A.N. Happy Valentines! Reviews and Comments make me write faster! (more notes below)

VII

The Failure

DAMION

The small modest house of stone stood on a hill overlooking from a far the small port town. There were no signs of his nephew whatsoever. Yet he entered regardless.

It was cool inside; a welcoming escape from the abrasive heat of the summer morning. The wooden boards cracked and creaked as he walked, and dust could be seen flying around giving the air inside a forlorn haze. The kitchenette remained unused, the bed naked without its mattress and all the life gone from this little place his nephew had called home for four years.

Dammit all… Damion thought with lukewarm anger; resignation and impotence had already taken over his mind. He had been in an extraneous journey in search of his nephew. For more than half a year he had travelled to the Free Cities with the hopes to find the boy who had left the isle against all sense. I failed Meg. I failed everyone…

"I thought I might find you here," a voice suddenly said from the entrance.

Damion turned to look at him. Urrigon Greyjoy stood by the door, the morning light shone behind giving him an almost ethereal air, almost, for his appearance was anything but. He had grown a beard and now sported a typical Ironborn mullet; cut short in the sides and long and dishevelled everywhere else. A stark contrast to the long doublet of green silk with purple lacings he wore. Urri, as he often called him affectionally, had bought it after winning the joust in Lord Brune's name day tournament. A dreadful piece of clothing and a horrible waste of money that Urri had been so proud of.

"I've been checking this place every morning for these past months, like you asked me to do."

He smiled at that, thankful for his dutifulness, but he wasn't able to keep it. Damion looked at the ground instead, feeling defeated.

"Hey…" He heard Urri said softly and stalked closer to him. Suddenly, he felt warm arms embracing him. In response, Damion placed his head on the crook of Urri's neck. The silver ring on his ear felt cool against his temple. "Don't beat yourself so much. Sooner or later he's going to come back. I am certain," he hushed as if it was a lullaby. "You'll see."

He wanted nothing more than to believe that.

Damion hold back Urri; wrapping around his arms around the Ironborn's chest. "I missed you…"

"I missed you too," Urri replied and kissed his temple. They held onto each other for minute until they broke apart. Damion touched his cheek gently and brushed his fingers along his bearded chin. "We better go back to the castle, you stink."

He chuckled at that. "Said the Ironborn."

Urri gave him that cheeky smile of his; sharp, arrogant and more attractive than it had any right to be. Then his smile faded away like a memory. "Your uncle wants to see you."

"Ugh, what does that old sod want?" Damion wondered annoyed. "Is it about the betrothal? I told him I will not marry her. He knows he cannot make me do it." Marriages made at sword point could be rendered null by any septon, everyone knew that.

"And you won't marry her… Well, you cannot most like."

He raised a brow. "Speak plainly, Greyjoy."

"Apparently your former wife to be is marrying someone else?"

Those were great news, truly great news. For him at least. "Really?"

"So it seems…" Urri mused. "Now you can imagine why your uncle wants to see you."

A fair share of chastisement, I wager, Damion sighed. "Gods be good…"

"Gods be good," Urri agreed.

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"You are a failure! A failure!" Old Lord Ardrian yelled as he rose from his seat in his solar. "A failure I say!"

I heard you the first three times old geezer…

"You forsook your duty to this family and now we have lost our chance of a great alliance with Tarth! You could have been Lord! Lord!" The impetus of his manner had turned his face as red as the crabs embroidered on his jerkin. He had been summoned into the Lord solar of the main castle of the Celtigars. The Red Cove, it was called for the red clay tiles of its roofs and a reddish stone of its walls. A rather small but luxurious stronghold with lavish halls of red white and black marble, large windows made of the finest glassworks, spacious terraces with balustrades of fancy stonework and wooden furniture brought from the free city of Braavos. The castle was built in the times of the Old King Jaehaerys during the height of House Celtigar's power and wealth. But those days were long past, and House Celtigar clangs to their ancient treasures as if they were the only thing they have left… Though it may as well be.

"Tarth and all its treasures could have been ours! Ours! But you ruined it all with your follies."

From his chair, Damion regarded the old man with nothing more than constrained annoyance. "Even if I had gone to Tarth with all the gold of Casterly Rock, Lord Selwyn is no fool, uncle. He knows better than to choose the vassal over the lord. Stannis Baratheon is brother to the King, only a fool would deny him."

"Velaryon did!"

"Because Velaryon is up jumped and wants his sister to be queen," he also rose from the chair. He looked down at his uncle. He had never been a tall man and age had shrank him even more. His white hair looked even paler as his skins turns red from anger. Without anything more to say Damion turn to leave the room. But if he had nothing more to say, his uncle certainly did.

"Where do you think you are going?" Damion turned to him, this time he made no effort to hide the annoyance on his face. "If you believe that this is over; that there aren't consequences for these actions, you are a fool, Damion, a fool!"

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "What's my punishment, nuncle dearest, tell me please," he said cloyingly.

"Punishment?" A mocking smile appeared on his face. "Oh no, not quite so…" He began to chuckle. "Given these recent events, I am proud to tell you that I have found you a new bride."

Who?! "Who?" He asked, pretending disinterest.

"Lady Lollys," the old Lord of Claw Isle said; his voice a blatant mockery.

"Stokeworth?!" said Damion shocked. Homely, dull, dim-witted and overweight, Lollys Stokeworth was the youngest daughter of Lady Tanda Stokeworth. A maiden of high birth, but a maiden of thirty.

"Would you have preferred Tarth now?"

At least Tarth looked like a man… "It makes no matter," he said hotly. "You cannot force me to marry her."

"Oh, but I can…" The smile on his old face curled like soured milk. "I'll take everything from you. Disinherit you. Say goodbye to this castle, your cousin Garmon will inherit it."

"You mean Gormon, surely?" He corrected. Garmon was Gormon's twin, distant cousins from a cadet branch. Garmon died years ago, yet the old man keeps confusing their names.

That seemed to anger him again. "Garman, Garmon, Gormon makes no bloody matter! He gets the Red Cove and everything else after I die…"

"And I only get the contents of your chamber pot…" he continued for him. His uncle had been threating with that ever since he returned from the Citadel thirteen years ago.

"Not even that!" He let out a disgusting cackle. Wretched old man, the older he gets the more fickle he grows. "I'll take your ships, that by all right are mine, and give sell them to some merchant."

"Fine, take it all, I don't care. I'll leave with Urrigon when he returns to the Iron Islands."

"And I'll sent him to Stannis before that happens!"

Damion clenched his fists and glared at his uncle. For all the threats his uncle had made throughout his life Urri had never been included. Does he know about us?

Another grotesque smile appeared on his uncle's face. "You will marry the Stokeworth girl Damion."

He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, then he spat: "Fine."

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He looked as the sun began to set with all its golden splendour. The blue of the sea turn darker and the faint red lustre began to bleed from the horizon. After a moment, the sun became a memory and the stars began to appear in the sky. It was the seventh year of summer, but the days still did not seem colder nor shorter.

"Dame!" Urri called. Damion turn to look at the Ironborn knight. He stood wearing his breeches and a loose shirt on the terrace of his own bedchambers right above Damion's apartment. He saw that he had in his hand a bottle of Arbor Gold and shook it slightly in invitation.

Damion granted him a wan smile. "You'll have me climb the treillage?"

In return, Urri smiled that cheeky smile of his. He couldn't say no to that. Damion sighed and went to the treillage beside the door to his room and climbed it up to Urri's terrace. When he reached the top of their crafty ladder, Damion grabbed the stone bottom rail and baluster and pushed himself to upwards. Urri helped him then.

Now in the terrace Damion make his way to the cushioned bench beside a small table with two glass goblets and the bottle of Arbor Gold.

"What a production…" Damion half-mocked the simplicity.

"There is food inside," Urri told him as he sat beside him. "If you want."

"I am not hungry," he replied. "I think I rather fast until morning."

"Seriously? You haven't eaten anything all day," There was a certain worry in his voice, but then a smile appeared on his face and he squinted his eyes. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

He tutted somewhat annoyed of all the innuendoes and poured himself some of the wine into a goblet and drank from it. Damion felt Urri placing his arm around his shoulders embracing him. They looked at the night sky.

So many stars, he thought as he pressed himself besides Urri. His father had taught him his stars as a boy; he had learned the names of all the starry houses of the heavens and the rulers of each, and he had learned to travel and find guidance in them. Maegor could make use that knowledge, he thought and wondered if the repulsive bastard of Galladon Storm taught his nephew as much. Damion doubted it; the only thing that so-called knight did was drink and kill.

"Why so tense?" Urri asked all of a sudden.

"Huh?" Damion turned to look at him; his onyx eyes held great intensity. He noted that the man's breath smelled sweet, heady and almost syrupy, with the vague scent vanilla and other aromas. "I…"

"Is it about your nuptials?" Urrigon interrupted.

"Yes… I was," he lied. His marriage to Lollys would not be until next year. He could afford not to think about it and ignore it.

A tender smile sweet as spring appeared on his lips. "It could be worse. Now you don't have to leave."

That is true enough, Damion reflected. Now he felt a smile appearing on his own face. "And mayhaps we can keep doing this…"

"Doing what?" Urri asked, feigning ignorance. He leaned forward and picked up the bottle of wine.

"Don't play the fool," he told him and moved away from his embrace. He was now looking at him in the eye again. The scent of rum coming from his mouth was strong. "You are drunk," Damion accused, though not meanly.

"I am not," Urri threw back, now trying to feign offence. He failed; a smile betrayed him. Damion stood from the bench, left the goblet on the small table and he entered Urri's bedchambers. It was warm inside and the dim lights of the candles and oil lamps gave the room a more romantic air. On the night stand, Damion saw a bottle of brown liquid inside, he picked it up and drank from it. It was rum; he could recognise its cloying, heady and burning taste anywhere.

Urri raise his brows in disbelief.

"And also I thought it prudent to match you in your drunkenness," he said as he brought the bottle of rum back to his lips. Damion noted a strange glint in Urri's eyes, so he studied the Ironborn's face. He seemed weary and constrained. "Is there something I need to know?"

Urrigon sighed. "There is going to be a tourney."

"We can go together if you want," he replied smiling.

"It's the Hand's Tourney… in King's Landing."

His smile vanished. "Why would you want to go there?" He asked with displeasure. The stinky and miserable city of King's Landing was way too close to Stokeworth. "And it's not as if you're wanted there, Greyjoy."

"Hey," he protested pretending being offended. "Are the Celtigars any different?"

That is true enough, Damion couldn't help but smile. The Celtigars have been one of the many families of corsairs from Valyria tasked by the Freehold to control the Narrow Sea, and they took the Claw Isle from the former inhabitants after they found it. The only thing that made them stood out from others was their Valyrian blood. And that its losing its value since the Targaryens fell.

"Theon is going… you know?" Urri explained as his smile wanned. "And I promised him that we will go as well."

"We? Are you mad? If our precious king sees me with my silver hair and purple eyes and that red armour he will grow mad and might end up killing me."

Urrigon sat on the side of his bed and looked at him with hopeful eyes. "You don't need to enter the lists."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Oh, so you want me to play the maid then? Waiting in the gallery for you to crown me queen of love and beauty and steal me away? Should I wear a dress too?"

"Wear one if you want," he told him with that cheeky smile of his. "But I am not crowning you anything."

"Oh, so there's a fair maiden... And she is…?"

"Lollys, of course!"

He and Urri both burst out laughing. A sweet moment that lasted less than he would have wanted.

Urrigon's smile was pleading now. "Please, come with me, Dame."

"No," Damion replied trying not to sound so cutting.

The Ironborn knight rose from the bed and went to him. He took the bottle of rum from his hands and left it on a side table besides him. "Please…" Urri tried to embrace him but Damion ushered away suddenly feeling guilty by how welcoming his embrace felt; he forced himself to remember his nephew.

He remembered that Maegor was still lost in who knows where and that he is not looking for him, instead he is wasting his time in romantic escapades. He ran his hand over his face. "No, stop, I can't do this. We can't, Urri. Not now."

Urri frowned. "Is this because of Maegor," he didn't sound accusatory when he said that. "Dame you spent almost eight months searching for him."

He looked at him. "And I should have kept looking,"

"Dammit Damion!" Urri exclaimed and let out a sigh exasperated. "Stop torturing yourself, this is not your fault."

"Of course it is," he spat, "I failed him… I failed him and I failed my sister."

"You did everything you could; there is so much one man can do," he tried to sound reassuring. Damion didn't realize he was trembling until Urrigon placed his warm hands on his shoulders. "This has not been easy on me either… Every night these pasts months have been unbearable." If he wasn't flushed before, now he surely was.

"Urri…" Damion whispered.

The Ironborn drew him closer; their bodies were pressed against each other; Damion could feel the heat coming from his body and the hardness of his manhood. "Let us have this moment," he purred against his mouth. And his kissed him full on his mouth.

Despite himself Damion smiles and finds himself returning the fervent kiss and embrace. Even though they were about the same height Urri had always been wider of chest. And he has been exercising, he thought as he felt the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He needed them free, he wanted to see them. Damion pull away from the kiss and took his hands to the shirt's collar, Urri looked at him curiously, but before he could utter a world he teared the shirt completely open. Dark hair covered his muscles in a way that enhanced its appearance, like shading to a painting does.

He placed his hand on his chest, right on where his heart beat. Urri pressed his hand on top of his and looked at him with burning intensity.

And he smiled that cheeky smile of his.

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A.N. So yes, Damion and Urrigon are "roommates" *wink* *wink*.

On another note I know this chapter is way shorter than usual, but I thought it pertinent to upload this chapter for Valentines Day. And thanks to all of those who have left a review! It really means a lot!