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Walking on hands

Theon has no tasks or duties this afternoon. So he goes out to the fields around the castle. And apparently he is not the only one who does that.

Vollys is lying in the grass, staring at the clouded sky.

Theon is about to turn on his heels and leave, but finally changes his mind and walks closer. He does not have to be afraid of Vollys. He cannot be such a coward.

"What are you doing?"

"The correct term is 'brooding', I think," he sighs.

Brooding. Just like him. Theon sits down beside the man, and Vollys sits up to look at him.

"You know, when I was in your age I could have walked around the whole island on my hands."

"No, you couldn't," Theon says skeptically.

"Well, perhaps not," he admits. "But I could walk on hands very long. And now? I cannot even hold myself. Although, I tried a lot."

"Patchface never did."

"Yes, and my body forgot it, my muscles… I have no muscles anymore."

Salty, cool breeze is rising and makes the grass dance around them.

"I will learn again," Vollys declares suddenly. It sounds almost like an oath. "All of it. Walking on hands. Doing cartwheels. You will see."

"I'm eager to see. But why?"

"Because this is who I am."

"A fool?"

Vollys shakes his head. "Not necessarily. Not anymore. But someone who can do these things."

Theon envies him because of that certainty.

"I don't know who I am," he confesses.

"I can tell you that," Vollys teases him. "You are Theon Greyjoy, heir of Pkye."

Theon's eyes drop down. "No, definitely not."

It has been a faint feeling before, a thought without form. This is the first occasion to try to put it into words.

"I don't belong among them, among the ironmen. I was born to be one, of course, but… I'm not like them." Not like the men in his memories and not like the men in Davos' stories. And Theon is not whom once he imagined himself to be. "I've been living far away from the Iron Islands for a long time. Too long. And you know what? I like it, not being a ward or a hostage or anything people call me. But the way they live. In the North. Here. The Drowned God knew that and denied me. I cannot return there. Nor do I want to. And I thought… I can be forced to stay away but cannot be sent back."

Vollys does not laugh at him. "What will you do then?"

"No one has asked me this for years." Including himself. Because he couldn't have decided for himself for years.

"No one has ever asked me this. Never in my life, at least not in the life I have memories of. However, you see, I knew the answer. Well, one answer."

"Maybe I'll sail around the world." The plan still sounds appealing. "Is that good enough?"

Vollys smiles a bit. "You can say 'maybe'. It is good enough."