What is dead may never die (Chapter 3) (Patreon)

The most beautiful place in Westeros

Theon POV

The beautiful capital city of Westeros, King’s Landing, was in front of us. It is filled with polite homeless people who ask for coins. Children are running in the streets, catching pigeons and rats to feed themselves for a day. Lovely women who are offering their warmth for a night, standing on the streets near brothels or not. The reliable gold cloaks patrol around if they are in a mood. Truly it shoes foreigns the true Westeros.

But seriously, I have to wonder how anyone can live there. I have only been In King’s Landing for no more than five minutes, and I already throw up in my mouth. You could smell only two things in this city: the shit and piss or perfume. Both were very strong, and even if I prefer the smell of perfume, I can’t help but choke on it.

Once we reached the Red Keep, it was better. The smell from the streets didn’t reach there as much. But I didn’t particularly appreciate how some people looked at me like a piece of meat for them to devour. Once Lord Stark left, I was instructed to unpack the minor things that I brought with me. I didn’t even bother doing so. I just dropped my bag by my bed and left at that.

The dinner was lovely, at least. I ate a steak and drank some wine to help me to sleep for tonight. I knew that there was no way I would be assassinated this soon, but my mind couldn’t help to think that worse would always happen to me.

The next day I didn’t do much as there wasn’t really much for me to do. I just practiced with some guards, ate, drank wine, read a book, and shot some arrows at the targets. I didn’t have a peculiar desire to talk to any other lords in the Red Keep. That being said, I met prince Jalabhar Xho. He was an interesting character that I didn’t remember much from the books.

Prince Jalabhar Xho has a colorful personality, just like his clothing with much green and red. My clothing was opposite of him; it was primarily black with some brown in it. Now that I am thinking about it probably reflected on my personality.

“Practising again, young lord,” Jalabhar greeted me at the shooting range. He has with himself a beautiful golden bow, like usual.

“As always, what else is there for me to do,” I replied to him. “If I have some gold, I might have gone to a brother or something. Maybe see myself getting a nice summer islander girl. Those are always in high command.”

“They sure are. Even dornish girls can’t compete with them for customers,” Jalabhar responded.

“So the King has refused you again?” I asked.

“Yes, he did,” He answered. “it seems you know me better than most.”

“You always come there after visiting the King, and if he had agreed, I don’t think you would come,” I reply to him. “Why don’t you find some great knight and let him fight for you? Isn’t that how rulers in Summer Islands are decided, between two fighters?”

“It is more of teams that fight each other, and we use spears and slings that most knights in Westeros don’t know how to use or know a little of it,” Jalabhar answered.

“That too bad,” I responded, simply not caring. “You know that King won’t help you, and other lords look at you as a beggar.”

“I know. How could I not? But what do I do? I had lost my home and had nowhere else to go,” He replied with a bitter smile.

“I know a thing or two of losing a home. It can’t be replaced just because you want it. The memories and heart never will leave it, so how could we forget about it,” I responded with a bitter sigh.

“Yes, your words ring true. My heart still belongs to Red Flower Vale, and it will be here for as long as I live,” He agreed with me.

“But we must live,” I told him. “No matter how tired, how frustrated and beaten you are, we must live, if only despite those who have knocked us down,” I tell him.

“You are a wise young man, young lord,” Jalabhar replied with a smile.

“No, I am just bitter,” I responded and took a quiver of arrows, and started shooting.

The tourney will begin soon enough. I will take first place in archery by my fucking ship and get out of this shithole called Westeros. Go to Lys and enjoy my life till I die from a disease I got from a whore. I couldn’t ask for a better life in this world, and I won’t get one either.

…

It was a dinner like every in the past two weeks in the beautiful capital of Westeros. After traveling almost three months from Winterfell, it became unbearable how bored I was. Aside from my practice, I trained Bran in archery and did some lessons with Arya in handling a knife. That all I did, it became a routine to the point that I felt sick.

“Theon, would you come with me?” Lord Stark asked, probably seeing how dissatisfied I was in being in this remarkable city.

“Yes, my lord,” I agreed and followed him to his solar after diner.

“I wished you would have made more friends in the court,” Lord Stark began.

“But I did,” I reply.

“Ah, Theon, prince Jalabhar won’t bring many prospects to your future,” Lord Stark explained to me.

“Prospects to my future? I don’t know what kind of people you were meeting in your time, but I only see minor lords who want to leech from me. They are little men who have more ambition and greed than they can handle,” I don’t know what got me angry, maybe the idea of being friends with those snakes or maybe that Lord Stark is getting involved in my future.

“You need to think of your future as the Lord of Iron Islands, Theon. These lords might not be honest, but they wield immense influence and power that would come in great help for you in future,” Lord Stark informed me.

“Future, future, you keep saying that word. What kind of future do you think I will have?” I asked, getting more and more annoyed. “I will tell you what future I have, and I will take. The first chance I get, I will get a ship out of this shithole called Westeros. There is nothing for me in there. I have no family, no home to call mine. I have no duty to any of the lords or even the King. You all can play your little games of power, but I don’t wish to be part of it. I will not let anyone dictate how my life should be or what I should do, not you, Lord Stark, not even my father, Balon Greyjoy, or even the King. I will not become some slave without any will of himself, so don’t bother to tell me of my future ever again. Oh, and you should take a look at your youngest daughter. She could learn how to kill from someone like me, so if I were you, I would find her a capable teacher.”

After saying my piece in anger, I left, not wanting to listen to his reply. Who the fuck does he think he is to tell me what is good for me. I was so frustrated that I took my bastard sword and just bashed the scarecrow for hours to no end. I knew I should have lashed out like this to Lord Stark, but the frustration built up in past months boiled over at that time.

“You looked like someone who should get a drink,” A voice called over.

“Who?” I turned around to see a fat man with bottles of ale and wine in his hands. He smelled terrible, so bad that I could get drunk from only for him staying close to me.

“Ah, where my manners I am Thoros of the Myr,” He introduced himself to me.

“The drunken priest of the Red God, I am Theon Greyjoy,” I replied. “So, what are you doing in here?”

“The Lord of the Light has brought me here,” He responded.

“There are no fires or any light there, so I doubt it,” I told him.

“The fire is burning in my heart,” He responded.

“So that why you drink so much, to keep the fire burning,” I remarked. “Just confess, you are lost.”

“I can’t be lost without having a destination,” The priest retorted.

“And yours does?” He asked.

“I don’t care for the destinations gods provide me. If the god told me to go right, I would go left to spite it,” I countered. “For I know for a fact that gods don’t care for us mortals. We are just playing things for them. Someone who would look too deep in their meanings that we wouldn’t be able to see for what they are truly are.”

“What are they?” He asked me.

“Just men, with too much of power to know what to do with,” I remarked. “Just like any other lord in this damn continent playing with lives of lesser men for their enjoyment.”

“You are too young on being so cynical,” The priest told me.

“I am someone who lost his home, his family, and everything he worked for, so I think I have the right to be a cynical bastard.” I retorted. “Now, give me one of your bottles or get out of my face.”

“Well, you seem like you need it more than I do, and it isn’t fun to drink by myself anyway,” He remarked and threw a bottle of unknown liqueur.

“What the hell is this?” I asked after taking a sip and spitting it out.

“Who knows. If you don’t like it, give it back,” The priest answered.

“No, it’s fine,” I replied and took another sip, this time swallowing.

I dropped my sword to the ground and sat by the wall drinking something that resembled wine. Thoros of the Myr joined me too, and so we drank in silence or listened to the priest’s stories. He purposely avoided any stories from Greyjoy’s rebellion, and I was thankful for it for some reason.