Work Text:
Theon thinks today must be the proudest day of all his eight years, or at least in close competition. His brothers and his uncle Aeron are going diving off the cliffs of Pyke, and Theon is coming too. He could hardly sleep the night before, for excitement, and for fear he’d wake up and Maron would laugh at him and say they were only joking, they didn’t want a little boy like him tagging along and getting in the way. But he’s not a little boy, he’s eight and he’s learning to fight and shoot and ride and sail.
At breakfast he’d almost bitten his tongue with excitement when Aeron had patted his shoulder and told him not to eat too much, he wouldn’t want to dive on a full stomach. Aeron himself had a suitably light breakfast, just a boiled egg and a horn of ale.
“I’m going after all,” he had whispered to Asha while their uncle began peeling his egg. “No one’s stopping me.”
“Of course they’re not.” Asha had smiled, but it hadn’t reached her eyes. She’s sorry, Theon had thought, because she’s not coming, because she’s only a girl. I’m eight, but I’m a boy, and someday I’ll be a man.
Asha’s a good diver; she showed Theon how, starting him on the little cliffs by Lordsport, not the big ones they’re doing today.
“I can go with you tomorrow,” he told her. “It will be just as nice.”
“Don’t worry about it, Theon. I’ll be fine.” She’d given him a real smile then. “Good luck. Feet first, and don’t fall.”
They’d ridden their garrons from the castle to the base of the cliffs, but they tie the horses to a pair of scraggly trees there and make the rest of the climb on foot. This is the easy way up, not the hardscrabble climb from rock ledge to rock ledge if you start at sea level, but it’s still so steep in parts that Theon slips once. Aeron, walking behind him, grabs his shoulders and steadies him.
Theon glances ahead, but his brothers are laughing and shoving each other and paying him no mind. It’s all right, they didn’t see. And it’s all right if Aeron sees, because he’s different and he doesn’t shout or make fun, at least not to Theon. Theon supposes it might be because he’s also a youngest son. Even if he’s a man grown now, older and taller than either Rodrik or Maron, Aeron must know what it’s like to be the youngest and the smallest.
To be fair, Rodrik is only six months younger, and Maron is nearly fifteen and growing fast, but Aeron seems older by virtue of being an uncle, not a brother. Besides, he has his own ship. Some say that a man’s not truly a man until he has his own ship. Theon wouldn’t say so, at least not in Rodrik’s hearing because Rodrik hasn’t got a ship yet and he doesn’t want to get smacked for it, but he thinks it sometimes.
As they scale the crest of the cliff, they can see the whole curve of the island’s shoreline laid out before them, all the way to Lordsport. The harbor there is thick with ships, their great Iron Fleet. The sight of it fills Theon’s heart with pride. If he squints, he fancies he can see their tall masts piercing towards the clouds, and sails snapping in the breeze.
“You see my Golden Storm ?” Aeron asks him.
“No, it’s too far.”
“Well, I’d know her anywhere. That’s her, far to the left over there.” He points.
“You can really tell? This far away?”
“Yes, she’s singing to me, she’s saying: Aeron, come on, enough mucking about on cliffs, come on out and take me for a ride.”
He’s grinning, eyes sparkling.
“You’re joking!”
“I most certainly am, I’d have to have eyes like a hawk to pick her out all the way from here.”
Rodrik and Maron are already at the edge of the cliff, stripping down to their smallclothes for the dive. Between the wind and pulling his shirt off over his head, Theon can feel his hair flying every which way. He hastily pushes it out of his eyes and finger-combs it back behind his ears, wishing he’d thought to tie it back this morning so it could stay looking neat. Once his shirt is off, the wind raises goosebumps on his bare arms, even in summer. It will be warmer once they’re in the water, somehow.
“I’ll go first,” Rodrik says. Theon nods. It makes sense. He’s the heir, even if Aeron is eldest. He’ll do everything first. Theon supposes he’ll have to go last.
“Spit off the side, Theon, see which falls faster,” Maron laughs.
“I can spit really far, uncle Aeron, want to see?”
“I don’t want to get spat on going down,” Rodrik scoffs. “And no one’ll be able to see it anyway. Keep your mouth closed.”
“Going to try a flip?” Aeron asks lazily.
“Might as well.”
He bounces on the edge of the cliff, arms spread wide, then jumps. It seems to take him forever to fall, curling in over himself to flip around, then stretching out, long-legged. He hits the water feet first with barely a splash.
“I’m going head first,” Maron announces proudly.
Theon gulps.
Asha says never dive head first, not when you’re diving from a cliff. Diving off the side of a ship is one thing, or the little cliffs near Lordsport, but on a big cliff--forty or fifty feet high, like this one--you might break your neck.
“What about you, Aeron? Feet first or head first?”
“If you’re going head first, I’m going head first.”
Maron grins.
“All right. See you on the other side.”
This time, he seems to fall so fast, Theon’s scarcely had time to blink before he hits the water. He’s almost scared to peek over the edge, in case he did break his neck, but he and Rodrik are both bobbing around down in the waves, right as rain, waiting for Theon and Aeron to join them.
“I’m going head first too,” Theon declares.
Aeron crosses his arms. “Absolutely not.”
“You and Maron are doing it. I want to do it too. I’ve gone head first before.”
“Off a cliff this size?”
Theon doesn’t say anything.
“I thought so. I’ll not have you break your neck doing something you’re not ready for.”
“The Drowned God favors brave men, not cowards. Everybody says.”
Aeron’s voice softens. “I know you’re not a coward, Theon, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I’m not! See, I’ll show you my warrior’s face.”
Theon bares his teeth and snarls like a shadowcat.
“Fearsome!” Aeron says, laughing. “Nothing would ever dare hurt you with such a fierce face.”
His own face turns serious all of a sudden, more serious than Theon is used to seeing him.
“Go ahead, Theon. Jump straight, feet first, and I’ll come after. I'll go the same way as you, even if I told Maron otherwise.”
There’s no use in waiting, he’d better go now before fear takes hold of him. Theon takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the salt air, closes his eyes, and jumps.
On the way down, he could almost be flying. He keeps his body long and straight, feet pointed. The water hits him like a slap, but he bobs up whole and unbroken and smiling.