Part 24; To Find Truth.

Sometimes the truth will

do worse than set you free.

Theon

Sleep overcame his fragile, mind. Drearily, he handed off this little blanketed-bundle. Watched Sansa as she fed little Robb. All he could feel—was pride.

Pride—because Sansa accepted these fanatical parts of him. And now, to trust the spirit of an innocent babe, born from the seed of a monster?

It proved her goodness.

Heavy-eyed, Theon swayed on the edge of the furs.

Felt Reek, pull at the corners of his consciousness.

And gave in.

Reek's eyes tearfully settled on Sansa. Skin felt hot underneath the thick-material of his nightgown.

"M-My Lady?" Her ocean-eyes found his. Lips tugged into a smile.

"That you in there, Reek?"

Warmth tingled through his frame. He gave a subtle nod.

"I am t-tired." Droopy-eyes settled, then a yawn, escaped.

Finished feeding, the babe was retracted from her swollen-bosom. Rocked in her comforting embrace.

"I will put Little Robb back in his crib, then we shall sleep, how does that sound? Hm?" She cooed to him with such a honey-sweet voice. He felt loved.

Nodded.

He watched as she left her chambers. Returned in less than a minute. Crossed the rug-covered stone, only to stand before him.

With careful fingers, Sansa drew her nightgown over her head. Let the thick-material cascade to the rug. Startled, Reek gaped at her bare-chested—on display—bodice.

"Stand up, Reek." Cooing tones with loving expenditure, dainty-fingers grasped the hem of his gown. Yanked it over his head. On display, Reek stained-red in color.

"Come lay down." Sansa grasped his hand, only to guide him upon the bedsheets.

Settled. Reek laid a few inches from her. His cheeks still on fire.

"This is how a man, and wife should lay, Reek. You are my husband. I want to feel all of you, when we sleep." Explanations came, and Reek understood.

But felt exposed—Barren.

As though every strip of his soul was on display to her.

It was intensely, intimate. Overwhelming.

Though hardly enough for him to recede into his fractured mind. Instead, Reek buried his face in her neckline. Drank in her creamy-scent. Freshly, bathed, Reek's skin did not feel raw. Gross. Like it normally would.

He felt like a being. A human. Which was not how Ramsey described him to be. Reek was meant to be a hound. Built for it, actually.

Not a person.

Yet, Sansa longed for him to be a husband. A father. He could not grasp these concepts.

Not yet.

"T-Thank y-you for permitting me to b-bathe, M-My Lady." Soft, squeaked words of gratitude, befell, chapped-lips.

"You need not thank me, Reek. You may bathe whenever the need arises. You are not a prisoner anymore. Nor a slave. Just a man. My husband. A Lord."

Reek shuddered. How could he be a Lord?

She was mistaken. That was Theon.

He was not Theon.

"Not a L-Lord…J-Just R-Reek." Babbling with soft tones, Reek allowed his tired-eyes to flick closed.

"I love you, Reek." Sansa hummed, undeterred by his words.

He sighed. Content.

"L-Love you, t-too, M-My L-Lady."

With that—He plunged into darkness.

Theon

Sea-green eyes peaked open against the pale, backdrop of morning sun-streams. Light engulfed their chambers. Muscles rippled under, tired-skin.

And his head—ached.

Nuzzled into Sansa's side, Theon made a low grunt. Kissed the nape of her neck. Lust infused right into his system.

Burned him with need.

Without awaiting permission, he splayed her—still sleeping—bodice wide against, white-sheets—and rutted, hard, against soaked-folds.

Sansa jolted awake in his arms. Quick-wound arms, to encircle his middle. Thighs to hook to his hips. And he rutted—like an animal.

"Did you enjoy your time with my counterparts? Hm?"

Pink-lips widened, choking out gasps.

"T-Theon!" Sharp-nails dug into his spine. He nary, flinched.

His hand ruthlessly sought out her pink-bud. And squeezed. Her thighs quivered. Hips jolted.

Eyes rolled-back—and she came.

Recognition that her enlarged-breasts were leaking milk, registered. He lowered his chin—pulled the warm mixture into his belly in greedy-gulps. No let-up. Not until he felt his own release—surge directly up his spine.

Then—he calmed.

Frustration was apparent in his green-optics. He did not like to give-way control of this body.

His body—he did not trust, the others.

With good reason. Both had attempted to kill this body at one point.

"Sansa. I asked you a question." Teasing, sparks shone in his optics.

"You saw me, did you not? Whilst they were in control?" Daringly—she taunted him. "Are you jealous? Do you think I like them better?"

Shivers chilled up his spine.

"Do you?" Challengingly, he paired their eyes.

"You are all my husband. I love each of your personalities, the same." Soothing tones—akin to those she attained with Reek—emerged. His eyes narrowed.

"You are afraid of me." Wounded. Theon retracted from atop her. Planted his feet, firmly on the rug.

Sansa sat up. Soft-hand, warm to his shoulder. "Of course not. How absurd."

"I can see it. You have that same look as you held with Ramsey." Theon finally felt free. Unpredictable. Able to permit his muscles to move as they might have once. Ignored the inflicted agony his strained-muscles endured. It took quite a bit to ignore his afflictions.

But he tried.

She feigned to desire the real him.

Now she gained his 'real' self—She wanted no part in him.

"You do not trust me." Jaw-clenched. Theon gathered his tunic, breeches, smallclothes. Struggled into the fabric, with resentment.

He was this body's strength. Theon's strength.

He loved her, just as much. Needed her, perhaps more.

But she saw him as this sentient, unpredictable—monster. Holding back his other personalities from having her. The personalities she truly wanted. Had she forgotten that he was here—whilst they hid? If he were gone—the other personalities would crumble.

"I trust you with my life." Sansa pled from across the room.

"Not with your body, then? Your heart?" He felt stabs of ache in his gut.

"You surprised me. That is all. I…I fell asleep in Reek's arms. And woke in yours. It was a shock, that is all." Defensively—She spewed at him.

Theon finished dressing. Turned back to her.

"You love me least, if you love me at all." Theon deduced. "I will not pertain to wake you that way again, Sansa." Ice chipped his tone.

Tears welled in delicate-eyes. "I never meant—I did not mean…Theon…" She reached for him.

He recoiled.

"No one ever loved me, when I was this way. When I was whole. And this was the only personality I held. Even you could not love me, like this. I hurt you. And I will only hurt you again. But the other personalities are not strong enough to be out at all times, Sansa. So, I will steer clear, until they can manage it. I will return to you, when Reek, or Theon can emerge. But I will leave you in peace, otherwise." Brokenly, Theon turned, lifted his belt. Latched it around his hips. Sword tucked tight to his side.

"Theon. T-That is not what I meant—"

"I saw you with them. How you loved them. Touched them. You do not do that with me. Not now that you know I exist." Theon remembered how it was before.

How she loved him.

"You neglected me for a month when you found out. Let me believe you cared more for your son, than me. Left me aching. Tired. Alone. You would not have done such a horrendous thing to a being you cared for. No one would." How she must despise him. She could not even pretend—not even feign her love.

Sansa's head shook, "I t-told you, I did it so—"

"So, the others would return. I am aware, Sansa. I know. You wanted them bad enough to torture me to have them."

"I m-missed Theon…I had not seen him in so long. I feared him gone…I just…Theon. Please…I only wished to see them more."

He could not hear it. Would not.

Lies. It was all a pack of lies.

He stormed from their chambers—left her alone. Naked. With her thoughts.