What a day…and what a night! The heir of Pyke stretched his arms and legs as he yawned like a lazy cat. With a slight grumble as the sun shook him awake with its long golden arms, Theon grudgingly left his bed.

On the road to Highgarden, he had feared the Reachmen would react poorly to him due to him being born a Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. The young Hoster Tully had viewed him with pure hostility at Riverrun a year ago; Theon was surprised and bewildered when he was treated as a friend rather than a foe at Highgarden by all the pleasant and affable Reachmen. Like any young man, Theon refused to dwell on reasons why. The Tyrells were eager to accept him as a much-welcomed guest – he was more than happy to oblige.

"Wake up." Robb threw an old, filthy tunic at him. Theon immediately threw it back. Theon cursed as Robb ducked at the last minute, the tunic hitting the door instead of the desired target: Robb's face. Robb sniggered. "Do you intend to stay cooped up in here all day?" he asked.

Theon shrugged. "It is perfectly pleasant in here…with a wench or two to keep me company of course." He smirked. For days, he had itched to purchase a clever and experienced whore to warm his bed. The Northern girls now bored him – to spend a night with a Reach girl. Now that…that was a night he would never forget. Robb shook his head as he caught sight of Theon's reminiscent grin. "Let's go," he said, fastening his cloak around his shoulders. "The girls are probably waiting for us in the Great Hall already."

"You ready to face the Kingslayer today?" Theon shut the door behind them as they headed out from their chambers.

"I hope I do not face him," Robb responded, biting his lip. "There is a very large difference between jousting against a Frey and a knight of the Kingsguard."

Theon nodded. "What are the chances you will verse Bolton?"

Robb shrugged. "An equal chance as versing Ser Jaime. Why did you decide not to participate in the joust? You are a fair rider."

"How kind of you to say so Stark." Theon smirked again. "No, jousting's not for me. Archery is." He jiggled the pouch of yesterday afternoon's winnings that sort of hid comfortably in his pocket. It felt quite a deal lighter than it was before. For a memorable night, one must spend a great deal, he thought. The private room in one of Highgarden's finest taverns, three servings of the best food available and a dozen or more small cakes and tarts with two large flagons of Arbor gold…

"You must have had a great night," Robb remarked.

"Hmm?" Theon blinked. His mind was on her again.

"She must have been one enticing woman…to have you acting like this today. I must ask, when did you return to your room last night?"

Quite late. Theon shrugged. "I had a good sleep. What were you saying before? Was it about the Princess Lyanna again?"

"No." Robb frowned slightly. "What do you think of the Tyrell girls? Any catch your eye? They are quite pretty."

"The king will have your head if you run off with a Tyrell!"

Robb laughed. "As will Lord Mace and no doubt my father." He quietened. "Do you think you will ever go home?"

A lump formed in Theon's throat. "Winterfell?" he said, attempting to turn it to some sort of truthful jape. "Once the festivities are over and you crown your dear princess your Queen of Love and Beauty, we will all be on our jolly way home to Winterfell. It won't be long now."

"No, not Winterfell. For you…Pyke."

Theon froze. Pyke…it sounded more like a distant memory now than home. He never remembered any good recollections of his childhood at Pyke. You've never been one of them, a voice whispered in his head. Pillaging, plundering, enslaving, raiding…you do not have the guts for that. Call yourself a Greyjoy? You know the North better than you know the Iron Islands. Heat rushed to his cheeks. When was the last time he thought of the Drowned God? When was the last time he actually missed his real family?

"Theon?"

"When the time is ripe I suppose," Theon said absently. If he was the son of a bothersome Martell or a rebellious Lannister, he would have been married and at home even. However, fate had decreed he was to be the son of a defiant Greyjoy – the chances of returning to Pyke grew slimmer each month. "I'll be able to return once my father dies at least," he said uncertainly. "I am his heir."

"The North and the Iron Islands will be more at peace with you as the Lord of the Iron Islands and I the Lord of Winterfell," Robb said confidently. "Look at my father and the king. They were both raised at the Eyrie and now they are still the best of friends. We will too." He patted him on the shoulder. "Imagine you return with Arya as your wife," he joked, his purple eyes twinkling. "At least your people will be satisfied you are not married to a demure northern girl who does nothing but dance and sing southron songs all day."

Theon shuddered. "Imagine you are married to my sister." He could not resist wondering if his elder sister Asha was still skinny with a face besieged from her forehead to chin with pimples.

"A Greyjoy Lady of Winterfell." Robb chuckled, but more thoughtfully, "and a Stark Lady of Iron Islands. I doubt the Northerners and Ironborn will be happy at that. It might cause more chaos than peace. What is your sister like?"

"You cannot be seriously considering asking her hand in marriage. Asha is…is nothing like Princess Lyanna or your sisters!"

"Not even Arya?"

"Not even Arya," Theon confirmed hesitantly. "Where are you going?" He saw Robb turn the corner away from the Great Hall.

"Breakfasting with the king," said Robb apologetically. "His orders. I thought I told you about it yesterday?"

"It must've slipped my mind. Enjoy your breakfast with the king. I will go and find a…tavern to break my fast in. No point dining alone."

"Jon and Dany will be in the Great Hall."

No doubt hiding in some corner in Highgarden's Great Hall away from all the nobles. Besides, breakfasting with them would be boring. All they do was stare at each other – and their food – and converse awkwardly. By the gods, if he was Jon Snow, he would've fucked Daenerys when he had the chance. He clearly liked her and Theon knew for a fact, that Daenerys Sand mourned his departure to Dorne. Snow has good taste in women, Theon thought as he wandered away. More like a woman. He had never seen Snow enter a whorehouse or seek intimacy with any of Lady Stark's ladies or maidservants. Theon himself had ravished more than a few of Winterfell's maidservants and by the gods, the brewer's wife was his most enjoyable and memorable – she took his virginity after all.

Though Theon cracked a smile at that memory, he could not shake the thought of home from his mind. Where is my home? If his brothers were alive, perhaps he would be at Pyke, sporting with an Ironborn wench or pillaging some island with a crew of his own as it was done in the Iron Islands. The Old Way. He touched the golden chain around his neck. The blood of the Ironborn is salt and iron, not milk. We warriors pay the iron price, never the gold price.

It had been far too long since he participated in the Old Way. Theon had never remembered paying the iron price in his life.

"My lord Theon. We meet again it seems."

A smile formed on Theon's lips as he found himself facing her. Theon's smile vanished at once when he saw that she was not alone. He stifled a groan when he met the scowling glare of the young heir of Riverrun.

"What a coincidence," said Theon, kissing Lady Melia's hand. Gods, Lady Melia was even more beautiful than he saw her last…night. "My lady, I see you're in an excellent health. How are you finding Highgarden?"

"Lovely." Lady Melia's pink lips curved into a pretty smile. "Of course Riverrun is more cosy, but Highgarden is…splendid. Very splendid indeed. My lord, do you remember my brother Hoster?"

How could I forget him? "My lord Hoster," said Theon, hoping to sound a little more pleasant than he actually felt.

"My lord Theon," said Hoster Tully shortly, his words slick with dislike. "I did not expect to see you again."

"Neither did I. How was I to know the Tyrells are so generous in their wedding invitations?" He smiled, enjoying the Tully heir's discomfort. "Will you be joining the tourney for squires? I hear it will take place tomorrow morning." Tully glared at him, his fingers edging towards his sword. What a hot-headed lad! What could have possibly possessed Lord Tully to give his thirteen year old son a sword at a time like this? Eh, it was none of his business anyway.

"Hoster," Lady Melia warned, giving her brother a long stare. "We're all guests here at Highgarden. The Tyrells will be horrified if we spill blood in their home. If you cannot find anything nice to say to Lord Theon, I suggest you leave."

"Take care sister," Tully muttered to her, his eyes never leaving Theon's. "It is unwise to stay near this Greyjoy alone for too long."

"Forgive my brother," said Lady Melia, once Tully stormed off in the direction of the Great Hall. "My father had said that Hoster had always been a hot-headed boy since birth apparently. He is now a squire to Lord Blackwood," she added. "It had been arranged a few months ago."

"Wouldn't Lord Bracken be furious?" Of all Riverlands' disputes, the infamous feud between the Blackwoods and Brackens was most memorable to Theon.

Lady Melia smiled. "He would be," she agreed. "He would be indeed. However, he had been placated about the same time my father decided for Hoster to squire for Lord Bracken. My younger brother Axel will squire for Lord Bracken in about four years' time and marry one of his daughters when he reaches manhood. That appeased Lord Bracken greatly."

Theon chuckled and smiled fondly at her. It was so easy to forget that she was a girl of twelve…

"Last night was wonderful," Lady Melia said softly. "Absolutely wonderful. One of the best moments was my brother was unaware I met with you."

"I wager it would be," Theon smirked. "What of your sisters? Did they not ask where you went at night?"

"Both Rosaline and Elianor were asleep when I left my chambers. They're both young and were quite exhausted after such an exciting day. When I returned, the two of them were both still sound asleep." She beamed. "I was so happy for you," she confessed, "when you were declared third in the archery contest. I was more surprised you remembered me my lord."

Theon's eyebrows rose. "You thought I would forget about you?"

"We exchanged no letters over the course of the year and my brother oft told me that you would sport with any woman at any time and whoever who'd marry would be the saddest woman in all of Westeros."

Theon scoffed. "A lie, my lady. I do not sleep with any woman at any time." He did not mention his new dream woman was her. Every whore he would find was red-headed. They were quite rare and often the most expensive in the North, but they were worth it.

"What is it about me that you like?"

Everything. You flaming red hair, your blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires, your clever wit. "There's no one like you," said Theon simply. He hardly knew his own words. There's no one like you. He had never said that before. Well he had to the priciest wench he purchased at winter town once, but at that time he was in a moment of bliss. This time…Lady Melia was no whore – far from it. She was Lord Tully of Riverrun's eldest daughter and the queen's own niece! If that was not the only problem, she was only twelve!

Twelve!

"So much has happened in a year," Lady Melia remarked. "So many betrothals and plans…the Freys are still keen to have a Tully in their family. If a Lannister is not enough! Are you betrothed yet my lord?"

Theon shook his head, a little red with embarrassment. A young man grown of twenty and still unwed! He enjoyed the life of an unmarried man, but he did grow uneasy. Once married, surely he would not remain in Winterfell as a ward! It did not seem…right at all.

"My father wants me married to Ser Lancel Lannister," Lady Melia went on. "It will finally bring the much wanted peace between the Westerlands and home. I'd met Ser Lancel once or twice too."

"You pleased with him?"

"Not in the slightest. I have no desire to be mother of golden cubs." Her eyes lit up suddenly. "We can get married," she said excitedly.

"What?" Terror took hold of Theon. He was a man and she was a girl…no! Just no! He would wait for her to grow a little more if Lord Stark and Lord Tully both agree to the match which he doubted, but elopement! Not only would his head be served on a platter to the furious Lord Tully, but his cock too! Theon resisted the inward shudder of fear.

"You are unbetrothed and I have no intention to wed a Lannister." Lady Melia reached out and grabbed his gloved hands. "Let us go and marry, my lord. We can go to one of Highgarden's smaller septs and wed today."

"My lady…we hardly know each other."

"So? We will end up wedding strangers anyway."

"No my lady." Theon untangled his hands from hers. "You are twelve, a girl. If we are caught, you will be sent to the Silent Sisters and I…I will lose my head. It's wiser if I return you to your brother and we cease contact. It seems my lady, that last night was a mistake."

Lady Melia stepped away, visibly hurt. "How can you say that Theon? You had invited me to sup with you last night and professed your desire to see me more – you said ever since we met at my grandfather's funeral, you thought about me for days and weeks afterwards. Do you not remember the flower you gave me on the day you had to return to Winterfell? It was a rose. You told me to imagine it blue like the blue winter roses at Winterfell."

The words tugged a memory in Theon's mind. He had promised Lady Melia a blue winter rose…

"We cannot – and will not – wed," Theon said firmly, hoping to avoid any more talk about the terrifying notion of a secret marriage. "The most I can do is ask for permission to marry you and wait for you in a year or two."

"I am a woman grown my lord! I am a woman grown!"

"There are still many days left in the festivities," said Theon gently. "I am older than you by eight years. You are still a child. You know nothing of marriage. You are still a summer child my lady. What I did last night…it would be seen as wrong in the eyes of well, everyone. I desire you, that is true, but why did you appear at that tavern last night?"

"I find you…interesting, my lord. You are different from all the other suitors I was obliged to meet over the year."

"I am no knight in shining armour."

"If I was after a knight in shining armour, my lord, I would have been dancing till midnight last night with Ser Lancel Lannister. I am tired of staying at home at Riverrun. Hoster is always so overprotective, my mother busy with the little ones, the River lords constantly bickering and wanting me married to one of them or at least to their sons! I once loved Riverrun for peace, my lord, but now I want to go out on an adventure…before I am settled in marriage."

"You wish to go on an adventure through wedding me?" Theon could not help ask with an arched eyebrow. "Forgive me my lady but that doesn't make much ah, sense. Forgive for this too my lady, but a lady like you…I cannot imagine you on a thrilling adventure in the wildness. Shouldn't coming to Highgarden be enough of an adventure for you?"

"I want a husband who can bring me adventure," Lady Melia said, almost with a hint of recklessness. "What use is a knight in shining armour?" She grabbed one of his hands again. "Oh my lord, can you at least think about it? You already said that you desired me, is that not enough? Please do not tell me now that you are a man who desires and loves women from afar, but when it comes to wedding one of them, you decide she is now undesirable?"

Theon stepped back, uncertainty swimming in his gut. He did find a number of women attractive – mostly Lady Melia now – but marrying one of them? That had never occurred to him. He was the son of a disgraced great lord; a hostage even. No lord would want his daughter or sister married to Theon.

"I thought last night was a good time for us to meet," Theon said stiffly, "but it seems it was a mistake. I hope for your sake and mine, you will not speak about it to your father or brother."

Lady Melia stared at him, dumbfounded. "Why would I?"

Theon looked at her with pity…when he caught sight of it. It was barely visible, but he saw it. Right there at the corner of her eye was a glitter of madness.


Though the moon glistened brightly from its seat in the night sky, the tavern was still crowded. Recognising Theon from the archery contest, the tavern keeper's wife had somehow managed to arrange for him to have a rare private room to dine – with Lady Melia.

By the time there was a flagon of Arbor gold on the middle of the table encircled by plates of delicious food, Lady Melia arrived in the guise of a commoner. Even in a plain brown dress and a dark cloak, she looked beautiful. Her blue eyes glimmered with excitement when she saw Theon. Like a gentleman, Theon pulled out her chair and encouraged her to eat, his heart pounding with delight and wonder. Sitting in front of him was the woman of his dreams…and she was not a whore.

"I am so happy to see you again my lord," said Lady Melia, beaming at him. "It'd been a year…I thought you would have forgotten me."

Theon had not forgotten her. Though exteriorly he acted as he always did when he returned to Winterfell, inwardly, he thought of her every day…only to remember he had the tiniest of chances to be with her. They were virtually strangers; a lady of Riverrun and a Stark ward. However, after the archery contest, she sought him out almost at once, to Tully's disapproval.

"I prayed you would win," Lady Melia had said to him. "Third! You were against the finest archers in all of Westeros!" She clapped her hands together with joy. "You came third my lord Theon! Third! What victory!" Theon had not corrected her that to come first was more a victory than third place. At the time, he was more pleased that Lady Melia still knew who he was.

When Hoster had left them alone, Theon was at his peak of giddiness, happiness and excitement. "What say in us meeting again tonight?" he whispered. "I will send you a note of our location. Dine with me tonight." It was foolish but he did not think it then. He even winked conspiringly at her.

Oh Lady Melia had been delighted. She clapped her hands again and again, her eyes shining so brightly and pleasure danced in them along with…


Madness.

How had he not seen it? Theon had hurried back to his chamber, groaning to himself in horror. Lady Melia Tully was truly mad. Madness glittered in her eyes and he hadn't noticed it earlier. What a fool! One of her maternal aunts, the Lady Malora, was called the Mad Maid of the Hightower.

The Mad Maid.

Was Melia Tully to follow her on the path of insanity?

If it were not whores Theon purchased, it was a mad girl that loved him – or at least wanted him in some way.

Theon shuddered. No more, he promised himself. I'll distance myself from the Lady Melia. I will never see or speak to her again. There was no rush to replenish the members of House Greyjoy. He still had a sister and three uncles. Besides, the thought of tainting his House with madness…

The heir of Pyke shivered again.


I know it's been quite some time since I lasted updated - so sorry about that! For those who asked if I'm abandoning this story, I really don't want to. I probably said this before, but I kind of dug myself a hole too deep and right now trying to reorganise the plot. I originally planned to make this a Ned chapter, but it was horrible - more horrible than this one if you found this chapter pretty bad. Anyway...I will try and continue with the story as best I can.