A.N.: And now we are revised!

I do not own anything. But please, feel free to live some feedback. =)

Also, mind the language. It's Theon, afterall

A song of ice and snow

Chapter 10 - Theon

He had thrown himself back with a muffled sound, satisfied. It was a decent mattress, considering the whorehouse. There was a good burn in the back of his thighs by the movement of coupling. Fucking someone on all fours was always a pleasurable aside, especially if the company had a butt like Ros's.

"I bet it will take a while to sit comfortably after that." Theon said, one hand coming to rest behind his head. Beside him, Ros seemed to stretch like a cat in the sun.

"Hmmm. You would be impressed by my resistance." Her tone had gone slightly hoarse, no doubt from the fact that she had begun by giving him pleasure with her mouth. Her disposition, however, seemed intact: coming out of bed as if nothing had happened, crossing the short space of the room to the decrepit table that had been converted into a vanity and sitting on an equally decrepit bench.

"I guess the rumors were right then, for you to show up so suddenly after all this time," Ros continued as he ran his fingers through thick copper hair, which shone even in the dim light. "The royal entourage is gone."

Theon settled on the pillows. Her tone seemed too focused on the Southerners and had stung his pride—not that the lad would divulge it. He should have made her work harder, so she would know what the ironborn men were really capable of. He would do just that if he could lift his dick or if the time to return was not so close. Despite the relatively comfortable sheets, Theon needed a warmer room than that if he wanted to endure Ser Rodrik's training sessions.

Cracking his neck, he slipped out of bed, searching for his smallclothes. He was almost certain that he had thrown them at the foot of the mattress as they undressed, but he had apparently been wrong. Theon found them not far from Ros, so that as he dressed them he bent close to her.

"Did you miss my dick or my money?" the lad whispered in her ear. When he had finished tying the knots of his clothes, he put her arms over her, trapping them between the male torso and the dressing-table.

From the reflection made by the polished metal mirror it was possible to see Ros launch a lazy smile before turning to him.

"You're not the only lord I attend, you know," and then, looking back at her own image, "well, if it's a consolation, you are the only one from Winterfell."

The ironborn closed his eyes and grabbed the mass of hair from the back of her neck. From this distance the locks seemed darker, almost auburn. Or maybe it was just the shadows of the room. Whatever.

"I'm not from Winterfell." It had come out of his tongue like the snap of a whip. Theon was in Winterfell. It was different. "I am a Greyjoy of the Iron Islands, where my father was once a king," he grabbed the locks, curling them like a single rein. Ros squeaked, exposing her freckled white neck. "I should teach you a lesson so you do not forget," he whispered into her ear, nibbling on the nearby flesh. In fact, he should, but the lad's curiosity had been aroused. "Little Robbie cannot handle you?" he asked humorously. He could imagine Robb, red as a sweet pepper, trying to act decently with a bunch of whores as if they were proper ladies, as his lady mother had most likely taught him to behave. It would be a funny sight to behold.

Ros wasted no time and tried to shake his head away from him. Theon did not let go. One of her hands flew to the male's thigh, her nails digging into his flesh. It was almost enough that his cock gave a spasm of interest.

"Little Robbie must have appeared here twice at most since you brought him." Ros gave another bump, trying to free her hair. Theon clutched his fist even harder, pulling hard. She moaned. Good. "I may not have noticed. It's been busy days with so much new blood around here. Or it just is not a Stark thing."

She spoke as if she were entertaining a horde of lords in a castle instead of opening her legs to the first one to pay. Convinced harlot.

"A Stark thing, sure," Theon said in an ironic voice, nibbling at Ross's ear. "If you exclude the bastard."

She let out a small gasp and tried to pinch his leg harder.

"Aye, there was her. But no one saw Lord Stark succumbing to the pleasures of the flesh since he brought her in. And they say she's a perfect lady."

He snorted, arching his back in humor. The prostitute took advantage of the breach and shoved him hard, shaking her head to rid the curls of his hands. The male's body still blocked her escape, so she turned to him, sitting down on the table. The wood gave an unhappy grunt, but the furniture remained erect.

Theon tried to reach her, but Ros stopped him with a knee placed between his legs. Smiling like someone who killed two birds with one stone, she began to massage him over his breeches.

Ha. Talk about multiple talents.

"So?" Ros asked, rubbing the soft skin of her thigh against his covered groin. The area was still sensitive, but it was not all bad. "Is she?"

Theon grunted. First, Southern lords. Now, Snow.

He tried to move forward, for Ros to make a quick move that almost felt like a jab in the middle of the balls. He hissed in distress and jumped back. Giving up once and for all, he set about looking for the rest of his clothes. "Since when are bastards are ladies!? That one is a little thing who thinks she's better than anyone else, even when she smells like a horse a good deal of the time."

Pushing his head through his tunic, he can hear Ros talking.

"Anyway, living in the castle must be comfortable."

He turned half of his torso toward her, arching an eyebrow. What the hell did she mean by that!?

"Even too much, sometimes." If the tone of Theon came out a bit like a spit, Ros did not comment. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, humming.

"Jealous?"

Theon stopped putting on his belt, a wave of anger rising in his body as he realized what that was all about. She was teasing him.

"You know, you should use that mouth for more useful things, like sucking my cock."

She gave an insolent mewl, her arms raised, half to straighten her hair, half to stretch again. The strands were piled up behind their heads so that for a minute they seemed as short as a boy's.

"Again? This is going to be extra," she purred, puffing out her chest. Ros had an incredible pair of tits.

"I do not want to pay," he replied, tossing the open doublet over his shoulders.

Ros shrugged his arms, voice loud and clear as a bell, "then I will not suck you."

We'll see.

Theon turned quickly, and in three long strides he'd been close enough to circle Ros's waist with steady hands. When she made a feeble effort to push him away, he brought her closer to his chest.

"Well, didn't you say you were busy? I bet you got that cunt too full of gold from the south to care about the coin I give you."

"It's not just gold, you know. There are silk and linen. Beautiful scarves, small stones. One gave me even sugared fruit from Dorne—"

All things that would not worth anything in Pyke, where the price of everything was measured in iron. Theon continued to squeeze her, and Ros continued to blab about the South and his lords. It irritated him unprecedentedly.

"Shut up, will you?"

The smirk on Ros's smile continued, and he spun her around and tossed her on the mattress, lowering his pants again and entering her once again. However, the mocking sensation still left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue, making him move more vigorously until he was satisfied for a second time. After spilling his seed, he said nothing, just tossed the coins to the prostitute and taking one last look at her hair. It still glowed redder than it really was.

Outside, the muddy light of the morning was already visible on the horizon, which made him curse and step on the steed. Cassel rose before the roosters, no chance of not to find him in the yard and avoid a scolding and the promise of heavy training as punishment. Groaning, Theon grabbed the wineskin bound in the saddle and took two large glups. It was too early to be sober.

In fact, his first glimpse of the courtyard had been the old man and his white whiskers, voice echoing in reproach for a small eternity until the Theon was dismissed to stable his horse and stuff something in his belly before the training. As if Theon were so weak for alcohol to begin with.

Oh well. He'd been reprimanded, it would not get much worse if he changed his clothes and took some of the smell of sex off his body before obeying the orders. In addition, it would give the weak sun some time to warm up the courtyard. The nights and mornings at Winterfell always seemed to nullify all the heat in the world, no matter the suppose heating system in the castle.

The time spent to climb up the stairs, to wash himself with a rag soaked in cold water, to redress, and to descend back had been enough for the Great Hall not to be totally empty; Snow spoke quietly to the Rickon brat, seeming to negotiate for the child to eat something. The bastard had tied her dark hair in a braid over her shoulder, her neck a gentle slope while she addressed the child.

Theon approached. He might not have used the best vocabulary at the time, but he was really sincere with Robb; Snow was quite comely. Maybe too skinny compared to the strong iron women, but her breasts were perked and her hips broad, visible even beneath the gray surcoat shit she used to wear. Her lips, however, were the best feature, made to suck a man. Obviously, it would not be the same thing as marrying Sansa, who would be much more attuned to his social position, but would not be at all offended to marry the brunette, or better, to skip the marriage part and have her in his bed.

That is, if Snow were not so presumptuous and really thought she had to reproduce the Stark's sense of honor when she was nothing more than a recognized bastard. Seriously, she wasn't gaining anything by acting like a maiden.

As she was doing now, casting Theon a slanted look as he sat down and pulled a handful of salted herrings close.

- What's it?, he asked.

She twisted her nose, frowning. Ah, of course, we could not forget Lyarra's winning personality.

"You were in Wintertown."

"Yes, at the whorehouse. And it was amazing."

"Does Robb go to the whorehouse, too?" Rickon asked with his mouth full of stewed fruit. Probably berries or something, as the red juice stained his teeth, as if he was eating from the flesh of a prey. Little animal. But the question was valid, despite the exasperated face Lyarra had made.

"Of course—"

"Of course not, Rickon!", Interrupted Snow, her cheeks stained with rose pink. She forced a smile and resumed her tone. "Hey, if you're done, how about you visit Shaggy in the Godswood? I'll just get things ready and I'll find you."

There was no need for the girl to say another word, the boy rushed out the door, mouth full of false blood and all. As he passed the door, Snow turned to Theon, still flushed. "You did not have to say that!" she exclaimed sourly.

Theon took a sip of his dark ale, shrugging.

"Why? You coddle the little pest too much. If he's old enough to hear that talk of your father about sentences and swigging swords, what's so bad about to know how a man relieves himself?"

The bastard frowned even more, if that was possible.

"Watch out for the face, Snow. The gargoyle scowl is heavy today, you're going to get crow feet."

"There's plenty for you to look at instead of my crow feet, Theon." The ironborn smiled at the fact that she did not realize what she had just said. To provoke Lyarra was so easy at times.

"It's an invitation?" He raised his eyebrows subjectively.

The pink on her face turned crimson.

"It was not- It's not- Ugh!" The brunette groaned in displeasure and shook her head. "Shut up! That's not what I needed to talk to you about, you deviant!"

"I noticed, otherwise you would not have sent Rickon away. By the way, he's going to free that demon dog that's his—"

"He will not!"

"Ho, wait and see, Snow. Anyway, you. Still here. Go."

Lyarra paused, taking a peel of bread from her plate, crushing it between her fingers. There was a small pout forming on her lips, which made her look strangely like Robb. Trust grumpy frowns to denounce Stark blood.

"Spill out, Snow."

"It's Robb."

It was then that he had noticed the plate on Snow left, half eaten breakfast and ale to finish. Some days ago he saw Robb wandering up and down the fortress, not stopping for a second and ignoring everything, including Theon, supposedly his best friend. So proper, perfect little lordling. And Lady Stark still watching Bran's crippled, unmoving body.

"Aye." Theon traced his finger along the edge of the bar. "But until then, nothing new. You know how he's like".

"Yes, but it's not good. He cares too much—"

"That's rich, coming from you." But he could not help but agree with her a little. "But I know what you mean."

"I can get some accounting work. It is home economics, really, and Rickon sometimes ..."

"I will not take care of Rickon. Not even if you threated to beat me with a stick."

"You cannot say that! It's just a little boy!"

"I can and I am. I'm not a wet nurse. Your half-brother, your job, woman."

"I did not even say anything!"

"And I'm already stopping you right there. NO."

"Alright, alright," She rolled her eyes. "I did not even suggest anything," she whispered.

"Well, I'll make a suggestion, then." Theon settled more comfortably on the bench, analyzing critically the bottom of his mug. "I'll take Robb to a ride later."

Lyarra nodded, her expression softening.

"If it's near sunset, I can go with you."

"Oh, no."

And there she was, scowl in her face. Again.

"Why not? I ride better than you two together!"

Theon finally left his drink and picked up a nearby apple, biting it with gusto.

"First, I'm not going to deign to respond this idiosyncratic remark," he said between bites. "Second, because I'm going to take him to the whorehouse."

"THEON!"

"What? He is tenser than a bowstring! Fifteen minutes with someone sucking him and he comes back brand new."

The girl looked at him for a second, incredulous. And then she let out an exasperated sound, pressing a thumb and forefinger on the bridge of her nose.

"Why did I think asking for your help would do something good!?"

"Oh, come on. I'm being realistic here. He's seventeen and the most interaction he has with a woman is you, his sister. A man has needs," Theon countered, annoyed at having to explain something so obvious. He could have persuaded Robb to go too many times if the girl did not follow them like a shadow. It was not for nothing that Arya, the underfoot savage, did the same. "Seriously, Snow. Your mother was probably a whore herself, you should not be so prissy about it."

"My mother was not a whore!"

"Gods, have you guys already started ?!"

The color that burned Snow's cheeks was vanquished and she bit her lip, clearly apprehensive about which part of the dialogue had been heard. A stupid thought, frankly; one only had to see the redhead's posture to know that there was nothing on his face other than the usual exasperation to witness another of the arguments between the iron born and the bastard.

"I thought you were going to talk to Maester Luwin," Lyarra asked almost casually and it was Theon's turn to be exasperated as she avoided looking Robb in the eye. Smooth. At least Robb had chosen not to notice.

"I already have. And then I went to the courtyard. Ser Rodrik asked me to find out where Theon had gone." Robb looked extremely alert to someone early in the morning. Hell, Stark had probably gotten up with the chickens, washed, broken his fast, and done gods-know-how-many lordly duties until he went to meet them. Damn overachiever. "You coming too?" The boy turned to his half-sister.

Lyarra nodded, taking the bow and the quiver that stood beside her on the bench.

"I will. I'll practice a little and I thought Rickon could learn some standing."

And there we go, thought Theon. She's going to pluck someone's eye some day because she does not know her place.

"You should leave it to someone who knows how to shoot right."

He can feel Snow's piercing stare throwing daggers at him.

"I know how to! If I was allowed the same amount of training, I would be better than you, Theon."

"Aye, sure," and before he could complete his roll, Robb intervened.

"I think we'd better fetch Rickon, then. I saw him entering the Godswood behind Shaggydog and not exiting. Better to check on him, to see if he went, clothes, wolf and all, into one of the pools."

It seemed the right thing to say, because the brunette got up quickly. "I will. See you guys soon," and went out the door. After the master himself, Rickon's black monster seemed (slightly, very slightly) less aggressive with the bastard. Off with her.

Theon continued to chew his fruit, as if he had all the time in the world. However, if he felt the itch from a gray-eyed glare, now he definitely felt blue orbs burning holes on his cheekbones. Robb stared at him, one of the thick eyebrows raised as if to ask, "you needed to tease her?"

Theon felt slightly offended.

"It's not my fault. She started it."

Robb uttered small growl, rolling his eyes and turning toward the door.

"Let's go. You going rogue irritated Ser Rodrik. He's going to make us bleed," he grunted softly, still walking. Theon took one last bite of his apple and then followed the younger boy.

Now side by side, the he could see the gaunt appearance of the redhead's skin, as well as the thick dark marks beneath his eyes. Perfect lordling, taking care of the household and no doubt playing house with Lyarra and Rickon every night... On second thought, Theon could not remember the last time Robb had left the fortress... Snow might be right to worry afterall.

"You're a mess, and I was the one who was in the fooling around," Theon commented, sincerity permeating his tone for a change. "At least you slept?"

Robb pop his neck with a distressing CRACK, hissing with annoyance, his hand flying to where his throat met his shoulder, pressing the spot.

"The usual."

"The usual, my arse," the tirade came so quickly that Robb looked at him in surprise. Oh well. Since they were there, there was no reason to bluff. "Snow came to ask for my help, to see how peachy you are."

Robbcringed as if somene had slapped the back of his neck.

"She came?" Theon nodded. "Shit. It's just —a lot of things at once, I guess."

"I'll tell you what you need. Get out. Drink. Do something that is not inside the castle."

As they left the Great Hall, an icy gust of wind had swept through them, causing Theon to cross his arms to protect himself. Damn northern weather. Beside him, Robb's freckled cheeks had taken on a subtle rosy hue, despite the boy seeming not to notice the cold.

"Theon, I do not know ..." Robb began. Oh, Drowned God, give me patience with prude Starks.

"We go to the tavern, and then we come back." That simple. Theon explained quietly, purposely omitting that halfway along the way they would casually make a casual visit to Ros or some other friend of hers.

"Oh, well ... Do you think Lya—?"

"Be apart for five minutes you two, seven hells!" Theon exclaimed as they flanked the Sept. He could understand Robb and Lya glued by the hip when they were younger, but now it was really ridiculous. Between mother and sister, there seemed to be no hope for Robb. Unless- "Do you really want to take your Ten-and-seven-year-old sister, a maid," as far as we are told, he thought wickedly, "into a tavern full of drunkards?"

That made the redhead pause in the act. Bull's eye.

"Very well, you have a point. I need speak with my mother again tonight. Then we can go."

Ser Rodrik's cries burst into the air as they set foot on the courtyard. Theon, however, could not help but smile in victory.

"To speak with my mother" was the euphemism Robb was currently using to describe the act of trying to persuade Lady Catelyn to get away from her fallen son. With the delay, Theon really hoped the discussion had been more than a polite request to fall on ears deafened by grief.

Deciding at last to move things forward, he headed for the stables to prepare the horses. In the middle of the way, however, he had encountered Snow, a cloak of rabbit on her shoulders, eyes staring at the windows, just like one of the direwolves.

"Are you guarding them like a dog now? I thought the wolves were good for that."

Lyarra replied with a frown. "You just cannot leave it be, can you?" And headed for the library. Again. Honestly, I wonder what she always forgets there to have to go back all the time.

The girl had only taken a few steps before, as if conjured by magic, the gray-with-brown-spotted wolf pup appeared at her side, it's hairy head trailing the tips of her fingers. Its yellow eyes stared at Theon for a second before returning to his path, walking away from humans and skirting the tower of the Great Keep. In the distance, his imprisoned brothers howled like hauntings.

The lad forced himself not to raise his hand to lower down the hairs on the back of his neck. Those animals were wild beasts that should not be confused with pets. There was a limit to how much they would be taught tricks and how to defecate outdoors, and it would stop just when instinct demanded, their true natures come to the surface, whether it was ripping apart a sheep, a horse ... Or a person.

Lord Eddard's children, however, seemed oblivious to this fact—even Sansa who embraced her wolf as if she were no more than a lap dog. Even the bastard, that wasn't even a real Stark.

A slight feeling of uneasiness and dislocation settled in the iron-born stomach, which left him irritable. Stomping away, he turned and continued to the stables by another way. He did not feel like being near Lyarra at the time, and obviously the girl felt the same.

The stables were empty those days, and no one had yet been appointed to Master of the Horses. Shrugging, the young man separated two of the relatively new saddles and began to brace them to tie the palfrey and the destrier thatobb and he always wore. He paused his work when the smell of smoke began to coil in the air like snake.

"FIRE! FIRE! HELP!" Cries were heard from the west.

Theon dropped the saddles where they were, cursing all the swearing he could think. To the west it was only had the library to burn. And Snow in there, that stupid cunt.

Robb was going to be furious.

TBC