[Chapter Size: 1700 Words.]
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As expected, after only a moment, the sound of footsteps echoed outside.
Cersei stormed in.
"Tyrion, where is he?"
Theon glanced toward the door behind him. "He's bathing inside. May I ask what you require of me, my queen?"
"Bring me Tyrion," Cersei ordered her guards.
The guards were no fools; they certainly knew who Theon was. If the command had come from Tywin, they might not have hesitated, but from Cersei…
Seeing their hesitation, Cersei shouted furiously, "Go! Now!"
Theon stepped forward, smoothing a stray lock of her disheveled hair.
"There's no need to shame your guards. As for Tyrion, let it go. As his champion, I have authority to guarantee his safety."
Of course, Theon's words were nonsense. There was no such rule; the fate of an accused man was decided only by the strength of those who claimed him.
Cersei slapped his hand away, breathing hard as she struggled to rein in her fury.
Once she had mastered herself, she said, "Lord Theon, my champion is the Mountain. You already hold the Riverlands and the Iron Islands. Why risk your life for a dwarf?"
At her threat, Theon laughed aloud. "My queen, perhaps you shouldn't have hidden in the Red Keep. You might have seen with your own eyes how I crushed Stannis."
"But Myrcella is still so young. Please me, and I might consider giving up Tyrion," Theon taunted.
"The Mountain will rip your head from your shoulders and deliver it to me!" Cersei spat, then turned and swept out.
After she left, Tyrion emerged in clean clothes.
"My sister is very beautiful," he said hesitantly. "It's natural you feel something for her, but don't let Myrcella find out."
"Don't worry. You're far more useful than Cersei," Theon said, signaling Tyrion not to concern himself.
Tyrion let out a breath of relief. He had truly feared Theon might grow too eager to pursue Cersei. He knew his sister well, Cersei would not hesitate to open her legs if it furthered her ambitions.
In fact, Tyrion's suspicion was correct. Had Myrcella not already been betrothed to Theon, Cersei might well have considered a night with him to secure her aims. She knew a woman's greatest weapon, and she was never above wielding it.
Just then, a cry pierced the sky.
Tyrion's eyes widened at the sight of a snow-white hawk. "A magnificent falcon! I've never seen one so pure. If we captured it and sent it to the Eyrie, the Arryns would pay any price."
But to his shock, the bird, Zeus, swooped down and perched upon Theon's shoulder.
"Ah? He's yours?" Tyrion's voice was filled with confusion.
Theon stroked Zeus's soft feathers. "Say something like that again, and I'll cut you to pieces and feed you to the fish."
"That's dreadful!" Tyrion muttered, quickly pouring himself a goblet of wine to steady his nerves.
"Why is he so small? He looks like a hawk from Essos, but hawks aren't white," Tyrion asked curiously.
Theon was mildly surprised. As expected of Tyrion, well-read in many books.
"He's less than half a year old. That's normal." Zeus had once grown rapidly, a little larger each day. But ever since Theon had fed him spirit-grain, his size had ceased to increase, if anything, it had even diminished. Now he was no bigger than a dove.
Tyrion sat silently for a time, then sighed. "It's been so long since I felt at ease. It's wonderful."
But Theon pressed him. "Well? I meant your trial."
"It's wretched. Everyone condemns me. If I weren't a dwarf, perhaps things would be different." His face grew lonely.
"Pfft! Why that expression? Because of a pack of ignorant fools? They don't kick you when you're down because you're a dwarf, they do it because you're not strong enough, because you lack the power."
Theon pointed at himself. "When I was a hostage of the Starks, which northern lord respected me? Even Robb would remind me, 'You're not a Stark.'"
"But look at me now."
"I say you will remain here. Tywin cannot take you because I have soldiers and land."
Theon rose and clapped Tyrion on the shoulder. "From now on, you'll be my second-in-command, the Hand of the Iron Empire. Never stop learning."
"The Iron Empire?" Tyrion's eyes widened.
"That's right. The 'Seven Kingdoms', that name has lingered too long. There can be only one empire in this world."
…
The next day, Theon received word that Tywin wished to see him.
With nothing else pressing, he perched Zeus on his arm and brought Tyrion along.
His reasons were twofold: fear Tyrion might be assassinated, and to disgust Tywin. Theon still had not settled accounts over the Riverlands, which had been given to Walder.
In the council chamber of the Red Keep, Tywin sat at the head of the long table, the lords arrayed on either side.
Theon strode into the hall. "Ah, everyone, it's been too long. Did you miss me?"
Varys was a little surprised. How best to put it? Theon was far more arrogant now than before. He had once been such a discreet "player."
"I heard Riverrun is recruiting twenty thousand soldiers?"
"Who told you that? No one knows better than you how the Riverlands have fared," Theon replied, unsurprised that Tywin already knew about the Riverlands' recruitment.
At the time, Riverrun had been enlisting men, but after much public attention, only the young and strong were chosen to join the army.
After saying this, Theon pulled up a chair, sat directly across from Tywin, propped his boots on the table, and leaned back with calculated arrogance. "So, tell me. What do you want from me?"
"I hear you intend to fight in my son's trial by combat," Tywin said, eyes calm as he studied Theon's insolence.
"Your son? No, no, no!" Theon gestured toward Tyrion. "He is my Hand, the Hand of the King of the Iron Islands."
The air in the hall grew suddenly cold. For the first time, Theon had called himself King of the Iron Islands openly before others.
"But you are also Lord Protector of the Riverlands," Tywin reminded, his eyes narrowing.
"Ah, I nearly forgot. Yes, I am also Guardian of the Riverlands. And what does that have to do with me standing for Tyrion?"
Tywin regarded him in silence. At last, he said flatly, "It is not worth it."
His eyes flicked back to Tyrion, who returned his gaze uneasily, his heart tightening with dread. Tyrion understood well enough: he was not worth defying Tywin Lannister.
"It seems we have different ideas," Theon said. "I've always been fond of the exotic customs of Dorne. And I believe Prince Oberyn will enjoy taking the Mountain apart."
Tywin's eyelids twitched at Theon's words.
"Well then, if the Hand of the King has nothing further, I'll be going. I still need to walk my bird." Theon stroked Zeus playfully.
"Tyrion, we're leaving." With that, Theon strode out.
Once outside the Red Keep, Tyrion murmured suddenly, "Thank you."
Theon smiled. "Don't mention it. Some men are born with exceptional wit and a gift for politics. Such talent is worth my time and energy."
"Good. Just keep it that way. Step out of line, and I'll have you cleaning privies," he added with a smirk.
…
Back at his mansion, Theon amused himself with Zeus.
That night, an unexpected visitor arrived.
"Lord Varys, what brings you here so late?" Theon asked the bald man before him.
In the original tale, Varys had always sought to serve a wise king, a ruler close to his people. That was why he later helped smuggle Tyrion to Essos, where they joined Daenerys Targaryen's army. In the end, ideological differences led him to betray her, and he perished in Drogon's fire.
"Lord Theon, I hear you have an uncle. To be frank, I have information about him," Varys said with quiet sincerity.
"You mean Euron Greyjoy?"
"It seems you already know something. According to my sources, Euron is on his way back with a fleet of five thousand men."
Varys spread his hands. "Five thousand, enough to give your uncle dangerous ambitions. As I understand it, the Iron Islands are ruled by a kingsmoot, and some captains have never been fully loyal."
Theon narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"
"I am your friend. You've made an enemy of Tywin. I admire your boldness, but you must be cautious."
Theon could not quite tell what Varys was aiming at. Surely he wasn't betting on him? By any measure, Theon's current power hardly warranted Varys's investment.
The only explanation was that Varys had heard of Theon's populist policies in the Riverlands, policies too popular for the Spider to ignore. Could it be that Varys feared his own early demise?
"Varys, one reason I stayed with House Mallister was to await Euron's return, so I could deal with him more easily. Otherwise, I'd have cleansed the Iron Islands already."
Varys's brows rose. "I'm glad to hear you have a plan."
"There are twenty thousand armored troops in Riverrun now, fully equipped. They train daily in archery, and often leave arrows unrecovered. Do you understand what I mean?"
Cold sweat formed on Varys's brow. His little birds had reported strange constructions in the Riverlands, heavily guarded.
If what Theon claimed was true, he had found a way to mass-produce military supplies.
And he had chosen to reveal it.
"Varys, there's a saying in Essos: 'He who knows the times is a hero.' If you follow me faithfully, I will not treat you unjustly."
Varys did not know the meaning of every word, but he grasped Theon's meaning well enough.
"Lord Theon, if you find yourself in trouble, I will certainly aid you," he said carefully, though his eyes fell on Theon's hand, resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Varys, you wouldn't want Tywin to know of your dealings with Illyrio, would you?" Theon asked with a sly smile.
"If Tywin learned you intended to back the dragon's heirs, do you think he would spare you?"
The man who sat the Iron Throne now was Tywin's grandson. In truth, the throne was Lannister, not Baratheon.
Theon stepped closer, adjusting the Spider's black hood. "You have one day to think. If you've made up your mind, return tomorrow, with details from your little birds."
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