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Last time he was here, he was 5. Hiding from Targaryen soldiers as they made their way through the islands to look for their Silver Prince. Yet, he was never found. He can only half-remember his time here. Yet, now he looks up at the Castle that will never be. ‘It’s just towers,’ he mutters, not wanting to offend a minor lord who is visiting his Mother’s home. When he knocks on the castle door, he can almost feel fear inside him. ‘I must be strong,’ he tells himself.
A household guard answers and looks him over. As if he is not their prince, and their future king.
‘M’lord Greyjoy,’ The man says. ‘Ser,’ he says. When he is allowed in, he notices the wonders his Uncle Rodrik has ordered from The East. He sees a Valryian tapestry and a few volumes of history from YiTi. ‘Where is my Nuncle?’ He asks the guard, ‘In the rookery,’ the older man says. The guard walks him to the rookery, he had remembered the rookery, from all those years ago. The smell of bird shit, and rotten meat. His Nuncle stands there pondering a note. ‘M’lord,’ Theon calls out, he can see ink forming a blob on the parchment. ‘Oh, Theon,’
‘Nuncle,’ He says. ‘Ser Percy you may leave us,’ Ser Percy bows and leaves his Lordship. ‘Theon,’ Rodrik Harlaw says softly, ‘Nuncle, where is my mama?’ His eyes search Theon’s. ‘Theon I-,’
‘WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS MY MOTHER?’ He yells. ‘WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!’
‘Theon, you mustin’ be loud, The Widow tower is near. That’s where she is,’ He tells his nephew. ‘Thank you,’ He says to Nuncle.
‘ao sagon welcome,’
‘What?’ asks Theon. ‘You’re welcome,’
He looks to Theon once again. He can tell he is Lanny’s son. He is just as stubborn and dedicated to his family as she was no - is.
He remembers his mother dimly, her soft leather hands caressing his face, her tender touch as he went to bed, her husky singing voice in which she sung songs of The Grey King and his Mermaid Queen. He remembers all of that, his childhood. At 9 years old, I had become a man. , he thinks, a man who was small and weak with 2 dead brothers and a sister who could’ve been his father’s heir. Yet, he puts steel into his spine as he walks into the Widow’s Tower. He sees his aunt Gwynesse. ‘Aunt Gwyn,’ He tells her. Her face searches his for some sort of connection to her. ‘Rodrik?’ She asks. ‘No,’ He says, ‘Maron?’ He rolls his eyes.
‘Asha?’ He laughs, ‘It’s me Theon,’
She has never known me, she only knows the others. , ‘Theon,’ she says as if it’s bitter on her tongue. ‘Yes, Theon,’
Finally she moves away from him as she notices he is Lanny’s son. Just like his mother, he looks like if Lanny was born a man. , ‘where is my mother?’ he asks a maid. ‘Who is your mother?’ She asks. ‘My lady mother is Alannys Harlaw your queen,’
‘She is,’ The woman is trying to figure out what room she is in. ‘I saw her in the library,’ Says a male servant. ‘Thank you,’ Theon says.
He finds the library on his own, luckily his mother is the only one in there. He tip-toes as if he is getting prey to eat in the Great Hall Of Winterfell. ‘Mother?’ He asks. When he sees her, she is reading Septon Barth’s Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. As she reads, Alannys Harlaw hums a melody he knows. ‘Jenny Of Oldstones,’ he says. ‘Theon?’ She asks. ‘Maron?’ She asks again, ‘Asha?’ She asks for her daughter, her only daughter, ‘Rodrik?’ And then she asks for his father; ‘Balon!’
‘Rodrik and Maron, they’re dead mama,’ he says softly. ‘Asha is somewhere, with the boy of hers, and father he is -,’ how does explain that his father has a younger salt wife now? Or to him and Asha, a glorified whore. ‘He is?’ his mother asks her voice a thread of an echo. ‘He has a salt wife now,’ He says. Alannys huffs with sadness, ‘Yet, I your youngest boy. I am home now,’ He says. ‘Your father hated it,’ She says. ‘What?’ He asks. ‘You looked like me, you were like me,’ She tells him. ‘Yet, I reveled in it. I wanted you to be lord of The Pyke, I wanted you to be your father’s heir, yet, Rodrik and Maron came before you,’
He looks at her, ‘you were my boy, my beautiful boy,’ she says again. ‘I am your boy, your beautiful boy,’ he tells his mother. ‘Yet, here I sit, in grief for all my children, and my lord husband. Tell me is Robert truly dead? Or is that a lie?’ She asks. ‘He is dead, now his brothers fight for their throne,’
‘Their throne? He has a son, correct?’
‘2 sons, but they’re not his,’
‘Not his?’ Alannys asks her boy. ‘The queen, she has had relations with her-,’
‘Brother? We’ve all known that for years, sadly Robert didn’t notice,’ She told him. ‘Yes, sadly,’
‘There have been talks of dragons in The East,’
‘Dragons in The East?’
‘Yes, Dragons. 3 beautiful beasts,’
‘Beautiful beasts?’ He asks. ‘They come in different colours, black, green, pale gold,’
‘Dragons? How were dragons reborn into the world?’
‘They say the last Targaryen hatched them,’
‘Did she sit on them?’
She laughs, ‘Theon, would you stay with me? Maybe we could talk of Winterfell?’
‘I’d love that Lady Mother,’