Chapter 28 - The 2nd day of August, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest
They were on the move again, but Theon was disappointed to find his mood not improved in the slightest.
They had left Deep Den far behind, and the army now snaked its way through the hills of the Westerlands instead. Here and there detachments of cavalry skirmished with the army, or bands of archers loosed arrows from the clifftops and ran off before they could be spotted. The Westermen harried their flanks, but they knew there was nothing that could challenge them between here and Casterly Rock, not with the Kingslayer down on the Mander.
Theon had thought he would enjoy the march, and the fresh excitement of each day, but the climax of the siege had left a sour taste in his mouth. No matter whom he tried to tell, all laughed at his tale of shooting arrows in the dark. Of the eight men he had killed. They didn't even let me have first pick of the loot he thought. I paid the iron price, and they didn't even let me collect. He had been stewing on that outrage for days.
Marching with the king's army felt less and less like marching with Robb's. It was larger, sure, grander in most ways, but what did that matter when Theon was but a stranger here? Forty thousand men, but not another soul was Ironborn, and scarce a Northmen was present either. Here he did not sit on the king's counsels, but instead supped with lesser knights and lordlings. In truth the closest thing here he had to a 'friend' was that stinking oaf Merrett Frey, who did nothing but mutter queerly about his new god, and now followed the Onion knight around like a lost puppy.
Even the flying lady, Maria, he had only seen once in the previous week. Every day the army moved further west, and the Fury had to touch down in a new field, staked out by the American advisors. Everyone was busy. Last time he had talked to her for only a few minutes. She seemed the only one suitably impressed by his exploits, but all too soon a superior had whisked her away, glancing at Theon like he was some beggar child in the street. Neither Greenlander nor flying man pays me any heed Theon had concluded. All he wished for now was the campaign to conclude. The sooner the Rock fell, the sooner he would be back home, among my own people.
It was midafternoon, and he had set off to collect his own supper. The king's favourites ate roasted meats every night, but as Theon was far from among them he had to see to the matter himself. They could at least have given me a squire for this duty. He sighed, but at least he could practice his archery. Maybe half a mile from where a team of stewards were setting up the king's tent, he was stalking rabbits again. They were bountiful in these hills, and it did not take him long before one came into his sight. He pulled out his bow. As he aimed, he thought of the dark shapes in the night, their muffled cries as they went down. He pictured Ser Richard's face, eyes widening in terror as an arrow shot towards the bridge of his nose…
He was about to make his kill when he heard footfalls and the sound of heavy breathing behind him.
"Theon!" a voice cried. "Theon!"
Theon cursed, as his quarry darted away. With a snarl he turned around, half intending to loose a quarrel on the interruption. "What, damn you?"
To his surprise, it was Merrett. The squire was hauling a bright purple 'bicycle' up the trail. It was dotted with sparkling stars and one tire was visibly flat, but he seemed reluctant to part with it.
"Theon!...The King is…he will be…looking for you!"
For a moment Theon was thrown. This was the last thing he would have expected. He looked Merrett up and down. "Do you jape? What use does the king have for me?" For a moment he turned back to see if could spy his quarry again.
"No, you don't…understand…" The Riverman took some deeply labored breaths. "Your father…the Ironborn…Stannis wants your head!"
Theon froze, turning back around. "What?"
"The Ironborn have attacked the royal fleet…" Merrett said with great effort. "Your father…he calls himself a king again!"
A wave of shock crashed over Theon. "You jape sir? Please tell me you jape?"
Merrett shook his head. He looked around now, but for the moment they were concealed by trees, the rest of the army out of sight. "The Americans, they just came to him. I was there, with Ser Davos. They have their um…sky portraits. Ships are sinking off Lannisport. Ser Imry is said to be missing."
Theon was looking around quite wildly now. One hand went to his hair, clutching at it so strongly it was painful. "No…no, my father…"
"He must have made a deal with Lord Tywin."
"He knows I ride with Stannis…he couldn't…" He looked back at Merrett now, the full implications were dawning on him, and his world was falling to pieces accordingly. "You come here to collect me for the king?" he said accusingly, taking a step back. He felt for the dirk on his belt.
"No! No…" Merrett replied, suddenly dropping his voice. He looked around again. "You do not deserve this fate Theon. You fought for us, at Whispering Wood, at Riverrun, on the Gold Road. I know there is bad blood between Rivermen and Ironborn, but you are not our enemy…and all life is precious."
As he said this, Theon noticed him clutching at the queer little cross he still wore around his neck. For a moment it was almost too much. Am I to owe my life to the crucified god now? But there was no time to dwell on such.
"Did the king mention me by name?"
Merett's face turned into a grimace. "He flew into a rage when he was told. After the flying men left, he sent Ser Mandon and Ser Richard to find you. They will be searching the camp even now. You must flee, Theon. Here…" he gestured at the purple, sparkly bicycle. Theon noticed a small rucksack folded up in the front basket.
Despite it all, Theon almost laughed out loud. "Now you must jape. How far will I get on that? Even if I steal a good horse, a hundred knights will be after me by nightfall. I can't get away, not now."
"Then what will you do?"
For a moment Theon had no answer. Shock was quickly giving way to panic. There were thousands of the king's men within a few leagues of them. What could he do? If he ran, could he find some Westermen first? No, they think us both enemies. More like they will kill me then try hide me. He pictured his head on a block, about to be taken off by Ser Richard's sword. No, he thought. This couldn't be the end. This couldn't be the fate the gods had in store for Theon Greyjoy. But still he had no answer.
Suddenly, there was a droning sound.
They both turned to face it. Theon blinked, watching as the Fury soared lazily over the nearby hills. Its new landing strip was to the east of them, perhaps a mile distant.
"Maria" he said, so softly it was barely a whisper.
"What?" Merrett asked.
Suddenly Theon rushed at him. For a moment Merrett cowered, as is he meant to strike him, but he was only going after the rucksack.
"There is food in this?" he asked, feeling its contents briefly.
"Yes, there is roast, cheese and bread, and a skin of water."
"Thank you…truly" Theon was already running away. "You never saw me!" he called back.
"I never did" Merrett agreed.
Theon left him standing there holding his bicycle. Ahead of him were more trees, rocks, rabbits, a bubbling creek, and my only chance to stay among the living.
It took some time. He was unfamiliar with the land here. The Fury had disappeared somewhere up ahead, but it was always in some big field. To his left he caught glimpses of tents going up, as the royal host encamped for the night. Knights strode around on big destriers, attended to by squires and common servants. He passed small parties of men as he went, trying not to appear in too big a hurry. Some were out patrolling, or fetching wood, or hunting for a meal for their master's plate. A few glanced curiously at him, but none seemed especially alarmed. Word has not yet spread, only a few know what has happened Theon realized. It was his only chance, but he knew it was a slim one. That Merrett had set off first and found him was little short of a miracle itself. Thank the Drowned God he thought silently. Aye, and maybe the crucified one too.
The trees were thinning now, and the royal plane immediately came into view. A quarter mile away its propellers were whirring to a stop. Already a small crew was unloading the cargo, and it had turned to face back down the strip for its return flight that evening.
Theon slowed to a walk, willing himself to appear calm. He slung the rucksack over his back, trying to appear unhurried. He followed the edge of the tree line. A few startled sheep still lurked along the field's edge. He spent a queer moment wondering what had happened to the shepherd. With any luck, the king's men would leave him unmolested, and simply requisition his flock for their own stomachs. But never mind the bloody shepherd a voice seemed to scream inside him. What will they do to you, Theon?
A few armed guards glanced at him as he approached the tents. He recognized their faces, one white and whiskered, the other a charcoal black. No two flying men seem to look alike he thought, just as queerly, but he saw they recognized him in turn. They appeared unalarmed. He nodded at them pleasantly as he passed, as he had done a dozen times before. That was the easy part he thought, dourly. But if Maria was not here, if she was not due to fly tonight.
Then I am truly finished.
He spent an awkward minute wandering between the tents, trying not to get in anybody's way. He glanced into those that were open. He saw other pilots, but not her. Close to panic, he finally turned to ask one of the guards.
"Pardon ser, have you seen Lieutenant Diaz?" he asked, as humbly as he could.
The flying man looked him up and down a moment. "Maria?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She's over there, kid."
Theon mumbled a thanks and went where he had pointed. He had learned to use good manners around the flying men. Those who tried to order them around brusquely did not seem to fare well. They have little respect for the high lords, truly. They hardly even respect the king. It was not something that had gone unnoticed amongst the Westerosi.
Theon was standing now in front of what he thought was the right tent. He looked around a moment, before chancing the try the flap. He stuck his head inside. There was a row of low bunks, bags and bundles of clothing, most of it a dull green. He spotted three people, all females, two standing, one sitting, in various stages of undress. Oh.
"Hey!" said a voice immediately at the intrusion. Three sets of eyes turned to look at him. Theon jumped, and was about to mumble his apologies, when he realized the seated figure in the far corner was Maria.
"Theon?" she asked.
"Maria!" he said, too sharply. The other women, both were pilots also, he thought. They turned to look at their comrade. Theon heard laughter.
"Sis, you ain't allowed to bring boys back here."
"Yeah, get out you!" said the other, stepping forward as if to physically eject him from the tent. Theon hesitated a moment. Maria was looking at him slightly mortified.
"Sorry, my lady…I need to talk to you a minute…just a minute" he said, almost tripping over his words despite himself. Please he said in silent prayer.
There was more laughter now. "My lady? God, they ought to bring that back."
"Your boyfriend's from the eighteen thirties, gurl."
Theon ignored their mocking tones, eyes fixated on Maria. Please he begged silently. Don't kick me out. You turn me away and I die.
Something in his gaze must have conveyed his desperation. Maria turned to her colleagues. "Hey, shut up a minute…What is it?" she asked him.
"Just a minute" Theon repeated, titling his head to indicate outside the tent.
Maria nodded. Ignoring the continued jibes, she pulled her shirt and boots back on and followed him out. Theon squeezed into the narrow gap between her tent and the next. Some crates were stacked nearby, and a huge white chamber of some kind that looked to hold water. It was the closest thing to privacy they were going to get. He turned to face her.
"Have you heard?" he asked.
Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Heard what?"
"My father, the Ironborn."
Still, she looked confused. "What about him?"
"They say he has attacked the Royal Fleet. He has betrayed the king. Stannis will want my head."
Her eyes widened in surprise. She glanced around a moment in turn. "They were saying something had happened."
"I came here…" Theon leaned in a little, barely whispering now. "I'm sorry Maria. If I tried riding on a horse, they would catch me. You're my only chance."
"Wait…you want…" she stopped a moment. "Let's start this again. The king wants to kill you?"
"Yes, my father betrayed him."
"You're not your father, why would he kill you?"
"I was taken as ward of the Starks when I was a boy, to ensure my father's loyalty. I told you…" he faltered a moment.
"Yeah, you did actually" she replied, as if just remembering. "They're after you now?"
"They will be. A friend warned me. I ran straight here" he looked around again, but there was no sign of pursuing knights just yet. "I'm sorry Maria, you're the only one I could ask."
"Well, I can't help you" she said.
Theon felt panic rising again. "You can fly me out of here" he said desperately.
Maria's hand had gone to her mouth, as the implications seemed to be sinking in. "I flew in, I'm not due to fly out today. Roberts has it. Its due to leave in…" she glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Half an hour."
"Then I fly out with him?"
"No, no, he won't let you go. He might want to help you, but he'll ask the Colonel, and he'll say…"
"What? What will he say?"
"I don't know" Maria replied, and now she seemed deep in thought. "I'm sorry Theon, I don't see how we can do this. I can't just fly you out of here."
"Why not? You can fly the plane."
"Yes, but I don't have clearance now, and where would I fly you to?"
"Fly me to your America?" he said desperately. "To your Porto Rico?"
"No Theon" she shook her head. "It's the other side of the world. We don't have the range…besides, we'd have to get through the Ring. If you get to there, you could seek refuge with the Australians."
"Refuge?" he asked.
"Be a refugee. They grant you asylum. Let you in, if you're in fear of your life. You could live there, only…you probably couldn't come back. And besides, if we try and approach the Ring without clearance, they might shoot us down, or try and force us down along the way…"
For a moment Theon was barely listening to her. He thought of Merrett again. Isn't that what had happened to his nephews? Exile, and disgrace. Somehow is almost seemed worse than Ser Richard's sword.
"What of the Iron Islands?" he interrupted. Maria paused.
"I'm not sure we have the range. Even then, we don't have aerial photos of your islands yet. We need them to pick out a good landing site. Especially now, it'll be dark before long…" she looked down at him sadly. "I'm sorry Theon, there's nothing I can…"
"Photos?" he asked, thinking rapidly. "Your…sky portraits? Where do you have photos of?"
"Of the mainland" she said. "The Westerlands, the Riverlands, Crownlands…Everywhere within a thousand miles of the Ring, or so."
"What of Fair Isle?"
"Fair Isle?"
"Its just off the coast of the Westerlands. Its closer, much closer. My father has taken it off the Lannisters."
Maria paused a moment. "I think we do have photos of that, but I'd have to check."
"You could fly me there. My father has it now. I could take you to him."
"Theon…"
"Why not?" he whispered.
"My people won't allow it" she explained. "Maybe I could take off and fly you there, but they'd come for us. Find us within a couple of days. I'd be court martialed, at the least."
Theon could almost feel his life slipping away minute by minute. The king's knights were surely riding here even now. How long until someone works out where I've fled? He groped around for some argument that could convince her. Some specific combination of words that could save him. No a little voice inside him said. Not just words.
Almost before he realized what he was doing, Theon felt his legs bending. He took her hand in his as his knees hit the smooth grass below. "Maria…Lieutenant Diaz, please" he begged. "We can do this. My father is calling himself a king now. He owes no fealty to Stannis, nor anyone else. You'd be safe there. He could hide us."
Maria was looking down at him. Her face writ with shock. "Your father can't fight my people Theon. That won't stop them."
"He could hide us" Theon insisted. "We don't have to fight. Even flying men cannot see everywhere. We just have to fly to Fair Isle and hide." He looked up at her desperately now. "You could be my refugee."
A pause. Maria was looking down at him, mouth slightly open. It stretched on for several seconds.
"Maybe…" she paused another moment. Theon could see her doing some quick thinking. "Your father's the king?"
"Yes."
"You're his only son now?"
"Yes."
"His heir?"
"Yes, I'll be the next king."
Another pause. Come on Theon. Suddenly the words were pouring out of him.
"Come with me, Maria Diaz. You can take refuge with us, and I'll make you queen of the Iron Islands" he looked over her shoulder. Still there were no raised voices, no signs of a search. She was looking down at him. Her face was scrunched up now, as if in some distress.
"Theon…I'm just not sure I can do this."
Theon left out a gasp, bordering on a sob. "Very well then…my lady." He left one hand clasping hers, while the other reached for his waist. He pulled out his dirk.
Maria's eyes widened when she saw the knife. "Hey…" she said, and jerked away slightly, as if afraid he meant to stab her. But Theon had other ideas entirely. With deft fingers he twisted the knife around and placed the handle in her palm.
He looked up at her. He tried to sound braver than he really felt. "I am sorry it has come to this." He cracked a weak sort of smile. "When the king's men find me, they will kill me. The death may not be quick. He may demand they drag it out for days. I would rather not endure that, but I'm glad I was able to spend my final moments with you, Lieutenant. Now please…" He leaned forward, until his neck was resting against the sharp blade. He felt the kiss of the steel. He sharpened it every night. Another inch and he would be dead. With firm hands he closed her fingers over the blade. "Help me. Do me this one service."
He couldn't look into her eyes now from this angle, but he could hear her voice. It was positively trembling. "Oh god. Oh Jesus…Theon? You're not serious? You're not serious?"
"Please, Maria…I cannot do it myself. You have to help me" he whispered. His voice cracked a little. "Don't make me beg anymore. Please, quickly."
There was another moment's pause. He could hear her breathing. Suddenly it was shallow, distressed, like she was gasping for air herself.
"Alright, alright" she said finally. He felt her shoving the knife back into his hands. Theon turned back to look up at her, hardly daring to hope.
"Goddamn you, Theon Greyjoy" she whispered, sounding almost angry now. She looked around again. They were still unobserved. "Wait here, two minutes. I'll be back."
She took a moment to compose herself. Squeezed out of the gap and back into her tent.
Theon got back to his feet. It seemed like a lot longer than two minutes. In truth it was probably no more than five, but it seemed like hours. He could hear the activity of the camp. The comings and goings of men and horses and the occasional vehicle. It was late afternoon now. Sunset must only be an hour or two away.
Finally, Maria emerged from the tent. Her uniform was done up again. She wore a backpack and carried another large bag.
"Here" she hissed, practically throwing it at him. "Walk behind me. Act normal."
Theon did as he was bid, trying to look as calm as possible. He followed Maria between the rows of tents. No one challenged them as they crossed the half-constructed camp, passed a few sentries, and were marching across the field towards the Fury. It couldn't have been more than a hundred yards, yet it felt like leagues to Theon. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Thinking that at any moment a voice must cry out. Stop! Thieves! Traitor! But no such cry came.
Beside the plane several men were at work. Empty barrels and crates were being loaded up for the return flight to King's Landing. Fortunately, there were no wounded men on stretchers that day to complicate things. Maria walked straight up to the man that appeared in charge.
"Sorry sergeant. Just need to check something" he heard her say pleasantly. "Can you get them out of the rear for a minute?"
The man gave Theon only a cursory glance. "Yes ma'am" he replied and immediately headed off to do as he was bid.
Maria didn't even look back. She strode up the steps and into the cockpit. Theon glanced around the interior. Only half a score of seats remained. Two thirds of the royal plane had been given over to extra storage. Two men had been stacking crates but exited at the sergeant's call. Maria dropped her bags in one of the seats and pointed for Theon to do the same. She strode down the aisle to the rear hatch.
"Just a minute, sergeant" he heard her call again cheerily, as she closed the rear door and appeared to lock it. She walked back and did the same for the one at the front, waving at her colleagues as she did so. She walked past Theon into the cockpit, and immediately began flicking switches. Lights came on, and all manner of paraphernalia that Theon hardly comprehended.
"Sit down" she instructed, pointing to the co-pilot's seat. Outside, Theon saw the props starting to turn, as the engines growled into life. Maybe half a minute passed. Theon heard knocking on the cockpit door, though it was polite, sounding confused rather than panicked. He made to look around, but Maria reached out a hand and practically slapped him. "Look forward" she said, and Theon did so as she helped buckle him in.
He heard a man shouting now. The knocking grew louder, but moments later Maria pushed down the throttle and the Fury started to move. Outside, Theon could see faces turning towards them. Even a figure or two running in apparent haste, but in moments the royal plane was galloping forward like a tourney horse. A minute more and Theon felt his stomach lurch as the nose of the plane dipped and then soared. It soared. Away from the ground. Away from Stannis. Away from the royal army.
Away from death.
It seemed they were well above the trees and hills before Theon remembered to continue breathing. As soon as they were out of sight of the camp, Maria banked the plane left, and soon they were facing the setting sun. She turned to him a moment.
"Open that draw" she said, rather calmly, pointing to his right.
Theon did as he was bid. Inside there were several thick tomes, their titles neatly printed. He reached for them curiously.
"The red one" Maria instructed.
Theon passed it to her. She placed it in her lap and starting riffling through. It took her a few minutes. "Okay" she said finally, marking the correct pages and showing them to Theon. "That's Fair Isle. I see at least five landing sites marked out. Its only two hundred miles. Less than an hour's flight. We'll get there before dark." She tapped at a few more instruments. Including one she had introduced to him as a 'compass' and sat back a moment. The radio had been chattering as they took off, but it seemed to have gone silent now.
"Will they know where we've gone?" Theon asked nervously.
"No, not exactly. There's no RADAR our here, and I turned the transponder off. They don't know our course. We have enough fuel for another five hundred miles. They'll probably think we headed straight for your Iron Islands. There are drones up, but they're only good for aerial surveillance. Wherever we land, they'll spot the plane in a couple of days, at best. We need to be well away by then."
She turned to face him. "You weren't lying about your father? He is the lord of these islands?"
"He will be the king now." Theon almost managed to crack a grin. "And I will be prince."
"And he'll welcome you back?"
Despite everything, Theon was almost affronted by the question. "Of course, my lady. I am his last living son."
Maria was silent a long moment. The plane droned steadily around them.
"He had no way of knowing you would escape from Stannis, did he?"
Theon turned towards her. "My lady?"
Maria returned his gaze. "I mean…it's not like you planned this, is it? He knew Stannis had you, that he would kill you…" she turned back to face the front. "He expected you to die, didn't he?"
Theon took a long while to reply. "I guess he must have."
More silence. The hills and forests of the Westerlands were spread out before them now. They were soon so high Theon spied some clouds below them. He wondered if they could see Casterly Rock from this height, perhaps even the Wall, or the Hightower? But he did not know where to look. Finally, Maria turned to him again. She looked almost angry now.
"You better make me a fucking queen Theon Greyjoy."
With one hand she grasped his. Theon turned and faced her again. He had never heard her curse before. A question had been nagging at him.
"Will your people…will they execute you for this?"
Maria chuckled now. "No, they don't really do that sort of thing anymore. I'd be court martialed sure. Dishonorably discharged. Maybe spend a few years in prison…Fuck, it could be worse."
She laughed, then Theon did so too. Suddenly, he felt alive. He felt madly, almost deliriously happy. He was not going to die that king would not be able to kill him, and Theon had stolen his plane. I take what is mine he thought madly. At the point of a sword or with words sweet as honey. For a moment he felt incredible, invincible. They will sing songs of this deed for a hundred years.
Theon leaned over towards Maria again, and now he kissed his rescuer. Deeply, passionately, his hands around her neck and waist.
After a moment of hesitation, he found her returning his affections, one hand still controlling the plane. Her skin was a chestnut brown, but her lips were still red. He liked the feel of them. He pulled back a moment. Looking at her. She was still fair, for a lady that age. She was no maiden, to be sure, but he decided he did quite like the look of her.
Yes, you can be my wife he thought. Though some doubt nagged at him. Would the Ironborn accept someone so queer as queen? Even if she was a flying woman? Perhaps she must be a salt wife, rather than a rock wife.
He didn't say that part aloud, however. He turned back to face the front, as they raced the sunset to Fair Isle. He was going home.
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Author's Note: So this chapter has already got some lively feedback (as I expected). Some people saying "No way this would happen!" to which I will say a few things.
Firstly, yes this sort of event is very unusual, but far from impossible. In this instance, we have a serving military officer essentially flying off to defect to another country. There are actually many examples of such. You can look up "List of Cold War Pilot Defections" on Wikipedia, where there are hundreds. On at least three occasions in the 1960s, for instance, US pilots flew to Cuba and sought asylum. Even the fact that Westeros is a poor and backwards country is not necessarily a dealbreaker. At least six US soldiers are known to have crossed the DMZ and surrendered to North Korea as well (where they mostly became movie stars - not the worst deal ever!). An even more modern example - at least 3,000 westerners ran off to join ISIS a few years back (and at least several hundred were women - some people are just begging for subjugation aren't they?)
Secondly, consider Maria's character. I've only had one previous chapter to build up her relationship with Theon (more on that later) but from what little we know of her, she is thirty-two (soon to pass the average age to marry) and recently broke up with a long term partner. She volunteered to come through the Ring, still a mysterious apparition which, for all the characters know, could disappear any day and leave them stranded in this strange and dangerous world. I feel this would definitely attract people of a character that's a little reckless and possibly looking for adventure (try as they might, even the military can't weed all these people out). There will also be some who would romanticize Westeros and actually be enraptured by its drama of knights and castles and dragons (just consider how popular GOT was in real life. How many people might actually jump at the chance to go there, despite all the dangers?)
Third, Theon himself. We saw how he got down on his knees and begged her to save his skin. Yes, she barely knows him, but she was genuinely horrified by the idea of him dying. This alone may not have been enough, but Theon reminded her that he is a prince now. If she saves him, and plays her cards right, she could end up a genuine queen here, and honestly, if there's one character from ASOIAF that could pull this defection off, it would be Theon. We know from the books that he is handsome, promiscuous, and can be quite charming/cunning when he wants to be. So the choice he set up for her was to continue her mediocre life (where he dies and she goes back to the US a childless, spinster nobody) or take this once chance - to save an innocent man and perhaps live an extraordinary life. Plus, as she mentions, the US has not executed anyone for treason/desertion since WW2. At worst, she faces a dishonorable discharge and time in prison. (Of course, how she'll fare among the Ironborn is quite another matter...but we'll see how that goes too.)