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

"I don't believe it..."

Theon looked up from the table. Robb's hands were shaking. Maester Luwin looked rather solemnly, and then looked to him. Theon frowned and craned his neck to see the Raven.

"What is it?" Theon finally asked. Robb sat down. He gulped.

"My father wants to broker an alliance with House Greyjoy..." Robb's voice was quiet, cracking. "He says that Prince Joffrey is..." He gulped and looked to the Ironborn. "My father wants to wed you to Sansa."

Theon stood up so fast that, were Robb not sitting on it, he would have knocked the thing clean over. "Has he lost his damn head?"

"Theon Greyjoy, mind your tongue!" said Maester Luwin. "Lord Stark's judgement-"

"-Is severely impaired if he thinks that wedding Theon to Sansa is a good idea!" said Robb then.

"What about the Prince? What about the alliance with House Baratheon?" asked in the young Ironborn Lord.

Maester Luwin sighed. "Lord Stark believes that it is time to reforge an alliance with the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands, in hopes of bringing further peace to the Seven Kingdoms. And since he has raised Theon Greyjoy amongst his own, he knows the kind of man he is. An honorable man." Maester Luwin emphasized the word 'honorable' far too much, and while Sansa was a very pretty girl, to Theon she was just a babe. And the sister of his closest friend? How could he? "The long and short of it is that Lord Stark does not feel that Prince Joffrey Baratheon is a proper match for Lady Sansa, but wishes to remain quiet about it. Should Lord Balon Greyjoy accept the terms, of course, that means that Theon will now become Lord of the Iron Islands and Sansa his Lady, and they shall reign there."

Theon's heart raced. Going home? Finally? After ten years?

"Why?" asked Robb.

"Balon Greyjoy is not a trustworthy ally, but Theon, said Lord Stark, is. We had not yet sent word to the Iron Islands, as Lord Stark's every move as Hand of the King is watched. Theon, should you accept these terms, we will inform your father, and arrange for your return to Pyke. And then your father will take this matter to the King. Perhaps Arya will wed Prince Tommen, someday." Maester Luwin's words were calculated, precise. They cut into Theon like a kind of hot knife. The thought of going home...seeing his family again...being on the sea, with his mother and father and sister. And all he had to do was marry Sansa!

"I cannot," said Theon. Robb and Maester Luwin looked up. "Write back to Lord Stark telling him that I cannot accept these terms. Tell Sansa to be Queen. She was meant for it."

Robb knew. Maester Luwin did not. His face was most impatient and stern. "Theon Greyjoy, you have-"

"-I cannot and I will not wed Sansa Stark. I have promised myself to one woman, and one woman alone, and that is Lady Cadenzsa Forel of Braavos."

A dumbstruck beat for everyone in the room. "And I take it that she's working in a brothel, now?" japed Maester Luwin.

It struck like a kick in the guts. But Robb stood with that Stark commanding presence and said "Maester Luwin, how dare you question the honor and virtue of Lady Cadenzsa Forel!"

The Maester bowed his head, his dark eyes darting around a bit. "Mi'Lord, Lady Cadenzsa Forel is very far away, set for King's Landing since last we heard. She won't do well here, and didn't do well here. She is not a Stark, and she's not a Lady of Winterfell. You can't expect to keep her here as your Ward's wife and have her be happy with that life. She comes from great wealth and freedom in Braavos. It would be cruel to keep her here."

"She gave me her word of faithfulness," said Theon, whose deft fingers pulled beneath his leathers and slipped the chain and pendant of his beloved's out from under the dreary brown colors of Winterfell. The aquamarine that was in place of the turtle's shell sparkled and threw diamonds of light all around the Hall's gray-colored stone floors and brick walls. "And she gave me her pendant as a sign of that token. Ask her, and she will tell you, that she is mine first."

"And you really think her father would allow that sort of thing?" asked Maester Luwin. Theon sank into the bench. "Master Forel is not-likely to have his only child live here as a Ward's wife for the rest of her days, and certainly not after she's lived in a Palace for half her days."

"I am the Lord of Winterfell," barked Robb with a fury and power in his voice that rivalled any King's. "And I say that should Lady Forel wish to come here while we find another way to broker an alliance with House Greyjoy, so that Theon will be the reigning Lord of the Iron Islands with her at his side, she is more than welcome to do so. Or even so, if Theon's father is truly so untrustworthy, then have Master Syrio Forel take him to Braavos to be with Cadenzsa. They are good friends of the Starks, are they not?"

"I must advise extremely strongly against this, my Lord, it will lead to nothing but ruin."

"You may advise against it all you like, Maester Luwin, but you'll send a Raven to my father telling him that Theon and Lady Forel should be free to wed if they want to. And send a Raven to Sansa, telling her to be strong, for our mother rides for King's Landing as we speak, and she will be with her soon. If my mother and father find the Prince improper, then they should have thought of that before they said 'yes', shouldn't they?"

"You would dare speak ill of your Lady Mother and Father?" asked Maester Luwin.

"He wouldn't ever speak ill of his parents," said Theon. "Sansa will be a good Queen with a fair hand. And she'll smile and go to all the Tourney's and host all of the masques and feasts. She should just show that Prince who's boss. Sansa is a sweet and pretty little girl, and with both Lord and Lady Stark at her council, she'll be fine. But I'm not spoiling that chance for her to rule."

Maester Luwin left, not peacefully, but left. Theon's heart was going a hundred miles a moment. Truth be told, he felt his skin was the only thing keeping him from going everywhere at once. He felt Robb's hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see his friend smiling shyly at him. Robb took his seat next to him.

"You know you didn't have to do that," said Theon, suddenly realizing the whole weight of the situation.

"Yes, I did. My father taught me to be a good Lord, and a fair one, at that. And you are my closest friend..." There was a pause, and Robb swallowed a little harder than perhaps he intended to. "And I want you to be happy. One should wed them they love. And you love Cadenzsa." There was a longer pause. "She'll come, Theon. We'll make it nice for her. We'll find somebody who knows all about Braavos and turn Winterfell into it to make her comfortable."

Theon frowned. "Why are you doing this?" Robb shrugged.

"I just want you to be happy," he answered plainly. "...And I miss her. She was a wonderful friend. She brought life to this place. I never noticed how dreary Winterfell could be until she came here and lit the place up with color."

"I did..." said Theon. He then stood. "I'll write her a letter," he said. "I'll tell her everything. She'll come if I ask her, I know she will."

"Of course she will! And I'll write to Master Forel, and tell him, too. And I'll even write to Lady Forel myself telling her how much we would love it for her to come back to Winterfell. I'll tell her she'll have a home here until you and she can go back to the Iron Islands."

"Will she come with me there, I wonder?" Theon mumbled to himself. "Do you think that Lord Stark will really allow me to go home without an alliance brokered in matrimony?"

Robb paused. "Didn't you say you have a sister?"

Theon's brow quirked. "An elder sister..."

"How much elder?"

"Five years... Why?"

Robb paused again, wringing her hands. "I could offer myself-"

"I think not."

"But why?"

"The last time I saw Asha she looked like a fat little boy. Gods only know what she looks like now..."

"It's an option, Theon. I will offer your sister a home as my wife here in Winterfell! Then an alliance would be forged in matrimony, and I'll keep her happy here...I know I will. I always knew you were my brother-in-arms. Why not let the Gods know it, too?"

Robb tentatively reached out and twined his fingers with Theon's. Stocky Tully fingers, thought Theon. That's why Robb was never good with a bow. Stubby fingers. He couldn't help but smile. "Are we really going to do this?" said Theon.

The Wolf pup smiled, then poured the wine into their goblets, and handed one to Theon. He raised his cup. "To your sister, the future Lady Asha Stark! And to you drinking with me on my wedding day!" Theon laughed.

"To my Lady Wife, Cadenzsa Greyjoy of the Iron Islands!" And they toasted.

Three weeks passed before any word was heard. They then got word that Jaime Lannister attacked Ned Stark in the streets of King's Landing. And then another week passed. Theon was ready for a war, for waiting on Cadenzsa did nothing but make him worry. He spent his days pacing around and riding and hunting, keeping his skills sharp. He knew that a war was on its way, and he knew that if King's Landing was becoming that much more of a dangerous place, then Cadenzsa might be...

Well, she'd probably be fine. Theon saw her kill Wildlings...but he also saw her get distracted by her Handmaidens' distress and get yanked by the hair to - what would have been - an untimely death had he not stepped in. He wondered how she would fair against trained soldiers, but then he remembered her skill when they spend their days Dancing together. She had made him forget that he was a prisoner, and that was her gift to him for saving her life. Had he not done that, had he not acted, he would have never known the soft purr of her voice, or the smell of her hair, or the way the skin on her thigh raised in goosebumps when his breath touched it. What he liked the most on her body were her freckles and scars. A few of her scars, he reckoned, were from duels, but his favorite was a burn scar on her left wrist. She said it was from hot sugar out of the oven in the Bravosi Sea Lord's palace when she was a child. He liked it because it was a bit in the shape of a lean and long fish. He also liked the scar on the back of her knee, where someone had put a sword's tip, and Cadenzsa - in turn - had taken their left ear off, he learned. All of them, every mark on her body, he loved; Theon fancied them to be measuring marks that the Gods used for plans to make the perfect woman, especially the twin moles on the inner parts of her thighs.

Theon sometimes shuddered to think of what would have become of him had he never known her, or if he had never felt that love. He only was with her for a month, and for her he held a more dear affection than any he'd ever felt before. Being apart from her made him sick. Did the whores help? Yes and no. They did their job well...they made him forget, for the few short hours he paid them for. Ros was his favorite, of course. He liked her red hair. But he liked Cadenzsa's black hair better. He didn't even like looking at the other whores with black hair, for how much they reminded him of her.

He loved her. Gods, he loved her so much. He wanted her to be with him again. He wanted to walk arm-in-arm with her around town, buying silks for Sansa's sewing or perhaps a new bit of jewelry from the travelling vendors. He wanted to ride with her again, together on his brown-and-sable horse with the white stripe down his face, with her arms wrapped around his chest from behind. He wanted to feel her breath on the back of his neck. He missed her so much, her and that stupid accent of hers.

And while he rode through the forest, he saw a cart with a passenger with bright red hair. "Stop!" he cried as he rode closer. "Stop!" The cart stopped, and Ros gave him a very annoyed look from the back of that cart. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Going to King's Landing," she answered flatly.

A beat. "In a turnip cart?"

"I'll find a ship heading south in White Harbour," she said rather plainly, her teeth a bit tight.

Theon frowned. "And you can afford that?"

She flipped her green-gold cloak around her body rather indignantly, the Lannister lion necklace glimmering at her white throat. "Some of my friends are more generous than others," she chastised.

The Ironborn snorted through his nose. "There's a thousand girls like you in King's Landing," he spat.

"So I'll have lots of company..." She had an answer for everything, didn't she?

"Yes, you'll be very popular," he sneered. "'Til some fat Lord comes to call, with a huge belly and a little prick, and he can't get it up so he knocks all your teeth out."

She laughed softly. "And what will happen to me if I stay here?" she asked. "Will I become Lady Greyjoy?" Theon rolled his eyes. "Mistress of the Iron Islands-?"

"Don't be a fool," he snapped.

"I hear that Jaime Lannister attacked Lord Stark in King's Landing. And soon every man for a hundred miles will be marching off to war, and most of them will never be coming back." He frowned, his jaw tight. "There's nothing left for me here." The bitch was right, of course, but Theon guessed that if she had any other real options she might not have become a Whore to begin with. "It's the foreign girl, isn't it?" He snapped to attention. "You wouldn't have noticed me leaving at all if she hadn't have left first." He didn't know what to say or think. Was she jealous? It had never occurred to him that Ros could be jealous of Cadenzsa, but he realized that though he had spent two or three nights a week in the brothels before, the moment Cadenzsa's lips spoke the words 'my noble Champion', he hadn't even thought of finding his coin purse. For a month and a half, he had been absent from there. Surely, the brothel must have thought him dead, until they heard of her. The whores and their Madam were probably not as dumb as Theon might have wagered; they must have put two-and-two together about it...did everyone know? Did all of Winterfell know about them, now? Of their affair? "You want to know what she said about you?"

Anger rose in his heart. "Who are you to speak of Lady Cadenzsa Forel as if you knew her, you filthy whore? You think she would fraternize with the likes of you?"

"Oh, yes, the high and mighty Braavosi Dancing Mistress? The wild Sea Rose? You should have heard it all. You should have heard all the things they were saying about her all over the outer walls of Winterfell. You should have heard the things they said in town. We were the ones that had to clean up her mess, you know. Some of her fancy gowns even made it back to the brothel once those Wildlings were sorted out, not that she'd want them back after what they'd been through. Her jewels made it all around town, and some of them are probably halfway past the Wall by now. You can always tell a woman by the kind of jewelry she wears."

"She never spoke to you. She never even knew about you." It was a lie, of course, but who cares? Ros didn't need to know that Cadenzsa knew about her. The last thing he wanted was the only remaining consistent lover he had feeling like she was owed something.

"Oh, she never spoke to me. But them Free City handmaidens of hers liked to talk quite a bit, and the day she was prancing about town with her handmaidens in tow, that Lyseni was chatting about it. And I was there with Jeyne buying bread. And when Jeyne pointed them out to me, I followed, and I heard them talking." If Theon had been off his horse, he might have thrashed her across her face for speaking so indignantly. "That Lyseni asked her what she thought of you. And she said: 'he makes me feel like a Virgin.'" He frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Ros quirked a red eyebrow. "You know, touched for the very first time?" Theon's stomach was hard like a rock on the inside when she turned away. "Let's go, Seffryn," she called, and the cart's horse whinnied and began clopping along.

"L-Let me see it one more time!" called Theon with a bit more desperation than he wanted.

"See what?" called back Ros.

He quickly reached into his coin purse and flicked a glimmering copper coin into the air. With her pale hand she grabbed the coin out of the air, and began laughing jovially. She reached and pulled up her skirt, showing her pale open thighs and red-haired cunt.

"I'm going to miss you!" called Theon, standing up on the stirrups of his horse's saddle.

"I know!"

He sat on that horse and watched her disappear into the forest. He rode back to Winterfell, ate the roasted pheasant he'd killed earlier in the day, and went to bed thinking about how now all the women he liked were gone. Not that he held any truly great affection for Ros, of course, but she was still his favorite whore. Were he in the old days, he'd take her and keep her as a Salt Wife, and visit her when it pleased him. But the only wife he wanted for real was Cadenzsa; he knew that now. He didn't know how it was all going to work, but he guessed that Cadenzsa would plead with her father, and then they could sail back to Braavos together, the Secret City of the Valyrian colonies.

'Like a Virgin,' she had said? That somehow didn't seem right of her to say that. When she was around him, and they were alone in the dark of his room, or sometimes in the dark of hers, the last thing she acted like was Virginal. He knew that she wasn't a Virgin since the first time, and the second, and especially the third. It was best when she was still sweaty after Dancing, and she hadn't yet a chance to bathe. He liked eating her cunt when it was still salty with sweat; it reminded him of the sea, of home. And the way she bucked her hips, and the way she ran her nails along his back, and the way her lips and tongue and throat felt when she threw him on his back and sucked his cock into her mouth were all a testament that 'like a virgin' was the exact opposite of the way he seemed to make her feel. If either of them seemed virginal, it had to have been him, for it was with such awe that he let her take over his body and possess him the way she did. It was he that was the one who laid back and let her fuck him. He let her throw him down and laid flat on his back as she rode him like he was a wild bull. But perhaps she was a product of Braavos, for the women there were Free to do as they liked?

Theon then realized, as he was falling asleep, that he'd no idea of what Braavos was like. She hadn't told him anything. When they were together, they talked of things like philosophy and reading and food, and they Danced together for hours and hours at a time, and when they made love they didn't speak at all. Of all the times they spoke and did not speak, they never once talked of her past, of her home in Braavos...all she'd ever say was 'I'm not sure I'll ever go back.' It was probably because her family thought she was too old to be living at home without a husband, so they came to Westeros. He wondered what was so wrong with her that she couldn't find on in all of the Free Cities, but he reminded himself that it was her mother's idea to come to Westeros to find her a new House. Theon wondered what it was like to have a House to keep you, or a home to go back to. He wondered these things, and as he gently thumbed Cadenzsa's pendant, he fell slowly asleep, with his other hand around his cock, thinking about her perfect teardrop-shaped breasts.

No words. R&R.

More to come, soon.