There she was, huddling in the middle of a flock of beautiful ladies near one of the clear blue streams in Riverrun's bright and cheerful godswood. To Theon, the atmosphere was more welcoming than Winterfell's solemn, silent godswood, but not by much. Perhaps the Seven is aware that Lord Tully forbade me from hovering near his daughters, Theon pondered. He almost snorted. Why would the old gods or new care if he ignored the trout lord's orders?

From his spot near one of the lesser used doors of the Great Hall, Theon stared at the ladies. Among them, there were three auburn-haired girls – the trout lord's three daughters. As this was the second day Theon had gazed at them from afar, he had found it easier to recognise which Tully girl was which. The youngest girl had a sweet, round face and always wore colourful ribbons (mostly blue) in her ringlets of goldish-auburn hair; Lady Rosaline was the tallest of the three girls of House Tully; and Lady Melia had the brightest smile. Even when Lady Melia Tully did not seem very happy, she always had a smile ready for her sisters and friends and other ladies.

"Theon?"

Theon jerked away from his hiding place. Melia had whispered his name – it'd been so soft, as soft as Lord Roose Bolton's whispers. So quiet, yet Theon heard it loud and clear.

Remembering that Lord Tully was occupied with battle plans, Theon stepped towards the flock of ladies. He offered them his most charming grin. "Ladies. It is a fine day, is it not?" He inwardly wanted to kick himself. What kind of man starts a conversation with a lady about the weather?

"It is a fine day indeed," said one of the girls – not a Tully girl – cautiously. Her brown eyes flickered between Theon and Melia. Her gaze settled temporarily on the golden kraken proudly emblazoned on the black surcoat Theon wore over his shirt of fine mail. Her pale pink lips tightened in such a way that reminded Theon of Septa Mordane's familiar frown. "You are Theon Greyjoy," the girl said in a flat tone, her expression contorting into a look of disapproval.

Theon smirked. "I'm honoured you know my name, my lady."

The girl did not look any more impressed. "You are the only Greyjoy that roam the mainland. I saw you speak to Lord Tully with Lord Robb," she added. "You're Lord Stark's honoured guest. We heard quite a bit about you, my lord." Her tone didn't change to admiration. "Many have said that you rival the Lannister Imp in sleeping with women. Is that true?"

"Well…" Theon bristled. He could not even look Lady Melia in the eye. "Well…I find myself at a disadvantage my lady; you know my name, yet I don't know your name." He dared himself to look at Lady Melia. As he expected, the Tully lady did not look happy. Theon looked back at the other girl who identified him earlier.

"Barbara Bracken," the girl said albeit reluctantly. "My sister Jayne" – she gave a slow nod at the plain-looking brown-haired girl standing beside her – "and they are Lady Melia Tully, Lady Rosaline Tully, Lady Elianor Tully, Lady Alessa Wayn, Lady Bethany Blackwood, Lady Eleanor Mooton, Lady Minelle Ryger, Lady Jeyne Goodbrook and Lady Chalysse Hightower." Each lady nodded respectfully as she was introduced by Lady Barbara.

The last name snapped Theon's attention. "Hightower?" Hightowers were part of the Reach were they not?

"My grandfather Lord Hightower declared Oldtown will play no active part in this war," explained a willowy girl with a wispy cloud of golden hair. "As a sign of good faith, he sent my brother Gerold here to finish off his squire training under Lord Tully, and for me to be companion to my aunt, Lady Tully."

"Clever move of Lord Hightower," Theon couldn't help remarking. "Once King Orys retakes King's Landing, most of the Reach will be in trouble – all except the neutral House Hightower. Perhaps the king will be displeased at your family for declaring neutrality rather than joining his forces."

Lady Chalysse frowned. "It's not my place to question my grandfather."

"Why are you here, Lord Theon?" asked Lady Melia calmly before Theon could retort to Lady Chalysse Hightower's statement. "Surely you should be in the war council meeting with Lord Robb, my father and the other lords?"

I should be – if the trout lord trusted me. "I have plenty of other meetings to be present at," lied Theon smoothly. "I decided to miss today's one and explore your beautiful godswood, Lady Melia. It is indeed…lovely."

Lady Melia tilted her head slightly to the right. "I wasn't aware that you have a slight interest in godswoods, Lord Theon. To my knowledge, you are a believer of the Drowned God like all Ironborn." Her pink lips formed a smile. "Perhaps a visit to the sept can convince you to convert to the Faith of Seven." Ignoring the noise of disapproval from Barbara Bracken, Lady Melia stepped forward.

"Lady Melia-" started Barbara.

"I'll be perfectly safe," said Lady Melia, rolling her eyes. "Septa Morelle will be in the sept too. She hardly leaves the sept."

Theon almost chuckled aloud. It was like the early days when Waymar Royce was attempting to convince him and the others to sneak off to winter town for an evening with a whore or a drink in the tavern. Brooding Jon Snow would always refuse; Robb would come along once or twice. He'd drink, but never spend a few hours or a night with a prostitute.

"I'd love to see your sept," Theon said, attempting to look pious. "I haven't had the chance to see many septs in my life."

"We'll be close nearby Melia," Jayne Bracken informed Melia, shooting a quick, worried look at her frowning sister. "If you need us, just…shout."

"I thought Mother said ladies don't shout?" said Elianor, confused.

"They can within good reason," said Barbara hurriedly. "Come, Elianor. Let us go and watch the young men practise sparring. We'll leave your sister and Theon Greyjoy alone to…to pray." Glowering at Theon one final time, she walked away, the other girls following her like ducklings.

"It's been quite a while my lady," breathed Theon once the other girls were all out of earshot. "Do you still think of me in your dreams?" There was a time when he had thought Melia Tully mad; what a mistake it was! Well, in a way, she'd been mad of boredom. "I crave adventure," Melia had confided in him one late evening as they strolled around the Red Keep's gardens. "Riverrun is tranquil – too much for my taste. My sisters are happy here. I don't think I'll ever be."

That very night, Theon had drank more than he usually did, seduced by the sweetness of Arbor Gold. He was no stranger to the delicious beverage, but it was particularly delicious that night. It was also that night he was accused of sleeping and taking Melia's maidenhead.

"You were supposed to take me away," said Melia, her blue eyes flashing with accusation. "You hide in the North and return to tease me? Will it be a few sweet words again, Theon, before you leave me for battle? I loved Riverrun when I was a girl, but now I dislike it. Mother had thought I was merely lonely and convinced Father to invite the daughters and sisters of his bannermen to Riverrun to be my companions. Most of them are kind and friendly, but some are intolerable! By the Seven, Barbara Bracken is worse than a septa! Especially after hearing about my short betrothal to the Imp of Lannister, all she does is preach at me and chide me as if I'm Elianor's age!"

"You were betrothed to the Imp?" Theon blurted out, shocked. "I thought Lord Tully wanted you to wed Ser Lancel?"

Melia scowled. Taking his trembling hand, she pulled him towards the steps of the sept. Like all the septs, Riverrun's sept was a seven-sided sandstone building. Hidden in the beautiful garden, the sept looked cosy. "I would've been the heir of Casterly Rock's wife if it wasn't for you," she said flatly, leading him into the sept. "My father thought you deflowered me and I'm unfit to be a knight's wife. Surely you heard that the Imp refused to be Lord of Casterly Rock?"

"Um…" Theon's mind was spinning dizzily with confusion. "I might have heard a rumour or two about it."

"He was given a set of terms. One included a betrothal and marriage to me."

A strangled sound escaped from the back of Theon's throat.

The eldest daughter of Riverrun nodded. "The Lord Hand thought it would be wise to bind House Lannister close to the royal family. My punishment for losing my maidenhead is being married to a hideous gargoyle; his is the chance that he will never return to Casterly Rock and if we had children, they would be fostered at court or with the king's loyal supporters."

"The Imp refused to marry you?"

"Most likely because even an imp wants a true maiden for his wife." Anger and bitterness evaporated from Melia's tone. "What do you think is worse, my lord? A future as a septa or a silent sister or marriage to a dimwit Frey?"

"Marry me Melia," said Theon impulsively. "Be my wife. You wanted us to wed two years ago and I said no. I'm asking you now."

Excitement lit up in Lady Melia's eyes…only to dim a few seconds later. "It'll be a secret," she said sadly. "If you die, no one will know I'm your widow. If I carry a child, everyone will think him a bastard. I cannot do that to us. It'll be the scandal of the century." She sighed miserably. Theon wanted to shout. What do you want me to do? Leave you forever? Marry you? TELL ME WHAT YOU BLOODY WANT ME TO DO MELIA! Instead, he said as coolly as he could manage, "That's indeed a fair point, my lady. What do you think we should do? I can't court you the traditional way – there is a war and your father loathes me. What will it take for our Houses to unite?" It was the most diplomatic he'd ever been.

Lady Melia didn't hesitate. "Keep my brother alive. Hoster can be rash at times and he hates you. However, he is honourable. You keep him alive, he'll remember the debt. His word always sways Father."

Theon frowned. That request was not what he'd expected. "I will be nowhere near him, my lady."

"You might on the battlefield. Win Hoster over, we will be man and wife by the end of this war." Her eyes flickered around. A young woman covered from head to toe in grey cloth was walking leisurely towards them. "Meet me here tonight," she said rapidly, her fingers swiftly caressing Theon's hands. "Midnight. I hope. I want to see you one last time before you leave." She squeezed Theon's hands and disappeared into the sept, her blue skirts swishing around her.

"Midnight," Theon repeated quietly, staring at where she had stood. Why must secret trysts always be at midnight? With a silent sigh, Theon turned and walked away, his black cloak embellished with a big golden kraken in the centre swelling around him like a protective dark shade.

Until midnight then, my lady.


The Great Hall was abuzz with over a dozen conversations when Theon made his quiet entrance. The loud chatter was unusually light and cheerful for a host of soldiers, knights and captains about to head off to war.

The only good news Theon could fathom from the situation was that the false dragon was captured or killed and Orys Baratheon was back on the Iron Throne. Glancing curiously around, Theon made his way towards Robb, who was deep in the midst of a serious-looking conversation with Osric One-Eyed and a few other northern commanders. The Umber giant looked frankly unhappy.

"Robb," said Theon, approaching them. He hoped he hadn't interrupted a vital conversation. Every north lord present glanced up at him. Robett Glover moved a little closer to Ser Donnel Locke grudgingly to make room for Theon. Theon gave Glover a nod of thanks and sat down. He poured himself a cup of watered ale. He took a sip and almost gagged. Watered down ale was sickening. "The river lords look more pleased than they did yesterday," he remarked casually.

"There's talk of an alliance with the Westerlands," said Robb carefully. "There is very little chance the western lords will join the Targaryen pretender, but Lord Tully was still concerned. Without a suitable defence here and the westermen all attack in their full strength, the Riverlands will fall to House Lannister."

Theon frowned. "Ser Kevan's the Lord of Casterly Rock isn't he? I can't think of him commanding his forces to attack undefended castles."

"He is. Lord Tully sent Lord Lannister a raven a few nights ago for an alliance." Robb hesitated. "The Lannisters have no allies at the moment and are more than happy to ally with the Tullys – on one condition." He bit his lip.

Theon's throat was dry. "What?"

"You!" barked Osric One-Eyed. "In return for an army led by Lannister himself and a couple other western lords, Lannister wants you at Casterly Rock as a sign of insurance in case you Ironborn invade the Westerlands!"

Theon silently cursed. Was this his entire purpose in life? To be tossed from a Great House to another as a hostage to keep the Ironborn at bay? Was he to play no part other than a 'special guest' at Casterly Rock throughout the war? Was he to lose his chance to fight with the other northmen?

"Lord Tully's in no position to give you to the Lannisters," Robb spoke. "You're my father's ward."

"What else did Lannister want?" asked Theon, his heart heavy with anger and annoyance. Why did his family rebel in the first place? For what? Power? Land? If only his bloody father was content! If Father remained satisfied with his lot, he'd still have two – no, three – sons at his side. Theon only half-listened to Robb listing some of the finer clauses in the Tully-Lannister pact. He quietly put his cup back on the trestle table. At certain times, he viewed the grave Lord Stark as a second father and Robb as his brother. He even felt a closer connection to the Stark girls than to his trueborn sister Asha.

A cold chill ran down Theon's spine. When was the last time he received news from Pyke? Asha? Their father? One of their uncles? Their own mother? When he was a boy, he wrote a good many letters to his father, mother and Asha – none of them had ever replied. Over time, Theon wrote less and cared little about getting letters from his father, mother or sister. Especially from his father and Asha.

It seems I am more a northerner than Ironborn now. Theon took a deep breath. There was no turning back. "I renounce my position as heir apparent of Pyke and the Iron Islands," he said in a rush.

There was a mixed reaction. Robb stared at him with an expression of thought and astonishment; Osric One-Eyed barked with laughter; Ser Donnel choked; the others frowned, scratched their chins and murmured to each other.

"I renounce my Ironborn heritage," repeated Theon, swallowing hard. Part of his mind screamed at him. What are you doing? You are Ironborn! Born a child of the Iron Islands and you'll die a man of the Iron Islands! The northerners won't give a damn about you giving away your inheritance! All they will think is you lost your value as a hostage! Theon harshly brushed away those thoughts. If Robb – and at a later time Lord Stark – agreed, hopefully he'd be accepted as a northerner. If he was lucky, maybe receive a bit of land of his own and perhaps still a place at Lord Stark's table at Winterfell.

"Is this a jape?" said Robb uneasily. "I know you want to fight-"

"It's no jape," Theon cut in. "If we can talk in private?"

Robb nodded. Vaguely giving an excuse of sorts to the staring northmen, Robb led Theon away to a slightly emptier corner of Riverrun's Great Hall.

"This is the worst time to renounce anything," hissed Robb, crossing his arms. "Half the northmen want to march off to King's Landing immediately. We did not march here to sit and wait for a peace pact to be ratified. Four Frey betrothals to northmen and for nothing?"

"I've been your father's ward for almost thirteen years," Theon responded. "To my father, I'm as good as dead. Asha's his heir."

Robb shook his head. "You're the heir to Pyke, Theon. Remember King Robert and my father's lifelong friendship? We said we'd be brothers like them too since you arrived at Winterfell. Lifelong brothers and allies, remember? A strong and a stable alliance between the North and the Iron Islands." He no longer looked like Robb the battle-hardened warrior; he was old Robb again, the Robb Theon grew up with since he was ten.

"Do you remember Lord Stark's stories of how his family would often write to

him when he was in the Eyrie?" Theon waited until Robb nodded before he went on, "I haven't received a single letter from my family since I set foot in Winterfell. Isn't that a clear message that I'm dead to my father? As long as Balon Greyjoy is alive, I'll never be able to return to Pyke." Pyke was no longer home to him. "Who knows? Maybe the king will force me to agree to humiliating terms before I can board a ship and leave the mainland. Marry a northern girl. Ensure pillaging and raiding ceases. Install maesters and septons on the Iron Islands. Send Asha to the mainland as a reluctant bride." He laughed dryly. "Send my future son as a ward." He shook his head. "If I become Lord of Pyke, my sons and grandsons will forever be sending their heirs here as wards. It's the truth – no king will trust a Greyjoy, no matter how long he's raised by a northern or southron lord."

Robb was silent. "You were always proud to be a Greyjoy," he said at last. "Is it to do with Melia Tully?"

"No," said Theon firmly. "It's my choice."

"You will have to discuss it with my father. I have no authority over this." With a sigh, Robb gave him a tight smile. "I promise you won't set foot in Casterly Rock alone as a special guest," he said assuredly. "You aren't Lord Tully's pawn. He has no right to send you anywhere for the Riverlands' advantage."

"Wouldn't it hinder restoring King Orys?"

"We'll leave for King's Landing tomorrow. We are all well-rested and ready for anything. If Lord Tully desires to keep negotiating with Lord Lannister, he can do so without you as part of the treaty. It'll be on his head if his royal nephew dies in battle or his sister the queen mother is married off, raped or killed."

Theon frowned. "Wouldn't that ruin the original plan?"

"Not really." Robb began slowly walking back to the trestle tables. "The Tully words: Family, Duty, Honour. Family will always come first to Lord Tully."


Robb's reasoning turned out quite accurate.

After an hour of arguing according to Robb, the stubborn trout lord must have relented as Theon found himself yawning and rubbing his eyes whilst sitting on a horse when blushing dawn rose. The night before, he'd actually retired at quite a reasonable hour; sleep had evaded him once again. Robb on the other hand, was up late discussing battle plans with the northern lords and the river lords. Theon glanced at him. There were faint shadows under Robb's eyes, but apart from that, he looked alert and awake. Of course Robb is watchful, Theon thought as he urged his horse into a steady trot. He has more to lose in this war.

"We might see prisoners on the way to King's Landing," Robb spoke.

Theon arched an eyebrow. "Already?"

"The Duskendale battle. You know, the battle under the king's command. Lord Tully received word last night that the battle is almost won – by the true king. He had already started sending hostages over to Riverrun."

"Why?" Theon frowned. "The Riverlands is strategically the weakest. It has no natural defences."

"The prisoners will be sent to Casterly Rock. As a sign of good faith, it'll be the Lord of Casterly Rock who will have charge of the prisoners. A risky move, but it – and other concessions – will hopefully lure the Lannisters onto our side."

As the Riverlands host moved forward, Theon and Robb followed. The women of Riverrun stood in the courtyard, watching, waving and murmuring words. The Lady of Riverrun stood stoically with her daughters beside her in a manner that reminded Theon of Lady Stark whenever Lord Stark took him and his sons to the small holdfast in the hills to witness the rare executions. Theon's eyes swept past Lady Tully, her youngest daughter, Lady Rosaline and…

Melia.

Fuck.

Theon's eyes met Lady Melia's as he rode away. Her blue eyes were frosty. He had forgotten all about meeting Lady Melia at the sept by midnight. Buried in his thoughts of renouncing his place as heir and deserting the Greyjoy name, Theon had neglected Lady Melia.

Fuck.

Almost certain it was the final time he would ever see or speak to Lady Melia, Theon stared ahead, at the back of a Riverlands knight's head. He still felt Melia's accusing glare boring at him. If I ever see you again, I'll explain everything to you, Theon vowed silently. If not…what we had between us will remain in the past. It'll be for the best…for both of us.


I decided that if Theon returns to Pyke, the result will probably be similar to canon (with the exception that Ramsay's dead). He'll never be accepted as a true ironborn and I like the stories that had Theon stay in mainland Westeros so I elected to do that to in this story.

Thanks for all the suggestions! They're all very interesting and I look forward to write oneshots with those pairings very soon :)