video — (ง •̀_•́)ง

[cetos]

Who: Asha Greyjoy and errybody
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Paisley 
When: Today

[ Asha Greyjoy stands in a nondescript hallway aboard the SS Paisley. She is not so foolish as to think there are not those who would harm her among the fleet and would rather not fight in close quarters, if it should come to that. For now, she leans against a wall, unflinchingly gazing into the communicator, more comfortable than curious. Once sharply cropped black hair falls unevenly about her face, too long and shaggy for her liking. Though she would prefer to wear the ship-issued clothing, she dons her weathered, salted leather for this broadcast. It is important that she bear the look of her people when lost in space.

However, she has added her security issued automatic weapon to her ensemble, holstered where her axe once glinted in the light. ]

[ Lazily — ] I believe I’ve arrived in perfect time to represent my people. [ a pause (for the drama tbh). Is this a reference to Tyrion’s broadcast or her brother’s misadventures? Both, perhaps. Evidently, she did some back-reading before announcing her presence. She tilts her chin up, as if challenging her viewers. ]

I am Asha of House Greyjoy, daughter of the kraken, Captain of the Black Wind, and [ an abrupt laugh. ] wife of an axe. [ not some rusted man of the Crow Eye’s choosing. ] Now, I mean no disrespect to my dear captain of the SS Paisley when I mention my titles. You have my service and loyalty, Captain Russo, if only out of respect for the institution of a ship. [ Which is mostly true, if partly for diplomacy’s sake. ] I introduce myself as such so that I may not lie by omission. Secrets in close quarters make for silly disputes, don’t you think? And I’ve nothing to hide. [ She shrugs. ]

On the Iron Islands, we must drown before we may live. And if death has already taken me once, why should I fear life among the stars? Or the animals twinkling with them, at that. [ Shout out to her fellow Westerosi. ] I will not bore you with history, but if you should like to learn more of the reavers of isles, who trade as well as take, who travel to the farthest reaches of our realm but return to the stony shores because none but us survive there, well — [ Her face splits into a grin. It is an easy thing to be happy when you’ve escaped cannibals and burnings and your only worries are green men. ] — I’ll oblige you, provided you regale me with tales of your own adventures. A fair trade. [ because she isn’t some godless pirate please and thank you!! ] I’ve need of drink and laughter after enduring snow and somber company.

[ Her smile thins into an unreadable expression, certainly more weary than before but too neutral to truly judge. ]

— And Theon, it is time we meet again.

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[reek]

[ As a child, Theon had feared his uncle and the black eye he concealed beneath that patch. So much malice shone in that eye, it isn't all that difficult to envision Euron as a kinslayer. But it's a strange thing to think about. Balon was nearly a stranger to his son, but the news makes Theon feel strangely empty, as if some part of him has been taken away.

Could no one prevent this?

He's still trying to work up a response when Asha closes in on him. He flinches at her touch, puzzled by her behavior. In more ways than one, she is truly the kraken's daughter. Like Balon, Asha has little warmth or affection to share, and the almost motherly response she has upon seeing him is strange and disconcerting. Theon almost has to wonder if it's truly her.

You've been fooled before, he reminds himself, but his uncertaintly doesn't last long. The much more familiar sharpness in her voice when he attempts to pull away is enough to ease some of his concerns, but not nearly all of them. ]

There were no wounds to heal.

[ He clenches his (still totally intact) teeth, struggling with all the new information that has been piled onto his shoulders. But they are trading questions, and it's Theon's turn. ]

Father is dead. As are Robb Stark, Tywin Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon. Jon Snow is Lord Commander and Margaery Tyrell is Queen. However it may be, you know more than I do. You all know more than I do.

[ But do you really want to know more?

The prospects frighten him, but he needs to know what his future holds. ]

When the Boltons put Winterfell to the torch, what became of me?

[cetos]

[ Suddenly, she realizes she wants to tell him everything. She wants to explain the kingsmoot and the Crow's Eye and the disappearances of their other uncles. She wants to assure him that Alannys waits for him even now before she must explain his or their mother's states. She needs to talk of Deepwood Motte and the choir of red followers always singing of burnings. She even wishes to mention the She-Bear and the Massey boy.

She doesn't want to know this much.

Even Theon should know the way she hesitates before her words ring softer and lower bodes far worse for him than any omen. ]

I thought you had died, Theon. The ravens said all the ironmen in Winterfell died that day. [ He has to know that. That's what the ironmen would have done — killed them all. How could they have known the Boltons were different? A look at their sigil might have served. ] We were fools to think so simply. All in the North know that the Boltons' sigil is a cruel promise now. [ as an afterthought: ] Somehow, they found Arya Stark as well and made her the bastard's bride.

[ She stops inspecting him, hands resting on his shoulders in a move that's almost comforting. In truth, it's more bracing, as she fears he might fall if she says too much, too quickly. ]

I became a captive, too, but of Stannis, and some of his men or Jon's men or northmen [ that part doesn't matter — ] found me in his camp on their way to see the stag king. They had you. [ "I have a gift for you," the Braavosi said. But if this is a gift, I do not want it. ] You looked like you'd been dead for weeks. Your skin — [ Her grip on his shoulders tightens unconsciously, and she can't stop her mouth twisting in revulsion at the thought of him in the snow. ] — you were beaten and broken and flayed. [ and even that explanation is soft, she realizes, withholding the snatches of horror he conveyed. ] You tried to tell me everything, but we only had moments. [ and you were half-mad. ] But you saved her, the Stark girl. You said you took her and jumped from the walls of Winterfell.

[ There's a desperation foreign to her in her black eyes, frightened that he'll revert to that state at any moment. If he remembers his name and knows that he helped the girl, maybe that will ease the rest.

Asha is feared on land and sea, yet she feels small beside her little brother now. ]

[reek]

[ It's a lot to take in all at once. His father dead, his sister a captive, and himself...?

He never expected Asha to gentle him or soften the the blow, but even in a softer tone, the picture she paints for him is enough to make his stomach turn. He can feel it twisting into worried knots as she speaks, all his remaining hope slipping away with each word.

He isn't entirely daft; it was easy enough to assume he would be taken captive by the Boltons, perhaps used as a price to draw the ironborn into an alliance. Asha may have been raised as Balon's heir, but Theon's life would still hold some value in a political move such as that. He was right about the captivity, then, but but the torture...the flaying...

Death would be a kinder fate. ]

The captives we took at Winterfell...he wanted to flay them. Ramsay Snow.

[ He speaks softly, as if to himself rather than to her.

Ramsay Snow, not Reek.

He should have known. He should have seen through the bastard's act the moment he suggested stripping the captives of their skins. His eyebrows knit together and he shakes his head, trying to bring himself to his senses. The color has drained from his face and if not for Asha's grip on his shoulders, he would likely be on the ground by now. Even still, he has to grip his sister's arms to feel as if he's actually steadying himself ]

Stark girl...?

[ He asks in that same soft tone, but he does meet Asha's gaze this time. Still Theon, except in a state of shock. ]

Which Stark girl? Lord Eddard...he has two daughters. Both travelled to King's Landing along with him.

[ Far from the mess Theon made of their home. ]

[cetos]

[ Both his footing and wording slip, and all she sees is a reversion to his prior sorrowful state. I don't want to be the last. Even though Theon was a fool to claim Winterfell and a fool to kill those boys and a fool to trust that bastard... he is her brother still, so she holds tight and steady, even in these uncertain waters. Her grip is far from soft, but the fact that she holds him at all is evidence of her care. She won't reassure him that his mistakes were harmless or easily made because that isn't true.

And he must be strong to help her now. Sweet lies are poison to the ironborn. That isn't to say she won't blunt the truths, however, as she always has with their mother... ]

[ soft and slow — ] The youngest, Theon. [ a beat. ] Arya. The Lannisters made Roose Bolton Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. The girl must have been part of their deal.

[ She now knows how Northerners are, how the She-Bear's loyalty to her wolf lords has never wavered. A Stark was necessary to ensure victory — she sees that now. ]