Chapter Text
“Aye, looks like heavy storms are coming from the South,” Dagmer called over the roaring waves and rapidly picking up winds. In the distances, deep rumbling black clouds crept closer and closer, taking over the faded evening sky and painting over purple and orange sunsets with violently black rains. “’Think we should wait it out?”
Theon snorted, hair whipping in the wind, the shoreline steadily approaching. “For this? Please. Steady in and we’ll be out before rain begins to fall, I promise you that.”
It was supposed to be easy after all. A quick in and out. A simple raid. Something to get his crew into high spirits before their long trip to Braavos. Theon liked to treat his crew before he struck them with months at sea; going around the bloody peninsula of Westeros was rather tedious and around the second week his crew tends to long for a little more action. Best treat them now and keep their spirits high early on to keep them lasting longer.
Theon watched as Dagmer called out his orders to the rest of the crew and his men scrambled to prepare for docking and the upcoming raid. He could feel the excitement surge through his men: murmurs of food and drink, whispers of fucking and reaping, chants of chaos and violence. The Iron Way, the only way. Theon loved every second of it.
Seagard wasn’t anything special. It was a rather common destination for a spirited raid. No matter how many defenses they managed to put up between raids and how many men they got, the walls and defenses of Seagard crumbled like sand under Ironborn boots. Seagard held nothing special and was for all intents and purposes a shit port, damaged and weakened by pirates coming and going. Yet, the Iron Islands had a tradition of stopping there, getting their last fill of food and drink and women before heading off wherever. It was just their way.
The people of Seagard were far too used to it and long stopped trying to fight back, not that they had much the Ironborn wanted. It was more the chase and excitement of a raid than the actual score. So as far as most of Theon’s crew was concerned, it was just a last hoorah, before the long journey to Essos. Only a few in higher rankings knew there was a bit more to that this time around.
As the docking finished and men practically leaped from the ship to the unstable dock below, Theon patted the long blade by his side and the gun on his hip. Dagmer was waiting with a feral grin while Wex fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt eyeing the tall tower in the center of Seagard.
“You sure about this?” Dagmer growled. He was older, supposedly wiser than Theon and felt the need to impart his ‘fatherly’ advice when he sought fit. While Theon was the captain and man in charge, Dagmer never held back his thoughts, falling back on his experience and soft heart. Theon didn’t mind it one bit. Dagmer could preach all the advice he wanted but in the end, he’d do whatever Theon decided.
“You heard those idiots back in Pyke,” Theon shot back, smirking all the same. “Wolf gold, my good friend. We are gonna get ourselves some wolf gold.”
Dagmer voiced no other concerns, following as Theon disembarked and stalked through the port as if he owned it. For what it was worth, in that moment as neighboring ships burned and town’s people screamed and his men laughed and hollered, Theon did own Seagard; from the minute his ship docked to the second it left port. Chaos had its firm grip on Seagard and Theon was the master of said chaos.
It was easy to make it to the tower unnoticed. All the guards had long since abandoned protecting the streets from pirates and Ironborn, holding up around the Lord of Seagard and his keep. Theon’s crew and the few Ironborn that stuck around Seagard all year around ran the streets and alleys making it easy for Theon’s small group to pass through, stepping over broken glass and basking in the warm of the flames.
The tower itself was heavily guarded but the guards didn’t notice the three of them walking in the shadows of the neighboring buildings. The guards were armed and ready but knew that it was beyond rare for the Ironborn to bother for the tower. If they were actually here for a raid, the tower would have been first to go but no one really gave two shits about whatever wealth was in Seagard. It was rumored to be none. Theon knew there was none, except on this rare occasion of Northern visitors and their pockets of northern gold.
He didn’t know their names or much about them, all Theon knew was that they carried gold from the North, the old kind. The kind that was worth a hell of a lot more than the painted chips they use in the South. The type that Theon could roll in and actually feel the cold weight of hardened gold.
He didn’t care to know much else about the Northerners other than that. It didn’t matter. If he crossed their paths, they’d be slain and if he didn’t, he’d never have to see them again. Theon wasn’t looking for a fight; he was looking for a hefty score, something to line his pockets with and shove in his sister’s face.
As they neared the end of their wide lap around the tower, Theon felt Wex yank on the sleeve of his tunic. Turning, Theon followed Wex’s shiny eyes to an open window of a tower, once white but now yellow curtains floating out the window. Below the window were only two guards within sight, the rest seeming to be at the main points of entry at the base of the tower.
With a nod and jerk of his head, Theon led his two men slowly toward the guards. It was quite sad really. They didn’t even stand a chance against Wex, let alone the three of them. In seconds, their bodies laid at the bottom of the tower, unconscious and hogtied. Dagmer grinned roguishly from the warm up.
Wex pulled out the length of rope from his knapsack which had a hook attached to the end. With a well-practiced aim and safe-checking tug, Wex had their way to the window made.
Dagmer went first with Theon following directly behind and Wex taking up the rear. They had done many small raids such as this over the years and had developed a well-running machine with little communication among the three needed.
Once inside, the three examined the empty room. There was a bed, a chair, and a few knickknacks of little value around it. One thing was clear to the three: no wolf gold. They barely looked further than that and headed towards the door. The hallway outside was empty and they split up naturally. Wex and Dagmer headed left and Theon headed to the right.
While their information about the Northerners was very sparse, they had enough knowledge to walk through the Tower of Seagard blinded and find whatever they wanted. None of them had ever been inside the tower before but Theon knew how to read a map, knew how to read one before he had learned his letters. Maps of the seas were different but not that different to maps of castles and buildings. Years of practice gave Theon all he needed to find the main rooms of interest.
According to the maps, there were two places the Northerners could be held: at the top of the Tower where Theon was heading or down in the lower section by the center main keep where Dagmer and Wex were heading. Both options had their pros and cons and both options had many things that could be taken if the Northerners were not housed there. They were going to walk away with something, one way or another and hopefully one side would come back with the rare gold.
As Theon rounded the corner, he heard the murmurings of quiet voices and slowed down. With a careful ear, he listened to the voices as he hid against the wall.
“Do you think they are going to come here?” a small boyish voice asked.
“Lord Mallister said it happens often and they stick to the shore,” a deeper, older voice answered. “’Says they don’t like straying from the sea.” There was an almost whimsical tone at that.
“Old Nan says they were born from the darkest waters of the sea!” answered the younger boy excitedly. “Of salt and smoke and blood!”
The older voice chuckled deeply. “Old Nan says a lot of things, Bran. Now get away from the window and go to your rooms. I’m sure Rickon will wake from the commotion and want some reassurance.”
“Where are you going?” the boy Bran asked curiously. Though Theon couldn’t see what they looked like, Theon imaged the young boy to cock his head to the side like a curious kitten.
“I’m going to check on Sansa and Arya and make sure they aren’t arguing again. Gods know they have been getting on each other’s nerves these past weeks.”
“But we’ll be home soon,” Young Bran seemed to reassure the other. “And we’ll see Jon and Father again!”
“Yes, indeed. Mother will be quite happy about that. I think her family tired her quite a bit and the journey was rougher than expected.”
Bran giggled but Theon didn’t hear anything else from the boy as small footsteps walked away quietly. It was the loud, approaching steps that garnered Theon’s attention and he straightened up. Grabbing his blade, Theon pressed his back into the wall and waited for the other man to round the corner. He sounded older than the one called Bran but not older than Theon. Probably still a boy.
As he stepped into view, Theon realized ‘boy’ was probably an incorrect descriptor. While he certainly looked young, he was no longer a boy. Red hair was growing steadily on his chin and neck and his height could rival Theon’s.
But alas, Theon was ready and far quicker.
Theon had the other man pinned against the wall before the redhead had time to realize what had exactly happened. Before he could open his mouth to more than a gasp, Theon had his hand holding the blade over it, knife pressed against the man’s cheek.
Theon smirked as the man’s eyes widened and once again Theon was questioning his age. He seemed like a man but those eyes were innocent, young and inexperienced.
“Hello, my friend,” Theon whispered lowly. “’Mind showing me where you kept that gold?”
Defiance crossed his expression immediately and Theon rolled his eyes, tutting quietly.
“Well, if you ain’t going to tell me, I’ll go ask little Bran, or maybe, what was it now? Rickon? If that doesn’t work, I could go and find Misses Sansa and Arya, right? Someone has to know around here. You Northerners are quite a ways from home.”
It was fascinating to watch the boy-man’s eyes shift from hard to soft to yielding. Never had Theon see such an expressional person, not after living on Pyke where everyone had two emotions: Violet rage and wicked glee.
“Now, I’m gonna uncover that mouth of yours and you are gonna lead the way for me, nice and quiet. ‘Wouldn’t want my friends to hear us. Dagmer’s got quite the temper and while Wex doesn't look like it, he is very quick with the blade.”
Carefully, as not to be cut by the knife against his cheek, the man nodded slowly and Theon moved his hand so he could speak but not letting up much further than that.
“Oh, and if I catch any funny business, Wolf Boy, I’ll slit your throat and find the pups, understand?”
“Yes,” came a cold and stiff voice, sounding far older than the boy it came out of.
“Excellent.”
Theon released the boy and tucked his knife away, pulling the pistol out and holding it to the man’s back.
“Is that really necessary?” the man asked looking at the pistol with a clouded expression.
“Don’t need you doing something stupid. It’s just a nice little reminder.”
Whether he was trying to buy time or fear has stiffened his limbs, the man walked slowly down the hall. Theon kept his eyes sharp and ears keen to listening for a peep or approaching figure. Fortunately, they met nothing as the man opened a door at the end of the hall. Theon followed and let the door fall shut behind him.
It was a modest room, similar to the one they had entered. The wolf boy wasted no time and opened a truck at the end of a moth-eaten bed and shuffling around clothes and furs. As he dug, he talked, his voice weak at first but steadily growing strong.
“Are those your men at shore then? Burning everything down?”
“Aye, most of them,” Theon leaned against the wall watching. He played with the hammer of the pistol. “I’m their captain.”
The man found the pouch and held it up for Theon to look at. It was about the size of a fist.
“Open it for me and show me the insides,” Theon commanded, smirk still stitched in place.
With deft fingers, the man undid the ties of the pouch.
“Why attack Seagard?” he asked as he fiddled with the last knot.
“For fun,” Theon answered honestly as he watched the man open the pouch wide enough for Theon to see the dull shine of true gold. His smirk morphed into a grin.
“Killing, raping, and destruction is fun?” the man retorted with disgust.
“Ever try it, Greenboy?” Theon teased. “Close it up and toss it here.” Theon held his hand and waited for the man to close the pouch and hand it over.
“Destroying people’s lives is not fun for me.”
He was slow, reluctant tie the pouch back up but eventually, he handed it over. Theon attached it to his belt by the ties, idly wondering what Dagmer and Wex were collecting from the lower levels.
“Fun is relative, Wolf Boy. Sitting in your cold wasteland isn’t how I have fun.”
“Raping and reaving are?” he hissed back.
Theon was more amused than irritated by the Northerner’s sudden backtalk. “Seeing lands and treasures you read about in books, my friend. Ever wonder what the Titan of Braavos looks like? Or the sands of Astapor feel like on your feet? To hear the snakes of Dorne or watch the shadowbinders of Asshai? Raping and reaving are just a fraction of the things I do, just like cutting off heads and Old Gods are just a small part of what you do. Don’t look down on what I do because you don’t understand it.”
This shut the man up nicely, a deep furrow appearing on his brow.
“You’ve been to Essos?” he said slowly, a bit of awe creeping into his voice.
“Hundreds of times.”
The boy- he looked so boyish in that moment -bit his lip in deep thought. “I’ve never been south of the Harrenhal.”
Theon was slightly taken aback by the boy’s tone, looking away quickly. He suddenly didn’t feel like he had the heart to tell the young lord that he’d probably never get further down than Harrenhal, let alone across the narrow sea. As far as Theon could surmise, the young northerner would spend his whole life in the ice, born in frost and die in snow.
“Now,” Theon sneered shaking those thoughts off, “why don’t you be a good host and escort me out?”
The man seemed confused by Theon’s mischievous request, probably sensing a sea of ulterior motives, but Theon nodded his head to the door and the redhead did as directed.
Theon gave brief commands back to the room from which he entered. Dagmer and Wex would find their way back to the ship so Theon wasn’t concerned with waiting for them. He just needed to get back and count his newest treasures, already thinking of the look on his sister’s face. The North was pretty much a dead man’s zone for Ironborn so Wolf Gold was a rare opportunity. Asha will be in a rage of envy and Theon couldn’t wait.
They were about halfway to the door when Theon heard the rapid clamor of footsteps. He turned around just in time to see two guards round the corner. Theon abandoned his aim at the redhead and shot two loud bullets at the guards. One bullet missed and embedded itself into the wall while the other clanged loudly against the guard’s armor and buried in it, the man dropping with a groan of agony. He doubled over from the pain and Theon knew it would be unlikely for him to stand again and continue the fight. He turned to the other.
The other guard ignored his companion and rush forward valiantly. Theon abandoned the gun and pulled out the blade from before, brandishing it like a sword. The guard pulled out his own, proper sword and soon they were clashing swords. While the blade wasn’t Theon’s specialty, he did have the smoothness and speed guards like him lacked. Theon had seen more battle in his short twenty-one years than the guard will ever see in his lifetime. It was never going to be a fair match.
With a quick cut between the armor on his side, Theon’s opponent collapsed. Theon quickly turned around and was stunned to see the Northerner from before still there, standing there in shock and awe, but Theon’s pistol in his hands.
“You killed him?” he whispered in disbelief, the pistol weak in his hands. Theon moved to snatch it back, closing in slowly.
“It was either them or me,” Theon replied evenly. “More are coming. I could paint this hall with blood or I could get out of here. Your choice. Now give me back my pistol and we can put this all behind us.”
He wasn’t able to get a word out as another pair of guards came. This time from the boy’s side. Theon cursed as the guards moved past his Northern hostage, ready to seize Theon. Turn to his nature, Theon moved to a fighting stance ready to go down kicking and screaming. To Theon’s amazement, it wasn’t needed as both men dropped with small grunts.
Behind them, the Northerner stood with the butt of the pistol out and a little blood on it. When he looked up, his face was calm and collected.
“Knocking them out was better than you killing them.”
“Your choice,” Theon repeated with a smirk as he snatched back the pistol. “More are coming so let’s finish this up quickly and I can be on my merry way.”
Grabbing the man by the shoulder, Theon spun him around and pushed him down the hall and into the room. The rope was still there waiting for him as Theon locked the door behind the two of them. The northerner didn’t move as Theon made his way through the room.
He said nothing to the Northern man as he approached the window. There was going to be no goodbyes or farewells. Theon was nearly out when the man coughed.
“You’ve really been to all those places then? What you said back there…”
Theon turned, ready to sneer but found he was met with genuine curiosity. The soft feeling from before came back and Theon shoved it away. He could already see the faint memory forming of a small, thin boy by his mother’s sickbed learning what Slaver’s Bay was and the torrential seas of the south...
Straddling the window, Theon leaned back against the frame and grinned. “Those and thousand more. Not the mention the thousand other I’ll see in my future.”
There was a wide breath of silence. It almost looked as if he wasn’t going to answer and Theon wasn’t sure there was much to respond to. They were just staring at each other in deafening silence, the thunder of the approaching clouds rumbling around them. Finally, the man licked his lips and spoke.
“Take me with you.”
If Theon hadn’t braced his back against the window, he would have tipped out of the tower. “Excuse me?” Bewilderment didn’t even cover the strength of Theon’s shock and awe.
“Take me with you,” the man said quieter this time and turning more boyish. He walked a bit forward, slightly unsure.
“Why should I?” Theon shot back, recovering from his shock quickly.
The man frowned, trying to think. “I…I want to see what you’ve seen.”
Theon raised his eyebrows. “What about our disgusting raping and reaving?”
His eyes flashed and a humorless grin tricked at his lips though it didn’t push away the nerves. “You said fun was relative.”
Theon let out a rather genuine chuckle. “And how do I know this isn’t a ploy for you wolf gold.” Theon clapped the pouch by his side.
Again the man frowned at the thought. “You can have it…and more when you return me?”
“Return you?” Theon cocked an eyebrow.
“Ransom,” he said simply. The nerves of his face faded as a plan grew in his mind, once again shifting from boy to man before Theon’s eyes.
“I’m holding you for ransom?” Theon clarified slowly.
“My father would be willing to pay a high price,” the man stepped forward more confident. “It would be an easy trade. My family’s gold and you take me to see the world.”
Theon laughed softly. “How long am I keeping you hostage then? Forever?”
“A year,” the man decided. “That’ll be long enough for me to see quite a bit.” Theon wondered suddenly if maybe this man had been thinking about this before considering the rapidness of his decisions.
“A year and I get what? A hundred pounds of wolf gold?”
“A thousand.”
Theon leaned back a bit to think. “A thousand pounds of wolf gold for one year of travel?”
“A handsome exchange.”
“And what of your family?” Theon narrowed his eyes. “What about little Bran and the others?”
The boy straightened his shoulders. “Lord Mallister will see them home safely. My father’s men will come collect them should it be deemed too dangerous.”
Theon could see in the boy’s eyes that if Theon didn’t take him, the boy would find another way, perhaps even following him back to the ship. That determination was a rare sight to Theon and oddly very welcoming.
“What’s your name?” Theon finally asked.
“Robb Stark.”
“Well, Robb,” Theon’s lips curled around the name, his mind thinking about the mounds of gold coins, “Let’s get going. We got a letter to draft, don’t we?”
It may be stupid, Theon knew as he shimmied down the rope with his new unexpected companion following behind. Hell, it could be a trap, but Theon wasn’t going to say no to a thousand pound of Northern gold and those pretty blue eyes: those pretty blues that reminded Theon of the look in his own eyes when he first saw the white sand beaches of Dorne and the smoking cities of Essos…Besides, they could always toss him overboard and let the Drowned God decide the boy’s fate.
Dagmer wasn’t as keen to that logic when he and Wex returned to the ship to see Theon and Robb Stark sitting behind the ship wheel. Dagmer barely bothered with a kind smile before dragging Theon off to talk about danger, foolishness, stupidity, and most of all Theon’s sanity. But Dagmer wasn’t the captain, Theon was. And it was only one year. A year that would end with a thousand pounds of Northern Gold, more than any other ploy or raid would yield them.
The boy was green and innocent enough. What was the worst that could happen?
The boy, now trading that fear from earlier for excitement, rapidly whispered to Theon, both questions and curiosities. He watched as Theon’s crew returned to the ship one-by-one and pushed off Seagard. He talked about mystical lands and adventures and exploration. He dreamed of Essos and faraway places. He talked about all the places they’d see and his eyes danced with the thought of adventure. He didn’t even mind the rain as it slowly came, large drops kissing their faces. His smile didn’t dim at all, a bright light in the darkness of the ship. Theon felt comforted by it. He should have known then it wasn’t going to be as simple as they seemed to think. A thousand pounds of gold for one adventure was a rather stupid deal looking back, not when so much more ended up being at stake.
But neither of them thought of that as Theon explained the ship to Robb and he listened eagerly, all his attention locked and loaded on Theon. Beautiful blue eyes only for him not dimmed in the slightest by the oncoming storm.
Theon didn’t flinch as the rain poured heavier and harder on him. He stood at the bow of the ship looking at the dark murky waters. It had been five years since that fateful night at Seagard. Five years since Theon took a green boy of eighteen on his ship with the promise of adventure.
Looking back, Theon would have never made that deal. Not for all the gold and riches in the world. Not for anything. He’d rather fall on his sword or have his brained blown than have taken that boy on his ship. But those were folly wishes that didn’t erase the past and didn’t change the fact Theon did make that deal and did take that boy on his ship.
Theon closed his eyes shut painfully tight until his vision was blinded red, painfully red. Red like hair around a smiling face, red like blood painted on pale lips. When he opened them, his vision was spotted and he felt slightly dizzy. He didn’t notice a hand touch his shoulder.
Turning, Theon could have sworn for a moment he saw red but instead back the pale face of Wex, soaked to the bone and awaiting directions.
With a heavy sigh, Theon passed the wrinkled, soaked map in his shaking hands. “Straight course.”
Wex took the map and didn’t move. Though he didn’t speak, Theon knew the question that was being asked.
“Yes. I’m sure. This is the only way.”
Wex nodded and backed away, leaving his captain at the bow of his ship in the onslaught of hard smacking rain. Theon didn’t mind it at all, letting it wet and freeze him to the core as his eyes fluttered shut again.
Five years ago Theon had let foolishness and greed bring a boy of eighteen onto his ship with the promises of adventure and new worlds. Theon had brought him adventure, so much adventure, but Theon never saw a single gold coin.
Still, Robb Stark had paid for his adventure.