I reread the books and even the sample chapters of Winds of Winter. Then I turned to fanfiction to get my fix, and stumbled upon Priestess_of_Groove's amazing fic The Dragon's Roar. Throughout all of this, Theon Greyjoy has remained my favorite characters. It struck me then, how would Theon do if he was sent back in time upon his death?

The honest answer? Probably not so well. But, damn it, he's gonna try! I hope you all enjoy this fic.

The title of this fic is subject to change. What is Dead May Never Die felt too generic. Drown the World is a contender, but I opted for a pun on GRRM's working title for GOT, A Time for Wolves.

Please feel free to leave reviews, you have no idea how much they help motivate me to write. Knowing the fic has fans makes me want to give you more. And if you have suggestions for a better title, let me know!