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ATP
He must have become mature after all of his personal losses, and fighting for years in the war, being Lord Paramount.
Yes, though they still have to take King's Landing, Dany won. Unfortunataly for the Lannisters, the conflict between Cersei and Tywin also weakens them.
Those who wait
For Theon, walking through the halls and yards of Winterfell is like a travel in time.
"I thought I would never see you again," Robb notes during the feast of their arrival's evening. He looks at him – with such amazement – as if he cannot believe it even now.
"Sometimes I doubted I would ever see anything but Dragonstone in my life," Theon replies.
Returning here seemed impossible. Seeing Robb again seemed impossible. He was his friend once.
"You would have fought for me."
Both of them smile slightly at the memory.
It often came to Theon's mind in those first times. He tells Robb that.
"Was it very bad? On Dragonstone."
Theon thinks of Ser Axell and Patchface and Lady Selyse. He thinks of Davos and Vollys and Shireen.
"It was very… different."
They talked for hours that night. Robb invited him to spar sometime like in the old days of their childhood. And Theon was eager to accept it. But not this morning. He does not really like sword play, not anymore. That was the only thing Ser Axell, who generally ignored his existence altogether, was willing to teach Theon himself. Not to help him develop his skills but because he considered it a decent way to torture him.
No. It would not bring solace for him. It would not mean good distraction.
A bow and some arrows are what he needs.
An hour has passed, then another, the sun is slowly rising above Winterfell. It is only a pale glow through the clouds.
Arrow after arrow flies and hits the straw. He does not have to wonder what is happening far, far away in the south, he does not have to pay attention to what people in Winterfell speak about and speculate on.
He does not have to feel the awful helplessness.
His mind is empty and clear.
A direwolf's snort breaks his concentration.
Turning around he finds Sansa and Arya and their wolves in the courtyard. After they greet each other, Sansa, exchanging glances with her sister, steps closer with a sympathetic look on her face:
"I know this is not what you want to hear… But Jon is fine."
Theon frowns.
"How could you… Oh, the direwolves?"
Last night Dany sensed from hundreds of miles that Viserion was in danger. Maybe it is something similar with these northern beasts.
Sansa nods.
Jon being unharmed does not mean Dany and Shireen are unharmed as well, nor that things on Dragonstone were settled in their favor. Still it gives some of relief.
"Thank you," Theon says sincerely.
Arya narrows her eyes, studying him.
"I was told you had lived here once but I don't remember you."
Of course. She was… what… three years old then?
"I do remember both of you."
Arya's gaze wanders from him to the straw. Two arrows are there, Theon just gathered them a few minutes before and started firing again.
"I'm the best archer in Winterfell," she declares.
With a sudden idea, Theon shrugs.
"Probably just because I haven't been here."
Arya grins, exactly like he expected.
"But you're here now so… prove it."
Sansa's expression is not so enthusiastic but curious at least, when Arya turns to her for approval.
"Well… let's see," she says and her sister's grin widens.
Solace and distraction. For all of us.
