Part 28; To Row Among Wolves.

What broke us

Does not define us.

Sansa

Soon after Reek fell to sleep in the cooling waters of the bathing tub, Sansa tugged a robe around herself. Headed out into the hall, in order to instruct the servants to prepare clean, bedding for them to sleep upon.

Before she headed off, to Jon's chambers.

She had urgent need to speak with him. Especially, with regard to everything she heard from Reek's own lips.

Foremost, she had need to seek out the Maester—but decided it could wait.

Jon was who she yearned to speak with, most.

Settled, in his chambers. Tired-eyes found purchase in the fire-flames. Subtle flicks of his wrist were made against Ghost's mane. Once more, Sansa entered without announcement. Eyeing the room, she found it vacant—aside from Jon himself.

"Where is Alysia?" Exhausted-vocals rang out.

Jon did not, so much as start.

"She is out in the courtyard I expect. She prefers time to clear her head, each evening." Dismissively, dark-eyes still firmly trained on flickering-flames.

Her hand lifted, absently wiping away any remaining trace of tears, from either cheek.

"How did you find, Theon?" Her skin crawled—but she had need to know. Everything.

Bloodshot, eyes landed on hers. From his worse-for-wear, appearance, Sansa could tell that he was not well. His mind was troubled—addled.

"Ghost tracked his scent." His direwolf lifted his shaggy-head. Whining sounds emerged from his rear-throat.

"And how do you know the men you found were responsible for what happened?" Heart-pounding in her throat—Sansa forced herself to ask the questions.

"Why have you come here, Sansa? Should you not be with your husband?" Avoidant words warred against her. Those same weathered-eyes pleaded with hers to let it alone.

She refused.

"He fell asleep, and I have need of you to move him to the bed, once our sheets have been stripped. But you have avoided the question, Brother." Levelly, her eyes bore within his.

Obstinately, challenging him.

"Because I found them. Stood over him, taunting him. Taking a piss on him. Does that suffice?"

Her stomach turned.

"Far from it. How do you know that they are the ones that put him there? Might they have merely come along to add to his misery?" Horrific words befell her lips—but she had to take advantage of every potential scenario.

Jon's eyes darkened. "Theon is not exactly popular in the North, after his rebellion against us, Sister. But I am certain they are indeed the men that put him there."

"How do you know?"

"Seven hells! I know because they admitted it! They spoke freely of the vile, disgusting things they did to that man! Do you want to hear, all of it, Sister?! They spoke in great detail!" Temperament wavering on disbelief, Jon continued, despite her momentary lapse of stunned, silence. "A young whore sought him out in the brothel, and he paid her coin for a night. She recognized him—drugged him—and brought the men up to view him. They raped him. Burned him. Sliced at him. Cut him. Pissed on him. What more do you want me to tell you? What more do you need know than that? Your husband betrayed you! Paid for a night with a whore! I must admit, I know not what a cock-less man would seek in a brothel—but he did seek." Curbed—harsh words, departed Jon's lips.

Tears came to Sansa's eyes. Theon sought out a brothel? Intentionally? Reek was unable to view all of the memories that pertained to the attack—and before. Was this why?

Theon betrayed their marital bond?

Sansa swallowed.

"Whatever Theon did, or did not do in a brothel, does not mean he deserved to be raped, Brother. Nor have any other atrocities rained down upon him!" Harshly she bit back the true words she yearned to speak. "Do you know where they burned him, Brother? Do you care?" Icy-tones surged through the air. Hung between them. "They used a fire poker, I suspect, and seared him right on his ass! His thighs! His chest! Can you imagine the pain he must be in? Can you imagine how much it hurt him to take such abuse?!"

Without words, Jon reached for his cup—settled on the table before him—downed a mouthful of the bitter liquid. Before he even deemed himself able to respond.

Finally, he spoke. "No. I cannot imagine."

"Nor can I, but he has survived it. Lived it. And do you know what's more? Reek is the personality that survived this, horror. Theon's true personality fled the moment the rape began."

Jon drew his eyebrows together. "Reek? You mean…Theon has other personalities?"

Had she never shared this information with him? She thought on it.

"Of course, he does. Ramsay made certain of it."

Jon shuddered.

"Reek was just a name that Ramsay gave to him, was it not?"

"A name that he tortured him until he took, you mean, Brother." Fiery-eyes scoured his.

"Gods, why did you insist upon marrying him, Sister? I warned you that the Lords would not take kindly. Apparently, even the villagers are displeased."

She rubbed her forehead. Pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I love him, Jon. I will love him until the day I die. And you will never understand. Just as you could not understand why I need to feel a warm, body alongside of me to feel safe."

His cheeks pinked. In remembrance of their shared nights pressed near to one another in warmth—and nudity.

"No, I do not understand why you have need of a naked male alongside of you. Other than the fact that our brother, corrupted you."

"Robb did not corrupt me! He was there for me, when I needed him! Always!" Sansa would defend Robb. Images of him scattered through her mind. How she missed him.

"You named your child after him! Your relationship was unhealthy! Obscene—Damaged! And your relationship with Theon is more of the same! You rut with him in the pens—upon the grounds—that you rut with him at all, is unnatural!"

Disbelief, shadowed blue-optics. Did he presume to call her unnatural? The needs of her husband—her own bodice—were unusual, but how could he judge? They were in love with one another. Wholly. Their affections knew no bounds—and it was never that way with Robb. Robb had been sweet—kind, loving. But also, her eldest brother. Her heart, and soul was not corrupted by him. Only strengthened by his teachings.

"H-How dare you! I loved Robb! Naturally. I loved him as a sister does her brother! As I love you, Jon. There was nothing more…He never touched me…Never kissed me as a man does his lover. He only held me. Comforted me. I named my son after Robb, because he resembles him. Not because I was in love with him! As for Theon, he finds pleasure differently than unmutilated men, but he is not unnatural, for it. He loves me. Why should our urges be seen as unnatural?"

"Because they are!" Rough-tones soured the air. She began to believe it was the copious amounts of ale that he drank, that made him this way.

"I believe you are unwell, Brother. You have drunk far too much. I will expect an apology in the morrow." Tully-eyes narrowed. Fiercely.

"You have not seen the things I have seen, Sister. Until you have, you cannot attest to what I say, and what the cause is."

Eyebrow quirked. Skin flustered—Sansa straightened her back. "Fine. Theon is my husband, and I will rut with him however I please. If that offends you, then I really do not give a fuck." Harsh tones bit back at him. Stood, still a few paces from where Jon sat, she permitted her risen-blood to even out.

"You shame yourself. And your name." Raspy words came out.

"I refuse to believe that, Brother. Father would wish for my happiness. And Theon provides me with that happiness. And no matter what he has done, I will never cease to love him. And after what he has gone through, I never wish to hear you speak about him this way, again!"

Silence pierced the chamber. Finally, he stood. Hovering near her.

"I apologize, Sister. I should not have been so blunt." Tones wavered. Thumbs grazed her cheeks.

Vaguely, she wondered just how sincere he might be. But decided against further challenges, tonight.

"I apologize as well; I should not have publicly rutted with my husband." Little sighs escaped, as she gathered Jon into her arms. "But I meant what I said about Robb. It was never unnatural."

Jon only nodded.

"Come, I will move your husband to his bed. And tomorrow we shall deal with those that put him in his tragic state." Reassuring tones came, and Sansa nodded her agreement.

Without further ado, she followed him out of his chambers. Back to her own.

Reek remained slumped in the confines of their bathing tub. Unconscious.

Jon hoisted him into his arms.

Whilst Sansa's tender-hands worked to dry his skin, before Jon planted him upon the silky-sheets of their bedlinens.

Once alone, Sansa stripped from her nightgown, and found purchase alongside her husband's slumbering form. A comforting arm coiled around his waist—as she too, found sleep.