The Iron Islands were cold and windy, but Winterfell was even colder. No wonder that no one offered a warm welcome to him, especially not Lady Stark who didn't like the idea of letting the Ironborn child under her roof to grow up together with her own children, as if keeping the bastard boy near them wasn't enough already.
Nevertheless, Theon was there to stay and she couldn't do much about it. He was given the chambers intended for the youngest Stark – Bran, who was only a baby crying for his mother's milk and didn't need the chambers of his own just yet.
Inside the castle it was surprisingly warm and Theon would have gladly stayed hidden inside his new chambers forever. Lord Stark, however, made sure to keep him busy with as many lessons as possible. Horse riding, art of combat, history of great houses – every single day was filled with the laborious process of education until the sun went down allowing to learn no more. That was why Theon liked the night time the most.
The night time meant he could go back to his chambers, cover himself with furs and stare out the narrow window. He tried to hear the sound of the sea. Waves crashing on a rocky beach, seagulls crying at the raging wind – he missed it all, but here in the North there were only wolves howling into the night.
"What are you looking at?"
Theon jumped up at the unexpected question. Quickly, he turned his head away from the window as his eyes scanned the dim bedchamber.
On the other side of the half-opened door stood the heir of Winterfell. The boy was only a bit older than Theon but unlike him, tall and slender. He also looked much more lord-like – wrapped with his pitch-black cloak trimmed with red-brown fur that matched with his hair, and with a wolf-shaped, silver pin shimmering in the candlelight.
Behind the little lordling, Theon spotted the dark-haired bastard boy who was curiously looking over his half-brother's shoulder. The two often stared at him that way, as if he was some exotic animal brought by their lord father for them to admire. This time, however, both boys must have been very determined or very bored if they decided to actually come to him and start a conversation.
Theon wanted to be alone. During the day he would answer Robb's questions and act politely toward him because otherwise someone could say that he offended the heir of Winterfell and he didn't need any troubles. But during the night when the castle slept, the Starks shouldn't expect him to be that obedient. He ignored his two guests and turned back to the window in silence.
The door creaked, then he heard the footsteps. The boys didn't walk away, instead they dared to come in to his bedchamber not asking for his permission. Soon enough Robb and Jon were near him, staring out of his window, mimicking him.
"You shouldn't be here," Theon hissed at them. "Leave now or Lady Stark will hear of this in the morning."
The bastard boy didn't like the sound of it, after all Lady Stark hated him with passion. He looked at his half-brother but Robb only shrugged.
"My lady mother doesn't trust the Ironborn. She told us many times about how untrustworthy you are when our lord father was at war," the tall boy explained calmly as if he didn't say anything wrong. "Maester Luwin said that too, that was before you came here," he added.
Theon didn't reply to that. He knew that no one trusted him and he didn't care, he just wanted for them to let him be. To let him sit here alone, staring into the darkness and crying over everything that had been taken from him.
"So? What are you looking at? Tell me," Robb demanded.
"At the sea."
"There is no sea," Jon cut in, apparently not sure if Theon mocked or really didn't know that. "It's hundreds miles away from Winterfell, you won't see it from here."
His half-brother nodded in agreement. Robb and Jon Snow were so much alike, the same curly hair, same wide foreheads and same noble faces without any flaws. They looked like true brothers, even though different women had given birth to them. Had Theon and his brothers been that similar too? No, he didn't think so, he was just a fat, little boy. If he was to be confused with someone, that would rather be his horrible sister.
They should have taken Yara, not me, he thought with a bitter sadness. She deserved to be sent away from Pyke. She's a troublemaker. And she brags all the time.
"That dark area out there," The young Stark pointed his finger at something on the other side of castle's walls, "that's the Wolfswood. At the night it may look like a surface of the water but there are only trees. Don't you have woods at the Iron Islands?"
They didn't – at least not on Pyke or Harlaw, and lord father have never taken Theon to Blacktyde or Saltcliffe. Of course he wouldn't admit to the little Northmen that there was something about his own homeland that he didn't know. The two already seemed to look down on him as if living in Winterfell made them more important. Little did they know that he used to be a prince, not a minor lordling but a real prince – Prince Theon of the Iron Islands.
"There are no woods on the Iron Islands," he told them as confident as the prince could be, "only rough wastelands and rocky cliff-ed coasts that give shelter to the rough and strong people. Why would the Ironborn need any woods if we can have the sea?"
"To build ships," the heir of Winterfell retorted, evidently not impressed by Theon's proud words. "And to hunt of course," he added after a moment no longer than a heartbeat. "Have you ever been to the hunt?"
Once again the answer was 'no', and once again he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.
Since not many wild animals lived on Pyke apart from mountain goats and hares, fishermen were much more common than the hunters. Theon has hunted only for birds like seagulls or terns but it was definitely not what Robb meant there.
The silence gave the Stark boy his answer before Theon could even come up with a lie. And just when he expected to hear some mockery, he received something quite different.
"Tomorrow we're going to ask my lord father if we could go hunting for wild rabbits with Ser Rordic. Maybe he would let you go too? I can try to convince him, if you want me to."
No one in Winterfell cared to ask Theon if he would like to go somewhere – they simply ordered him around, they had the right to do that since he was their prisoner. But now the son of the man who kept him as a hostage made him feel more like a guest for the first time. That felt so right, all thanks to Robb's kindness, and the thought of the hunt turned out to be thrilling.
In the end, Lord Stark did not agree for the hunt because the little Northmen proved to be not as skilled with a bow as they thought they were.
"You still have much to learn," Lord Eddard said to Robb when the boy's arrow missed for the third time. The young lord looked very disappointed. Noticing that, his father placed his gloved hand on his shoulder. "I promise to take you for your first hunt myself, when only you'll be ready. We will take hounds and track down silver foxes. Your mother loves their fur, she'll be pleased if we bring enough to make collars for her and the girls. You agree?"
The archery might not be Robb's thing but that didn't stop the boy from practicing. In time, he became no worse than Theon and Lord Stark had to keep his promise.
The day of the first hunt finally came. They left at dawn with five other men. The Wolfswood seemed endless – deep like the ocean. Even the wind that played among leaves reminded Theon of a light, offshore breeze. The further they rode, the wilder the wood got and there was some dangerous beauty in it. Maybe the North had to offer more than he had imagined? Maybe he could learn to love this cold and cruel place?
Cold and cruel – that was exactly how Theon would have described not only the North but also Lord Stark. Two years had passed and he wasn't so sure what to think about this man anymore. Lord Eddard might be the fearsome warrior who had killed countless Ironmen before, but Theon had never seen him being cruel to any of his people, neither had he been unkind to him. The lord of Winterfell knew how to be gentle, he smiled at his children and listened to their stories and when they failed at something he would give them comfort. Theon had sworn to hate this man but now he simply couldn't.
The same went for Robb, it was hard to hate him. The boy tried to be just like his lord father but he couldn't help playing around and laughing. Theon liked that about him and it didn't take long for the two of them to start getting along.
Most of their games usually came down to fighting with sticks, wrestling in the mud or running around shouting "White walkers!". From time to time they pretended to be pirates which meant sneaking into the kitchen and stealing some sweets. Once, they even tried to steal Maester Luwin's chain but the old man didn't give them any opportunity. Playing tricks on Jon Snow was a whole lot easier so they told him that the maester had said: "Those who eat living spiders are able to climb walls like spiders themselves." The poor boy believed it and soon enough the three of them were busy catching spiders in stables. Of course, neither Theon nor Robb intended to eat their eight-legged prey. Jon, however, put the big, hairy one in his mouth and spit it out the very next moment because the spider had bitten his tongue.
Later that day, Maester Luwin had to examine the boy's swollen mouth. It all ended up with Jon getting some potion and Theon and Robb getting punished. But before that, the old, bald maester scolded them for telling lies and instructed Robb that the heir of Winterfell wasn't supposed to follow Theon's every idea.
"You have to think for yourself, my boy, and act responsible," he preached.
Theon knew what the man really wanted to say – wolves shall not listen to krakens.
But what if that wolf befriended the kraken? Why wouldn't they listen to one another? And what was so wrong about having fun? Theon did not understand it.
Robb needed him and his wild ideas, otherwise he would become just like his boring, always serious half-brother. Theon, on the other hand, needed Robb's company to keep himself from thinking, from missing his home. A while back he used to write letters to his lord father but now he didn't do that, not anymore. There was no sense in it anyway, since the answers from Pyke had come as often as snowstorms in Dorne. Theon doubted that all the ravens sent during the past two years had gotten lost at the sea. Perhaps it would have hurt him more if he hadn't had Robb and their antics on his mind.
"It won't happen again," the young Stark gave his promise to the maester, "I'm sorry for lying to you, Jon," he added.
Theon apologized to the bastard boy as well, however he made no promises. And he was right not to do so, because only a few moons later he got Robb into troubles once more.
This time, he suggested that they could climb the heart tree. They were playing in the Godswood but tracking invisible direwolves became boring quite some time ago.
"Climbing trees and looking around is what real rangers of the Night's Watch do," Theon explained more to Robb than to Jon who wouldn't trust his words anyway.
"You can't do that," the black-haired boy warned them, "the Old Gods are living in that tree. Lord Stark prays to them before his journeys or after executions. If I were you, I wouldn't want to offend them."
Theon laughed at him. He didn't like Robb's half-brother because the boy never agreed with him and always tried to win Robb over.
"Snow knows nothing about the Gods," he stated. "On the Iron Islands we pray to the Drowned God that lives under the sea, but that doesn't mean that we can't swim in that sea. The Gods are not so easily offended."
"But we're not on the Iron Islands. And you have other trees," the bastard boy insisted.
"You can't tell the heir of Winterfell which tree is good for him and which isn't!"
The two exchanged angry glares while Robb stayed quiet, deep in his thoughts. After a moment he finally decided: "The Gods won't be mad. We can climb the heart tree."
Jon eyed him as if wanting to convince him not to do that in some wordless way but Robb turned to Theon and smiled.
"Let's go."
With that, they left the bastard boy behind.
"I'm going back to the castle!" He shouted after them.
"Just don't say a word to my lord father!" Robb shouted back as he ran.
The heart tree was huge and its branches were massive, they look like arms of some giant creature. They seemed stable enough for both of them to stand on and the lowest one wasn't beyond their reach. Robb jumped on it gracefully and held onto the tree bark. As Theon followed, his hands grabbed onto his friend's sleeve and for a heartbeat they balanced unsteadily, nearly falling.
The next step was to climb onto the branch above their heads. They looked up, it appeared that neither of them was tall enough to reach there.
"How do we get there?"
"I can lift you up," Robb offered, "then you will give me your hand. You ready?"
The Stark boy was strong for his age, Theon knew that but the task would have been easier if Jon had gone with them. The bastard boy was skinny and agile like a cat while Theon... Well, too late for doubts, he thought letting his friend lock his hands around him.
Soon he was dangling from the massive branch, his legs in the air and both arms clung onto it. Somehow he managed to pull himself up. When he felt safe enough, he reached out for Robb.
The boy jumped up and caught the hand with his. Unfortunately, the young lord was heavy. Theon didn't have the strength to hold him. The two of them fell, their heads collided. Robb landed on his back and Theon on top of him.
The sudden pain and shock made them both unable to move so they laid there for a moment, not even trying to get back to their feet. When Theon finally got off of Robb, he saw a red stain on his friend's brown hair. The crimson liquid was streaming down the Stark boy's forehead and dripping on the pretty, furry collar of his.
"Robb, you're bleeding. I'll call for Maester Luwin."
"No," he protested, the fear visible in his bright-blue eyes. "No one can know that we climbed the heart tree. I can walk, I'll go to the maester's chambers. We will tell him that I stumbled and fell."
Theon nodded and helped him up. They planned to sneak through the courtyard unseen and get right in to the Maester's Turret. They wanted to run there but Theon's knees hurt and Robb didn't look so well, his face as pale as a milk.
They entered the castle when out of the sudden they stumbled upon Lady Catelyn Stark. Theon froze at the sight of her, both surprised and panicked. Robb's mother has never been very kind to him and now he could see the terror in her bluish eyes.
She is going to blame me, Theon realized but there was no way to prevent that from happening.
"What in the seven hells is the meaning of this?" She spoke with a voice full off fear and anger.
"We were just..." He started but Robb finished for him:
"I fell from a tree."
"From a tree? And what were you doing on that tree? Do you think that lords of Winterfell climb trees like some wildlings!" Lady Catelyn gave his son a frustrated look. "Did you even realize that you could have broken your neck and died?"
Theon lowered his head, staring at the floor. If he broke his neck, Lady Stark probably wouldn't mind.
At that point tears welled in Robb's eyes and he started to sob softly, distressed by his mother's harsh reprimand. Noticing that, Lady Catelyn calmed down at once. Then, she pulled her son close and embraced him lovingly, touching his curly hair with one hand to comfort him.
As they stood like that, Theon could only watch and for some reason he felt more alone than ever. He envied Robb, envied him for his protective mother and his lord farther who knew how to be proud of him. He envied him for his stupid bastard brother because even Snow cared for Robb just like a true brother should. Robb had it all – a loving family, high sense of honor and leadership skills. And what did Theon have? Nothing at all. A sudden shiver ran through his skin. It was the North that touched him with its icy fingers and whispered into his ear: "I am not your home, boy."
Yet, he would stay here and only the gods knew how much longer.
Time flowed and the memories of Pyke started to slowly fade away and morph into some abstract mixture of what he had been taught by Maester Luwin and what he had been longing for as a homesick child. By now, he was almost a grown up man who would turn fourteen on his next name day. Grown up men didn't whine about being far from home, grown up men killed their enemies. He hadn't killed anyone just yet but here in Winterfell that didn't really matter. Here in Winterfell the life seemed so easy, full of hunts, feasts and other amusements.
Theon enjoyed them all. Ever since he abandoned his childish dreams of running away and going back home, he was free to leave the castle whenever he saw fit and have some fun in one way or another. He could take a horse and gallop down the Kingsroad, he could take a bow and hunt for partridges. He could even visit the Winter Town's inn and drink some ale or roll dice. Lord Stark had given him permission to do all those things, in return Theon had given him his word that he wouldn't try to escape. Why would he try? His freedom might be only an illusion but that didn't stop him from enjoying himself.
"Those who are alive ought to laugh and play, because when they die if will be too late," the singer recited as he made the strings of his harp ring out.
The Starks were celebrating Sansa's tenth name day. The feast lasted for some time already and the little lady seemed to be delighted. The music played loud, tables were heavy with different kinds of meat and all guest were dressed up like for the royal wedding. Theon was sitting next to little Bran at the main table with the Stark family. He liked feasts, not only because of the food but also because there was always a chance for something interesting to happen.
Ser Roderic asked Sansa to dance and the girl rose from her place with glee. Few other dancing couples were spinning and swaying in front of the main table. Theon saw Jory Cassel with one of Lord Umber's daughters. The other one was there too, sitting next to her lord father and stabbing her baked apple with a little fork. The girl didn't seem too interested in the food, instead of looking at the plate before her she glanced at Robb every now and then. Theon watched his friend for a moment too. The heir of Winterfell didn't even notice the Umber girl which was rather unexpected because she looked older than she really was and her bodice was tight over her breasts. That fact didn't escape Theon's attention but Robb preferred talking with Bran over admiring the view.
His loss, not mine, he smiled to himself and walked over young Lady Umber to ask her to dance.
The song spoke the truth – the man should enjoy himself when only he had the chance to do so. Theon knew that much and he didn't intend to miss any of his chances. Robb, however, was too "responsible" to share this opinion. Nevertheless, all the girls seemed to like that about him, or maybe they just liked his pretty face, curly hair and the fact that he was the heir of great Winterfell. Whatever the reason, Robb could use it for his own advantage. Though, neither the servant girls nor the high-born ladies got much of his attention so far.
For once, all those giggling and whispering little whores could have giggled and whispered about Theon instead, Theon wouldn't have ignored them like his friend used to do. He wouldn't have been picky, he didn't even mind that the Umber girl was a bit too stout and a bit too tall for him. He twirled her while dancing and as they got closer he asked her if she would like to see the glass garden. And when she agreed and followed him out of the Great Hall, he could only imagine what she would show him in return.
Later that night, after the feast finally came to an end, Robb found Theon near the smithy with a whetstone in his hand and the sword in front of him.
"Were you that bored?" The Stark boy sounded both surprise and irritated as he watched him repetitively sharping his already sharp weapon. "Why did you leave so early?"
"Why do you ask? Did you miss me?"
Robb didn't smile at the joke.
"My brothers kept me company. And Jon told me that he saw you with Lord's Umber daughter. But she returned to the Great Hall without you, so I was wondering..."
"Wondering what?" Theon cut him off angrily, his blade made an unpleasant sound as he ran the whetstone down its edge pressing with too much force. "You were wondering what I did to her, right? Sorry to disappoint you, but I barely touched her. That stupid cow got scared and run away, that's all. She won't tell her lord father and he won't tell yours, if that's what you were worried about."
Robb look surprised by this sudden outburst but then again he didn't seemed too convinced.
"And what is this red mark on your cheek?"
"It's nothing," Theon lied, cursing his friend for noticing the swelling on the left side of his face. "It was dark and we went to the glass garden through the Godswood. It must have been some branch... It didn't even hurt."
The truth was that it did hurt – not his cheek but his wounded pride. That fat Umber cunt had dared to slap him in the face. Why? Because his hand had wandered to low? She should have been glad! Nobody else had shown any interest in a dumb cow like her.
Who in the seven hells does she think she is? She's a fucking Umber, her father is only a minor lord and I am the heir of Pyke! How could she reject me?
Just a few rushed strokes and he was done with sharping his blade. Robb was still there, waiting silently for him to finish. Theon didn't know whether the young Stark believed in his story. All he knew was that the next time a girl tried to slap him, he would catch her hand and cut it off with his sword. Perhaps that would teach them.
All the girls kept their love for boys like Robb Stark only. He was more popular among the ladies but also more skilled at fighting, strategic planning, economics, even reading maps and remembering names of long-dead lords and heroes. Everybody in Winterfell liked him and appreciated his many talents and Robb always proved them right by swiftly defeating his training partner or giving correct answer to the maester's question.
Once, during the cartography lesson in the Winterfell's library Maester Luwin lectured them about the Slavers' Bay on the continent of Essos. Theon didn't pay that much attention to the old man's words, he preferred to study the map before him and thinking of all those amazing places he could have sailed to if he had owned a ship and if he had been free to leave the North. Ibben, The Free Cities, The Summer Isles – all far and mysterious and with plenty of riches and beautiful women, both waiting to be taken. He could almost see it...
"Theon, are you listening?" The maester's voice snapped him out of his daydream.
"Yes. Yes, of course," he mumbled without thinking too much, obviously he had no idea what was the last thing the bald man had talked about but it did no harm to pretend otherwise.
"Then what do you know about Astapor?"
"The city is famed for its pleasure houses and trained bed slaves for sale."
"Are you sure?" Maester Luwin inquired.
"I'm sure, I'd like to try out those slaves they have there."
"It will end up with a spear in your guts," said Robb and Jon couldn't help but smirk at the comment. "In Astapor you can buy only slave soldiers. They are said to be fearsome and absolutely obedient."
"That is correct," the maester agreed with his favorite student. "Those slave soldiers are called Unsullied. You would know that if you were paying attention, Theon. However, what you said is true – you just confused Astapor with Yunkai."
"He confused it because all he thinks about are naked girls," Jon explained sarcastically, his lips still curled into that small smile from before.
It got Theon furious.
"At least I'm not the one who is scared of naked girls, Snow."
"No Greyjoy, you're the one who is scared of fighting me in the yard."
"That's enough!" Maester Luwin called out before Theon managed to tell the bastard that he would gladly fight him there and then. "Calm down, both of you!" The old man ordered, his usually soft tone of voice now cold and demanding. "The lesson is not over yet. We still have Meereen to talk about."
They did as he said and when the lecture finally ended, Theon didn't even remember how mad he had been at Jon. That might be because he returned to his imaginary travel through Essos displayed inside his head in a vivid manner.
"One day I will sail there," he claimed as the three of them walked out of the library and went down the stonework staircase. "When I'm the Lord of Pyke, I'll take the fastest longship and sail across the Narrow Sea to see distant lands."
"When you're the Lord of Pyke, you'll be sitting on the Seastone Chair with some Lady Greyjoy at your side and ruling. That is what true lords do," his friend told him and Theon couldn't argue with that. "Besides, I bet you would get seasick as soon as you left the port."
Jon laughed and Theon gave both of the Northmen a hateful glare.
"Keep talking like that, Robb and I won't let you aboard."
"When I'm the Lord of Winterfell, I'll have my own ships."
"That may be true," he shrugged, then the smirk of triumph appeared on his face, "but I will be the lord before you do."
"And how do you know that?"
"My lord father is older than yours and Lord Stark doesn't look like he would pass away anytime soon. So when my lord father is dead, Lord Stark will let me go back to the Iron Islands."
Robb was quiet for a moment as if not knowing what to say about it.
"If I were the lord before you, I will let you go home whenever you want."
That confession was not what Theon had expected to hear, at least not now and not in front of Jon Snow. Shocked, he looked Robb in the eyes and he knew at once that his friend really meant it.
"You're like a brother to me," the Stark boy admitted and Theon opened his mouth to say something, to thank him or tell him that he felt the same way for Robb but before he could find the right words the other boy interrupted.
"You better not repeat that when your lord father is listening, he won't approve that," Jon warned his half-brother.
The bastard boy was right and they all understood that. How could any Greyjoy be considered Stark's brother while the memory of Greyjoy's Rebellion was still alive in cold hearts of the Northmen? The North remembered and so did the people. All the bannermen were always eager to remind Theon of his true position. He feasted with Starks, slept under their roof but he wasn't one of them, he was their prisoner. And Lord Stark would cut off his head without hesitation if only traitorous Lord Balon Greyjoy dared to make his move. Theon had seen that before – the dangerous beauty of Valyrian steel, the color of blood staining the grass, the head itself, many different heads that Lord Eddard had taken off with a single stroke. He shuddered at that thought and his right hand traveled to his neck to touch it absentmindedly. He couldn't be Robb's brother, not when their lord fathers were still sworn enemies, still holding a grudge against one another.
They won't live forever, Theon told himself and that helped him to lighten up a little.
"When I'll be the Lord of Pyke and you'll be the Lord of Winterfell, then we could become real brothers," he smiled.
"What do you mean?" His friend got interested in the new idea.
"I'm talking about a marriage."
Out of the sudden Robb's face turned red and Jon almost burst out laughing.
"Whose marriage?"
"Well, I have a sister," Theon informed them trying to ignore the awkward situation he had just created.
The two exchanged meaningful glances as they grasped a concept, however none of them commented it.
"What? You think she'd be too ugly? Fine," he sighed realizing that it wasn't going to work out anyway since from what he had heard his sweet sister had grown up to be even more cruel than she was as a child. "If you don't want Yara, maybe you could give me one of your sisters?"
"Don't tell me you would like Sansa for your wife?"
"And why not? She has pretty face."
"She's only ten!" Robb protested which made Theon's cocky smile grow a little wider.
"I can wait 'till she came of age," he assured him smugly. "I bet, she'll be worth waiting for. You know they say about redheads?"
In response the Stark boy shot a warning glare at him but Theon didn't care, he went too far to stop now.
"They are hot as fire when they share your bed. Take that Ros, for example. She is..."
He didn't finished.
In the blink of an eye, Robb grabbed him by his shoulder and forced him to turn over and look him in the face. The grip was so strong that the arm started to hurt but the young Stark didn't let go of it, he apparently took it all too seriously.
"Did you just compare my sister to some whore?" He hissed and Theon understood his mistake at once.
"I didn't mean to offend Lady Sansa. I just..."
"But you did offend her!" Robb snapped and shook him forcefully. "You think my sister would like to wed somebody like you?"
Hearing that made Theon clinch his fists in anger.
"I'm not good enough for her? Is that what you think?" He spat out, causing the Stark boy to take his hand off of his shoulder. "Tell me Robb, do you really think you are so much better than me? Is that how you show that brotherly love you were talking about earlier?"
The two of them fell silent, sizing each other up for a long, tense moment. It was Robb who lowered his head first and looked down at the stairs.
"I don't, I'm sorr..."
Before he managed to utter the words of apology, Theon already turned away and stormed out of the Library Tower.
Robb hurried after him, skipping a few stairs on the way down.
"Wait!" He called out, his shaky voice indicating that he might feel guilty for how it ended up.
"Oh, don't bother," Theon barked out his refusal to listen without so much as looking back at his so-called friend.
He didn't want to deal with it, first he could use some time alone. He headed towards the castle yard hoping that Robb and Jon wouldn't follow. As he heard the bastard boy saying "let him be", for once he was genuinely thankful. He felt like practicing with his bow and he didn't need witnesses.
Shooting arrows always helped him calm his nerves. One by one he notched them, drew and released without aiming for too long. When they hit the target, he liked to imagine that it was Robb's heart that they lodged in. Then, he pulled them out roughly and got back to practice. And he wouldn't stop 'till his fingers bled and his arms were too tired to hold the bow – no sooner.
The sun was already low in the sky when Theon finally finished. His sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead but he didn't mind. He sat up on the ground, panting and trembling slightly. He gazed at his bloody fingers, the sight of the red drops reminded him of something.
Long time ago, he had sneaked into the smithy with Robb to admire the weapons. They had been too young to be allowed to use the live steel so nothing had fascinated them more than the sharp blades. And of course they hadn't been careful. Theon had cut his palm open with the very first sword that he'd touched. That had been when Robb had asked him if he could taste his blood.
"They say that the Ironborn have the sea in their blood, so I was wondering if it will be salty."
Back then, Theon had been afraid of the Starks. They had been said to be able to turn into direwolves and eat their enemies. No wonder he had flinched upon hearing Robb's suggestion and in no time he had been on his way to see the maester. After all he had had no wish to feed the bloodthirsty beast so it would return for more at the next full moon.
Things changed, however, and at this point he would gladly let Robb suck out the blood of his twitching fingers. He'd let him taste it simply to remind him that it was sweet – no different than Robb's own.
Perhaps one day the Starks would understand that Theon was worth more of their love and respect than they had been giving him so far.
Perhaps one day he would get the chance to finally be truly accepted.
Thank you for reading!
All reviews will be appreciated.
I consider writing more of this story, please let me know what would you like to read about next.
Many thanks to my friend Worst for her help!