Part 42; To Reflect and Grow.
There are some things
you can only learn
in a storm.
Reek
As Reek heard the words flow from Colton's lips it felt as though oceans of memories poured back into his heart and soul. The door in his mind unlocked and clarity came forth to enlighten him. His time on the Iron Islands belonged to a life that he barely remembered. And he usually tried to forget—because the truth of his past was too painful to remember in full.
But he did, now—remember.
He could remember the gentle touch of another woman against his skin. Lilliyan had been four years older than he was. He always remembered her being there—when he was little. When he tried to remember. He had not tried in so long.
It was as though pieces of his psyche had locked Lilliyan away elsewhere—somewhere safe and completely out of reach. Locked every kiss, touch, memory—safely behind a doorway in his mind that was bolted with locks and chains.
He was never meant to open that door and now—it was blown wide open.
Everything shifted and those nights returned to him. Promises.
So many promises.
And then he was stolen away—ripped from his homeland—and clear across Westeros. Far away from Lilliyan and their promises of love and marriage. She was far from view. And Sansa had been a bright, ever-beaming spot of light that made his time in Winterfell worthwhile.
He couldn't remember when those memories were taken from him. But he knew he still carried them when he stole Sansa's first kiss. When every muscle in his body screamed to be inside of her that day. Sprawled in the tall grass. Need and lust, had been guilt and shame.
He remembered a flicker of thought about Lilliyan. About Sansa's age. And about her brother, Robb. What would he think? And what would Lilliyan have thought of him?
Unable to keep his word to her. Unable to wed her the way he promised when he lost his virginity to her. He invented the memory that his first time was with the farmer's wife. She was his second woman—never his first.
Lilliyan was his first.
He felt Sansa's eyes on him as he accepted Colton. The need to know his son was overwhelming in the pit of his stomach. He had a son.
A living, breathing—son.
He was not angry with Theon for pushing him forward. For drawing him into the center of revelations that cracked open their world—that chained and latched door. Nothing else mattered—only Colton.
With Sansa gone, Yara too made her excuses. It was just them now—alone—in the courtyard.
Reek swallowed entirely uncertain where to begin. How could he even remotely know his son now?
"Your armor…You reside in my home? Have you pledged your sword to Yara?" He was full grown. A man. Not a boy. Nor a child, like Robb.
"I have pledged my sword to you, Father. Yara offered me a place in her guard until she could deliver me here. I want to reside with you."
Reek's heart jolted in his chest. "I never thought I would have a son…Not after…" A lump formed in his throat and a reflexive twitch jerked through his body.
His son was whole—and uncannily like looking in a mirror. Which petrified Reek for a moment. Ramsay made it so that he could never be a proper man. Reek never knew what it was like to be a proper human being. All he had were memories. False memories—there were not his own.
"Aunt Yara told me what Ramsay did to you…All he took away…" Reek flinched when Colton grazed his shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort but only made his stomach tear at itself more. Deeper and deeper until he thought he might be sick.
"I could never have been a proper husband to Lilliyan…" Reek's voice turned hollow.
"She died loving you. That would never have mattered to her…" Colton paused and peered toward the front entrance of the castle. "You did marry…Are you not a proper husband to Lady Sansa?"
Reek searched but found no malicious intent in his son's eyes. Only genuine interest. "I try to be. But…Things are different with Sansa…Ramsay did things…things to her, too…"
"She has a son. Aunt Yara mentioned he is Ramsay's."
Reek shivered and the muscle in his jaw twitched. "He is mine. He will never be Ramsay's son in anything other than creation."
Colton nodded in understanding. "I have heard many unkind things about you. But I would never believe them. I would never judge you for things that are out of your control."
Reek's shoulders visibly relaxed as the tension left his muscles. Though he could not help but wonder what specifically Colton had heard. What despicable rumors—what truths?
"All of the worst of the memories I carry, happened to me. Theon is the one that fell in love with Lilliyan…All of the rumors that spread around Winterfell…Around Westeros, are the tragedies that befell me. I share his memories, and he shares mine. But I suppose that your true father is Theon. Not me. So, I suppose what I am saying is that…Ramsay made what he wanted out of me. He took away everything that Theon was—and I am what remained of Theon when he broke. So, you may believe whatever you desire of me. I am no hero…nor am I a man. The things Ramsay did…" He blinked away the moisture that gathered in his eyes.
"You are one of Theon's personalities. You are Theon. Aunt Yara told me about them. I want to know my Father…I want to know you." He inched closer and Reek closed his eyes.
"The truth is, Ramsay stripped away so much of me. My life…my memories…by the time I emerged from the hell he created, there was nothing left of my memories of Lilliyan. I locked them away—you opened them back up. I let Theon lead…he makes most of the decisions. I only come out when he is stressed, or we make an agreement. There is no point in coming to know me." Reek admitted.
"I want to anyway." Colton insisted that stubborn look came into his eye. One he had seen so many times when he looked in the mirror. Stubbornness was in the Iron-Born blood.
It existed in every facet of who they were.
"Then I will not hinder you from knowing me. If you are to be staying for a while, then we must show you around. Introduce you to the castle." He offered a smile and guided his son toward the castle doors and out of the courtyard.
Theon
He felt a million miles away. Watching from blackness—listening—absorbing. Memories came so clear and concise. And it felt right to come back. He had to return.
He wanted to speak to his son—to Yara. And Sansa. He needed to right a wrong.
He owed it to Sansa and Colton.
Reek let him return. There was no fight—no war between them. Only ease as the light returned and shadows ebbed away.
The high table had always been a daunting place for Theon. Even sat alongside his wife—he felt out of place. Yara was to his right and Sansa was to his left. Jon and Alysia were at sat in the center—where the reigning Lord always resided with his lady.
The feast was well underway and Theon blinked a few moments to ease the memories back into his mind. No one noticed his transition. Not even Sansa. She appeared troubled—her sapphire-eyes preoccupied and her fork picked at the ham on her plate. Pushing a string of fat around uneasily.
Colton was sat alongside Sansa. Which may have been causing her unease—Theon couldn't tell.
He reached out and gripped the back of her hand. Brushed the skin with his thumb and she lowered her fork to her plate. Her eyes softening.
"I am sorry I left so abruptly. I should have stayed." A smile cracked at the corners of his lips. Sympathy and understanding wrote into his eyes.
"Theon…" Sansa realized in a whisper. Her own eyes brimming with un-spilled tears. Voices were bustling through the hall and the level of noise was able to drown out the level of discomfort felt by a few people in the room. Music was in full swing and it reminded Theon of the feasts held before everything fell to pieces. The pieces had finally been pieced back together.
"Forgive me?"
Her eyes clouded and finally, her tears fell. Her hand drew from his and she stood—hurrying from the hall. Colton's attention was grabbed by her sudden movement and he looked to Theon and then toward the fading form of Sansa as she fled.
"I have to go after her…" Theon offered as explanation and Colton nodded in agreement as Theon stood to hurry from the hall.
Sansa was midway down the vacant hallway, lit only by wall torches when he finally caught up to her and tugged her around to face him.
"Sansa…I will always be sorry…" He could guess what was upsetting her but he was uncertain which issue at hand brought this on. The appearance of a child he fathered? Or her own feelings regarding the entire situation?
"Theon…You have nothing to be sorry for. I cannot blame you for this…for any of it. You had a life before you came to Winterfell. You had love…before you came here. I don't…I could never blame you for that…I just…I don't understand why you kept it all secret…You know everything about me. You have kissed every part of my body. Told me every intimate thing about yourself. Why not this? Why not about Lilliyan?" It poured out of her like a fountain and sobs shook her shoulders.
"I didn't remember Lilliyan…everything that happened to me before was like another life. Another world…It never occurred to me that those memories even existed." And it was true. All of it.
Sansa's face scrunched up with tears and she sobbed into her hands. "She gave you a baby, Theon…she gave you a son…I can never give you that…I can never have that with you…. No matter how I might wish for it."
His face fell and his skin crawled. It was his fault—his fault for being captured by Ramsay. For being cut to pieces. He despised himself. He hated that he could never remedy what was lost to him. To them.
"I have a son. I have Robb. You gave me, Robb." He breathed into her hair and she fell into his arms. Her chin nestled against his chest as more sobs wracked through her frame.
"He thinks you won't love him now…He thinks you won't want him…"
Theon's heart stabbed with ache. "That's not true. I love him. He's ours…" Theon kissed the top of her head. Brushed his lips firm over the skin of her forehead and wound his hand into her strands of hair.
"Colton looks like you…just like you…Robb never will…I want a baby that looks like you…why can't we have that? Why?" She was in hysterics which only drove him to tears. His arms still wound around her frame and his mind wandered.
"What would you have me do? I would give you anything…I would give you a child if I could. I would—"
Her lips sought his. Wet, needful kisses were stolen between them and he all but moaned into her mouth when her hand traveled down to grip him through his breeches. When the kiss broke apart his lips were wet and his need caused his skin to crawl with the proof of it. He always hated this sensation. This need. It reminded him of a time when he worked the way all other men did. When he was whole. He twanged with self-hatred.
"He has your eyes…your jaw…your smile. I never thought I would ever see that smile…you never smile that way anymore…" Sobs and sniffles broke through the air between every word but he knew what she meant.
He used to love his life. He used to love to smile—and joke. He used to truly love nothing and no one…because of Lilliyan—and then Sansa. Because he couldn't—so he hid behind a smile and unkind words. He remembered that smile.
"S-Sansa…"
Her hands were suddenly everywhere. Teasing and kneading all over his frame. Through his clothes until he was on fire. Until he burned with the need from it. And he was ashamed to admit there would be no restraint once she made her intentions clear.
They were suddenly akin to the people they were prior to his comatose state. Needful and greedy. Impulsive and most of all—careless.
However, they were too far from their chambers for him to make it there—not when she taunted and teased him in this manner. Not when hot kisses bit his flesh and burned his mind. And her dainty hand clutched his swollen nub until he pulsed against her palm. Even through layers of cloth he could feel her touch—the heat—her graze.
Even still—he tried to fight it. The way she made him feel—how out of control he was becoming.
"We can't…Sansa…Gods…" He couldn't even remember when he pushed her against the wall—but he must have. Some point between the sloppy, heated kisses and her hand clutching his reactive need.
"I don't care who sees…let them…see…" She kissed his earlobe and bit with her teeth in light succession. And he grunted in response—and remembered the hateful glint in Jon's eye from those five years ago—when they last were caught in a compromising position.
He knew why she wanted this—why she needed him here—now—and he let it happen. Because he loved her. Unequivocally. He would always love her. He could feel the wounds opened in her soul—and he shared them. They were eternally linked by those wounds. He could never offer her what she truly desired—instead, he gave her what he could.
Already, he shook with violent tremors and need pooled low in his pelvis. He surged forward and connected their lips. Drew her legs up and around his waist and found her warm heat underneath her gown. He recognized her lack of underthings and made a noise in his throat in recognition. He felt her subtle smile spread against his lips.
And he lost control.
Her hands helped the inevitable conclusion along by unlacing the stays on his breeches, freeing him to the open air. And he held her pinned against the wall as he gave way to rutting against her. Friction surged from his groin up his spine and sensitized his entire body in the process.
He fought for dominance with her lips and ignored the hatred for himself that sank skin deep. Sansa was held back by him—and she always would be. With the thought wiped clean from his mind—his hand met the wall to steady himself and his moans vibrated in his throat.
He wanted to come apart—and he felt her want too. Deeply burrowed along with her aggravations and scars. He felt the need to apologize—it came at him as he felt his release fast approach.
"I'm sorry, Sansa." He would say it a hundred times—but it would never resolve what plagued her.
And her nails dug deep into his shoulder-blades until he felt blood draw as she pierced skin. And a choked sob fell, which he quickly swallowed with more kisses.
They failed to hear—both of them had—but when his eyes peeked open, he could see the flushed cheeks and sea-green eyes piercing him in the darkness. Colton had caught them—found them—and Theon froze a moment. Bewilderment came first—and then he remembered they were in the hall—anyone could have seen.
And mortification swam through his veins. Sansa's nails unbound from his shoulders and lowered weakly as her eyes registered Colton's through her tears. She made no move to be embarrassed, only returned his stare with quiet resolve.
They had been caught so many times. What did it matter this time?
He could almost see it in her eyes as he looked from his wife to his son.
Colton had the good grace to lower his eyes and appear embarrassed. Though Theon had seen the glimmer in his eye just before he realized he was caught watching them. He had been spying on their moment for longer than he would have them believe. Theon knew that look well—he used to spy when he was younger—curious.
He was ashamed—he knew better than to lose control in the hallway. Bedding Sansa here was no better than doing so in his old hound pen. There was so much shame involved.
"Enjoy the show?" It was Sansa who spoke, a dryness in her voice. Her eyes were unreadable which only caused Colton to further attempt to humble himself.
"I…I wasn't—"
"What…? Spying?" Sansa gracefully wiggled away from the wall and Theon came to himself and lowered her to her feet.
He could feel Colton's eyes on him as he hurried to close his breeches in order to hide away his shame.
Sansa smoothed the edges of her dress until the wrinkled fabric flattened and straightened in a flowing arc to the ground. Colton cheeks were still aflame and he suddenly appeared unable to decipher where he should look, decidedly planting his eyes downward.
"You were though. And why should you not? You are curious, aren't you? Everyone is." Sansa wiped her eyes with both hands. Streaks of tears had dried on her face and in the dim light of the wall torches she was visibly splotchy in color. Theon was silent. So was Colton.
"They want to see how my husband fucks me without a cock. Did you like the show? It must be nice to be perfect down there. To be able to fuck girls properly." Theon's back went rigid and his eyes widened. Colton too appeared flabbergasted and couldn't find words to respond.
But Sansa wasn't finished yet—and Theon realized that the revelations of today had finally been a straw too far for Sansa to handle. One person could only take so much weight before they inevitably bent and broke under the pressure—Theon knew that feeling; he would always know what that felt like.
"I swear I didn't—"
"Why even bother denying it? You saw us leave and you followed so you could watch. No one else is lurking out in the shadows, just you." Theon saw her eyes soften a few tears roll down her cheeks. She blinked in an attempt to will them away but it did little good to prevent them. She wiped her cheeks again and Theon heard her sniffle. "And you came here…to Winterfell…our home…my home…just to make everything hurt worse…" Her eyes fell and Theon could hear her breath shake.
And her voice softened to just a whisper. "With that smile…and hair…his eyes…" Sansa choked on a sob.
"I'm sorry…I never meant…I didn't mean to hurt you—either of you…I would never have come had I known…I just...I'm sorry…" Colton was brought to tears by the broken display before him. And appeared uncertain of how to handle what his eyes were seeing.
Any traces of the smile on his face had been wiped clean. All Theon could make out were troubled lines across his forehead and a helpless expression in his eyes. Sansa leaned forward and drew Colton into her arms—shocking both Colton and Theon in turn. Colton let his arms hold her in soundless astonishment.
And Theon, too, only looked on in stunned silence, made no move to close in on them.
Colton's fingers wound into Sansa's hair out of instinct and his other made to rub her back, along her spine. "I will leave…I should have known better…" Colton's voice shook with tearful tremors and he sought comfort in Sansa's neckline as she sobbed into his chest.
Theon watched in bewilderment for a long time. Unable to move, petrified. He wanted to reach out and draw her into his own arms—but he didn't want to break her any more than she already was. She appeared so fragile—why had he not noticed just how fragile she had become these past five years? She was no longer the strong, unbreakable woman that pieced him back together.
"S-Stay." Sansa finally pulled herself together enough to draw her head up to look into Colton's eyes. She must have seen confusion and sadness reflected back at her. Theon could hardly tell in the dim light.
"It's not your fault…how can it be?" She wiped her own tears again in demure resolve. "You did not ask to be born. You lost your, Mother…I was terribly unkind…and unfair…and cruel." Sansa seemed to gather her strength and steadied herself on her feet. "Forgive me…"
She turned from Colton without awaiting his answer. Theon finally reached out to grasp at her waist and she leaned against him. All playfulness had dulled in her. And he saw the drained exhaustion written all over her face.
Theon kissed the side of her head and grazed her shoulder and rubbed over her spine. He was most concerned with guiding her back to their chambers—that was the foremost thought in his mind.
"I will speak with you tomorrow, Colton." Theon gave a nod toward his son whom was stood still apparently uncertain about what to say in response to Sansa. Gratefully, he nodded his head in turn and hurried back toward the feast.
They walked in silence until they were safely inside of their chambers and Sansa finally broke free of his grip, only to head toward her wardrobe, beginning to strip away her dress.
Theon wanted to repeat everything he said to her—wanted to tell her that he would do anything to make her smile—make her feel safe. But he knew those words were merely words—hardly a comfort to her. And he stood silent, instead.
Undressed, Sansa crossed the room and climbed under the furs that lined their bed. Her back turned to him. For a long moment he stood in silence—waiting—watching. Nothing in this moment felt natural—everything felt messy.
"Do you remember when you first arrived at Winterfell?" Her voice stunned him momentarily and he made to sit on the edge of the bed.
"I remember. You were only three then…" His memory served well enough.
She gave a nod. "I remember you were a stranger to me and I did not fully understand why you would come to live with us, but I used to follow you around. Robb, too."
He could remember the little slip of a red-haired toddler running after them. Insisting she was old enough to keep up. "You did." He agreed. One of his hands brushed down the back of her silky hair and he felt her shiver.
"I caught you crying once. In one of the rooms. I remember that I asked you why you were crying…I didn't understand why you were not happy in Winterfell. You grew cross with me for catching you. I remember you pushed me and told me to mind my own business. That you hated me. I remember crying on Father's lap. I remember him scolding you for hitting me."
As she spoke the memory returned to his mind, taking shape and growing clearer in his mind's eye. He remembered how awful he felt for hurting her. The stab of regret, because she was just a little girl. And he could have seriously wounded her. He also remembered all of the aggravation from being away from the home he had always known. Recalled missing his dead brothers—his sister—Lillian…
He blinked and shoved the thought from his mind.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Sansa finally turned to face him; her eyes unreadable.
"Because I understand, Theon. How much, Lillian meant to you. Even if you blocked her out—even if you couldn't remember her. She meant something to you. Something deeper than you are willing to admit. And I do not blame you. I just want you to remember how much you cared for her. And for your home on the Iron islands. It is okay to let those memories back in, Theon."
"They hurt you." Theon whispered. His gut churned in illness. "And I never want to hurt you, Sansa."
"I have been selfish with you, Theon. I have always been selfish when it comes to you. And I do not want to be that anymore." Tears swam in her eyes; her hands came up to graze his cheeks and he sank into the gentle touch. "You loved someone else…there is no blame in that, Theon. You love the home you were born in, as do I."
"Yes, I love the Iron Islands, but I love Winterfell, too. This is my home, too." He did not have to think about it, the answer came naturally. His home was here—with her. Wherever Sansa was—that was home.
"I want you to remember your life, the way it is. Not the way you believe I want you to remember it." She paused and took a breath. "I will get used to your son. To Colton. It will take me a bit of time, but I promise. I will get used to him. It is just…it will be hard." She faltered. "You made such a handsome boy with her…" Theon's heart swelled and beat.
"You made a handsome boy of your own, Sansa." He attempted to remedy the situation the only way he knew how. "And I love our little boy."
"I know." She gave him a saddened look. "Of course, I know that."
He gave a nod and a hint of a smile.
"Come lay down with me. I just want to be held." She pleaded with her eyes and Theon made to strip off all of his clothes. Once bare, he returned to their bed and curled up alongside of her. He doubted he would ever grow used to the way it felt to lay skin to skin with her. It was an all-encompassing warmth that made him feel safe and secure. He sometimes wondered if she felt the same.
"Not everything can heal." Her voice rose in octave and he peeled his eyes open. "I think I have finally worked that out. Some things will just never mend. No matter how we might wish they could." Her jaw set in a complex line and his stomach flipped.
"No, everything cannot always heal. But I have, Sansa. Reek has." He pondered her words for a moment. "I suppose it depends on what kind of healing you mean. But you mended me inside, Sansa. And that is the part that broke worst."
"I watched you for so long, Theon. Laying in this bed—every day for five years. I hoped you would live, but was told you would likely never wake up, again. So, I became like a ghost. Watching those around me but being unable to interact with them—and feel moments like they felt them." Slow patterns were drawn on the skin of his chest. Dipped and traced with one of her absently fidgeting fingers. "You came back and I thought it would heal me to see you again—to be with you again. But I still feel like that ghost, trapped between time passing and time standing still. Waiting with baited breath to either join you on the other side or for you to join me back here—on this side. I think I made myself numb for so long that I no longer know how to be the girl I was before. And I want to be. I want to be strong and perfect for you. I want to forget what it was like when I broke your protector's personality. When I broke and destroyed you…But I cannot forget. And I suppose in the back of my mind I always knew you had another life before you came to Winterfell…but seeing that you had another life… A woman that loved you just as much as I do… I do not know how to feel about it." She took a long deep breath. "But I do want to love your son the way you love mine. If you can love a child of Ramsay, I can love a child from your homeland. I do not want to be like my mother. The way she used to look at Jon…"
"You are not your mother." Theon remembered the coldness of Lady Catelyn. He could still see her settled on a chair in her bedchambers running a thread through one of the children's torn garments. He could still remember how she would chastise him when he played too roughly with her own son—Robb. She feared he would hurt him—because he was Iron-Born. Built rougher around the edges. He blinked away the memories. "I promise, Sansa. You will never be Lady Catelyn."
Her mouth tugged into a thin smile. "I already am, though."
"You have your father's qualities, Sansa. You are kind, compassionate, gentle…" Brief glimpses of Lord Eddard broke through and flooded his mind. He had better memories of him. Ned took him hunting—just the two of them—when he first arrived. He remembered his refusal to leave his chambers once in Winterfell, and Ned had discovered his knack for hunting with a bow and arrow. He had one made special and took him out hunting as a way to make him feel more at home in Winterfell.
Sansa's eyebrows drew together and she said nothing for a long while. "I love you, Theon."
He brushed his nose against hers playfully. "I love you, Sansa."
She went quiet after that and he was unable to tell what she was thinking, but she appeared a million miles away. So, he held her tight and nuzzled into the expanse of her hair and faded with her. He did not have to know what she was thinking to enjoy her company. He longed to provide her comfort after all they went through—and he hoped he was.
Before long sleep consumed him and his breathing leveled out with hers as dreams came to call.