Chapter 29 – The Pilot and the Prince the 2nd day of August, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest
It was a cold, wet night for the two fugitives.
Maria had rejected the first landing site, dotted with trees and bushes and more than a few wandering sheep. She had pronounced the second to her satisfaction however, and after a single flyby they had descended for a landing. A few bumps and the Fury settled onto the fallow field.
They had stripped the plane of anything that might be of use. Maria had handed Theon one bag, while she salvaged most of the contents of an 'emergency survival kit' stashed in another of the cockpit compartments. They had set off immediately, hoping to cover as much ground as possible. Theon didn't think they had gone more than a couple of miles however before night was truly upon them.
If the maps told it true (and Maria swore they now did) Fair Isle was a long snake of land, a good ninety miles long and twenty or more wide. There might have been a hundred villages dotted across the island, and a dozen holdfasts of note, but only Faircastle, stronghold of House Farman, was of interest to Theon. "There will be Ironborn there, sure as night follows day" he promised her. "We can take ship there for the Iron Islands, or seek out my father."
Maria had nodded. "Then we better reach it tomorrow. They might not find the plane in a day, but two or three is pushing it."
They had headed north. To the east were green rolling fields, neatly divided by fences of wood and stone, and looking as yet untouched by war. In the distance they spied a village, though no lights appeared to indicate habitation, and it was soon lost from view. A few miles beyond was the great black mass of the sea. To their west was unbroken forest, covering hills which threatened to grow into mountains along the spine of the island. They saw no people. Possibly no one had even seen them arrive, so remote was their landing site.
They were soon lost amid trees. They followed a goat track for a little while, but now darkness was falling thick as autumn leaves. Theon went to pull out his torch, one of the few items he still had on his person, but Maria waved him off. She was leading, clutching the sky portraits of the island she'd ripped out of their book. She turned them off the track and they walked another hundred yards or so deeper into the forest, until they were squeezing their way between branches.
She stopped under a sturdy looking oak tree, with a convenient branch jutting out at about waist height. Maria quickly pulled out a piece of dull green 'tarp', unfolded it and started tying one end around the branch. She produced a small hammer and some nails and quickly secured the other end in the hard earth. In minutes they had made a simple sort of shelter.
It was a good thing too. Theon could hear the first pattering of rain. They placed their packs under the tarp and sat down together. Theon looked at his savior. She looked back at him.
"Have you ever been to this island before?"
Theon shook his head. "It is not one of the Iron Islands…I grew up on Pyke. I recall sailing to Harlaw once, before my father rebelled, to visit my uncle Rodrik. Otherwise, I only knew the North."
"It is a beautiful island" she said after a moment. "I can see where it gets the name…Fair Isle?"
"Aye, it is fair."
They sat there in silence for a few moments. Around them the rain fell in a steady drizzle.
"I realize I have probably made a very stupid decision" Maria said suddenly. It was hard to make out her face, but Theon could sense her eyes on his.
Theon wasn't immediately sure what to say to that. The elation of his escape had started to fade, and now exhaustion from the day's events was setting in. "I think you did a very noble thing, my lady."
"I didn't want to see you killed, that is true, but it was still very stupid. I exceeded my orders considerably. I expect I will face punishment at some point."
"Exceeded?" Theon asked, for a moment confused.
Maria's crouched form seemed to shrug. "I was told to get close to you. Colonel Axup. After the first time you talked to me. He took me aside. Said, hey that kid might be kind of important, best make friends with him. So I did."
This was news to Theon. He hoped Maria couldn't see his shocked expression in the dark. He thought back on their interactions over the last few weeks. And there I was, thinking I was such a nobleman.
"Then that was a mummer's show?" he asked. "The whole time, my lady?"
"I wouldn't say that…" Maria replied, sounding cautious. "I was curious. You were a real prince, I know that. The Greyjoys…you're one of the nine or ten great families in Westeros. You're important, that's true." She chuckled a little. "Jesus Christ, and I've run off with you…I'm Bowe Bergdahl mixed with Meghan Markle."
The names meant nothing to Theon. Other thoughts were occurring to him. "Was all this your ruse then?" he asked suddenly. "Some…plot to get me out of the king's hands?"
"Oh no…God no. There is no conspiracy here. We're not that organized. No…this was me making one stupid decision when you came and begged for your life."
Theon considered her words for a moment. He thought back to Merrett Frey, sad old worshipper of the crucified god he now was. Could he have been in league with Maria? With her colonel? The onion knight? He worked his way down the list of suspects, but couldn't see how any possible scheme fit together. Maybe we really are on our own. The thought was a relief. Sometimes he wondered whose strings he danced to, without even knowing. King's Landing was said to be a cesspool or plots upon plots, why should here be any different? But no he concluded. This one I hatched myself, in a moment of madness, yet it worked! And no one in the world knows what has become of us. Not yet anyway.
"I do consider what happens now" Maria went on, shuffling a little closer to him. "I could simply go back to the plane. Return to my people, should be enough fuel, or just wait for them. Face the music. A court martial, definitely. Discharge…but I was thinking about it anyway. Six years is enough. Prison maybe…though even Bergdahl didn't get prison…though Manning did…" she seemed to consider it a moment, then shook her head. "I can argue I did what I did for noble reasons. The media will be sympathetic, so the punishment should be lighter. That matters in my world…My people handing you over to Stannis to be executed would have been a bad look too. The king himself will be upset of course, but that's their problem to deal with…and they did order me to get close to you…" She closed her eyes, a hand on her head, as if contemplating further the degree of trouble she was now in.
"Perhaps not this close to me, my lady" Theon said, with a smile no one else could see.
"No, not this close" she agreed. He sensed more movement, and now he felt her hand on his brow. She was brushing his hair gently. After a while her hand moved down to grab his chin. She turned it to face her. He could dimly see her eyes, inches from his own. "Tell me I haven't made a stupid fucking decision, Theon Grejoy. The most stupid decision of my life. Tell me what happens now."
"We find my people" Theon said again, immediately. "And my father. I'll explain to him that you saved me. He should be thankful. If you choose to remain with us, it will be as our honored guest. If your people come searching for you, my father will hide us. They can't search every village and holdfast in the Iron Islands for us…can they?" he asked, with a flicker of doubt.
"I don't think they would bother after a while. Certainly, they will come looking for me. For all they know you threatened me somehow, kidnapped me…but if we send word to them that I don't want to return…well. They won't exactly be happy about it. I'm still a deserter. I expect I'll face the music someday, but by then maybe it won't matter, if its years from now…"
She started stroking his hair again. The rain seemed to slacken, but still they heard the little plink plink plink of drops falling off leaves. The forest was pitch black now. Theon may have been tempted to light a fire, but knew it to be a foolish notion. Maria's shelter looked to be keeping them dry at least.
"Was all that about marrying me bullshit then?" Maria asked.
Theon turned, and now he reached out for her in turn. He felt her hands and clasped them in his own. "No my lady. You saved my life, and you are most fair. Fair as this island."
Maria chuckled again. "You didn't quite answer the question. Was it bullshit?"
Theon took a moment to consider his answer. One hand moved up to her own brow. He felt her hair. It was surprisingly smooth, almost like silk. "I can marry you, certainly, only…" careful now. "We are Ironborn. We have our own traditions. Sometimes, a king or a lord takes more than one wife."
Maria was a silent a long moment. "More than one? You have multiple wives?"
"I mean…they are salt wives and rock wives" Theon explained quickly. "Salt wives marry for love, and a man may have more than one. Rock wives…they are for the producing of heirs." His fingers played about her ear. "When I tell my father I intend for us to marry, he will ask if it is as salt wife or rock wife…"
Another pause. "So I would be your salt wife then?"
"I am not sure" Theon said, and this was quite the truth. "If they accept you, think you are worthy enough. Ironborn have married outsiders before, Lannisters, for instance. I am not sure what they will think of you…" Darker thoughts were occurring to him now. "Possibly they will think ill of you, that you have put some spell on me for instance, that…that you are some witch they could not trust as queen."
Maria chuckled again. "I am not a witch, Theon Greyjoy." More silence. Theon's fingers moved to the back of her head, where her hair was tied in a tight bun. With a bit of exploring he managed to untie it. He felt her hair falling to her shoulders. "Ok, so I'm probably not going to be queen" Maria said. "Honestly, I expected as much, but we could get married?"
"Oh yes" Theon said, relieved. "Salt wives…they are respected in Ironborn culture. They are not thralls. Their children are born free, and can even inherit, if the rock wife has no trueborn sons. Salt wife to the king…you would have a high station. Servants, quarters of your own." He leaned in further and kissed her on the lips, ever so slightly. "You would be by my side. My father…he may ask me to take a highborn girl as rock wife as well, but you would still be by my side, Maria."
He felt her kissing him back. It was not exactly a romantic setting, on slightly damp ground in the middle of a dark forest, but there was a certain mad passion there that Theon quite liked. After a while their lips broke apart.
"Ok then" Maria said, apparently coming to some sort of conclusion. "We'll find your father and see what he says. If he agrees we can marry, I'll become your salt bitch, and we'll hide until my people lose interest. If not, if he tells me to fuck off, fine, I'll go back and face the music."
Her cursing continued to startle Theon, but he was deciding he rather liked it. She is no maiden, but mayhaps she did not have to be. "That sounds like a good plan, my lady."
They sat there a while longer, as the rain slowly petered out. Theon looked around. The night was growing chill. It was autumn now, and winter is coming. The words had come unbidden, and they made him think of Robb. He wondered where he was now, and what he would think when he heard of his escape.
"I wish I'd had time to gather my things" he said. "My sword was at the camp. All I have is my bow and dirk." He looked over at her sheepishly. "I do not even have a warm cloak."
It was dark, but he thought he saw her smile again. She turned and rummaged in her backpack, shortly producing a thick garment. She handed it to him, then helped him put it on. Instantly he felt the chill receding. It was as warming as wool, but as comforting and gentle on his skin as silk. Theon could not even begin to guess what it was made of.
"We should sleep" Maria said. "We'll set off at dawn, hopefully make it to Faircastle by dusk."
They rearranged the bags a little. From her pack Maria produced a few more items, including a pair of toothbrushes. She handed one to Theon. He lay his head on one pack as a pillow, wrapping the cloak around him. Next to him, Maria did the same. He ended up facing the back of her head.
"I don't know if tomorrow will work out" Maria said finally. "I…know what sort of place this is Theon. This is medieval. This is knights and dames, cowboys and Indians. People getting stabbed in the back." She shifted around to face him. "I do wonder, if you think you might not have use for me now" she said. Her tone was gentle, almost playful, but Theon sensed a deeper meaning. "Now that I've flown you here."
"You saved my life, my lady" he said. "It would not do well to repay such bravery by discarding you."
"No, it wouldn't…But if you genuinely don't want me to come with you, say so now. I'll return to my people. But if we do this…It wouldn't be smart at all for you to betray me." She put a finger on his lips. "Two reasons. One, I can defend myself." Down by his waist, Theon sensed her patting the 'pistol' that was still hanging on her hip. "No one is raping me here. If anyone tries I'll shoot their cock off.
Second, if my people ever find you, you better hope I'm right there with you. If they ask where I went and you have no good answer, they'll assume you killed me and buried me somewhere." Theon felt her hand on his check again. "Trust me, Theon. You don't want to be in that position. I might have run away, but I'm still one of them. If they ever think you murdered me, they will never stop hunting you, Theon Greyjoy."
Theon had a sudden image of Maria rebolstering her pistol and casually walking away while he lay writhing on the ground, his manhood severed in two. He resisted a sudden urge to gulp.
"Aye, my lady. I understand."
"Good, so don't stab me in the back, or my ghost will come back to haunt you as well. Flying ladies can do that."
"Yes, my lady" said Theon, not entirely sure she wasn't serious.
The next day they set off at dawn. Maria dismantled the shelter as quickly as it had been erected, shook the drops of water off, and stashed it in her pack. They found the goat track again. She spent some time studying the stolen pages, clutching a compass.
"Should be twelve miles to this castle. We can make it in a day, if the terrain isn't too rough."
They followed the trail, heading vaguely uphill. It looked little used. Fallen branches were everywhere, probably victims of whatever storm had last hit the island. At times it seemed to peter out and they almost lost it, but managed to pick it up again each time. After a few hours they encountered a creek. The track meandered along the bank for a while, then crossed at a point where the water was waist high. They sloshed their way across and climbed the rocky far bank.
The track continued, winding its way between moss covered trees. They still saw no people. Birds sang somewhere in the green canopy above them, and occasionally creatures rustled in the undergrowth. Theon wondered how old this forest was. It looked quite untouched by man. The Andals…the first men…he could almost believe the Children of the Forest might still be here, long concealed in some treetop village. At one point he even spied a mass of red leaves in the distance, and upon approaching realized it was in fact an ancient weirwood, as large as the one at Winterfell. For a moment he caught a glimpse of the trunk, and found himself starting back at the ugly, twisted face that was carved there. Its eyes looked angry, eyes that might have been staring at passersby since long before the first Andal set foot in the Vale. Looks like they missed this one he thought, smiling.
It must have been mid-morning before the forest started to thin. The trail curved back downhill. They caught more glimpses of the sea, which looked to be creeping closer. The mountains were veering off to the west. The track finally petered out as they entered open fields again. Maria consulted her pages and decided they needed to veer north by east. They followed a line of trees, trying to avoid any position too exposed. In the distance they saw a smattering of sheep and cows, and fields of barley. In looked ripe for harvest to Theon's eye, yet he saw no smallfolk working them. The lack of people was starting to bother him. Had they all fled from his father's reavers?
The sun was high in the sky before they saw another village, only from this one was coming smoke, too much to be from ordinary campfires. They crouched down behind a fence and Maria called for a break while they observed.
They did not have to wait long. A quarter mile away they saw a pair of men. One was bald and both were bearded. They carried long spears. They saw no banners and were too far away to see any sigils sown on their surcoats, but Theon would recognize Ironborn anywhere.
"Those are my people" he said. He made to stand up, but Maria tugged at his sleeve. "Wait a moment. I want to know how many there are."
They saw the pair exit one hut and enter another. Half the village looked to have been burnt to the ground. There was no sign of the other villagers. Maria cautiously rose to a crouch, and they crawled their way along the fence. Another ironborn came into view. A young lad. He looked to be guarding the hut in question.
"Perhaps we should move on" Maria said.
Theon shook his head. "We need to find my father. They can take us to him."
"Are you sure they will know you?" Maria asked again.
"They will know the name Greyjoy" he replied, with another smile.
Theon stood, hauling his way over the fence. He unsheathed his bow, clutching it tight but walking confidently up to his brethren. Some way behind, Maria followed. The boy saw them immediately. They heard him call a warning. By the time Theon approached, the pair from earlier had also emerged from the hut, though from inside they heard more noise. What sounded like a woman, crying out in pain.
Theon stopped fifty feet away.
"Who the fuck are you?" asked the bald one.
"I am Theon, of house Greyjoy. Son of King Balon."
The two bearded ones laughed. The youth simply looked uncertain. "Like hell you are" said the bald one. "Theon Greyjoy is dead". He spat.
"I am not" Theon replied coolly. "I was a hostage of king Stannis, yet I escaped him. I seek my father."
The ironborn looked among themselves, as if trying to discern the jape. By now Maria had walked up to stand behind Theon, one hand on her pistol. Their eyes switched from Theon to her and back, their confusion deepening. Inside the hut, the woman's voice had stopped. Yet they heard footsteps too. Suddenly, another figure emerged. Larger than the others, older. He worn no helm, but Theon saw that he was armored. The outlines of breastplate and pauldron were visible beneath his surcoat. With one huge, gnarled hand he was still buttoning up his breeches. The other held a bastard sword, a good four feet of cold steel.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded, looking from his comrades to the two strangers.
"What is your name?" Theon asked him.
"The fuck is asking?" he demanded in turn, stepping towards them.
Theon clutched his bow a little tighter. "I am Theon Greyjoy, son of your king. I have returned to seek my father. Where is he?"
The newcomer walked over, looking them up and down.
"You are no Ironborn" he pronounced. "You're some greenlander piss, boy. I can smell it on you."
"I have been away a long time" Theon conceded, annoyed at their impudence. They do not even know me. "But I am Theon. Take me to my father and he will reward you greatly."
"I'm not wasting time on the likes of you" the man said. His eyes went from Theon to Maria and back. "Your garments are mighty fine though, boy. Hand them over and maybe I'll let you pass unharmed." He leered at them, showing yellow teeth.
"You do not know me" Theon said, through gritted teeth. "So I will overlook this insolence. I seek my father. If you will not obey, we will move on. There will be no reward for you."
He made to step away, but the man advanced on him instead. Both hands gripped his sword now. "Your things boy. First, I'll take them. Then I'll take your friend here" he said, jabbing the sword at Maria.
The other three Ironborn were following their leader. Theon saw them spreading out, faces uncertain, but spears ready. He raised his bow now, aiming it square at the man's chest. "I'm warning you. Let us pass, or there will be violence."
"We are Ironborn boy" he said. He was stepping closer, preparing to lunge.
BANG.
Theon looked over. Ten feet beside him, Maria had her pistol held high. It was aimed up in the air, however. The other ironborn froze, except the youngster, who must have jumped a foot in the air. Their leader's eyes merely twitched, as if in confusion. He looked back at Theon.
"Who is this witch?"
"She is no witch. She is a flying lady…" Theon start to explain, but the man did not even seem to hear him. Without breaking stride he turned and advanced on Maria instead. He spat, face twisted into a scowl. "I'll not be fooled by some mummer's show…bitch!"
He had the sword raised again. Maria was taking a step back, pistol pointed at his heart. "Stop! STOP!" she yelled, but the man paid her words no more heed than Theon's. He was ten feet away now, sword raised high. Theon had his bow drawn, but Maria got their first.
BANG. BANG.
He took two more steps. The sword swung down, but suddenly its motion was clumsy, as if wielded by a blind man. Maria dodged to the side. The man tried to follow her, but his limbs did not seem to be working properly. Theon heard him emit a grunt of pain, then he seemed to spit again, except now it was blood flying from his lips. There was a sound that was halfway between a gargle and a howl of rage as the Ironborn warrior collapsed to the ground.
Theon watched him fall, but his eyes quickly turned to his companions. The two bearded ones were emitting cries of rage, advancing with their spears. Theon turned his bow to the one on the right. "Stop! Stop I command you!" he cried, but they seemed no wiser than their master. At twenty feet he loosed an arrow. He saw it enter the man's chest and sink to the fletching, but he hardly broke stride. He went to reach for another, but he heard the pistol fire again.
BANG. BANG…BANG.
Both men seemed to hesitate, then collapsed in turn. They did not die immediately. One managed to stagger back to his feet for a few moments, looking at Maria like she was a vengeful spirit in human form. She kept the pistol raised, but it seemed no further shots were necessary. Theon heard a horrible sucking sound as the man collapsed back to the ground. All three were visibly choking on their own blood. He had another arrow drawn, but for the moment was not sure what to do with it.
"You! What is your name?"
He looked up again. Maria was advancing on the final Ironborn. Up close, Theon realized he was no more than a boy. Certainly younger than him, maybe no older than Bran. He was looking at the pair of them in complete shock. At Maria's approach he dropped his spear, falling back into the dirt. He raised his hands.
"Urek!" he cried. "Urek! Urek!"
Theon hurried over to them.
"Well…fuck!" Maria said, rounding on him. "They know the name Greyjoy?" she shouted.
Theon was shaking his head, looking back on the dying men. "These men did not know me. They were fools!"
Maria was looking around now, as if checking for any more witnesses. "Oh shit…this was a bad idea. This was a bad idea…I should go back."
"No, no!" Theon pleaded. "You saved me. Now I save you"
"Fuck!" she said again. She was holding her pistol at arm's length, looking down at it in mild horror. "I never killed a bastard before. Didn't intend to start now…"
Theon had walked over to Urek. He gave the cowering boy a good kick in the thigh. "Where is your lord? Where are the others?"
Urek seemed to have quite lost the power of speech. He glanced over his shoulder, down towards the coast. "You will take us to them!" Theon roared, giving him another kick for good measure.
Maria looked despondent. "We killed them. How can we go on now?" Maria demanded. "They will kill us!"
"No, no" Theon said, trying to reassure her. "They did not know me. They refused to obey my commands! We are not to blame. I am a Greyjoy, you understand? A Greyjoy of Pyke. These men are sworn to obey my family. Their lord will beg our forgiveness when we tell what happened!"
"Shit, shit, shit…" Maria was looking back at the dying men. "I killed them." She rounded on Theon. "You think your people will accept me now?"
Theon walked back to retrieve their bags, taking a moment to think. The bald men was still coughing up blood, but the others now lay quite still. On his return Theon threw one bag at Urek, ordering him to pick it up. The boy did so, holding it gingerly, as if afraid it might come to life and bite him. He approached Maria again.
"No, no. Listen to me. This means nothing. They were lowborn scum, the sons of thralls. No one will care. I will say I killed them when they refused to obey me or let us pass. It is the proper punishment."
Maria was breathing deeply, but already her usual calm seemed to be returning. "How do you know that Theon? You were wrong that they would know you."
"They were fools!" he repeated. "Lowborn, little better than beasts. The highborn will know me, they must!" He left her for a moment, heading into the ruins of the village. He approached the hut the boy had been guarding. He poked his head inside, and heard the rustle of movement. After a moment's pause, he remembered the torch on his belt. He pulled it out and clicked it on.
A pair of scared faces started back at him. Two girls, probably no older than Sansa. Of course he thought. What else would Ironborn be doing in a village such as this? Both were tied to a post in a corner of the hut, quite naked. After a moment's consideration, Theon pulled out his dirk. The girls tried to shuffle away, and one started screaming again, but Theon only grabbed their bonds and cut through in several rough strokes. Even once freed, they just lay there, staring at him, as if resigned to their fate.
"Go!" Theon commanded, giving one of them a kick, though gentler than he had given Urek. "Run! Hide! Get away from here!"
He didn't stay to see if they obeyed him. He returned both torch and dirk to his belt and stepped outside. Maria was standing over the bodies of the men she had killed.
"They have bullet holes in them Theon…How are we to say you killed them?"
Theon walked over. With one booted foot he turned the armored man over. He leant down and tore open his coat. Beneath were two clear holes in his breastplate, as large and round as gold dragons. Beneath was a pooling mass of blood and a ruin of flesh. He could taste the man's death on his tongue. He stood and wrinkled his nose, considering this a moment. He looked over at Maria, then down at the pistol.
"Give that to me." He said the command as gently as he could.
She was looking at him as if he were mad. "You want me to give this to you?"
"Yes. I wielded it. You did nothing."
Maria did not answer immediately.
"Please, my lady" he said. He stepped beside her and clutched her shoulder. "If this is to work, it must be done this way, do you understand?" He looked down at the dead man. "Perhaps you were right, that the moment they met you they would suspect you to be some witch…" He looked her in the eye again. "We must pretend the opposite. I wielded the pistol. I killed them. I won your heart and you agreed to run away with me, and now you are just some maiden I am to take as salt wife. You are…a bit helpless. You need my protection. If they see that, they will never suspect you, and no one will touch you while you are mine."
Maria stood there. It seemed it was her turn to freeze from indecision. The pistol was still in her hand.
"This is how this works" Theon went on, in little more than a whisper. The hand on her shoulder went to her hair, stroking it gently. "I am sorry if it wounds your pride, my lady, but it must happen this way. Now, do you agree? Or will you return to your people?"
Maria seemed to deflate a little. "I cannot go back now. It is too soon…"
"Then give me that, and we shall go find my father."
With all the reluctance in the world, Maria did so. Theon took the unfamiliar item. She had never let him touch it before. He ran his fingers over the sleek metal frame.
"Don't touch that!" she hissed, indicating the 'trigger'. She unclipped the holster from her belt and placed it around his waist, helping him sheath the weapon. She took a step back, looking at him with uncertain eyes.
"Do not worry my lady" Theon said, voice soothing. "You were right. I could have slit your throat in your sleep last night, but I didn't, did I? Nor did you." He smiled. "No Ironborn has ever taken a flying lady to wife. No greenlander neither, I figure. I am not losing you." He slipped one hand around her waist and kissed her again. It was a long moment before they broke apart.
"Goddamn you Theon Greyjoy…" she breathed when they broke apart. She turned to look over his shoulder.
"What about him?" she asked, nodding at Urek, who was standing fifty feet away, still staring at them like they were spirits freshly scaped from the watery halls.
"Yes" Theon replied simply. He walked over and retrieved the fallen bastard sword. He swung it in a wide circle, testing its balance, then advanced on the boy.
"Jesus Christ, you're not going to kill him too?" he heard Maria cry.
Theon shook his head. "Be calm, my lady." He strode over to the boy. He was still clutching the heavy bag Theon had given him, rooted to the spot. Theon smacked him over the face. With one hand he grabbed the scruff of his neck, near lifting him off the ground. With the other he placed the blade on the boy's neck.
"I killed them, you understand?" he hissed, with all the fury he could muster. "I killed them, wielding this." He patted the pistol gently. "She did nothing, do you understand?"
The boy nodded dumbly.
"How did they die?" Theon demanded.
"You…you killed them, m'lord" Urek replied.
"And what is my name?"
"Theon Greyjoy."
"And who killed them? Who killed them all? Tell me!"
"Theon…Theon Greyjoy, m'lord. He killed them all."
"Say otherwise, and I will remove your lying tongue, understand boy?"
Urek nodded. Theon dropped him to the ground and kicked him again. "Pick that up" he commanded, pointing at the dropped bag. Urek did so. Theon sheathed the bastard sword on his belt, careful to position it so the tip was not scraping over the ground. He walked over and helped Maria put her backpack on again. He gave her another quick kiss.
"Do not despair my lady. We can't be far from Faircastle now." He turned and pointed the dirk at Urek again. "Lead us to your lord" he commanded.
The three of them set off, leaving the still smoking village and its surviving occupants behind. It took some time before Theon felt his heartbeat returning to normal. Maria had gone quiet. Where before she had led confidently, she now stayed only a step or two behind Theon. Urek walked ten feet in front of them, barely glancing back, as if afraid.
"How old are you, boy?"
"Thirteen, m'lord."
"Who was your master? The one in armor?"
"Jorl, m'lord. Son of Sigrin, of House Drumm."
"Drumm? Of Old Wyk?" Theon asked, thinking back to half-remembered lessons with master Luwin.
"Yes, m'lord."
"It is not m'lord" Theon corrected him. "My father has declared himself a king again, has he not? It is prince Theon."
"Aye, my…prince."
More details were coming to Theon as they walked down the hillside. "You serve Lord Dunstan Drumm, wielder of Red Rain?"
"Aye, my prince. He is at the next holdfast."
"Take me straight to him. He should know me."
They walked for at least an hour, perhaps two, when the holdfast came into view. It overlooked another half-burnt village. The sea was not far away now. Theon could smell it. A welcome smell. Blood and salt I have smelt this day he thought. He took that as a good omen.
He spied his fellow Ironborn at once. There were more of them now. A few score, perhaps half a hundred. Many were gathered around fires that burned in pits by the gates of the holdfast. It was a modest thing, probably the home of one of lord Farman's knights. Only two stories of white stone, attending to by a dozen houses, some stables and a few pens that might have held pigs or chickens.
Urek led them into the gathering. Bearded faces turned to face them.
"Announce me" Theon commanded of Urek. The boy obeyed, walking up to the nearest firepit.
"Prince Theon Greyjoy, son of King Balon" he said. Theon would have appreciated a greater volume, but this announcement seemed to serve. Silence quickly fell as everyone turned to look.
"Where is Lord Dunstan?" Theon demanded of them.
Ironborn exchanged looks. They still do not know me Theon thought angrily. He was about to repeat the command when a grey bearded man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
"Inside, m'lord" he answered, looking him up and down.
"Take me to him" Theon commanded.
The greybeard seemed to exchange a glance with his fellows, then stood up to walk over to the holdfast gates. Another pair of ironborn were guarding it. They stiffened at Theon's approach. Others were staring, but nobody made any particular move to stop them. The greybeard stepped between them and disappeared inside.
For a minute little was said. Men were feasting on pig flesh. Theon spotted at least two slowly rotating on spits. Men were still staring, but most seemed more intent on their meal. They looked a slightly sorry lot, a lot of older men, most clutching simple spears with not a scrap of armor to be seen. The best men went to raid the mainland he thought or sail with the Iron Fleet. At least no one was moving to stop them. Theon counted this fortunate. There were too many to fight now, even with the pistol.
Theon heard footsteps and looked back. From the holdfast the greybeard had returned with an even older man. Theon had not been sure of his age, though he looked to have seen as least sixty namedays. He was studying Theon's face as he approached, paying Maria little heed.
"Theon?" he said, uncertainly.
"Lord Dunstan, do you know me?" he replied.
"I knew Theon Greyjoy" he replied, stopping before him. "Though he was just a boy, before the wolves took him."
"I escaped from the wolves, and from Stannis, my lord" Theon said coolly. "I have returned, to seek my father."
Lord Dunstan still seemed uncertain. "Pardon but, how is it you are here, my lord?"
Theon indicated his companion. "This is lady Maria, she is a flying lady. She helped me escape. Now I am to take her to wife. May I ask, where is my father?"
Lord Dunstan blinked. "King Balon holds court at Faircastle, not a league from here."
This was more news to Theon, but not at all unwelcome. "Very good. Do you have horses, my lord? I wish to head there at once."
Lord Dunstan took a step closer. "Pardon, my lord, your face does look familiar…but how do I know you are Theon?"
Theon was losing patience with the old fool. "Salt runs in my veins, as surely as in yours, my lord. I grew up on Pyke, in the Sea Tower. I remember when Robert Baratheon's catapults breached the walls, killing my brother Maron. My father will know me, or my sister Asha, or Dagmer Cleftjaw. I am Theon Greyjoy. Do you believe me now, old man?"
Lord Dunstan stiffened, but Theon could see his words had some effect. "Aye, I think perhaps you are Theon…." His tone changed immediately. "We are pleased to receive you, my lord." He turned to the Ironborn on the gates. "Horses, quickly!" He began barking out more orders. Men started to move. Theon resisted the urge to smile. Now that is more like it.
Almost casually, he pulled the bastard sword from his waist. "Tell me, my lord. You know of Jorl, son of Sigrin?"
Lord Dunstan looked down at the sword in surprise. "Aye, my lord."
"My prince" Theon corrected him.
"Aye, my prince."
"He did not know me, fortunately you do" Theon said, dropping the sword at the man's feet.
In minutes a pair of rather shaggy looking palfreys had been brought over. Theon grabbed one by the reins and handed the other to Maria, but she was looking at him again like he were mad.
"I do not know how to ride" she said, in a low voice. Theon frowned. At a glance, he judged their mounts could not take two at a time. He looked around and laid eyes on Urek again.
"Boy, can you ride?"
Urek nodded dumbly.
"You will take lady Maria"
He handed the boy the reins. Lord Dunstan was observing them uneasily as his men brought more horses out. Theon demanded who among them knew the way to Faircastle, and now a dozen men stepped forward, offering their services. He heard the words Theon and Greyjoy spreading around the camp. Theon ordered two men over and had them help Maria onto a horse behind Urek. Two others took their baggage. In minutes they had formed a small procession. A man named Stygg offered to lead the way. As a dozen horses headed from the holdfast and down a coastal track nearby, Theon thanked Lord Dunstan for his aid, promising to tell his father.
They made swift time. Men stared at them, at Maria just as much as Theon, but none questioned him after that point. It might have been midafternoon when they set off. Faircastle itself came into view not long before dusk. The sky was cloudy again, turning its tall white towers grey. The village around it was larger, in truth half a town, though in an equally ruined state. They rode up to the gates, where more men were guarding the lowered drawbridge.
"Make way!' Stygg began shouting, in a booming voice. "Make way for Prince Theon!"
Men stood aside as they cantered across, passing under a barbican and into the inner yard. Theon still spied bloodstains on the ground. The castle can't have been in his father's hands for long. Theon swiftly dismounted. He ordered Urek and some other boys to carry their baggage inside. They were positively fighting for the honor now. He helped Maria off her horse himself. She was looking around in some alarm at the mass of onlookers. He saw her hand going to her hip, as if reaching for her absent pistol.
"Stay with me, my lady and no one will hurt you" he reassured her. "Look around, you see? Now they know me!" he knew he must have been grinning broadly, though she did not return the expression. She looked more exhausted than anything else.
"Where is my father?" he demanded of the gathered men. Some had hurried off with news of his arrival. He did not know the castle, but Stygg came over again and directed him to the great hall. Shortly he was striding down the white stone corridors, the sounds of drink and laughter and music rising up ahead. Maria stayed just half a step behind him. They turned a final corner and passed through a large double doorway.
Inside, a genuine feast was ongoing. At least a hundred Ironborn, many of them lords and captains, were sitting at long tables. A cluster of fiddlers and pipers were playing in one corner. In another, two men were playing the finger dance. At the centre of the head table, in what must have until recently been Lord Farman's seat, was his father.
At first it was an entrance with little fanfare. After a moment's pause, Theon strode up the central aisle his gaze fixed ahead. Men turned to look at him. Silence did not truly fall however until he was halfway to the head table. His father had looked up from his plate. Then he stood, a half-filled goblet clattering to the ground. The fiddlers and pipers stopped playing immediately and a sudden hush fell, until it seemed only their footsteps were echoing off the walls of the hall.
His father looked older than Theon remembered, but he had expected as much. He had always been a thin man. Now it was as if the gods had put him in a cauldron and boiled every spare ounce of flesh from his bones, until he was naught but skin. His dress was regal enough, sealskin robes of black and gold, embroidered with a great kraken, though there was not yet a crown on his head. His rebellion is so fresh he hasn't even crowned himself yet Theon noted, though there were more immediate concerns to be dealt with.
He stopped ten feet before the high table. He did not recognize the other lords that sat with his father, though he was sure they were men of note. The sigils were more familiar, though even that he could credit more to master Luwin then direct memories of his childhood. The bloodied moon of House Wynch, the silver fish of Botley, the black brazier of Stonehouse. Yes, these are my people.
Theon took a knee. For a moment he was looking down at the hard stone floor, then glanced up at the new king.
"Father" he said. Beside him, Maria had adopted an identical position.
The hall was silent for a good ten seconds. A hundred Ironborn looked on, waiting for their king to speak.
"Theon…I confess I thought you lost to us." His voice was hoarse, yet there was an authority to it all the same.
"I am not so easily killed, father. I am a Greyjoy of Pyke."
Balon's eyes flickered over to Maria. "Pray tell, how is it you escaped from Stannis?"
Theon looked over at her. He had been rehearsing the words in his head all day. "Father, this is Maria Diaz. She is a flying lady, from America, through the Ring. I confess I begged of her help once I understood my peril, and she obliged. We stole the Fury, the king's flying machine. We took it, father, under their very noses, and flew here to seek you out. In so doing she saved me…With your blessing, I would now invite her to court and take her to wife."
More silence, while his father seemed to consider these words.
"Theon…you have made a salt wife of a flying lady?"
"Aye, father…with your blessing."
Balon Greyjoy's eyes were flinty, black and sharp, yet there was intelligence there. The hall had broken out in whispers. Everyone was craning for a look at the newcomers. Balon seemed to take in the room, before his gaze returned to the kneeling pair.
"Theon…my son. By the Drowned God, you have been returned to us…We are blessed." He nodded at Maria. "If she is to be yours, you and your lady are welcome to our hall." He raised a thin hand. "Rise, my son. Pray, tell us everything of Stannis and these flying men."