Chapter 28: The Drowned Prince
Theon tossed and turned in his bed, he was underwater again in his dreams feeling the weightlessness of being in the water, being the water. He felt as if his whole body was expansive like it was the whole ocean. He felt the water stir around him, a ripple of energy disturbing the peaceful currents he had been experiencing. He returned to his body and swum around looking in the water around him, surprisingly he realised he could breathe underwater and his hand subconsciously went to his neck and felt the fluttering gills at his neck. Before he had a chance to process that thought a watery form materialised in front of him. It was her, he knew it was yet he couldn't explain how he knew. She materialised out of the watery form and he saw her face close to his, her blonde hair splayed out like strands of silk in the water. Her sea green eyes stared into his wide, blue ones.
"Theon," she said in a commanding tone, "wake up"
He froze, was he dreaming? This felt so real.
"It is real, I'm real but you must wake NOW" she yelled the last word emphatically in his face and in a terrified twist of his body he woke up with a shriek and sat up in his bed. He felt the sheets damp beneath his body, he panted for a second and wiped sweat streaming from his brow. He stood and poured a large glass of ice cold water from the springs deep under the castle. Usually the water there was hot and full of minerals but the cold of the night had cooled it so it soothed his frantic beating heart with its freshness. Suddenly thoughts of Bran flashed in his mind, and without thinking he pulled on some clothes, boots and grabbed his sword fastening it to his hip and stormed from the room. Bran's room was a few paces down the hall, he could see light under doorway and drew his sword. He felt danger in the air, but didn't know for sure if he was still on edge from his dream. He pushed open the door and stormed in, startling Meera causing her to shriek and Jojen who stood aside Bran looking over some scrolls on his desk by the bed. Bran was standing with the help of the intricate leg braces he had designed and begged the castle smith to produce for him.
"Good you heard me Theon, come we must wake Mother. Winterfell is under attack"
Theon lowered the blade, "Under attack? It's quiet out there Bran not a sound can be heard"
"Trust me, we have to go now" spoke Bran emphatically, striding forward stiffly on his wrecked legs. "They're coming for us"
He hobbled awkwardly past Theon and opened the door disappearing into the corridor. Theon followed flanked behind by Jojen and Meera. As they made their way down the hall to Catelyn's room there was a crash and a shout, followed by heavy running footsteps. Theon pushed Jojen and Meera ahead of him.
"Protect Bran and Catelyn!" he said urgently.
"You must come too Theon you can't fight them all," said Jojen with a pointed look.
"Just go, I'll keep them off and then I'll follow"
"This is goodbye," said Jojen emphatically, "Until we meet again". Theon looked puzzled by his words and merely nodded stiffly as he raised his sword ready to engage. The footsteps clattered loudly through the castle and he heard ghoulish laughing as well as the clash of fighting and dying men. Winterfell had only been garrisoned with a skeleton crew, and was mostly women and children while the men were at war. Theon knew in his heart his defending was futile but he couldn't let the family he had grown up with come to harm. Suddenly the fighting rounded the corridor and the enemy saw Theon breaking into a frenzied run towards him, he saw a flash of their armour. Boltons, he should've known they'd come sooner or later. He saw the treachery in their hearts, he knew Roose hadn't intended on keeping peace for long. Theon braced for impact as the men drew ever closer, their footsteps filled his ears with a roaring as he yelled in fury and ran his sword through the first attacker. He fell lifeless to the ground, Theon's stomach lurched but he didn't have time to throw up before the others were on him. He stabbed and thrusted, feinted and dodged their attacks. Taking blows and drawing blood. He knew he was out numbered though, and the laughing only grew nearer. He knew that laugh, it was Ramsay Bolton. Theon fought fiercely and didn't hear the splash of water as fighters materialised behind him from the floor. Bolton soldiers mouths gaped open as reinforcements materialised from under their feet forming into fierce soldiers with foreign looking faces fierce with tusks and nasty serrated spears. Theon was preoccupied in a fierce close combat with his knife, the last weapon he held as his sword was lost in the fray. He panted as he sunk the knife into the side of his opponent and they crumpled to their knees but were able in the last moments of their life to sink their blade into his thigh. Theon howled and involuntarily grabbed at the wound, which gave several attackers an opening to fatally wound him. Theon saw them advance on him and realised he had lost, he defiantly looked up at them from his knees blood pouring from between his fingers ready to accept his fate involuntaily he closed his eyes waiting for the blade to end his life. He heard a cry and saw with surprise when he opened his eyes intricate serrated spears thrust through the necks of the men closest to him. Then a spurt of water powerfully jetted through the air into the wave behind the fallen soldiers, drowning the men as they ran to reinforce the attack. The water forced them to their knees and suffocated them, they beat at their chest and faces but eventually fell, their faces contorted and eyes bulging. Strong arms lifted Theon to his feet and he crumbled from the agony of the blade in his leg. He looked up and saw foreign faces, tall fierce men with tusks growing from their faces and seaweed necklaces of pearls and bones around their necks. He was stunned and confused, the tallest and largest walked amongst the dead Boltons removing their blades, retrieving their spears and breaking several fingers from the ones who died by spear using a oddly shaped knife to remove them. He turned to Theon and strode forward saluting him in a formal manner which confused Theon. He didn't know what to do in response through his pain. So he simply inclined his head in response.
"Thank you," he said in a strained voice through the pain.
"We must go" spoke to tusked warrior with a strange accent, "castle lost"
Theon's heart sunk, he thought of Bran and the others. He tried to turn and look behind him where they had run but the corridor was dark.
"Must go," pressed the warrior, "More come, too many"
Theon blinked not sure what to do, or where to go. The tusked warrior stood in front of Theon.
"You must become water my Prince," he spoke in a strange lilting way, as if the words he spoke were hard for him.
Theon glanced up, "Water?"
The warrior nodded emphatically, "You must…..you can become water"
Theon blinked as tears began to run down his face but hearing more footsteps close by he bowed his head and disintegrated into water and disappearing through the floor with the warriors who held him protectively.
Ramsay had heard the fighting and ran towards it gleefully, his face was splattered with blood. His sword was slick with blood and hair, he smiled and his teeth were stained with blood giving him a demonic appearance. He rounded the corridor and saw his men laying in lifeless heaps strewn around their limbs in all kinds of directions. Several had strangled looks to their faces, he bent down and examined them. He knew this look, after drowning several of his female slaves when he tired of them.
"They're drowned?" he asked in confusion to no one in particular. Looking up he saw puddles of water soaking into the floor, he moved forward and saw others with huge gaping wounds in their bodies. Who attacked them and with what weapon? It was a wound he had never come across before, and he had inflicted enough wounds to have an idea. He turned to the men behind him, who stood back with fearful looks as they observed the scene.
"Let's find that Stark brat and bitch!" he hissed as he turned and stride forward down the dark corridor, Ramsay would deal with this scene later.
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Bran stood in front of Catelyn and shook her fiercely he was angry with her but crying at the same time.
"You cannot stay Mother! This is the Boltons you know what they'll do to you!" tears dropped down his face and his voice had become desperate.
Catelyn remained stubborn.
"I'm not leaving Winterfell, I can't abandon the people of Winterfell. They need us here"
"Mother they're not taking hostages while they're taking the castle, anyone they see they'll kill. Including me and you, Father can't lose us. We can get the castle back"
"Your Father-" spoke Catelyn bitterly, tears welling in her eyes.
Bran impatiently shook his mother, "Stop this! Now is not the time!"
He winced as part of the castle exploded in flames and the floor shook beneath their feet. Meera and Jojen fell to the floor from the jolt. Brans ears rang and his mind raced as he saw the future possibilities unfolding ahead of them.
"Mother," he said with as much calm as he could muster, "If you don't come with me now to Castle Black they'll flay you. Do you want to die and your baby too?"
Catelyns eyes widened in alarm, "How-"
"I can see these things now when will you understand! Please!" he pleaded as he heard the rush of footsteps in the hallway. "We have no more time!"
"No Bran," murmured Catelyn stubbornly, "You must go-"
She pushed him away and he screamed out to her trying to grab her hands as he transformed into thousands of crows.
The door flung open and Ramsay stood in the doorway smiling with his bloodstained mouth and blood dripping down his hands. Thousands of ravens flew around the room as Bran was transforming into the flock as well as Meera and Jojen. Ramsay saw Catelyn with her back to him and without thinking he stepped forward and plunged his sword into the back of her leg. She fell with an anguished cry, Bran was almost fully transformed but he shouted out.
"No, mother!"
And the last thing he saw as his flock burst out of the window was Ramsay seizing his mother.
Ramsay looked up at the flock of ravens and seized a dagger from his closest man. He aimed right in the heart of the flock and flung the dagger. It spun through the air racing towards the birds, he heard the caw of one raven falter and watched as a lifeless black body fell with a thud near the windowsill. Catelyn let out an anguished scream. Ramsay hoped he had been able to inflict some kind of damage to Bran, he walked over to the window and watched with a triumphant smile as the ravens dissipated into the darkness of the night.
He turned with a devilish grin at Catelyn bleeding and injured on the floor, he bent down and painfully grasped her hair pulling it back hard enough to make her cry out.
"Now the real fun begins Lady Stark," he leered down into her face but she looked back defiantly and spat in his face.
Ramsay only laughed loudly in response menacingly, "Oh how I love it when they fight me"
He looked up to the men standing at attention in the room.
"I think it's time to decorate this place, tear down and burn the Stark banners. And raise the Bolton flags. The new Warden of the North is home"
"No," breathed out Catelyn in pained sobs, "My husband still lives and you are still nothing to no one"
Ramsay laughed casually, "Oh my dear Lady Stark, my father has already killed your husband and will be on his way here to meet me shortly. He will be so happy to see we managed to keep you. And then we will decide who gets to flay you first, myself or my father. I hope for your sake it isn't me"
And he broke into a raucous cackle which turned Catelyn's blood to ice but her eyes remained defiant as she stared him down.
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All was confusion for Theon in his water state, sensations were abrasive, sounds distorted and he felt like any moment he could be dragged into the black embrace of death. Finally he was hauled from the water by a large hand and for a moment he lay shivering and dizzy on a hard cold surface. Tentatively he opened one eye and saw the strange soldiers ringed in front of him. He retched and a volume of water expelled from his lungs, his head spun and he heard a scraping sound and then felt someone lift his chin and put something to his lips. Again the leader spoke in the strange lilting tongue.
"Please my Prince, drink"
Obediently he took several gulps of what tasted like wine but it numbed his mouth, he felt the warmth spread through his body in a flash and his head spun but it steadied quickly. Strong arms encircled him and helped him to his feet, where he came face to face with the men who fought by his side and saved him. The leader signalled to one of the others, without warning the knife was swiftly pulled from Theons leg causing him to howl and retch again. He tried to wince away but the strange soldier steadied him with his hand, and pressed some seaweed into the wound and wrapped it tightly. Even though it still throbbed the pain dissipated quickly.
"Thank you-" he croaked, his throat raw from retching, "I would've met my death back there-"
He looked around but didn't know where he was, involuntarily he shivered and rubbed his arms against his body.
"We come for you" spoke the commander in a deep booming voice, "Princess said to find Prince, and report back"
"Princess?" asked Theon in confusion, "the Lannisters?"
"All become clear...soon. Come we must not stay here, enemy there" spoke the commander in bad basic common tongue, he pointed up to the ceiling. That's when Theon realised where they were, he bent down and reached a hand down to touch the water. It was warm, and rich in minerals. He could taste it with his hand like his fingers were a tongue.
"Cave under Winterfell, follow me. We go"
"Where? And how do I know I can trust you? Who are you?" He stepped forward with as much courage as he could muster against these strange looking creatures.
"We are your people my Prince, now come we must get you to Lord Stark and the Princess"
"Ned? Did you say Ned?"
"Yes my Prince he is at White Harbour, we go there. Now you must follow, and swim...fast"
The soldiers dived gracefully into the water losing their land shape, only their commander remained in his land form and beckoned to Theon. He contemplated for a moment, this could be a trap, but then he had been having dreams and the only other alternative was death in Winterfell. So he stepped for ward and dived into the water with a small splash, and swam alongside the Commander. In a swirl of fins he swam at a great speed, and Theon's eyes widened in amazement when he realised he too had fins along his limbs. The water was warm and nurturing, he felt energised by the minerals in the water and as he shifted into his water form he became a fast current surging through the otherwise still water.
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Sansa opens her eyes and is standing in a glowing circle of leaves, her feet move beneath her and her toes feel the dryness of the leaves. They rustle at her movement, her heart races in her chest like the beating hooves of a horse. She hadn't eaten for days, and had been engaged in deep prayer opening herself to the Old Gods making herself an instrument for them to work through. Sansa heard the footsteps of the priestesses allowed to enter this sacred chamber deep under the Weirwood tree. They glanced at her nervously, acutely aware she is the only human to ever set foot in their most sacred place. The golden glow shifts like water throwing rippling patterns around the cave highlighting the thick roots which encased the room. Asher stepped in front of her and looked up to Sansa raising an ornate chalice, he held it up high for her to take.
"You must drink this, all of it"
Knowing better than to ask questions she obeyed, her hand shakily taking the cup and trembling as she downed the liquid in several gulps. It burnt her mouth like fire and left a bitterness behind on her palate. But within moments Asher's face began to swim and she only heard his last words faintly as she fell into the vortex.
"You must die in the Old Gods embrace to be born anew"
She fell deep into the earth, smelling the earth get stronger as she fell. At one point she wondered if she really had died, then she fell into water and it filled her senses profoundly. It felt as if she might drown when suddenly everything burst into flame, and just as the intensity became too much she was flying through the air as the wind. Her consciousness entwined with that of another, familiar wind.
Arya! called Sansa desperately, becoming aware that energy was clearly her sisters.
She heard a voice respond but was torn apart from the familiar energy before the sound reached her. The wind picked up such a ferocious pace that she became dizzy and before she knew it she had returned to her body collapsed on the floor of the sacred cave. Asher leant over her shivering form as she felt waves of sickness shudder over her. Her body was slick with sweat and she looked pale on the verge of death. Asher's face swam in front of her.
"You've done well my Lady, but this is the first of many. You survived the first encounter with the Old Gods, it gets harder to survive after this. Are you certain you want to continue?"
Too weak to do anything other than drink the liquid he provided her she lay back as she fought the urge to vomit and closed her eyes unsure if she had the strength to give to the Old Gods. Asher stood over her crumpled form and signalled to the Priestess next to him who struggled to hide her nervousness. He held out his hand, shakily she placed a long sharply pointed rough white stone into his hand.
"Turn her over," he instructed, closing his eyes and steadying his thoughts. He remembered how badly this had gone before and begged the Old Gods for assurances this time would be better. The Priestesses turned Sansa to her back, and exposed her chest her breasts fell slightly to the side exposing the centre of her chest. Asher opened his eyes and prepared to plunge the stone deep into Sansa's chest, cementing her as an instrument of the Old Gods. She would become the Old Gods personified. Silently praying he steadied himself, raising his arms as high above his head as he could. Just about to plunge the stone down he heard a gasp from the group of Priestesses, glancing up he saw the stone glowing brilliantly in his hand. So brilliantly in fact that it was too intense to look directly at for long. It began to pulse and slowly several particles of the light began floating down and sinking into Sansa's chest. Before he knew it, the particles rapidly migrated from their stone form in his hand to encircle and rest around Sansa's human heart in his chest. The Old Gods had chosen, they had chosen to preserve Sansa's humanity in a way he had never expected. With a look of wonder and astonishment he observed every last particle drop into her body, swirling around her chest area before disappearing from sight. Panting from the shock and wonder of it and the exertion of working such rare and powerful magic Asher fell to his knees alongside Sansa and dropped his head onto her abdomen, falling unconscious.
Arya opened her eyes and blinked, the stars were bright over head and the trees formed a dark lacework over her head. She felt the warmth of Nymeria by her side, the wolf's presence was comforting almost like an extension of herself. Inside she felt a sense of being unsettled, the dreams of her sister tugged at the edge of her consciousness but began to fade with every second her eyes were open. The sound of a twig breaking in the forest pricked her ears up, Nymeria's also. Instantly Arya's heart rate increased and all thoughts of the strange dream vanished, looking around no one else in their encampment stirred. She heard the soft snore of the others, they had accumulated a few extra people on their travels. She could see their hunched shapes in the dark, she sat up on her elbows listening for another sound. Just as she was going to lay back she heard another twig break, and the crunch of a footstep. Nymeria began to growl low in her throat, Arya nimbly stood drawing her dagger and flitting from tree to tree hyper focused on her senses. She closed her eyes and sent out her wolf senses, to her surprise she felt more than one person close by. Opening her eyes she gritted her teeth, gripped her dagger quietly and began to stalk them. Silently she crept like a shadow in the night making no sound, getting closer to the figures she could sense ahead. The moon came out from behind some clouds and cast illumination ahead, there was a clearing, her heart beating fast she pushed on acutely aware her dagger wasn't enough against more than one large person. At the point of the clearing she crept out of the trees looking for cover, and saw four figures across the clearing. Moving faster she came up behind one of them and grabbed their hair exposing their throat savagely putting her blade to their throat. She heard Nymeria come up behind her and whine, then she heard the wolf padding forward and yelp in joy. In shock she looked and saw Nymeria playing with two wolves, bounding over one another in play.
"Please Arya, unhand me" spoke a gentle voice of a young man, which sounded somewhat familiar. She pulled back the dagger and shoved herself away, defensively she put her body in a stance ready to fight, and the two humans turned and stared at her. Her mouth dropped open in shock, these two men seemed so familiar but unfamiliar at the same time.
"Who are you?" She breathed in confusion, then she stepped forward with a furrowed brow, "Father?"
The one who looked the most familiar smiled, "I am not Father Arya, I am your brother Edric. Well your half brother"
Arya's mouth opened in amazement and she stepped forward her hand outstretched seeking to touch his face. Instead he gripped her wrist and looked her directly in the face, a surge of memories flickered through her mind causing her knees to buckle. She breathed out hard as she fell. Both men crouched alongside her in concern.
"Why are you here?" she asked in a strained voice, shoving away the hand holding her and gingerly getting to her feet.
"You know why," spoke the other man, "Your Father has sent us to find you"
"Find me? Hold on how did you find me?" she looked to the other man who looked less familiar to her.
Edric spoke for him, "You have a talent yes? Well youre not alone, i can find people anywhere i just have to focus on them."
"Thats impressive," retorted Arya sarcastically as she stood and brushed herself off, "But im not coming with you"
Edric looked confused he leant forward to speak more directly to his sister, "Dont you want to go home? See your family? Be safe?"
"No not really, thats not me"
Rickard and Edric looked at each other in confusion, and Arya looked unapologetic. They quickly realised she wasnt joking.
"We thought youd want to come back with us," said Rickard flatly.
"Dont you miss home? Your family?" pushd Edric.
Arya chewed her lip thoughtfully and chose her words carefully, "I do miss home but i have another path to go on before i go back there." In exasperation she continued, "I feel suffocated in those places! Everybody wants me to be this lady of the court...but i am not that. I cant be that any longer. Its too much to bear-" her voice trailed off.
"Who do you want to be?" questioned Rickard curiously.
Arya smiled in response, drew her sword and did a complicated backflip and aggressive sword attack which came to rest right in Rickard's face.
Rickard leaned forward, "Your Father gave us instructions to bring you home, what will we tell him"
Arya lowered her hand and beckoned Nymeria, she ran her hand through thr wolf's fur.
"Youll take Nymeria with you, then he will know youve really seen me and that ill be home. Where im going she cant follow anyway"
"Where are you going Arya?" asked Edric with a worried edge to his voice.
Arya simply looked at him though and shrugged, "I dont know, all i know is I have to go"
Suddenly a cry pierced the peaceful night causing Arya to whip her head back around to the camp. Swearing aggressively she lifted her dagger and ran towards the confrontation followed by the three wolves on her heels. Rickard and Edric looked at each other in concern before the trailing behind to back Arya up. Suddenly a ferocious wind picked up causing Rickard and Edric ro glance at each other in alarm. As they ran towards the screams the wind howled through the trees around them.
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Ned lay in his bed, pale and unconscious his breath uneven and ragged and his skin the colour of ash. Shortly after Corylle's departure he had collapsed in a feverish state succumbing to his wounds and the infection that followed. Since then he had been laid in his bed, and as the days passed he grew closer and closer to death. Oberyn spent hours by his bedside chewing his nails with fervent wishes his ally would awaken and resume their plans together. But every day that passed saw Ned sink deeper into a place nobody thought he could return from. Lord Manderly forbid anyone to speak on Ned's condition lest it cause an outbreak of treachery, because after recent events it seemed the North was teetering on war amongst themselves. And so daily the Maester continued to tend to Ned, faithfully doing all he could to try and stay the infection and bring Ned back to health. Theon arrived with Corylle's guards and Lord Manderly whisked him aside and briefed him on Ned's condition. Still reeling from the ambush in Winterfell Theon's mind turned over and over with fresh concerns, worries for his guardian and father figure. He had always seen Ned as indestructible, the strongest man physically and mentally he had ever known. To hear this news shook him to his very core and made him feel vulnerable like a small child again. Lord Manderly gently opened the door and ushered Theon into Ned's room, allowing only the most senior of Corylle's guard to follow in his land form. Ned lay in a grand bed, grey and sweating from the fever they couldn't bring under control. Theon stopped in shock, it was as if Ned was already dead the way he laid, and his complexion it was as if life had left him. Oberyn stood in the corner and nodded his head to Theon, indicating he should approach.
"I know what it looks like, yet he still lives," spoke Oberyn with a tightness in his voice. Theon had no words, he approached the bed and sat by Ned's side, the chair creaking slightly as his weight was put on it. Ned's brow furrowed and he mumbled something which made Theon feel awkward. He didn't know what to do, he looked down at Ned's hand in front of him. These hands had taught him how to hunt, fire a bow, wield a sword and now they're just limp, Theon felt sick with worry. He steeled himself and looked at Ned's face with a slight exhale and saw with a lift in his heart Ned had opened his eyes slightly and was staring at him with a slight smile.
"It is good indeed to see you Theon," he said weakly.
Theon nodded and felt tears prick his eyes, overwhelmed he dropped his head in defeat as his eyes burnt with shameful tears.
"I tried-," he started, "I really tried….but I couldn't stop them"
Ned closed his eyes momentarily and Theon thought he had died right there, but then he cleared his throat and tried to shift so he could sit up. Theon sprang to his feet to assist, and managed to prop up Ned with some assistance from Oberyn.
Once comfortable Ned opened his eyes ever so slightly and spoke with difficulty.
"Tell me….what happened"
Theon gave his account of what happened at Winterfell, and of Bran's plans to take the Reed twins and Catelyn to Castle Black.
"Did they make it out alive?" he asked in a croaky voice.
Theon shook his head and replied with a shaky voice full of emotion, "I don't know. I'm so sorry, I've failed you. I failed everyone. I should've stayed!" he finished heatedly feeling guilt and shame take over.
"No," said Ned weakly, "it wasn't your time to die then. You have so much more….ahead of you"
"No," he protested angrily, "I left them to die!"
Ned opened his eyes wider and mustered up enough energy to say.
"I'm proud of what you've done Theon, stop"
Ned managed to grasp Theon's hand strong enough and fix him with enough of his gaze to communicate adequately.
"You have a destiny to fulfill which is waiting for you, I'm just sad I won't live to see it".
Theon sobbed softly and dropped his head again.
"Please, no. You can fight this-" protested Theon.
Ned shook his head, "I feel the Old Gods on my shoulder lad, death is near"
Ned coughed hard from the exertion of speaking prompting Oberyn to bring some water and put it to his lips to drink.
"You must go, fulfill your destiny to your people. Just know im proud of you and have faith you will succeed"
Theon sobbed as Ned's hand slackened in his before tightening again.
"I think that's enough for now," said Oberyn softly, "The Maester will skin me alive if I let him talk much more. He must conserve what energy he has left"
Theon looked to Oberyn through red rimmed, tear laden eyes and nodded in agreement. He leant forward and whispered in Ned's ear.
"I promise I won't let you down. I will make you proud"
Shakily Theon stood and crossed the room to where the Warrior stood grasping his serrated spear. The Warrior gazed in concern at Ned. Theon approached the door and took one look back at Ned and shuddered in sobs, the Warrior turned to Theon. He put his spear in Theon's path to block him, being much taller than Theon he looked down at him with his fierce face looking sympathetic and spoke in broken common tongue.
"I can help," he indicated to Ned laying on the bed.
Theon looked back and shook his head, "He's too sick, our Maester has done everything"
The Warrior produced the bottle he had forced Theon to drink earlier and ripped some seaweed dangling from the side of his loin cloth.
"I want to try, please"
Theon looked to Oberyn who waved his arm in a motion to indicate he should go. Theon looked to the Warrior and nodded.
"Can you save him?"
The Warrior shook his head gravely, "Maybe, he is close. I can feel death in the room"
He spoke with difficulty and shuddered at the end, with a pointed look to Theon he said.
"We try to send death away"
He reached for a flask on the bedside and checked inside, it was empty. Sombrely he poured in the crimson liquid from his flask, and crushed the seaweed between his large hands sprinkling it into the flask and swirling. He cupped the flask between both hands and began to croon, and then chant. Leaning over Ned he continued moving in a ritualistic manner chanting and crooning in a language none present understood. Oberyn and Theon were entranced, and watched with wide eyes.
The intensity of the chanting began to die down and finally he used the flask to force Ned to drink the liquid. At first he spluttered and coughed, causing the Warrior to click his tongue and croon again until Ned steadied and thirstily gulped the liquid down. When he had drunk every last drop Ned flopped his head back on the pillow still grey, ashen and slick with perspiration. The Warrior nodded in satisfaction.
"I hope it is enough" he said at the end.
"I do too," replied Theon.
"What did you do?" asked Oberyn, "his breathing is not so uneven. See?"
Everyone in the room looked and noticed that whilst still grey and ashen, Ned's chest moved evenly now.
"All of my people have basic healing magic and knowledge of plants and potions. We do not possess the level of magic bestowed on the royal family. But enough to be useful. Only other person stronger than me is my Princess"
"Can she save Ned?" asked Oberyn in very low voice, cautiously hopeful.
The Warrior inclined his head, "Her magic is very powerful, she might be only one who can save him"
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Lord Manderly stares out to sea with trepidation, his brow is furrowed and anxious thoughts race through his mind. Ned Stark is their leader, without him the North will descend into chaos and who knows what other complications may arise. Closing his eyes he fervently prays to the Old Gods as the wind tousles what hair is left on his head. A few wispy old strands but he enjoys the feeling nonetheless and relishes the sea breeze. There is a sound behind him and he turns to see Oberyn looking grave faced but cautiously excited. Despite himself Lord Manderly had grown to appreciate Oberyn of late, despite his mannerisms irking him initially. He had seen the loyalty shine through for Ned Stark and it was a quality he fiercely revered which quickly endeared Oberyn to him.
"There is hope my Lord," spoke Oberyn in a quiet voice.
Lord Manderly sighed, "The Maester said he's lucky to live the night, there's nothing else-"
Oberyn interrupted, "My Lord, there's something else"
After some hurried explanations and exclamations about Oberyn letting an unknown savage tend to the Warden of the North, Lord Manderly stormed down to Ned's rooms to see his Lord for himself.
He burst through the door ignoring the protests of the Maester and walked close to Ned peering at him intensely. Oberyn was right, his breathing was steadied and although sweat still beaded on Ned's brow he was less ashen than he was an hour previous. Lord Manderly turned his head to Oberyn and said simply.
"Summon the Sea Princess"
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Shortly later, Theon, Oberyn, Lord Manderly and the Maester stood together on the docks. The group of Warriors who extracted Theon from Winterfell stood closer to the water in a formation. They had been instructed to summon their Princess, the one who could bring Ned back. The largest Warrior was the one who had administered the elixir that stabilised Ned. He stood at the head of this group, solemn faced.
He looked back to the waiting party and bowed his head then turn and undulated his voice so loudly it reverberated around the entire city and bay. The force of his voice sent a shiver of energy along the top of the water, which dissipated into the water. Afterwards he looked satisfied.
"She will come,"
"She better," said the Maester fretfully, "and soon"
Without a word, the Warriors assembled into a guard. Their weapons drawn but upright and waited. Everyone waited, the water made lapping sounds against the dock and the boats moored around the jetty bounced up and down on the gentle tide. After several minutes of impatient waiting and the Maester's huffing and puffing, Oberyn squinted.
"I see something," he pointed and just at that moment he pointed into a splash of water an enormous creature breached the surface of the bay with a deafening shriek and jumped in a curved arch over the water before diving back underneath. Its body was enormous and covered in iridescent, colourful scales.
"Was that….a dragon?" asked Theon doubtfully.
"Dragons don't live under water dear boy," spoke the Maester reproachfully to Theon.
"We had best keep an open mind Maester," said Lord Manderly sternly, "until two days ago we had no idea these Sea People even existed"
Again the creature breached the surface, closer this time and jumped in a wide arch showcasing its beautiful hide.
This time Theon saw its face with more clarity, he turned to the Maester.
"It has to be a dragon!" he said excitedly.
The Maester huffed loudly in exasperation, and ignored him.
Finally the water rippled in a way that indicated the creature was swimming at speed towards them and when it got close its head and body breached the surface and all could see it indeed was a water dragon. And riding it strapped into a harness was Corylle. Behind her strapped to her back was an enormous gem encrusted trident, her hair was braided intricately and she wore armour of seal hide encrusted with barnacles, diamonds and aquamarine. Sitting squarely on her head was an elaborate and luxurious crown. She looked formidable and ready to go to war, the multitude of necklaces around her bust jolted with the dragons movements but she maintained a firm grip and control over the dragon. The bay was awash with wild waves from the dragons movements, the boats wildly bobbed on the waves threatening to all capsize and the gentle lapping of the water on the jetties were now hard fierce slaps. As she approached the dragon gave a flick of its body to come alongside the jetty and promptly dropped its head to allow her passage to step onto the jetty. This sent a spray of sea water up and over everyone waiting on the dock raining down on them gently causing the sun to catch the droplets and create an arch of rainbow. Gracefully she alighted as if stepping from a royal carriage and stopped to slightly nuzzle the dragon as she left. Promptly it dipped back into the water and out of sight, it truly was an entrance. Everyone except the warriors standing on the jetty were completely overawed. Commanding the moment Corylle confidently stepped towards Theon and extended her hand. He instantly went pale, he knew it was the woman from his dreams the one he has lusted after for months. Now she was in front of him in her land form and more beautiful and formidable than ever. Unsure what to do he nervously shook her hand as if she was a man. Oberyn groaned in embarrassment.
"That's not how you address royalty Theon," scolded the woman with a gleam in her eye. "You must learn"
Exhaling in frustration and embarrassment Theon took the fingers of her hand in his kneeled in front of her and kissed her hand, looking up at her. He felt all the blood rush to his head as he looked directly into her face and saw the power and beauty looking back at him. Satisfied, she nodded and indicated he rise. Immediately she looked to her protectors, and spoke in their language which none could understand. After a moment of foreign conversing her face had paled.
"Ned is dying?" she asked with obvious worry and concern.
"Yes Your Majesty, your soldier managed to stave off death but he is still close"
Corylle looked to her General and nodded proudly, then turned to Lord Manderly and the others waiting.
"Take me to him"
Lord Manderly waved his arm to the side and she fell into step with him and allowed him to lead her towards the castle. Her armour and trident shining brilliantly in the daylight.
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Lord Manderly opened the door and held it open for Corylle to enter Ned's suites. The grand bed he lay in was slathered in sweat and had the smell of death in the air. Corylle slightly creased her nose, having familiarity with it after wars and famine. Oberyn filed in behind followed by the Maester and Theon, lastly two of her men entered. It was forbidden to leave the Princess without two guards. Corylle turned to the Westerosi men with a firm look on her face.
"You must remain here and do not approach me or touch me while I tend to him. Our magic is foreign to you and can be fatal if handled improperly. Usually I refuse an audience but I understand due to his status he will not be permitted privacy. Stand back and do not intervene"
The Maester huffed a little but was held in line by a glare from Lord Manderly. Corylle noticed and guided the Maester to a seat where he could watch from a different angle.
"You are a healer for your people?" she asked tenderly, "I will allow you to watch from here but do not come close" she warned.
Satisfied he was being afforded special treatment he sat with a smug smile and watched in earnest.
The Warrior leaned in to Theon and whispered.
"Working magic makes our royalty vulnerable, so we never leave their side or let others nearby. This is great honour she has given today"
Theon nodded to show he understood but he couldn't take his eyes off Corylle. Gently she had removed her armour and stood naked of everything except the trident firmly strapped to her back, the multitude of seaweed necklaces and the crown firmly fixed on her head. She began to sing, and it was clear from then her voice was laced with powerful magic. Her voice swelled and caused such emotion to rise in everyone present tears pricked their eyes involuntarily followed by a flood of emotions. She walked around Ned's bed and touched him on certain points as she sang, after several laps like this she came to the foot of his bed and raised her arms wide causing her hair to float in the air around her body as if she was under water. It began to glow and her skin became more iridescent and luminescent, colourful particles began to dance around her in swirling patterns coming from the stones in her armour and the necklaces around her neck. The particles swirled in colourful patterns entwining around one another until it formed a vortex which swirled into Ned's body. Her song reached a crescendo and a pitch of such intensity the men felt powerless to resist and fell to their knees. The Maester's mouth was open in shock and awe as he watched several substances mix into a vortex and follow Ned's inhalations into his body. Tears rolled down his face as he struggled to control the emotional tidal wave he felt and the admiration he felt for watching the magic be performed. Corylle began to move her body in a fluid dance as her voice weaved more and more magic, the thud of her necklaces on her skin leading all present into a trancelike state, she unhooked her trident causing the men in the room to worry for Ned's safety but the Sea Warriors indicated urgently to stand back as they had panicked and stood up to intervene. At her touch the trident glowed intensely and the stones within them lit up brightly one by one, as she swayed and sung she swung the trident in an arc around her producing beautiful waves of light which weaved around Ned's body and encased him in shimmering colourful light. Finally her song reached a high crescendo and she flung her arms open holding a long, high note as energy rippled all throughout the room and swirling around Ned's head before it was seemingly sucked into his body by his skin.
Corylle bowed ceremoniously and spoke several utterances at various parts of the room which those watching could tell was part of the finality of the ritual. She replaced her trident and redressed in her armour and turned to face the men, her skin still shining and iridescent and her hair still floating widely around her.
"I've done all I can, now we must give him time"
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The ship sailed from the docks of White Harbour with fantastic fanfare, the people of the city fell over themselves to get the best vantage point to see for the first time the spectacular displays the water people performed to bless the ships going to the Iron Islands. Theon was cheered heartily by the crowd when he waved as the ship departed, dressed richly in the clothes of iron born nobility but now in a sensational move he chose to add a wolf sigil of the Stark family to acknowledge the family he grew up with. He knew this would raise eyebrows on the Iron Islands but he didnt care. Theon shifted slightly in discomfort as he waved away the only people and places he had memory of, the sea rippled ahead of him calling him into an unknown future which both excited and terrified him. So despite smiling and waving as the ship slowly sailed away from the North he felt his anxiety rise. His thoughts went to Ned, he still lay unconscious in his bed sweating profusely and deathly ill. Momentarily his brows knitted together in concern, he had held so much hope his guardian would awaken and they would have a long needed conversation before he departed. This wasnt to be however and so Theon had to seek advice from Lord Manderly about how to approach his Father. And what to expect on the Iron Islands, Theon quickly learned that nobody had anything really positive to contribute deepening his anxiety about facing the father he had never known. Corylle stood alongside him, waving and smiling radiantly her beauty striking in the sun. Alongside the boat swam the enormous water dragon and every so often it would disappear underwater to emerge in a breathtaking arc up and out of the water causing droplers of light to catch the rays of sun and cast rainbows across the harbour. It was the most beautiful moment in marine history at White Harbour, the cheering continued until the ships were out of ear shot and rapidly disappearing into the horizon. Theon couldnt help himself, he ran to the starboard side and threw up his breakfast into the ocean. His vision blurred and his thoughts swam, anxiety bubbling quickly to the surface. Steadying himself he tried to calm his thoughts when he felt a soft, cool hand on the back of his neck. Theon breathed out raggedly, biting back anxious words and fears trying his hardest not to cry in front of the Princess.
"Now is the time to clear up how youre feeling Theon," she spoke softly but with a hardened edge to her voice, "When we get to our destination you cannot have any doubts or fears left. Empty them out to the sea, offer them to our God and let him take care of them. You must have nothing left but strength when you face your Father for he is not the forgiving type"
Theon closed his eyes and dipped his head listening to the waves lap against the side of the boat, feeling the occasional spray on his skin.
"When you are done come to the royal quarters below deck, you must learn quickly the customs of the Sea People. For if you are to have an audience with my Father and the Voice of the Drowned God you must learn the right way to address him. Let me tell you if you are worrying about meeting anyone it should be my Father, his fierceness far exceeds that of yours. I will leave you to your prayers now"
Theon glanced back to acknowledge the Princess, her radiant smile had been replaced with a look of regal fierceness and for the first time he truly saw how she could be a powerful warrior. The trident strapped to her back gleamed wickedly and for the first time Theon noticed some of the contents of her necklaces appeared to be the bones of not just animals but people too. He felt inadequate in comparison. Theon bowed curtly for Corylle.
"Thank you Your Highness, I shall attend you soon," he spoke carefully, knowing better than to go against her suggestion knowing her advice was to help him face what awaits. Corylle trailed off with her guards below deck and Theon turned back to the waves, watching them roll towards the boat and clap against the side sending spray up into his face. Everytime he felt the spray on his face he felt himself deepening into a trance like state where he began to pray.
He didnt really know how to pray, he had never really been told, but he had seen the Starks in prayer at the base of the tree so he just closed his eyes and silently unloaded all his worries and fears to a Drowned God he had only just met. After a time he felt a large slap of water on his face and opened his eyes, startled. Except he was no longer on the ship but on a wide rock covered in shells and barnacles, above him loomed a huge wave and out of that wave appeared the face of an older man with a fierce face. Theon gulped and unsure what to do, he knelt. The old man lashed out and doused Theon with icy water causing him to hastily stand again.
"Do not kneel to me, we do not bend ourselves to show respect"
The voice thundered all around him and filled the air with charged particles of electricity.
Theon wanted to apologise, but felt it would be wrong so he turned his soaked face up to the wave and stared defiantly.
"Im here now, why?"
"You have been chosen, and thats all you need to know. When you face any doubt crush it into sand and let the current take it away from you. No matter what anyone tells you do not forget what I have told you. I have chosen you"
Theon was unsure what this meant but knew he would soon find out and it would make sense. Feeling emboldened from letting go of his anxiety he could only nod and reply.
"I will do whatever is required of me"
With a swoosh of water the scene disappeared and Theon felt strong arms around him pulling him back into the ship. He didnt know the sea had dragged him overboard and for a period of time he had drowned. His gills fluttered as he returned to his land form surrounded by Westerosi and the Sea Warriors. The Westerosi looked at Theon with unease but the Sea Warriors stood at attention, the captain of the ship asked the warriors the significance of Theon being washed overboard and their leader frankly told him.
"The Drowned God sought an audience with Theon, and he survived. He is chosen"
Gingerly Theon stood and still soaking wet went in search of the Princess to learn the way of his people, the Sea People leaving wet webbed footprints in his wake.
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The remainder of their journey Theon was taught how to address the Sea People, their customs and part of their history. He was surprised to hear how much war was in their history and even recently the warring Sea tribes had faced battle. All the while he had been living a pampered life at Winterfell bedding the local whores. He felt bashful when the warriors educated him on the wars in which all of them Corylle had fought, and won. The bones around her neck were the bones of the tribes leaders she had defeated, and there was almost a dozen. This humbled Theon and created a feeling of awe when he saw Corylle next, there was a fierce warrior inside this woman and that changed how he felt he should act around her. He didnt see her as less than him for being a woman like was common in Westeros but had a feared kind of reverence for her, just like the Sea Warriors who accompanied her exhibited. Several days after repetitive lessons, learning the warbling sea language and practicing his etiquette the shape of land breached the horizon, Theon went up above deck to watch the land of his Father continue to grow as they steadily sailed towards it. The Sea Warriors and Corylle had only just returned to the ship after being back in the ocean in their sea forms, for they couldnt withstand living above the water for long periods of time. Corylle came to stand beside Theon, he turned to look at her trying to stifle the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of seeing his Father.
"You met the Drowned God," she spoke matter of factly with a small smile while watching the land ahead of them.
"Yes, I did" returned Theon shyly.
"Remember whatever he told you, it is rare to meet him. There have been whole lives lived of royalty who never really knew the Drowned God let alone saw him. You are already chosen as a King in his eyes"
"A King? Me?" spluttered Theon, "How?"
"You were drowned by the Drowned God and returned to us, he has chosen you to lead the people"
"But my Father-" started Theon his face becoming pale.
"Theon havent you figured it out yet? We didnt come to the Iron Islands for anything other than to take it from your Father. By end of today the Iron Islands will be yours"
"A take over? But why?"
Corylle smiled in a way Theon had never seen, "Your Father has lost his way, he has forgotten his God. He is lucky to have lived this long. You already are King, he chose you. Now go and take it"
Corylle turned and beckoned forward one of the warriors, he held something wrapped in a beautifjl sea foam coloured fabric. Corylle dramatically opened the fabric revealing a long sharply serrated sword, it gleamed iridescently and the hilt was decorated in barnacles, pearls and flashy stones. Corylle indicated Theon to take the sword, Theon hesitated.
"This sword is a gift from my father. He does not give gifts lightly, but when he heard of your meeting with the Drowned God he sought fit to honour you with this blade. You must take it"
Corylle leaned forward and with a wicked gleam in her eye said, "Remember Chosen One how quickly the tides turn, your tide is rising, anothers is falling. Dont hesitate now or yours will fall also. Be strong and remember what you were told"
Theon grasped the wicked looking sword and at his touch the stones began to glow and ripple like the sea was inside of them. He looked over the blade as the warriors fastened a belt to him.
"Now," said Corylle, "we will take the islands together. As the new Chosen King of the Drowned God this will be your first victory. And you need it if you wish to succeed with my Father, just because he gave you this sword now you have to prove to him youre worthy of it"
Then she spoke in the strange lilting language of her people and gave several orders, her tone startled the Westerosi who knew her as sweet and gentle. Now her Queenly side emerged where she was strong and decisive. The Iron Islands rose ahead of them trying to impose them but Corylle smiled and drew her trident ululating fiercely as they approached the docks. A ripple of energy emerged from the trident and sent small waves outward in every direction into the ocean. The Sea People had arrived on the Iron Islands and they were bringing a tidal wave with them.
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