Queen in the North

Theon

"How can you drink this piss? When we reach Sunspear, I'll treat you to a Dornish red. The best in the world." The Dornish woman said. Yara told Theon that her name was Elia, but that had yet to register fully in his brain. She was simply his sister's newest distraction. He could remember a time when she would have been his distraction, but those days were long gone.

The sway of the ship lulled him into a sense of security. Since he was held prisoner by Ramsay Bolton, the sea seemed to be the only place where he could find peace. When he was on land, he had been flayed, mutilated, and humiliated. Sea was the place that Ramsay couldn't reach him. His mind wandered to a time when he was called by a different name. He had been three men in this lifetime. First, he was Lord Theon Greyjoy, Prince of Winterfell, heir to the Iron Islands, Theon Turncloak. Then he became Reek. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with leek. He squeezed his eyes shut to cast the memories of his days of Reek to the side. Now, he was just Theon. He had no titles, no land, no claim. He only had Yara, his sister, and his queen. 

His mind found its way back to Yara and Elia's conversation. "A boy, a girl. Depends on the port." His sister said. Theon could sense where this conversation would lead and he had no intention of witnessing its end. He stood up to lead and headed towards the door. 

"Could we get some more?" The Dornish woman asked him and raised her glass in his direction as if he were a serving wench. The old Theon would have smashed the cup across her jaw for such a slight, but he died in Winterfell. 

Yara's eyes flitted to his briefly as he took Elia's cup. "I thought it wasn't for you?" She asks,

"I'm developing a taste for it."

"He is not your servant," Yara stated, her voice growing cold. 

"It's fine." Theon intervened. He truly didn't mind. After Ramsay, he had little pride left to tarnish. He filled her cup and returned it to the woman's slender hand. She had long nails, pointed as if they were claws, ready to rip out the throats of her enemies. 

"So, you are to be the queen of the Iron Islands?" She asked Yara. 

"Once I kill my uncle."

"And what will you be, handsome?" Elia turned to Theon. 

His stomach turned uneasily. There was a time when his heart would have raced instead, but now her advances left him feeling sick. "Whatever my queen commands."

Yara spoke up. She knew how he was a shell of his former self. "He will be my advisor, my protector." 

"Oh, I see." Elia hummed as she moved towards Yara. "Your protector. So if someone gets too close to you..."

A small smile spread over Yara's face as Elia gracefully spread herself across her lap. "He might have to intervene."

"To hold that person back."

"Until they have made their intentions known."

Elia turned to Theon with a smile. "Why are you standing all the way over there then? A foreign invasion is underway...". Her hands ran along his sister's leg. His stomach rolled inside of him like he had eaten something rotten. 

"Leave him be," Yara whispered. Theon felt relief wash over him. His sister had claimed that he was her protector, but in reality, she was his. She gave him a dismissing shrug and he started towards the stairs. 

"Looks like you don't need much protecting." He heard Elia purr from behind him. He pressed forward. 

The ship jolted towards the starboard. The Iron Born were master seamen and sailors, they knew every sand bar and rock outcropping. This was an attack. "Stay here!" Yara ordered Elia and grabbed her ax before rushing to the deck with Theon at her heels.

Theon had a sword in his hand as chaos developed him. He slew men that he had known and men that were a mystery alike. He never loved sword fighting. His talents would also be with a bow. He could remember a day when he was still Theon Greyjoy, heir to the salt throne. On that day he had been hunting with Robb and Jon. He could still taste the words he had told his brothers in his mouth. 'The boar can keep his tusks, and the bear his claws. There is nothing half so mortal as a grey goose feather.' he had said. His hands yearned for a bow now. 

The outline of the Silence could be seen against the flash of lightning in the sky. His uncle had come. 

"Euron." Yara breathed. 

The Silence acted as a battering ram against the hull of Yara's Black Wind, piercing the hull. Then the Crow's Eye's crew boarded and hell rained down on them.

Theon could hear the roar of his uncle, the screams of his men, but all he could see was red. His sword swung about his body, in wild, desperate motions. His only goal was to take as many as Euron's men as he could before he fell. 

The deck seemed to be thinning, but Theon could not tell which side was winning. He searched for his sister as he cut down any man who came before him. 

Flames rose around him as the fleet was set ablaze. The heat licked his face and the light reflected off his armor as he fought. 

"Little Theon!" Euron's voice rose above the clash of steel on steel, the crackling of the fire, and the sound of men dying. 

Theon turned to face his uncle. He held a knife to Yara's throat. Blood streamed down his face. The only thing that wasn't red, was his blue eye. 

Theon's heart raced as he watched his sister struggle against Euron. "Come on you cockless coward." Euron taunted, "I have her. Come and get her."

Theon was frozen. His eyes flashed to the dead men all around them. He wouldn't be taken prisoner again. Never again. He would rather die.

The last thing he heard was his sword fall and then he was consumed by the salty waves.