Pity. It was all he ever received
since his time in the Dreadfort.
That wavering stare of mingled
sorrow and disgust felt achingly
familiar. Yet he yearned for more
than simple commiseration; Theon
needed her to understand his
actions.❝ You lost your home because of me.
But I,
I never had one.. ❞The explanation spluttery bitterly
from his lips, more twisted than
he could ever have intended. A
painful swallow shaking down his
throat, Theon continued in vain.❝ ―I just wanted to feel as if I had accomplished something. ❞
❝ I am… so sorry, Sansa.
I never wanted to cause
your family any harm. ❞The pungent stench of the
burning farm boys still lingered
in him after all these years. The
screams of the innocent forms
haunting him forever more. I
could never have done that to
Bran or Rickon, he always
reasoned afterwards. But how true
that was would never be known.❝ No, m’lady, I’ll take my leave.
I would dare not disrupt your
household a moment longer.
I imagine your brothers would
put me to the sword if they
catch sight of me. ❞❝ H…- how are they? ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
She needs time. It is no easy
feat trying to remember the past
so fraught with death, destruction;
a betrayal that runs deep– hollows
out your insides and laughs as you
bleed from the sucking chest wound.
His words register, bringing out
a sorrow from within her. Ice melts,
snow thaws and the lady of winter
finds herself reigning in a heart that
wants to drop, so deeply saddened
was she by his plight– by their luck.
"I wish you had thought of us as
your family.“ Maybe, such wishes did
not cross her mind in the past, so taken
was our young lady by the promise of
propriety and knights, fragile dreams
that shatter under a callous hand– but
now, now she could use some family.
At his forward rejection, Sansa
bows her head, taking it as a personal
failing. She remembers when she first
hosted a Lannister party in the newly
rebuilt winterfell. it had cost her many
sleepless nights but she had survived
that and was rewarded with maidenhood
once again. Maybe it’s time to clear all
the demons lurking outside their walls.
”Growing, and growing up still.
They’ve…changed but they’re closer
to men than boys, now. Soon, Rickon
will inherit Winterfell– I really do wish
you’d stay to regain your strength. The
journey is long and cold.“
”He may take some time to grow
civil but he knows better than to attack
you. Guest rights still mean something in
this keep, I assure you.“
A burning desire to deny her
danced within him. Every dulcet
sound that escaped her lips felt
like the tightening of Ramsay’s
bonds. Again and again he tried
to shake his head, to yell and spite
her words. All he could manage was
the smallest of whispers - a soft
whimper of admission.❝ After.
Only ever after. ❞His days as Lord of this castle had
been fuelled by a conviction so strong
that regret had never entered his psyche.
Balon’s poisonous tendrils had insnared
him into a traitorous fury; a mindset so
potent and destructive it would haunt
his ever day.❝ But, after, it was all I could think of.
It consumed my every waking hour.
Even now, my lady, I can still taste
the stench of Winterfell burning. ❞Her blue orbs forced him to recall
her mother. A women who had never
trusted nor liked him. The voice who
had scandalised Robb’s ears with
words of caution when it came to
House Greyjoy. At her attempt of
condolence, Theon could only shake
his head bitterly, finally able to look
her in the eye.❝ The gods,
if they even exist,
grant us nothing but suffering. ❞
❝ Personally, I’ve given up on such fantasies. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
It’s so easy to give into the burn
in her guts, the acrid stench of soiled
flesh churning within her. Sansa looks
at Rickon, still so wild even at his age,
and she can’t help the resentment. He
is her brother, this is her family. How
can you possibly do that to family?
Hypocrisy is unbecoming of a lady
or did she forget the way she ran to the
queen, her father’s plans on the tip of
her tongue all so she can marry ‘that
blonde yapper’. It may not have been
the catalyst but it is her betrayal all the
same. The thought sobers her, like a
cold bucket of water over her head.
Azure eyes avert themselves, fists
clenched tightly as she wills away the
memory of her father’s head on a pike.
Regret washes out the anger, guilt tides
in like an ocean wave. Sansa finds her
body slumping forward, exhaustion set
in her bones. Please, speak no more.
“I’m sorry. Please, pardon me. It
was callous of me to say as much to
you. I know nothing of your suffering
but you have suffered.”
She looks at him, really looks at
him. Not the boy he was before or the
actions he took but the man he is now.
We are no different, you and I.
"Stay a while. We shall be supping
soon. I’ll have the servants ready rooms
for you.“
#please rip out my heart thank you very much #it’d hurt a lot lessYOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELF
REGRET 100% ;A; WHY DID YOU INDULGE ME IN THIS
❝ Why leave?
There’s nothing for you there. ❞The dilapidated gates of Winterfell canopied their scene; a family tearing itself in two beneath it. A general hustle buzzed around them, House Stark’s venture south with the King well deserving of some hullabaloo. Theon’s smile was bittersweet as he nodded farewell, one by one, to the only people he’d dare call family. In return, somewhat disinterested hugs farewell. Formalities. As the auburn tresses of the eldest girl crossed his frame to embrace him, he’d let slip a fatal phrase. Don’t go.
It wasn’t for her per-say. It was for the sake of their reality, their bubble of perfect isolation that sheltered them from the winds of change that sought to infect the realm. In his mind, he could already hear Bran’s silent tears at night, Jon’s moody sighs. He could already sense his best friend’s surliness take hold as he attempted to adopt his future title of Warden of the North. Today was the beginning of growing up, and Theon had never dreaded anything more.
❝You’ll regret leavin’ here before long, I’d say.
That blonde yapper you’ve got your eye on
looks like a right prick. ❞
Voice gruff, he rolled his eyes in signature disapproval. The words that yearned to flee his thoughts caught in his throat. We’re a family. The pack survives as the lone wolf dies. But he could imagine her piercing gaze of disdain. You’re just a ward, she’d say, before giggling to one of her posse. She never did care for him, nor he for her. But at that moment, their farewell felt like stepping off a precipice into an ocean too volatile to swim in.
Shaking his head as if to dismiss their words, he gave her a gentle nudge, wondering to himself if he would ever see her again.
❝ Just…- Show those southern stiffs what a real
seamstress looks like, yeah? ❞❝ Travel safe, Sansa. ❞
psssst bub, your askbox isn’t open.
Slicing through the frosty air between them,
her words rained down on him like a slap
to the face. Immediately Theon’s eyes fled her
gaze, an instinctive flinch juddering through
his frame; body trained to link harsh words with
harsher actions.She’s right.
For the castle was mighty once more and the
only thing that broken was Theon alone. The
god’s justice, perhaps. His next words were
whispered and near inaudible, tone pleading.❝— My Lady…
I owe a debt to your entire house. To you, to
Rickon. To Bran and to Arya…. To Robb and
your father. I owe more than I could ever repay. ❞Each name felt bitter upon his tongue. Theon had
no right to speak their names, he knew. It was the
first time he had allowed himself to say them in a
long, long time.
Just as she refuses to use mine.
❝ You were my family. You were my sister.
You cannot imagine how much I suffered for my choices, Sansa. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
Lady of Winterfell, blood of ice.
they forget her hair is kissed by fire
and her temper burns wildly when
unrestrained. Right then, she wishes
she could stop him from speaking,
she wishes their names don’t pass
his lips. It is not his w o r t h that is in
question, it is the wounds barely healed.
The North bleeds red, like any other.
Tully blue eyes, ice cold like the
winter, studies him from his haggard
face to his awkward stance. He is not
whole, that much she can see, and as
she studies his gloved hands and sunken
cheeks she wonders if it’s one for all the
Starks he has wronged. For every betrayal.
“Did you still think us as family when
you tore us apart, limb by limb? Or was that
after– when the tables turned?”
“—-You are seeking peace of mind
but it is the Gods that grant it. Not me.”
Shivering through a non-existing cold,
Theon nodded his appreciation towards
her in sheer relief. She speaks not of malice.
Some sins were unforgivable, he knew, yet still
he prayed.❝ You are too kind, m’lady.
I would loathe to cause you
discomfort. ❞Gone was the cheek he once lived and breathed.
Endless hours of tortured submission had long
since wiped him of such brashness.
He could recall the last time he had sat in the
room they currently inhabited. Lord of Winterfell
and declaring a hunt for the brothers of the very
woman who now stood opposite him.❝ I know you’ve received
enough unpleasant
ravens to last as lifetime.
I… - I wanted to see you
once more.
To see Winterfell once more. ❞
❝ Sansa,
I would beg for your forgiveness
if only I thought it might do any good. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
“You do no such thing.”
He speaks of discomfort as if the
sight of him can cause her to lose sleep
As if she has not suffered through those
in far worse conditions than now.
She is older, a scant inch or so
wiser and patience is a trait Sansa has
long since inculcated. Words may be a
sparse commodity for her predecessors
but Sansa uses them to balm old wounds
and cut new ones. This time, she is kind.
But kindness does not negate the
shock as she travels back in time, to when
his betrayal cut its deepest, when ravens
carried death on its leg and Joffrey laughed.
"I doubt the Winterfell you left is the
Winterfell you see today.“
Harsh– too harsh. Sansa averts her
gaze in a silent apology. ”It is not me you
sacked and drove out of the keep. Your
debt is with my brother– all my brothers.“
❝ I’m no Lord. ❞
The words were muttered
almost unintentionally,
bitter and honest in equal
measure. Theon’s tone
was all but expressionless.He had forgot those eyes.
Piercing and haunting
familiar. Robb’s eyes.
He could barely stand to
face them.❝ I hadn’t thought to announce myself.
I wasn’t sure how I would be received. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
You are not Theon either,
she thinks with something like
regret in her tone. There is a
silver of sympathy in her eyes
for the things he did not do, but
the mourning period for Robb is
forever and she cannot forget.
The North will not let her.
Sansa moves to the other
side of the table but does not
cover the distance. Instead, she
clasps her hands and keeps her
Tully blues fixed on him.
"The same way any other
guests would be, I assure you.
We have shed far too much blood
to add yours to our wood stain.“
”For what purpose did you
travel so far when a raven can
cover it in half the time?“
His figure was broken,
hunched over and
disfigured.
The sins against her
house hung in the air
as he hobbled towards
the lady of the castle.
Eyes probing her for
signs of mercy, he bowed.❝ Sans - M’lady. ❞
:: 〖 ❣ 〗――— ::
She stands. Not because she
feels any aggression towards him,
rather she is surprised. It has been
a long time since Sansa saw Theon
last and that was barely a glimpse
when Winterfell was returned to the
Starks and he was s p i r i t e d away.
“Lord Greyjoy. I was not made
aware of your visit. Welcome.”