Keep you, even as you are.
What Reek sees isn't real, he knows that much. In front of him, less than a few metres away is a creature of fables and children's stories. Of nightmares. A creature that doesn't exist beyond ink and paper and the parchment that he'd glazed over as a young boy. Yet he feels himself shaking with every breath he takes, and what's left of his broken teeth are chattering from something that isn't the cold.
"I brought him back for you, my Reek. Even as he is, maybe you can still find something from him you want? As it is, you never really did get enough of him, no?"
Oh Robb.
"Yes, master." The words fall from his mouth like ash. "I thank you for your generosity." He speaks these strange words, carved out by his tongue with disbelief and horror.
In front of him, propped up by two of Ramsay's men, is a creature so grotesque that Reek can barely see the resemblance of its humanity. From the broken bits of armour and scraps of clothing the creature is covered in, it appears as though it once was someone Theon Greyjoy would have known. Theon Greyjoy, the man who Reek couldn't be. Wouldn't ever be again.
Ramsay smiles, and it's an ugly curl of the mouth, with yellowed teeth and hungry eyes. And Reek knows that Ramsay wants him to be pleased. So Reek smiles, broken teeth and bleeding gums, he smiles.
The creature looks up and stares, with a dead face and emotionless eyes. Theon Greyjoy would have once known these eyes to be blue, just like how Reek now knows they are dead.
"Theon."
It's what this creature says, and it's reaching out with a bloodied hand towards him. Reek can hear Ramsay's men sniggering in the background, he can feel the shame building up in him, like he'd thought he'd never hear the word again. The creature smiles, or well, tries to. With teeth as bloody as Reek's and a body so brutalised, it's as if he were dead.
"Theon, please."
And Reek feels something stir within him, not from Ramsay's watchful gaze, nor from his men prodding this dead creature with their swords and spears. It's the way this creature says his name. Theon. It's broken, and breathy, but this dead man sounds content to simply say the name. Theon.
Theon.
"Leave what's left of the young wolf here, men. Perhaps they'll feast upon each other in our absence. Two broken toys are always better than one." Ramsay's words echo in the room, but Reek barely hears them. What he hears instead, is the sound of the creature dragging itself towards him on broken limbs, opening it's mouth and saying "Oh Theon, what have they done to you?"
Theon can't answer, but Reek can.
"M'lord treats me well." He says, and looks and floor because he is not Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark is dead.
Robb Stark is dead, and all is wrong with this world.
The creature reaches out and lays a bloody palm on Reek's cheek, pressing softly against a growing bruise from when he'd accidentally disobeyed Ramsay. He shifts away uncomfortably from the touch, for it does not hurt and he does not know what this means. The creature watches him sadly, still holding his broken hand out, more hesitantly than before though.
"I am alive, Theon. I am alive, but barely. And so are you." The creature tries to smile, and his eyes are perhaps, more dead than ever.
Reek doesn't believe him. He has no right, nor reason to believe him. The young wolf, Ramsay had told him, the young wolf had been butchered at the Freys, with his pretty face torn off and replaced with his direwolf's, betrayed by Ramsay's father himself. Reek had nodded and smiled and congratulated Ramsay, but later on Reek had been Theon that night. He had curled into himself in his cage and had mourned for the death of Robb Stark. His hands had curled into fists and he'd gritted his teeth so hard he'd thought more had broken, and all he could think was forgive me.
Robb Stark is dead, and Theon shall never be forgiven.
"We're not alive, Robb." Says Theon, who is also Reek. And Reek knows he will never be Theon again, so he allows himself this moment. This dream. With his broken wolf king and the man he swore to never betray. He allows himself this dream and he could almost laugh at how pathetic a pair they make.
This creature, Robb, clasps a hand around Reek's, fingers trying to search for the ones that Reek doesn't have. And never will again.
"Forgive me." The words fall out of Theon's mouth with a sickly taste, he can't hold them back because this is the true king of Winterfell, and this is the man that Theon had once loved so much with his blue eyes and warm laughter and now that man is alive, but still more dead than if he were rotting with the maggots of the underworld.
"Please. Forgive me." He repeats, the words coming out breathy and afraid. He presses his hand to the cold stone wall behind him and thinks that this place, this hell is what he deserves. Robb's palm presses firmly against Theon's, in what is meant to be a comforting gesture, but Theon feels nothing but the cold of his skin, and the weak grasp of what was once a strong man. The young wolf, Robb had been. But he is no more.
The gods have failed Theon Greyjoy, but they have failed Robb Stark even more.
Theon looks at Robb, with his dead eyes and dead face, and says "You should be dead. They told me you were dead."
He doesn't say that he should have died with him.
Before Theon can even move, he finds himself wrapped in Robb's embrace, both of their weak, fragile bodies entangled together. Robb leans closer, his voice soft and he sounds so sorry, so sorry but for what Theon doesn't know. "I forgive you." He says, and Theon thinks he can feel the wetness of a wolfs tears against his neck. The wolf has never cried, but he has howled. Howled for the death and the loss of all those around him. For his own life. Selfishly, he hpes for the loss of Theon Greyjoy's life.
The wetness on Theon's neck grows, and that's how he knows that Robb Stark is crying for him. Crying for both of them. Two broken bodies with no fight left in either of them. Theon knows this, and Reek wouldn't dare to ever forget this.
But for now, Reek is Theon. And he is once again with Robb Stark, and if they die here, in this sorry excuse for what was once their home. He knows he will not die alone.