It had been several days since he had let Jeyne bathe him- let the pain and filth of the last 2 years be whisked away, to be cleaned by the earth itself. The clothes fit better, and when he didn't think anyone was looking, Theon could not resist cupping between his legs, making sure he hadn't experienced a cruel dream. The first time he had pleasured himself, to no one in particular, it had been after a bath- he had started bathing himself. It felt strange and alien to him- he ended up weeping after his climax, heaving sobs into his mangled hands. He didn't know if he felt better or weaker. But he had felt…different after that. Lighter.

After that first bath, he had shaved his head, ignoring the white locks that fell to the ground, watching in satisfaction as the nits disappeared into the privy. It was growing in stronger, fuller, and he dared to hope a bit of color.

His days were filled with chores and running. He had taken to running. Running along the walls, across the parapets. Running alongside the giant herd of horses they let out to graze. He felt his chest fill up with cold Northern air and exhale. He felt his calf muscles filling out. When they let him have a weapon again, he took up his archery and even impressed some of the men being so spot on. And at night, he served Lady Sansa as if they were strangers, never looking her in the face.

Every night for months Theon would crawl into Jeyne's bed, no longer on her floor. He would sometimes hug her to him, sometimes he would hold her as her hair spread out over his chest, staring at the ceiling and touching the silky tresses. Sometimes he found himself shaking, her arms about him the only thing keeping him from vomiting or falling out of the bed to the comfort of the cold, hard floor. He never touched her breasts, or between her legs, although the thought passed through his mind. Sometimes his hands would glide over her smooth backside as he soothed her back to sleep and she did not seem to mind. In fact she seemed to press into him at those moments. He never touched himself when he was in her bed.

Jeyne remembered the night they both had laughed- an innocent, carefree and genuine laugh. The first in years. A fool had come to court, and after they were done serving, they were sitting at their own small table by the side. The fool had been juggling, and as his routine went on, he grabbed more and more random objects from around the hall, never breaking rhythm. He had his batons to start, then an ale horn, a plate, a dagger, and finally a chuck of cheese. At the end of the routine, with split-second precision he took the dagger, dicing the cheese in half, it landing in two halves, one on Theon's plate and the other on Jeyne's. They had laughed and clapped. It felt good- to be amused.

Jeyne glanced over at him, wide-mouthed and chuckling. His hair was back down to his ears, not as thick or dark as it had been, but darker than white and slightly curling around the ends. She tucked it behind one of his ears, his hand landing on hers underneath the tables before he closed his mouth, suddenly self-conscious. His face reddened a face that had grown thicker and more colorful. His arms, still slender had regained a shape and muscle, although not what he had been. She dressed as the other serving women- brown shift with a white apron and grey bodice. Theon thought her the most beautiful of them- shining, forged through the fires of hell and back. Of course he noticed there were others- one with yellow hair and large breasts who scowled at him. He wasn't sure if he had known her in another life, maybe bedded her. It mattered little now.

That night, warmed by laughter and wine, they held hands back to Jeyne's room and it felt different. Like they were two lovers, not just two orphans of an ugly war. That night began as it usually did; Jeyne started undressing, hands going up to the back of her neck scarf, which was usually Theon's cue to turn around.

"Theon?" she asked, and he turned around to find her hands at the nape of her neck, tugging furiously.

"I think some of my hair got knotted in here…I can't get it untied."

He went to her, cursing his missing fingers. Indeed some of her hair had been woven into the knot.

"I think I am going to have to break it", he said to her. She nodded and he pulled, the hair finally snapping at the knot point. The laces came apart then, revealing the smooth skin of her pale shoulders.

"Can you get the rest of them?" she asked, a hint of something in her voice…was in flirtation?

Jeyne smiled as he gathered her hair over one shoulder and her laces fell open easily under his clumsy hands, her scarred back bared to him. The back of his hand traveled up her skin, soft as a whisper. She felt his lips at her neck, his breath hot on her ear.

"Jeyne…" he whispered huskily. His hands closed around her arms, and he inhaled deeply, the smells of her- fresh bread, wood fire and mint: smells of the kitchen. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of his lips on her flesh go right down to her stomach, and lower to between her legs. She had never known desire before- except watching Theon spar in the yard as a young lady and then at the tourney watching Ser Beric. Of course those had been of a giddy girl- she was a woman now.

Jeyne turned to face him, bodice loose around her neck. She tightened her hands into fists at his chest, a tear going down her face. He wiped it away, looking down at her big brown eyes.

"I am sorry", he said.

"I am happy- I can still feel- desire…I've only been wounded between my legs. And…" she looked at up at him- "love for someone. Don't ask me to explain that to you, because I cannot."

"You love…me?" Theon asked incredulously. She nodded solemnly.

"I said don't ask me to explain it." He backed off then, stunned out of his arousal.

"What?" Jeyne asked, her hands out towards him, her bodice slipping to her elbows, revealing her dark nipples, her full breasts. She seemed not to notice, but surprised as Theon turned and left the room. He didn't know why. He started his running.