Queen of Ashes [ASOIAF]

―theon.

          𝓣here was a commotion outside, which pulled Theon from his uneasy sleep. He pushed Kyra aside, and went to the window. A flash of silver and a shout as one of the Ironmen fell to the ground, and then Amina was riding into the yard. Even from here he could see the expression on her face, one he'd never seen before. A knight rode behind her, cutting down another of Theon's men.

          Theon cursed and dressed as quickly as he could. By the time he made it outside, Amina and the knight were surrounded. She looked calm as her fingers glided over her knife belt. She wore a grey gown with a shirt of mail over top, and a fine fur cloak. Perched in her hair was a diadem, a small wolf framed by iron spikes in the shape of longswords. The wolf had rubies for eyes.

          "Stand down!" Theon shouted, before anyone could attack. The Ironborn looked at him incredulously, but he crossed to Amina and offered her a hand. She dismounted on her own, brushing past him as if he wasn't there. "We should talk inside," he said to her back.

          Amina walked into the deserted great hall, and for a moment he thought she would go straight for the high seat. But she turned, and fixed him with an icy stare. She looks every inch a queen, he thought.

          "How could you?" Amina's voice was low, but the quiet fury that radiated from her was more terrifying than if she had raised her voice. Theon opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him the chance. "They were boys, Theon. Boys." She'd seen the heads then, tarred and displayed above the gate. He wanted to confess, he wanted her to smile or to hug him like she used to. He was so tired.

          "I came to talk sense into you, to bring you back. But there is no returning from this." Amina shook her head. The ruby eyes on her crown gleamed as if reflecting her anger. She wore the crown easier than Robb, much easier than Theon himself. "You were my brother, I loved you."

          Amina spoke about him as if he was already dead to her, and it drove the knife into his heart. "You shouldn't have come, Amina. You should be with Robb."

          "You're right, I should be. This was a mistake. But I could not believe what they said, this isn't who you are." Her eyes softened and he thought he saw the threat of tears in her eyes, real tears not the kind she put on for show. "Come back with me, leave Winterfell. Face the consequences of your actions. Maybe..." She could pull a knife on him now, end it here, but she didn't. Despite everything, Amina still did not want him dead.

          "You know I can't."

          "I miss you, come home." Theon knew she didn't mean this castle, the place they'd grown up. Amina meant to her, his sister, the only person who'd loved him for ten years. Maybe the only person who still did. "As your queen, I ask you."

          "I have no queen," he reminded her. "But I have a sister."

          Amina was quiet for a moment; the tears that had threatened to spill over had dried. Theon watched her pull back into herself, the way she always did. But only with other people, never with him. "I hope she loves you," Amina said. "Maybe you'll let her save you." Then she turned away, and Theon felt as if a light had gone out of his life.

          Theon wanted to shout out to her, tell her she was the only sister he'd ever wanted. That if she just asked him to come with her as his sister, he would have had no choice. He would have given up everything for her. If Theon just told her that Bran and Rickon lived, he could have kept his head. Perhaps even gained back her trust one day. But Amina was already gone.

          Theon started into the yard after her. Amina joined the knight and they went to their horses. The Ironborn looked to Theon for orders. He should hold Amina and her knight. His men would expect it. The Queen in the North would fetch a large ransom. With her as his hostage, Theon could end the war in one moment. But he could not bring himself to stop her. "Let them pass," Theon called toward the gate. "No one touches her."

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

          Theon's nightmares had been interrupted by news that Asha had finally deigned to visit. He found her in the great hall, where she had seated herself in the high seat of the Starks. At her right hand was Thyra, who was grinning at a dark-haired man by her side. Theon could not remember seeing a smile so genuine on his cousin's face. That she could look so gleeful while Theon himself felt so low only deepened his disdain for her.

          As Theon approached the table, Thyra's grin morphed into a sneer. She leaned back in her seat with a horn of ale and pressed her lips together. "I did not ask for your aid, cousin," he noted.

          She raised an eyebrow. "Nor will you be getting it."

          Theon's impatience got the better of him. He looked toward Asha. "I took this castle with thirty men, and you bring me twenty to hold it?"

          Asha glanced up from her plate. "Ten," she corrected. His jaw dropped ever so slightly. "The other ten return with me. It is a long road back to Deepwood Motte, you wouldn't want your dear sister traveling alone, now would you?"

          "And what of hers?" He asked, gesturing toward Thyra.

          "Thyra must return to the Stoney Shore to clean up your messes, brother," Asha said around a bite of capon. "The Cleftjaw is gathering survivors there." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Theon hadn't expected Dagmer to hold Torrhen's Square, not really. But the news of the lost battle had still stung.

          "Speaking of your thirty men," Thyra said, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table. "Where are they all now?" She scanned the room, doing the mental math.

          "There are casualties in any war," Theon said tersely. He did not mention that several of the deaths had come at the hands of the Queen in the North. Or that the deaths had gone unpunished. Theon hoped his men knew to keep their own mouths shut. It would not do to have word of that misstep reaching his father.

          Asha tossed down the remainder of her capon and stood. "Come, let us go somewhere we can speak more privily."

          Like a sulking child, Theon led his sister toward Eddard Stark's solar. He scowled to convey Thyra's presence was not welcome, but she followed, nonetheless. He should have summoned them here in the first place, somewhere quiet and far away from the prying eyes of their crews. Once again, Theon found himself making another misstep.

          "There are reports Lord Manderly has sent a fleet of barges upriver," he informed Asha, trying his best to ignore Thyra's presence. "The Umbers are gathering as well, and Leobald Tallhart has had the confidence to leave his walls. Those are just the reports we've gathered. By the moon's turn, there could be an army at my gate."

          "You had a clever plan brother," Asha commended him. "If only you'd burned the castle and taken the boys back to Pyke when you had the chance. You have backed yourself into a corner, and there is no one to blame but yourself. Return with me to Deepwood Motte, save yourself."

          Over Asha's shoulder, Thyra inspected the room. She ran her fingers over the spines of the books, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.

          "Winterfell is the heart of the North," Theon pointed out. "What use is Deepwood Motte? If you'd turn your attentions here, we could win this war. We could take the North for good and all."

          "We are fighting two different wars, cousin," Thyra said, turning her attention toward him. "What use is Winterfell? We are Ironborn." She waved a hand toward the window. "I see no oceans here. I see no rivers. You would condemn our people to a life surrounded by nothing but rolling hills. What sort of life is that for a man with salt in his blood?"

          Theon shook his head. "People can change."

          For a moment, he thought there was sadness in his cousin's eyes. But it was gone before he could say for certain. "Yes, you've proved that very well."

          "You have enough men to give us a chance," Theon told her.

          "My crew belong to the Iron Fleet," she reminded him. "We do not answer to the likes of you." Thyra's attention returned to the shelves, where she selected a book. She shook her head and smiled slightly to herself. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

          Asha agreed, the two stepped toward the hallway, already speaking of future plans. Thyra paused at the doorway and glanced back at him. "May the Drowned God take pity on you, cousin."