Chapter 2

Westeros was a beauty when Lyanna first created it, a board of cherry wood lined with sterling silver, the edges left bare so you could admire the wood underneath. A map of the fantasy world was drawn on paper that had been affixed to the board's surface, each country carefully delineated; the seats of power, keeps, castles and halls, marked with a dot and a name. Outside the map were yellow squares with writing or crests on them.

The object of the game was to capture as many Kingdoms as possible before the game ended. Every player got a roll on his or her turn, which indicated how many squares that player could move his or her main piece. If one landed on a piece with the crest of another Kingdom, one could choose to put a flag there. Once there were three flags, the player could attack, which meant rolling the special attack dice and awarding the Kingdom to the player with the higher dice roll, plus however many flags each player had on the Kingdom. The player who had control of that Kingdom had the option of attacking the invader at any time. However, the home player had to have a flag on the Kingdom to expel the invader. The flags represented each Kingdom's army.

If one got all the Kingdoms, one automatically won and the game ended. It usually dissolved before then with one or more of the players becoming insufferably bored and convincing the others to stop playing.

Each player got to choose which Kingdom he or she started in, each Kingdom having different strengths and weaknesses. Theon's favourite, the Iron Islands, required five of a player's available ten flags to launch an attack. In Robb's favourite, the North, one flag would be removed every time the invader passed the starting point, ostensibly because the cold weather froze the army to death. Jon had the ability as the Wall to take a flag from any Kingdom he landed on, rendering that flag unusable for the rest of the game. Sansa always liked the Westerlands, but she had special rules because she was a lady and 'marrying' meant she could form an alliance with another Kingdom that could not be absolved for the duration of the game. Jon would never form an alliance with her, and Sansa did not particularly like Theon, so Robb would take pity on her and marry their pieces. Knights, the default for male players, could not marry one another. Ladies could not launch attacks. It was a surprisingly narrow-minded game.

There were, in truth, two ways to play the game, though the boys almost always played the first. In the second version, all the Kingdoms were joined as a single country, and the object was to stage resistance movements against the king. You had to have at least seven players to play that way, though.

The really fun part about the game was that one could put a picture on one's piece to personalize it, so everyone knew whose piece was whose. Theon had found a picture of a squid and taped it to his piece because, come on, squid. Squids were awesome.

Jon, the dork, drew a picture of himself instead.

"Roll," Theon groaned, putting his head in his hands. Jon was staring off into space again. Idiot. He'd picked the one neutral Kingdom where nothing ever happened so Theon and everyone else had to wait agonizingly long for him to roll before they could get on with their far more interesting games. "Would you please roll?"

"Give him a moment," Robb said, though he gave Jon a warning glance.

Jon was always so slow and careful with everything he did, like anyone cared what he did. He thought too much and did too little. It was frustrating to Theon, who was exactly the opposite.

When Theon got bored during play, he would flip through the playbook and not just for the pretty pictures Aunt Lyanna had drawn. The woman had been shockingly talented, her art looking like something out of a nice comic book. Like a comic book, it also highlighted the female figure, something fourteen-year-old Theon could appreciate immensely. Theon, though he didn't read a lot, actually had read the full playbook a couple of times, Jon and Arya's opinions otherwise.

There was a lot of fun information in the book- and a lot that wasn't fun at all. Theon discovered the islands he'd picked out weren't as awesome as he'd thought they would be. They were barren rock and sand, and full of some of the harshest people in Westeros. Primitive, violent, not prone to accessories but easy enough to sway with gold and silver. They didn't let anyone control them without a fight and they took pride in being able to live in some of the worst places imaginable. They were so much better than a drunkard father and an absent family.

He styled himself Theon, Kraken Master of the Seas. He was a great warrior who drank seawater and ate salted fish. He spent every single day sailing his longboat with only his shield and his dirk to protect him from the wilds of the sea.

ØØØ

Jon was a pain, but he was a hundred times better than the other alternatives, namely one Joffrey Lancaster.

His parents, Mr and Mrs Lancaster, were the creepiest couple Theon had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't their looks- separately they weren't creepy at all. It was how much they looked alike. Blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin and all of a matching shade. They could have been twins.

Mr Lancaster, a handsome and well-sought after man by the name of Jaime, was a Lieutenant General of the 11th Brigade. He was a ground fighter in Afghanistan and had actually fought with the royal family on several occasions. His father before him had been a member of the SRR and still was, it was rumoured. Needless to say, Cersei Lancaster was a beautiful woman. She was highly intelligent; a political scientist who had written several highly accredited books on feminism and gender equality. She currently worked for the Lord Chancellor as his secretary.

The real reason the Scotts were so familiar with the Lancasters was that Jaime's father was in the House of Lords along with Mr Scott and Cersei's boss. Tywin Lancaster was an old yet still vigorous man, certainly capable of giving any of the other Lords a run for their money. His influence was widespread, his wealth legendary and his war decorations fearsome in a country that had been largely peaceful for years. He'd fought in the Falkland Islands, protected Brunei, and had only stepped back from Afghanistan to give his son a chance at glory. Besides, he said, it wouldn't do for a man of his age to die on the battlefield. It would be embarrassing.

The real embarrassment was Robert Burton, Mr Scott's oldest friend and the man Robb was named after. Theon looked upon the Lord Chancellor with disgust. He was a fat man, ill-kempt, a drunkard and a terrible womanizer. The womanizing part was not such a problem for Theon since it really said more about the women than Robert's personal clout. How would anyone abase themselves for a man who would never give them anything? Theon wasn't above grovelling and flattering for what he wanted but the benefits had to outweigh the risks.

Supposedly, Mr Scott and Mr Burton had served together. The idea of Mr Burton on a battlefield gave Theon endless amusement. He couldn't have been in a tank, could he? His fat gut would get stuck going in. They'd have to wheel him into battle with half his body sticking out the top.

Robb, of course, would hear none of it. He saved all his disgust for the secretary's children, especially her elder and favourite son, Joffrey.

Their children were the most stuck-up, obnoxious brats Theon had ever had the pleasure of meeting. The two younger were kenned by appearance only but he surely kenned Joffrey's name. Sansa was enamoured with the boy, talking endlessly about him while she watched them play Westeros. It was the only time Theon spent any time with her, since she favoured more "feminine" activities such as painting and poetry. Games of violence and playbooks filled with gory battle details didn't interest her much.

Theon found it hilarious then that she looked up to Joffrey's mother so much. Cersei was a strong woman, egalitarian in regards to gender and unwilling to bow down to anyone. Sansa was as weak-willed as they came. The only person she ever fought with was Arya.

"Why do we have to place this stupid game?" Joffrey complained, leaning back in his chair. "Oi, foster boy, don't you have anything better to do in this shitheap?"

Theon ground his teeth and said nothing. He was a foster child and Joffrey's family had more power than his biological one ever would.

Beside him, Robb bristled.

"If you don't like it, Lancaster, I suggest you find a way to amuse yourself."

"I'm a guest," Joffrey drawled, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I shouldn't have to amuse myself. My mother would have found something more interesting for us to do. But, then, she's a cultured woman, not like yours."

It was the last straw in a long litany of insults. Robb swore and launched himself at Joffrey, slinging the game board onto the floor as his body crossed the table. The pieces scattered everywhere as the two screamed insults and traded punches. Theon stayed where he was, amused. He didn't much like Cat but he wasn't about to defend Joffrey's mother.

Theon didn't like Cersei. Old-fashioned and more than a bit misogynistic, he just didn't see women as having much use in the world of sports or politics. What had Cersei ever done? She'd written a few books that, while wealthy in critical reviews, went dusty on store bookshelves. She was still working behind a parliamentary secretary's desk, using her father's name to keep even that job.

Cat washed his mouth out with soap the first time he expressed those views. Theon amended his beliefs to the idea that while most women were weak-willed and unintelligent, there were a few that could more than outpace him.

ØØØ

Parliament met infrequently enough that Mr Scott had his own business. He was a landlord, renting out lodges and summer cottages all across Scotland. Theon knew because Mr Scott had Robb, Jon and him trekking all over the countryside every weekend to check up on his tenants and their myriad complaints. He knew them all by name, which Jon found a waste of time. He would kick his heels and whine, asking how ihe/i had to come along if he was never going to do any of this? And how couldn't he bring his creepy albino dog with him?

Because it fucking creeped out all the tenants, Theon told him when Mr Scott was not paying attention. It wasn't favouritism: Robb's pet couldn't come along, either. Most of the time. Okay, some of the time. Theon might have considered the implications of that unfairness but he really couldn't be bothered to care about Jon's never-ending list of problems.

Jon had decided he was going into the military when he got older, just like Uncle Ben. Uncle Ben was Jon's hero. Theon didn't think too highly of him. Uncle Ben would show up out of nowhere for a couple days, reeking of sand and sweat, eat up the best food in the house and then leave with his arms loaded with gifts. He was grim and concerned way too much about what was happening in corners of the world everyone had since given up on. Jon was the only one who listened to his stories with anything more than vague politeness. But then, Jon was a strange, miserable kid. And stupid. Theon shouldn't forget that. Jon was a dumbass.

Theon's hero was far cooler. Mr Scott wasn't the kindest man but he could skin a freshly-killed deer, then turn around and go sit in Parliament the very next day. It was Mr Scott everyone talked about, the great Lord that everyone admired. Theon's father had been in Parliament for a while, before he was ousted for illegal and immoral practices…and the rumours started that he wasn't taking good care of his wife or his children. Mr Scott took care of his children. He made sure to spend time with each of them, even Sansa, who he had little in common with. He talked to them, comforted them and showed them the harshness of life in all its terrible glory. He didn't lie to them.

Theon wanted a father like him. Every year, he hoped Mr Scott would ask to adopt him.

Ned never did.

ØØØ

Mr Scott didn't believe in cartoons. He had nothing against using television for educational or news purposes but for amusement? They had a whole yard to play in.

He had never taught his children to be avid readers. Again, the issue was using it for amusement. Life couldn't be serious enough, in Mr Scott's opinion. Working hard was entertaining enough.

This time, Mr Scott played with them. It was, unsurprisingly, far less boisterous and interesting than usual.

Jon read from the card: "You come across the dead body of a direwolf. You pass by the body only to hear the whimpering of young pups. Roll to see how many." Jon rolled. Six. "You ask your companions what to do."

"Kill 'im," Theon said immediately. "Before they freeze to death."

"It isn't your turn, you bloodthirsty monster!" Jon snapped, looking, strangely enough, horrified at Theon's suggestion. "Would you kill our direwolves?"

"Hold on," Theon said, pulling a face. "Wolves?"

"Direwolves," Robb corrected, leaning back in his chair, bored. He was never as into these games as Theon and Jon were. Mr Scott's face was impassive. Theon guessed he was regretting his decision to play with them. He would never let them ken, of course, but that didn't mean he wouldn't feel it.

"They're dogs! Pets! Not human beings!"

"So?" Jon huffed, since he was a pansy and everything had to be big and magical. "If you don't like it, you don't get one."

One for each of the Scott children, Jon told Ned, stopping Theon Greyjoy from massacring the helpless pups as they lay freezing in the snow.

"Oh, come on!"