Disclaimer: ASOIAF, GoT, whatevs, is not mine. I am borrowing the characters and their world.

Summary:

AU. First Part of a Trilogy, telling the story of Cadenzsa Forel, Syrio Forel's only child.

Cadenzsa's mother has decided it is time for her child to marry. Since no man in Braavos would dare touch her for fear of her father's sword - and Cadenzsa's, of course - the clever Syrio has relocated to Westeros in hopes of finding a man deeming worthy of his precious only daughter.

He has gone to King's Landing to find a Lord, or a Prince, or a Knight that will give Cadenzsa the life of adventure that she deserves. Cadenzsa, the clever girl, has decided to sail first to the North, and travel down through Westeros, in order to see the land for herself, and to learn of its people. She finds herself, though, soon stuck in the Hold of Winterfell, prey to the charms of the three young men that live there.

Theon

It was today.

It was always today, of course, but today was the day that Syrio Forel came to Winterfell. They expected him that afternoon, and Winterfell was all abuzz about it. From every handmaiden to kitchen slut there was, they were all talking about Lady Forel's father. They were putting on great airs, too, for him, for they even insisted on Robb and Theon and even Jon shaving and trimming their wild curls for him. Lady Catelyn Stark, Theon suspected, was overjoyed to see Cadenzsa leaving. Cadenzsa was everything that a Tully Princess was not.

Bran had seen them coming first, of course, for he rather enjoyed climbing and was very good at it. He was at the top of one of the towers - though Theon didn't know which one for he wasn't there when it happened - when he saw them coming. But Winterfell came out bustling that brisk afternoon. They lined up to receive them, Cadenzsa and company included, wearing black. And when they came...

First came in five men, all on horseback, and four of them in bright Braavosi colors of reds and oranges. One was all in black, quite small, and with a mop of short curly hair that looked a bit like a hedgehog's back. Then some other men rode in - making ten in all - all on horseback, and they were Westerosi. Sellswords, Theon guessed, to guard them made up two, and the rest were well-dressed little Lordling-looking things. They all dismounted their horses and came in front of the Stark line-up.

The little dark man, with a touch of silver-grey in his black beard, came up to approach Lord Stark. He then smiled and stood with his chest out. "You scruffy old dog," he laughed with an accent so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"You dirty little man." Lord Stark then busted out laughing and the two men embraced. He then shook hands gratefully and then introduced him to the Stark family.

"Syrio Forel, this is my wife, Lady Catelyn Stark."

"A pleasure, good Lady," bowed the little man lowly with a grin and great flourish of words that were even heavier than Cadenzsa's. Theon was more than a little shocked to see how much Cadenzsa resembled her father. They had the same hair and quite a similar face, and both of their lips were full - must have been a Braavosi thing, or perhaps a Forel thing. Theon then guessed that all of the Forel family looked quite a bit like her, with their dark skin and curly hair and almond-shaped eyes.

When the line-up was done, and Syrio Forel came to his daughter, Cadenzsa gave him a rather queer look - a submissive look, if Theon had to guess - as if she were embarrassed to have to be picked up here. She gave a curtsy in the Braavosi fashion, which involved their arms coming out to lift up the gown and a low bow of the head as you bent your knees.

"Is that the way you greet your father after so long?" said Syrio Forel, sounding quite annoyed. Cadenzsa's eyebrows tilted up in question. "I will have a kiss, if you please!" Cadenzsa laughed and wrapped her arms around her father, kissing him on the cheek. Theon saw, in that moment, how precious Cadenzsa was to him. Well, who wouldn't find her precious? He supposed that any Westerosi father would perhaps find a daughter like her to be rather rough, but Braavosi? Culturally, she was perfect for them.

The rest of the afternoon went in a bit of a blur for Theon. He would never see her again after that day. They would stay for the feast, of course, that night and - perhaps - another day if they were tired. The hospitality of the North was easily theirs for the time it took to rest from such a long journey. And were they only on horseback? Theon expected that a carriage would be more appropriate for a man of Syrio Forel's standing. It would have been easier to forget, though, had Theon not been in Lord Stark's service that afternoon.

"We've planned a feast for you," he heard Lord Stark say to Syrio Forel as Theon aided in the unpacking of his things. "And tomorrow we plan to go hunting, which you should have to join us. Stay the whole week, if you like, old friend. It's been too long."

"I fear, Lord Eddard Stark, I cannot stay the week or perhaps even a day! I fear my schedule is too tight. We must sail to King's Landing, soon, and I must travel far more South after that."

Theon poured wine for the men, more out of wanting to get closer in on their conversation than to be courteous.

"I see," said Lord Stark. "At least stay for the hunt tomorrow. My boys are anxious to hunt with you."

"You have many children, Lord Stark," said Syrio Forel, glancing at Theon a bit too long when he set the goblets by them and continued aiding his men unpacking things. "I take it Cadenzsa hasn't been too much trouble for you?"

"Not at all," said Lord Stark. "She's a wonderful little girl. Everyone here loves her. My sweet girl, Arya, has taken a real liking to her, especially."

"Everyone, hm?" Syrio Forel drank the wine, made a face at it, then shrugged it off and drank more. "Tomorrow we shall hunt. I shall get to know these boys of yours. I should think that Cadenzsa will need the extra time to pack, anyway. She has a...tendency to drag her feet when it comes to these things."

That was a funny thing to hear, thought Theon as he was dismissed with a wave of Lord Stark's hand. As he walked down the hallway, feeling a bit more tight-gutted than he wanted to feel, he thought it was a very funny thing to hear, indeed. For it seemed that Cadenzsa didn't want to leave here at all.

Well, anyway, so what if she was leaving? If Theon had the chance to leave, he'd do it, too. He almost felt sorry for her, though, for he knew she'd have to travel all the way down to Dorne to find a husband that would take her. Those Dornishmen...they even looked a bit like her. If she were lucky, she'd perhaps find her way into the court of the Martells. It was a long journey down there, and it was plenty of time for her to get rid of that stupid accent of hers. She would fit in well in the Southern court; she didn't belong here, in this frozen pile of shit.

She didn't really belong anywhere.

But, still, he may as well be nice to her for her last days there. So he dressed well for the feast in the cleanest black leather doublet he could find, and even broke out the fur-lined hunting boots that weren't yet broken in for the feast. It was expected of him to look his best, and - although he knew he was far handsomer than any of Stark's boys without much effort - that meant dressing to the nines. Moleskin gloves, fine cloaks, and all.

The day was fading and the feast would be at sundown. Theon went to Cadenzsa's chambers to escort her to the feast. Socially, it should have been Robb to do that, considering he was only a Ward and Robb was the firstborn son of the House, but Theon hadn't gotten any word on Robb escorting her there so he just went anyway. Since Robb wasn't there, waiting at her door, Theon guessed that he had been right.

And then Cadenzsa came out in a gown of island blue that belled and tucked and ruffled at the sleeves, with ribbons of black that trimmed the top and waist and around her arms. Her hair was in that Braavosi style, where it was all loosely gathered off to one side and plaited long and tucked up just at her ear in a braided bun.

"Stop!" he commanded, and she did. She froze, in fact, in place, and only moved her eyes to see whom had commanded her to do so.

He looked her up and down, watching every breath she took. The gown had to have been Braavosi, for they were the ones with that low cut and skirt that started and flared out like flower petals at the hips. It was laced in the back, too, with many black ribbons against that lovely island blue. And the gown's puffed sleeves looked quite a bit like big blue beads on a single black ribbon. When he had fully circled her, he found that she was still standing perfectly still.

"You," he said, "are a vision."

She rolled her eyes then and gave a hoot. "Oh, stop," she said.

"No, you are," he said. "You really are."

She smiled. Then she sighed through her nose. "Shall we walk, my Lord?" Theon nodded as she circled her arm around his. The silk of her puffed sleeves bustled against his leathers. She seemed nervous, but Theon didn't want to talk about it. In truth, he really just wanted to stay in his room until she was gone for good.

The feast was set with Syrio Forel at Lord Stark's side, of course, and Cadenzsa ate with Theon and Robb and the other Stark children. Jon wasn't there, which didn't surprise Theon, for he knew that there was only going to be so much that Lady Stark could stand. The Braavosi men and Sellswords that had come with Cadenzsa's father were a friendly bunch, and they filled the hall with a great deal of songs. At one point during the evening, Theon looked up and caught Syrio Forel watching him. Perhaps it was the way that Cadenzsa was around him. The way she laughed a little too hard, or the way she leaned in to whisper a few words a little too long, or perhaps even the way she smiled a little too genuinely. She should have been smiling to Robb in that way, and Theon should have been the one to tell her this. Stupid foreign girl. She was going to get herself into a great deal of trouble.

Fathers and daughters, from Theon's experience, had rather confusing relationships. On the one hand, fathers didn't want their little girls to ever grow up and become women. On the other hand, they hope their daughters grow and become beautiful to marry well. On one hand, a father never wanted to see his daughter cry. On the other hand, he often had no problems putting her to work or beating her when she was willful and froward enough. If you came from a poor enough family, they didn't care for daughters at all. They sent them off to be whores or workers. It was only if you had a title, or were rich, that you cared that you had daughters. Daughters meant alliances. Daughters meant dowries. Daughters meant daughters for the Lords they married to, which would give more daughters, and more daughters.

But Syrio Forel and Cadenzsa Forel? Gods only knew what had happened there.

At one point during the night, just when Theon glanced up, he caught eyes with Syrio Forel. If Theon hadn't have known the man was father to Cadenzsa, he might have thought something like 'What is that little man staring at?' But Syrio Forel was Cadenzsa's father, and so Theon smiled his best with a respectful nod, he couldn't help but feel a pang of fear. But he couldn't up and leave like Jon would have in that situation. If he got up and left, he would suspect something. In those eyes and gloved hands, Theon saw a killer, strange and exotic and unknown, that seemed to have no qualms about slaying the man that bedded his daughter. So he instead went back to the feast and his conversation with Robb and Cadenzsa, who seemed to be drinking away any bad feelings she could have possibly had.

After the feast, Robb escorted Cadenzsa back to her room. It was best that way, thought Theon, for them to be seen together walking away, as Robb was the honorable son of Lord Stark, and not his hard-up little Ward. Theon sighed and went to his room alone that night. When he took off his clothes and lay his head on his pillow, he noticed something on his end table.

A folded parchment with the words "Please don't forget about me" written on it in a flourishing, swirling, flowery hand that could only be Cadenzsa's. Folded in the parchment, though, was Cadenzsa's pendant on its long, delicately gold chain. Theon recognized it easily. It was a gem of aquamarine set in the back of a golden turtle, which Cadenzsa wore resting just at the top of the space between her breasts.

Theon held it for a long time as he lay on the flat of his back. It was dangerous that she left it there. It was dangerous for him to have it in his room. So he tucked it into his tunic and decided that he'd never take it off, so as to nobody would find it. Nobody would ever see it, he decided. So long as he kept it hidden under his clothes, nobody would ever see or suspect. It would be their secret.

The next morning, Theon woke early for the hunt. He was the finest Bowman in Winterfell, and they would surely need his arrows were they to catch anything. So he dressed in his dark tunic dark-brown leather doublet, and his mud-stained trousers that he designated solely for hunting. They were dark blue, once, but now they more resembled the color of tree bark. He put his gloves on as he walked to the stables to prepare the horses. Forel's men were already there, speaking to each other in, he guessed, Bravosi. He didn't mind them so much, except they were both rather loud and lavishly dressed - bright red blooming blouses and white trousers, tight and pulled up much higher than any man's trousers should be pulled up - and all for a hunt. One of the lanky brutes caught him staring with a sneer.

"What-'ah-what-ah' what? What you stare?!" barked one of them.

Theon rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I talk to you, boy!" said the Bravosi again, flipping his long, greasy black hair indignantly. "You want to die?" The other one laughed.

Theon pointed at their clothes. "We're going hunting, not whoring," he said, rather annoyed.

"What-a'h-what you say, boy?" asked the Bravosi, coming closer, looking down on him with his beak of a nose.

"I said your colors are too bright." He said it rather loudly and emphasized each word, because these foreigners were obviously stupid. "And you look like a painted whore."

The Bravosi sneered and reached for the dancing sword at his hip "You little-!?"

"What is this?" Syrio Forel asked, coming in, clad all in black. He then spoke to them in Bravosi, which caused both men to hang their heads and walk away. He walked to Theon, studying. Gods be good, that man was short.

"My Lord," greeted Theon, with a respectful bow of his head, feeling more than a little tense. He then realized he had no idea how to address Syrio Forel. He surely was a Lord, wasn't he? Theon wanted to ask, but there was no polite way to do so, and he didn't want to offend Cadenzsa's father.

"So what do you say to my men to make them puff up?" Theon couldn't figure if his accent was better than Cadenzsa's or worse.

"I simply stated, my Lord, that their clothes are inappropriate for a hunt."

Syrio Forel gave a very amused smirk and made several flourishing gestures with his hand as he said "And tell me, my boy, why is the dress of my men so inappropriate for a hunt?"

Theon gulped, suddenly realizing that Cadenzsa had no problem beating him up in the yard with her Dancing, so her father could probably nick his cock off with a flick of his wrist. "The colors are too bright. We'll be visible for the idea of being a predator is to blend in."

His jaw went forward, and his lip tightened a little, and his chin was brought up so he could look down his nose at him. And then he nodded and waved at his men, speaking in that liquid-sounding language of Bravosi, which caused them to both leave.

"You are called Theon Greyjoy?" he asked, turning around.

"Lord Theon Greyoy," he said, tight-stomached as he was, he still looked at his eyes.

"I hear your arrows shoot with the fury of a God."

He was tempted to ask from whom he had heard that, but his pride betrayed him when he smiled and said "You hear right."

"I hear you show Cadenzsa to shoot an arrow."

Theon didn't gulp. He nodded with a smile. "You hear right again." And for good measure, he added "I figured you wouldn't mind, my Lord, considering she learned her deadliness with a sword from you."

Syrio Forel gave him a look that he could not read, and then a grin. "Just so," he said, seemingly impressed. "Cadenzsa has told me of you." Shit, thought Theon. A thousand times shit. That stupid fucking girl has sealed my death. "She has told me many things of you." Theon kept his eyes equal with his, his jaw tight. He felt his throat closing with fear. A Westerosi Knight? That he could take. But a Water Dancer with a skill that exceeded Cadenzsa's ten-fold? He never stood a chance. He had seen Cadenzsa's Dance, and known it through the many afternoons he had spent with her, practicing, training. He knew that she was deadly. And he had not felt such fear that he had felt when her father was so close.

"What things has she said, my Lord?" Theon kept his voice from cracking.

He gave a grin. "You are troubled?" asked the little man. Theon's palms began to sweat. "And why would you be troubled? Cadenzsa tells me good things of you. She says you have talent."

Theon frowned.

"Why look so dis-heart?" Did he mean disheartened? He pursed his lips. "Today, we hunt. Tomorrow, I leave with Cadenzsa for King's Landing. So I suggest that, since you have become friends, you say your goodbyes tonight." Then he patted Theon on the shoulder, walked to the horses, and mounted with his men on their fine gray horses. Theon prepared the saddles and Lord Stark with the boys came. Once everyone was saddled, the hunt began. Theon didn't shoot many arrows that day, but let Robb do some instead. The hunt wasn't successful, though, for he could tell that Robb was nervous around Cadenzsa's father. At one point, Theon shot down a fat goose, and then two rabbits. Robb and his father were talking quite a lot, and little Bran was quiet. Snow was there, too, but he didn't speak.

Theon felt sick to his stomach through most of the hunt. The moment it was over he wanted to go to his room, but Syrio Forel insisted on him coming into town for a few drinks. So Theon drank with them, and drank, and drank. Then they came back to Winterfell and they drank some more. Robb kept on glancing at Cadenzsa during dinner awkwardly, and Arya wasn't throwing food about so she was seriously in a sour mood. Cadenzsa sat merrily and spoke with Sansa and Bran, and little Rickon sat on her lap when he got sleepy. She didn't seem to mind, though, for she had grown rather attached to them. She barely looked at Theon the entire evening.

Later that night, after midnight, Theon guessed, he found himself pacing angrily in his room. Gods know why he did it, but he stormed out of his room and came to hers. He thought of pounding on the door with his fist, but since he didn't hear the music playing, he let himself in. It turns out, however, that she wasn't asleep, like he had thought she would be, but packing her things away into trunks. When he closed the door behind him, she frowned in question.

"I don't want to fuck anyone else," he suddenly said, not quite knowing if he was aware of it at all. His brain and mouth seemed to be disconnected as he continued. He walked to her with great conviction and tore his cloak off his own shoulders and roughly threw them around hers. He pinned it together around the ruffs of her blue gown and took her arms in both his hands. "No matter where you go," he ordered roughly, "know that you were mine first. You wear a Greyjoy's cloak now. I would say the words to bind you forever as my Salt Wife if I knew them, but you'll be good on it either way. I know you will."

"What are you saying?" she asked quietly, confused.

"I'm saying," he almost shouted, his heart nearing a hysterical rate of pounding, "that no matter what banner you end up under, know that you were under the Greyjoy's first! Your colors are black and gold, do you understand me?!"

She didn't say anything. She smiled with a tiny laugh and nodded.

"I'm coming to get you," he whispered, his hands shaking. "Keep your eyes on the sea, do you hear? I'll come and steal you to Pyke." She nodded. He could see in her eyes she understood what he was really wanting to say. "You're mine. Do you understand? Promise me."

After a long pause, she said "What is my new family motto?"

Theon couldn't help but grin. Silly foreigner. "You mean our words?" he said. "'We Do Not Sow.'"

"What does that mean?"she asked.

"It means I'm going to come for you on a ship with black sails and the whole Iron Fleet behind me to come and reave and pillage on your new husband's land and take you away with me."

"Sounds fearsome," she said with a tiny giggle.

"What are you laughing at?" Theon asked, now a little enraged.

She shrugged. "I think all you would have to do is send me a Raven and I'll meet you at the docks. That way you wouldn't have to hurt any innocent bystanders. Warfare is a terrible thing. And if you were to do that to a Great House here in Westeros, I think it would cause a war. And I am not the kind of woman to cause a war."

"If I want to cause a war over you, I'll fucking cause a war over you, woman!" Cadenzsa bent and laughed with her head against his chest. She cupped his cheek with her hand and smiled.

"Alright, shekh ma shieraki anni, you may cause a war over me." She then wrapped her arms around him in a very long, soft embrace. She didn't move or look at his face or try to kiss him. She just held onto him; when he looked down, Theon realized that this was his only good cloak, even if the fur around the collar was a bit worn by this point. Well, so what? He'd go and buy another one soon when Lady Catelyn started planning for another feast.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispered into the crook of her neck, suddenly feeling weak in her arms.

"I'm going to miss you, too," she said. She then came and kissed him deeply.

"I am going to come and get you, Cadenzsa," he said softly. "Make no mistake."

She smiled softly. "Maybe I'll just come get you." They were silent for a long time. "I hate long goodbyes," she said. "Let's just say, I'll see you soon."

Theon gulped. "I'll see you soon."

The next morning, the line-up was there to see them off. New horses had been bought that afternoon to hitch up to Cadenzsa's carriage, and all of her things were being loaded up. She was in her travelling clothes, now, and had been smart enough to not wear Theon's cloak to say goodbye. Lord Stark was there with Syrio Forel saying things like 'are you sure you can't stay longer?' and whatnot. When she came to say goodbye to the Starks, she bowed low.

"I cannot ever thank you enough for the time we have spent together," she said. "I love you all dearly. And I'll miss every single one of you." Arya then broke out with a sob. Cadenzsa quickly came and knelt in front of her. "None of that!" she admonished.

Arya sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Sansa rolled her eyes. Lady Stark came to her side and put her arms around her. "Hush, I'm sure that Lady Forel will write us, hm?"

"Of course I will," said Cadenzsa. "You and I, sweet girl, are twin souls. We'll see each other again."

"Do you promise?" sobbed Arya. Cadenzsa laughed with a nod. The little underfoot then bolted and wrapped her arms around Cadenzsa's neck. She hugged her tight for a moment and then gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll see you soon." Cadenzsa did similar goodbyes with the younger ones, and with Sansa she gave a polite nod and curtsy. When she got to Robb, she stopped. "Robb?" she said. "Thank you for everything."

Robb awkwardly gulped, then he took her hand and kissed it. "I shall forever cherish the time we have spent together, my Lady."

Cadenzsa laughed quietly with a toothy grin. "I will, too. We'll keep in touch."

"I pray we do," he said.

She nodded again to Lord and Lady Stark. "I will someday find a way to repay your kindness to me."

"Think nothing of it," said Lord Stark. "The hospitality of the North is always yours."

She curtsied. Theon then caught her winking at Jon Snow with a smile. Then she waved goodbye and went to her carriage with her two handmaidends. As Lord Stark and Lady Stark bid goodbye, Cadenzsa caught his eye with a long and haunting look, like she had just lost everything good that would ever come to her in her life. And as she closed the door to the carriage, Theon felt a piece of him die.

That night, he rode out in the middle of the night to the Brothel, and bought the services of three different girls. After some anger-fucking, though, and with dawn approaching and the girls walking bow-legged, he finally went to Ros and gave her a good fuck. He spent nearly all of his purse that night, and it didn't help one bit. Because Cadenzsa was still gone. And the polite truth of their situation was he would probably never see her again.