When Theon Greyjoy entered the looming walls of Winterfell for the first time, he thought he would be trapped in a land of ice and snow forever. He thought he would be treated with hostility being a traitor's son, but Lady Stark was kind; her children accepted him as one of their own – most of them at least.
Over the years, Theon grew accustomed to the cold North and there was never a shortage of furs and warm clothes. Even though he would never admit it, Theon preferred the North to what he remembered of the Iron Islands. Of course when Lord Stark deemed it time, Theon would return home and eventually succeed his father as the next Lord of Pyke. At first he was excited at the possibility of going home with Lyarra as his bride…until Snow bluntly told him that Lyarra had been affianced to Domeric Bolton since infanthood.
Before Waymar left for the Wall, he had introduced Theon to the best brothels in the North. Nowadays Theon visited them twice a week, his favourite couple of prostitutes with dark hair, resembling Lyarra a little. Even now Theon desired to marry Lyarra. When he tumbled with the whores, he liked to pretend they were Lyarra. Every man had a dream woman – his was Lyarra.
I wonder if there is a whorehouse around here, Theon mused to himself as he strolled around Riverrun's Great Hall, glancing at passing ladies. Being a guest at Riverrun…something else he had not expected. Once the prosperous Riverlands was under Ironborn control. Theon wondered what it would've been like if it was still ruled by his father. Earlier that day, he attended Lord Hoster Tully's funeral along with Robb and Snow. Domeric had declined to visit Riverrun with them. "I doubt I'll be welcomed at Riverrun," he had said with a dry smile. "All those lords of the south shirk back at my house sigil." That was no excuse for him to hide out in Winterfell with his lady betrothed.
Accepting a goblet of light wine from a servant, Theon settled down on a chair and watched Robb murmur condolences to all the Tullys. It was easy to spot the Tullys by their flaming auburn hair and deep blue eyes. It seemed the Tully blood was strong; the late King's Hand's daughter had the same hair and eye colouring as her maternal family.
After Lord Hoster's funeral, everyone changed into clothes bearing their house colours or sigils. As for the Tully funeral custom itself, Theon could not help but find it strange. In the North, bodies were either buried in crypts or discarded into thick piles of snow during the middle of winter. Ironborn bodies were tossed into the sea to enter the watery palace of the Drowned God – Theon's god.
As Theon reached for another drink, he caught sight of a pretty girl talking to Robb. He stared at her. She was clearly young – a little younger than Lyarra by the looks of it – but was beautiful. Not sensually beautiful, but fresh…and rather sweet. Theon rose and sauntered over to them. "…and my sister Lyarra sends her regards and condolences," Robb was saying. He broke off and grinned as Theon approached. "Lady Melia," he said to the girl. "This is my good friend and Father's ward, Theon Greyjoy." He turned to Theon. "Theon, this is Lady Melia Tully, Lord Hoster Tully's granddaughter."
Of course the girl was a Tully. Theon berated himself for being so slow not to recognise a rope of braided auburn hair at the back of her head that separated in front of either shoulder like two rivers forced apart by a large rock. Theon could not help but feel more stupid as he saw she wore a blue gown striped with dark red – the Tully colours.
Lady Melia tilted her head slightly and nodded at him. "My lord."
"My lady," Theon responded, smiling warmly at her. "My condolences to your lord grandfather's death. I heard he was a good man."
"Thank you my lord. He was."
"You were with the royal party at Winterfell were you not?"
"Of course. My aunt is Queen Catelyn, my good-uncle is King Robert Baratheon the First of His Name and two of my royal cousins are the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess Lyanna, my lord Robb's betrothed."
"You are very well connected my lady."
Lady Melia snorted – or was it a laugh? "By the good fortune of my birth," she pointed out. "And you, my lord Theon? You must be blessed by the Seven to be a ward of the great Lord Stark."
Theon stiffened. "I'll go…and…" said Robb quickly. "I'll just…go. Lady Melia, it was a pleasure to meet you again."
"As it was meeting you, Lord Robb," returned Lady Melia. As if sensing Theon's discomfort, she looked at him, concerned. "Have I offended you my lord? If I did, I apologise most humbly. My brother Hoster often said that I speak before I think, a most unladylike habit I confess. Cousin Sansa had also warned me that knights like you would not appreciate young women like me."
"I'm…not a knight my lady." Melia's eyes widened. "I watched you spar against Lord Robb in Winterfell!" she exclaimed. "With your skill, Lord Stark must have knighted you by now!"
"The North do not have many knights. Most Northerners are of the old gods and think knighting one for exceptional skill is a waste of time."
"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Do you miss the Iron Islands?"
Theon paused. Of course he missed his childhood home…in a way. The scent of the salty sea air would wake him early in the morning and he would slowly drift to sleep listening to the song of the sea. However, he wasn't fond of the memories of his family. His father was always in a temper, his older brother Rodrik a drunk and brute and his other brother Maron a talented liar with a gift for telling cruel japes. Theon was not sorry when he heard of their deaths. For a drunk and a liar, they did a terrible job fathering children, trueborn or baseborn. Before their lord father decided to foolishly rebel against King Robert, he'd married Maron to Lord Jason Mallister's daughter Tarra in an attempt to secure Mallister neutrality with Tarra as a Greyjoy good-daughter. That didn't stop Mallister from killing Rodrik at all. Speaking of Lord Jason Mallister…the said lord walked passed Theon and Lady Melia, giving him a suspicious look with his fierce blue-grey eyes.
"My lord?"
"Everyone misses their home," said Theon uncertainly.
"Tell me about the Iron Islands."
"You don't want to hear about the North?"
"The North is interesting but I already visited it. Even though you're a ward of Winterfell, you are still an Ironborn."
I am still an Ironborn. "A southron lady such as yourself will find Pyke a rather windy and uncomfortable place to live," said Theon truthfully. "The women there wield axes and dirks as well as any man and every man is king of their vessels in the sea. You may find their behaviour…shocking."
"Sister." A grave boy with a mop of auburn hair and deep blue eyes emerged at Lady Melia's side. He scrutinised Theon for a good minute before he said, "Melia, Mother wants you to go and speak to Lord Blackwood. His sons are with him too," he added. "All six of them. And his only daughter. With so many Blackwoods here, you'd think they are having a family reunion. Oh, Mother said you must speak to Lord Bracken too. Best to do so after you finish with the Blackwoods. You know how the Blackwoods and Brackens are at a tiny and unintentional slight."
Melia nodded and gave Theon a small smile. "I hope you enjoy your stay here in Riverrun. Good day Lord Theon."
Theon dipped his head. "Lady Melia." The boy lingered behind when she went off to speak to other waiting River lords. "You're a Greyjoy," he said flatly. "You're Lord Stark's ward aren't you?"
"Yes," said Theon, taken back at the abruptness. "And you are?"
"Hoster Tully. Melia's brother."
Theon wanted to kick himself. It should be no surprise that the new Lord Tully would name his heir after his own father. "I see," said Theon shortly. "So what if I am a Greyjoy? I have no desire to take your sister as a salt wife."
Young Hoster narrowed his eyes. "Would you if this was a war?" Theon didn't even bother to state that it was more an honour to be a salt wife rather than to be raped and left in a pillaged land. He shook his head. "Of course not. I despise the custom of taking salt wives." It was partially the truth. When he married and was bored of his wife, he would take mistresses or visit brothels. Marriage would not change his lifestyle.
"Do you talk like this to everyone Lady Melia speaks to?" said Theon, crossing his arms testily. He disliked the heir of Riverrun by the second.
"Considering many of the young men here are from the Riverlands, no. Father encourages me to associate myself with the River lords' heirs." Crossing his arms, Hoster stepped forward. "I heard tales about you." Theon bit back a laugh. Hoster was a head and a neck shorter than him. It was amusing to see him attempt to be menacing. "It was said you bedded every tavern wench in the North," said Hoster, eyeing him. "It was also said that you would've bedded Lord Stark's daughters…if they weren't highborn maidens."
Theon barked out a laugh. "Very flattering Tully. Very flattering indeed. I'd no idea that stories of my…adventures would fly down to the Riverlands!"
Tully did not smile. "Stay away from my sisters," he warned. "I still puzzle over why Lord Stark's son and bastard are here. You…I can't think of one good reason why you're here at all. You must be proud that your ancestors ruled over the Iron Islands and the Riverlands. All I think are tales of pillage and rape. Your presence here doesn't help."
"No Greyjoy ruled over the Iron Islands. Why should you care about the past? I am my own man! I don't carry the sins of my father! Besides, when the Ironborn controlled the Riverlands, it was centuries ago!"
"Stay away from my sisters." Shooting him a final scathing look, Tully stalked away to a group of boys around his own age. Theon scoffed. Southroners were so overprotective. Are all Rivermen so hostile to Ironborn? He dismissed it. The boy probably just learnt about House Hoare or something. It's not as if he had lost an uncle or brother in the Greyjoy Rebellion.
'How was the Lady Melia?" Robb joined him. "She looked quite animated when she spoke to you."
Theon shrugged. "Hoster hates me."
"You did win a mock battle against him in Winterfell."
"How is that me at fault? I knew how to wield my sword properly! Besides, he was more or less accusing me for being Ironborn."
Robb snorted. "You are Ironborn."
"I've been your father's ward for ten years. Do you think I will ever go home to Pyke? I haven't went home in ten years."
"Winterfell's your home as much as Pyke is. You're heir to Pyke. One day in the future, you will return to Pyke and with it, an alliance with the North. Friendship between the Iron Islands and the North – a jolly good plan is it not?" He grinned at Theon. "Who knows? Maybe one day the North will have a Greyjoy for a Lady of Winterfell and perhaps a Stark Lady of Pyke."
Theon grunted. "At least you are betrothed."
Robb laughed. "Is this what it's all about, Theon? Are you jealous that I have a betrothed and you don't? It hadn't bugged you for years."
"By the Drowned God no! I have whores to satisfy that!"
"You need to have heirs one day." No doubt a strong Northern woman able to survive the bleak Iron Islands – Theon suspected a Mormont. The Ironborn won't be pleased to have a Mormont for their liege lord's wife. After all, it was said that an Iron King lost Bear Island in a wrestling match to Rodrik Stark who gave it to the Mormonts. Then again, Theon wouldn't mind a tough Mormont wife like Lady Maege Mormont's eldest daughter Dacey.
"I think one of Lady Melia's cousins dared her to speak to you," said Robb with a chuckle. "Look." He nodded as two other red heads clustered around Melia. "It seems Lady Melia is more interested in pleasing her friends than listening to you talk about the Iron Islands." All three girls were now giggling and glancing at him and Robb once in a while. Theon shrugged. They were only little girls. He looked at them again. "Whose that one on Melia's left?" Robb studied the girl Theon had indicated with a discreet nod.
"Eyeing another girl Greyjoy?" said the bastard Jon Snow, slipping up to them with his usual impassive expression. He glanced at the girls Robb studied. "Ooh, careful there Greyjoy. Those are no tavern girls."
"I know." Theon rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot Snow. I don't go around to a brothel spilling my seed in every wench I bed." He eyed Jon. Jon said nothing. He continued staring ahead silently. Typical Snow, Theon thought. Says nothing and does nothing. Just like his direwolf. It was fitting for him to name it Ghost. He felt a pang of envy. The wolves were loyal to their masters – more loyal than a dog or horse would ever be. At least Grey Wind was left behind in Winterfell. Lord Stark had declared that southroners haven't seen direwolves in a while – or at all – and it would be seen as some sort of threat by the River lords if Robb was to bring his direwolf with him.
"A Tully?" guessed Robb. He was still studying the girls Theon nodded at a few minutes ago. "All three of them have the Tully hair."
"That's Sansa," said Jon knowledgably. "Sansa Arryn." Both Theon and Robb looked at him, surprised. "I heard Lord Frey talk about her."
"Lord Frey?" Robb said, astounded. "The Late Lord Frey? I heard he can barely walk! What is he doing here?" Theon doubted it was to pay his respects. He never met the prickly Lord of the Twins, but rumours were that he was married to his eighth wife – a girl young enough to be his granddaughter – whom he'd already impregnated. If any lord was able to create an army from his breeches, that man would be the weasel-faced Lord Walder Frey.
"There he is." Jon nodded at an old man seated at one end of the high table, his skin as wrinkly and old as parchment. Theon wrinkled his nose in disgust as Lord Frey smacked his lips with his pink slug of a tongue. Robb shuddered. "What did the old weasel say about the late King's Hand's daughter?" wondered Theon. "Did he want her for his ninth wife?" He chortled. "I doubt anyone would agree to the match – especially our pretty little bird over there."
"Why a bird?" said Jon, glancing at him curiously.
Theon rolled his eyes. "I thought Maester Luwin reprimanded me for my lack of memory over House sigils, not you Snow. House Arryn's a falcon."
"What was old Frey saying?" said Robb quickly.
"Mostly mutterings to his uh, wife," answered Jon. "Poor lady. I was looking at the tapestries when I heard old Lord Frey mutter, 'eh, there goes the honourable Lord Stark's bastard all high and mighty. Heh. There's old Arryn's daughter.'" Jon paused. "He licked his lips again and said, 'what a blooming little flower eh? Much beautiful than you Joyeuse. Her future husband will be a very lucky man, heh. Her sweet, sweet honey will be all his.' Then he smirked." Theon almost doubled over as he barked with laughter. "Her honey?" A highborn maiden glared at him as she headed to Lady Melia and Lady Sansa.
"Old Frey probably wanted me to wed one of his weaselly granddaughters or daughters," jested Robb. "Careful Greyjoy. He might want one of his daughters to be the next Lady of Pyke." Theon shuddered. He had not actually met a Frey girl, but after spotting Walder Frey himself…
As if the old weasel knew they spoke about him, he beckoned at them with a bony finger. The three boys looked at each other. "We can pretend we didn't see him and walk away?" suggested Jon.
"Easy for you to say, bastard," said Theon immediately. "He'll think it a slight if Robb and I ignore him. A weasel he may be, but he is a great lord and is the Lord of the Crossing. Sadly."
"Besides, we have to cross the Twins to return home," Robb pointed out. "We might as well go and hear out what Lord Frey wants to tell us." Theon reluctantly followed him to the high table, Jon behind him. "Lord Frey," Robb said politely as the three of them stood in front Walder Frey.
"Ned Stark's heir," grunted the old weasel. His squinty eyes swivelled to Theon. A wave of dislike surged over Theon. "Balon Greyjoy's heir." He glanced at Jon, a smirk appearing on his face. "The honourable Lord Stark's bastard. Eh. Snow, are there no bastard girls left in the North for you to marry that you came south? You need to look no further. I have daughters and granddaughters to marry off. What would you prefer, Snow? A fat girl? A thin girl? An old maid? A child?"
"I have no intention to marry of yet," said Jon loftily.
"A pity," sneered Walder Frey. "A pity." He looked at Robb again. "I would have given you the choice to wed any of my female offspring if you weren't betrothed to King Robert's elder daughter. Heh. When you were still in the cradle, I wrote to your father and offered him any of my children to be his good-daughter. Did you know that he never wrote back? Honourable…heh." He sniffed and narrowed his eyes. "What of you, eh?" he barked at Theon. "Would you take one of my girls to those islands of yours as your wife eh?" By the gods no. Robb shot him a warning look. Don't you dare offend him, his violet eyes seemed to be shouting.
"I am Lord Stark's ward," said Theon carefully. "As my guardian, it's up to Lord Stark to choose me a suitable bride."
"Suitable eh?" Spit sailed from Frey's mouth. "Lord Tully – the late Lord Tully now, heh – refused my children for his own. Three times he celebrated the births of squalling Tullys and three times I went to Riverrun with some of my brood in tail, suggesting my sons for his daughters and my daughters for his son. Heh. The late Lord Tully said no every time." Before Theon, Robb or Jon could speak, Frey barged ahead. "When I spoke to other lords of fosterings…heh. Tully had rejected to foster my sons and grandsons at Riverrun and went ahead to foster some Vale boy from a lowly house! Old Arryn refused to foster any of my grandsons in the Eyrie even when I offered to foster his son at the Twins. Heh. Old fool. Both Tully and Arryn are now dead." He sounded pleased.
Robb frowned. "Lord Frey-"
"I didn't call you here to rant, boy. Clearly your father thinks I am too beneath him to negotiate with."
"Negotiate, Lord Frey?"
"Your house words. Winter is Coming. Heh. I doubt you can survive without a large supply of grains and food. We need furs and you need food. Easy to remedy do you not think eh? Best solidified through marriage. Heh." Frey snickered and cleared his throat. "You're affianced to Princess Lyanna Baratheon and I have no desire to earn the king's wrath by breaking your betrothal even if I could. Heh. I'd be a fool if a did. Heh. You have a sister betrothed to a Bolton and two others, one a child and another older than her. I plan to discuss with Lord Stark of a marriage between one of your sisters and one of my sons or grandsons. In any case, I want to hear what you think of a marriage between your half-brother here and one of my bastard daughters. I have two," he added to Jon who paled from the shock of the prospect of receiving a bastard Frey bride or the idea of marriage.
"Again, I must discuss it with my lord father," said Robb stiffly. "We are here to pay our respects to the late Lord Tully, not deliberate over marriage contracts or alliances." At that moment, Theon thought Robb acted more noble than before. It seemed as if Robb was the Lord of Winterfell.
"Heh. I have two," said Walder Frey with a smirk. "Jeyne and Mellara. Join my party on your return journey to Winterfell. Meet the girls. You might like one." He guffawed. "You too, young Greyjoy. I'd like an Ironborn descendant or two. What do you say, Robb Stark? Will you and your company come and stay at the Twins for a few days or so? Upon my word of honour, there will be no bloodshed there. Heh." Theon did not feel convinced. If it was up to him, he would never set foot in the Twins in his life. The less time with Walder Frey the better.
"We are honoured Lord Frey," said Robb finally. "However, I must decline. As a good son, I must obey my father's orders: to return to Winterfell once we finish our business here in Riverrun."
To Theon's surprise, the Late Lord Frey sniggered. "Run back to Winterfell to your father then, little pup. Heh." Robb nodded curtly and walked away with Jon and Theon behind him. Theon glanced back. Walder Frey was still laughing.
There will be one more chapter in the Riverlands. I'm mostly using the Riverlands chapters as experiment chapters for potential POVs hehe. Here is a list of lords and their children (I'm never going to make the mistake of creating so many little Starks, Baratheons etc again - definitely learnt my lesson). Again, there'll be an appendix at the end of Part 2.
Ned and Ashara: Robb (15), Lyarra (12), Arya (10), Bran (9), Gwenysse (6), Arthur (4), Rickon (1) + Jon (16)
Robert and Catelyn: Lyanna (14), Orys (12), Ormund (9), Minisa (5)
Stannis and Cersei: Shireen (12), Steffon (10), Cassana (10), Robert (8), Myrcella (5), Tommen (3)
Jon and Lysa: Sansa (11), Robert 'Sweetrobin' (7), Alyssa (5)
Edmure and Leyla: Hoster (12), Melia (11), Rosaline (9), Bryndon (7), Axel (5), Elianor (4)
Let me know if I missed anyone :)
