I don't know why this was deleted but it was. Lack of disclaimer maybe? I obviously did not write a song of ice and fire. and you'd be a dingus if you thought I did. It was rated T before and I believe that to be accurate, but for reasons, I'm upgrading it to M, I guess.
Grey-brow water ran off the rag as Jeyne wrung it out. He couldn't meet her eyes as she wiped the filth from his face and blood from his lip.
She had seen it happen, had watched the blow land that knocked him to the ground. Watched his attempt to apologize for the mistake that had earned him the cut. Though in truth, it wasn't just that. She was a Mormont. She may as well have shouted 'for winterfell!' and Theon could not blame her.
Jeyne simply watched. She was callous, thought not so stupid as to openly defend him.
Mercifully, they were to leave within an hour with the Braavosii banker and his Ironborn guard. When this was announced, it was then when Jeyne had come to his tent with a cloth and a basin of half melted snow.
She had stood in the entryway, and with one breath, informed him "Your mouth's still bleeding."
Theon did not make any move to touch his lip to see if her words were true. He could taste iron on his tongue. "Yes." It came out weaker and softer than he intended, sounding like the broken thing he looked. In three long strides the girl was in front of him, kneeling down to where he sat and placing the basin of ice cold water between the two of them. She looked up at him with big brown eyes, and dark eyes met darker ones.
"I have to clean it." She shifted her weight from her knees to her rear, "So it won't get infected."
He did not want this. He had grown to dislike human contact. It made him pity his company.
He curled his lips around his broken teeth in an attempt to hide them, haltingly protesting "I can...do it myself."
If she heard, she gave no sign. She dipped the rag in the near frozen water and wrung it out languidly. He watched as paths of it ran trails across the bottoms of her wrists, finding their way into the long sleeves of her shift. She pushed his hair back and placed a hand on the place between his straw like white hair and his shit caked forehead.
"It will be cold."
In that moment, he realized what she was doing to him. For him. Tears unbidden pooled at the bottom of his eyes. She had more sense than to try and comfort him, and for that he was thankful.
She means to wash my face. He had not bathed since her wedding. And since then, he had been forced to sleep with dogs and roll in his own shit.
It was humiliating, but if it were anyone else, it would have been worse. He kept his eyes down and watched the grey-brown water drip from the rag.
