Part 43; To Connect Through Others

Nothing ever comes

ahead of its time,

and nothing ever happened

that did not need to happen.

Theon

When dawn broke through the curtains and birds sang—Theon wrestled from underneath his thronged crown of dreams. Swaying in-between reality and another world. Sometime in the night Little Robb had wedged himself between them and was nuzzled safe and warm against his chest.

Even in his inept dreams he clung hold of Theon's waist with his bone-thin arm. Theon sighed in contentment and kissed the top of his son's head.

Robb was akin to light. Theon knew without a moment of thought about it, that he needed to find a way to spend time with Robb alone. Reassure him that he would never be replaced. No matter who came into his life—Robb would always be his son.

Carefully, so as not to awaken either of them, Theon shifted toward the edge of the mattress and climbed out of bed. Morning tugs from his bladder told him he needed to relieve himself—and he did so in the chamber pot beneath the bed. He long since ceased to care if his family saw him.

Sansa and Robb knew everything about him—he no longer felt shame in front of them for his shortcomings.

He dressed in record-time and headed down to the kitchens. Deciding to take a moment for himself to ponder exactly what his next move should rightly be. He did not desire to hurt Sansa anymore than he already had. And at the same time, he also yearned to do right by both of his sons. He owed it to Lilliyan to look after their son. To be there for him when he hadn't been there for her.

The kitchens were lined with uneaten food from the feast that had yet to be discarded. It was laid in piles all over the counters and Theon could smell the traces of its scent in the air. One of the kitchen wenches caught his eye and immediately lowered them.

"We should give the remaining food to the peasants, should we not?" Theon proposed to her and she halted in her steps. As though stunned that he actually addressed her and then peered around at all the food (that was currently going to waste) as though she hadn't noticed its existence before.

"I believe that is up to Lord Jon…" Her voice trembled and was quiet—like a mouse's.

"I do not believe Lord Jon wishes the food to go to waste. I believe he would agree, don't you?" He prompted causing the female to glance hastily around once more.

"Yes…Of course…" She set to work collecting dishes and setting about the task of preparing the food to be taken to the people. Meanwhile, Theon began to carve out his own breakfast with a knife. Sawing out a piece of bread from a loaf in the corner. Memories of bringing Ramsay his food came upon him suddenly and his hand reflexively shook—and he stilled.

"You have grown adept at frightening the staff I see. Haven't you, Little Brother?" Yara's amused voice sounded from behind him and he startled releasing the knife it clattered to the ground near his feet.

He spun around to face her and swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "I…Well I did not mean to…I just—"

"Do not go into a panic on me. The last thing either of us need is for Sansa to go postal on me when your mind breaks again." She laughed and stole the piece of bread he had been slicing off the counter. Tearing off a piece she chewed it and smiled at him.

He attempted to smile back, though the bitter memory of Ramsay was still fresh in his mind.

"Sorry. You just startled me is all." Theon admitted. He had not been aware she was in the vicinity—How long had she been watching him?

"You never used to be so easy to startle. We need to reignite the Iron in your blood."

He ignored her comment for a moment. Instead, focused on retrieving the knife from the ground in order to slice himself off another piece of bread. He began to tear off little pieces and pop them in his mouth. It was easier to eat littler pieces that he did not have to chew. His teeth would ache otherwise.

"I already struggle to fit in here—I do not need to provide them with more of a reason to dislike me." Theon decided after a moment. Most of them probably would never forget the actions he took in order to seize this castle. Even though no one present had witnessed his actions first hand they all knew what he had done, regardless. And were leery of him.

"So then don't." Her shoulders gave a loose shrug; brown eyes flashed mysteriously. "Fit in, that is. Fuck them. You know who you are, Theon. You can be that man again. If that is what you want."

He thought about the man he was before. The man that betrayed the family he cared deeply in his heart for—the man who cowardly burned his own kin's body unrecognizable to frighten those at Winterfell into submission. The more he thought about it—the less he wanted to return to the man he was previously.

"I hurt a lot of people, Yara. People that did not deserve it. And I never want to return to being that kind of man." He broke off another piece of bread and chewed it cautiously.

"We're Iron-Born brother. We take what we need. Fuck what anyone else thinks or feels about what we have done. You have lost sight of that." She hesitated as though mulling over a thought. "But I suppose you have a family now. Obligations. Everything shifts when you have family."

"It has…shifted." He admitted, hastily. He felt suddenly uncomfortable discussing the decisions he has made—and the paths he has taken with her. After all, he still believed in his heart that Yara could potentially turn her back on him if he proved too different from the man, she believed he should still be.

"Sansa is good for you. She puts your mind right when you need her to." Yara continued and Theon agreed with a nod. "I have something to tell you, Little Brother, though after yesterday I did not wish to spring another bit of information upon you." Her eyes had turned serious and he furrowed his brow and prepared himself.

He doubted Reek would be so briskly forced out on a moment's notice again—but there were never any guarantees.

"I am with child, Baby Brother." With her revelation came shock—though not horror. He felt the jolt up his spine as his mind attempted to ferret this new information into place. And his eyes shifted and lingered (perhaps too long) on her lower abdomen. He could not tell if there was a bump protruding yet—she was always a bit pudgy even as a child.

His jaw would have dropped, had he not clenched the muscle tightly down. He wanted to feel joy at the potential of being an Uncle—but just as suddenly he wondered about Sansa. Would this upset her more?

"Fuck. Did you switch personalities again? I should not have told you, should I?" Theon made a split-second decision to surge forward and draw her into his arms. He wanted to be overjoyed. To be content and happy with this news. And he was so disoriented by it—he did not know what to say.

Yara returned his embrace though seemed momentarily unsure about her decision when he retracted. "I want to know things about you. You are my blood." He found the words and swallowed the lump of thickness in his throat.

"Good. I thought for a moment I was going to have to get Sansa." Theon's gut churned anew.

"I do not know if Sansa can handle this news…right now…" He could still hear the tremor in Sansa's voice as she recalled that they could never have children of their own. "She is fragile." Theon was too ashamed to admit the reason why to Yara.

She appeared to surmise the reason for herself without need of an explanation. Though rare, Theon had witnessed brief glimpses of a softer side in Yara. She chose her moments sensibly. "What Ramsay did to you…I cannot begin to imagine how that must feel, Little Brother." Her firm grip met with his shoulder and she gave a slight squeeze that offered trace amounts of comfort.

"But I will say this much. You are every bit a man, as any other."

Theon could hear the rush of blood pumping through his ears. Tears welled in his eyes but he refused to have them fall. "I…I'm not…"

"Hear me, Brother. Ramsay could never take away the man you were born to be. He did not change the loving, caring little boy I grew up with. You are still in there. Your physical parts are not what matters—they never were." Her tone became firm and adamant. These words were the kindest he ever heard her speak.

"I hear you." Cracks in his memory continued to inhibit him from experiencing the world as he used to. Though in his heart he knew who he was. But he was still at a loss on how to make Sansa feel better about their situation. And in a moment of genuine weakness, Theon decided he no longer wished to bear the burden alone—he yearned to speak to Yara about his troubles. "Sansa is devastated by the fact that we can never have babies of our own. I am, too…I just…I wish I could fix it. I know that I cannot—I wish I could." His voice was small and hollow. Truth hurt deeper than silence.

Every word stabbed him like the blade of a knife. As though Ramsay were still here—still capable of searing him into pieces. Perhaps that was worst of all. Ramsay still had a firm latch on him. Even from beyond the grave. Sometimes, Theon swore he could hear Ramsay's whispers. Feel his ghost trail alongside him. A constant reminder of the damning marks of evidence he left on his skin and in his mind.

Yara's eyes deepened with emotion. He could see the flecks of sorrow in them. She did not have to say anything for him to see. To know she felt his wounds as if they were her own. In this one moment he connected with her. He did not think it was possible to cut through her tough exterior to bone—but he found the pull of her heart.

"Do you believe she can move past it, somehow?" Yara cast aside the stolen bit of bread, clearly robbed of her hunger.

"Sansa is strong. She has survived worse, I suppose. But with the appearance of Colton…" It was nearly as though the universe mocked them by sending him a bastard child with uncannily familiar characteristics. It felt like an experience handed out by Ramsay himself. Meant to maim and torture—but of course; it wasn't.

Just a fluke of the universe. Perhaps of the seven Gods.

Was it the drowned God that sought to punish him? For his resistance against returning to his homeland? To the sea? He buried the thought.

"Give her time, Theon. Time is all you can grant her."

He could sense it would be more complex than time given—but the burden was less now that he had shared it with his sister. And he suddenly found a question pop into his mind.

"Who fathered your baby?" He could honestly admit that it had slipped his mind that Yara did not have a husband to speak of. She was a sole Lady that oversaw their home. Although from the manner in which they first reunited he found that she had no qualms with sexual relations. Though that was not uncommon among his people; most Iron-Born didn't.

Yara gave a lighter laugh. She appeared surprised by his sudden turn of the conversation back toward her. "It took you longer than I thought it might to ask me that, Little Brother."

In the initial shock of learning about her pregnancy it became less of a question (for him anyway) of where the child came from than the shock of being told he was going to be an uncle.

"A man I deem most loyal and deserving to be my husband. He has fought at my side a great many years and I seek counsel from him when I need guidance. He is not a Lord." Her eyes connected with his as though daring him to challenge her on that account, but Theon was the last possible person that could (or should) ever deem to pass judgement on the complexity of love, and he offered her no disapproval in his gaze. "Ser Elrin is the father."

Theon scoured his memories and found a memorable young lad. Short and bulky with harrowing eyes and a temperament not unlike Yara's own. And he suddenly understood how it was she came to love him. "The kitchen boy?" He recalled his placement in their household had always been in the kitchens. Sometimes he would come out to play with them in the courtyard.

"He is a knight, now." Yara defended edgily.

Theon's face widened into a smile. "I am not unhappy with your choice, Yara." He was amused that she believed even for a second that he would disapprove of who she pledged to marry. "I am not like Father. Do you really believe I would judge you because you fell in love with a man that is not noble by birth?" Further amusement lit his eyes and he saw her eyebrows furrow.

"I do not know you well anymore, Theon. Not like I did, once." He ached for the years that were lost to him when he was ripped from the Iron Islands. But his heart bled for the years he spent with Sansa. And he could not wish those years changed.

"You know me well enough." He offered and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "And I am proud of you."

She appeared overwhelmed for a moment. Emotion crossed her features and settled into her eyes. "If you go fucking soft on me, I will have to disown you, Little Brother." She uttered half-heartedly.

"I believe it is you that has gone soft." He leaned back against the counter and sighed, letting the ripples in his shoulders relax for the first time in days.

"Maybe so. I told you in part because I desire for you to know that I understand that shift, Little Brother. The shift in what is important. In values."

Theon felt a knot bunch in his throat and knew in his heart that he had nothing to fear from Yara in terms of judgement. "You do?"

"I would break any law to protect Ser Elwin and my child. Any law, Theon." Her eyes turned meaningful and he nodded.

"Then you understand why I cannot be the man Father expected me to be. I can never be that man again." Theon admitted the truth to her. He would not jeopardize his life with Sansa in order to transfer back into the personality he outwardly projected prior to his capture by Ramsay. He was haunted by those memories—by his own actions—and always would remain so.

"I understand. Of course, I understand."

Sun glinted on the iron-bars of the nearby gate in the courtyard. Theon's legs had mindlessly carried him outside for a stroll in the warm spring breeze. Summer would kick in soon enough and if the Gods were good the summer would be lengthy and prosperous.

Far kinder than the previous Winter filled with dread and horror.

Before he could understand precisely how it came to be, he stepped clear through the gate, where the old hound pens still stood. Hay and old earthy scents clamored through the air and engulfed his senses in entirety. He had memorized the scent in this small space.

He could feel Reek at the forefront of his mind, pressing from the blackness as the familiar scent comforted him. Reek's sole place of comfort had been his hound pen. Theon's legs instinctively carried him to the final stall where his body had spent so much time—Curled unnaturally into the corner and willing time to fade away.

He had no idea just how long he stood in quiet comfort just outside the small, dank cell.

It was the sound of a voice that startled him from his thoughts.

"What are you doing in here?" Colton had come to a halt right alongside of him; but it was not until he actually spoke that Theon realized he was even there in the first place.

"I…Oh…I come to think sometimes." Sudden embarrassment flamed his cheeks as he recalled the compromising position his son caught him in the night before.

"Why do you not keep hounds in these pens?" He took note of the entirely empty area. Unnaturally vacant and eerily untouched. Hay had not even been cleared out since the mangy beasts had been slaughtered at Sansa's behest.

"Ramsay used to keep hounds in these pens." Theon swallowed the forming lump in his throat and pushed on. "He trained them to eat people. Hunt anyone that he commanded them to. I watched them tear flesh apart. Brutal, unkind creatures…" Theon hardly realized his hands (straight up to his shoulders) were trembling until Colton reached out to steady him.

Theon turned his tearful eyes to Colton. "I could never own another hound…not after…" He blinked. "I used to sleep here. Ramsay deemed this pen mine." He gestured to the vacant space. Filled with hay and filth.

Colton's eyes widened in horror and seemed to observe the filth-ridden cell with a new understanding. "You…lived in this…place?"

"For years." Theon released a sigh. "Reek did. Everything that Ramsay did—he did to Reek." Theon was most ashamed of his own cowardice. Allowing another piece of himself to endure that magnitude of hell would always remain one of his deepest regrets.

"I am sorry, Theon." It was unnatural for Theon to hear his name from this man's lips. A man meant to be his son. And he knew he must remedy it.

"You can call me 'father' if you wish. Or 'dad' whichever you prefer. You do not have to, but I will not stop you if you desire to."

"And what should I call, Lady Sansa?" He inched around the subject as though fearful of bringing her up.

Theon thought on it a moment and returned with the realization he did not know what Sansa would respond best to. Would she care if his bastard son called her mother? She was his mother by marriage but not blood. "I suppose you shall have to ask her yourself." He finally settled on letting Sansa decide.

Colton gave a curt nod and turned his eyes back to the cell. Surveying it with silent disbelief and Theon spoke up again. "Sansa does want you to stay here, you know. She meant what she said to you last night."

Colton's eyes snapped to Theon, clearly stunned that he had brought up the night before. Perhaps there had been an unspoken agreement between the three of them to never speak of it again—but Theon felt the need to do so, regardless.

"I was not spying on you…I really was not…I did not mean to…I mean—

Theon easily cut him off as he blabbered. "As Sansa said. You were curious. I cannot blame you for being so. We have been caught more than once in a compromising position." Theon was embarrassed to admit as much, but felt it necessary to settle Colton's shame regarding the entire ordeal.

"You…have…" Colton appeared numb, barely able to hold eye contact with him. Clearly nervous to speak about this subject.

"We have."

"I followed you…but I had no idea you would be…on display like you were…I only meant to help…but then I saw…and I was curious…" He finally admitted it and Theon bobbed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Sansa is unwell right now. Your appearance triggered quite a deep wound in her. One I believe she was in denial about…perhaps able to forget about…until she saw you." Theon was nearly certain that Sansa would never have had a meltdown on him over their nonexistent prospects of having children of their own, otherwise.

"I never thought that I might upset either of you by coming here. I only wanted to meet you. I knew that if you fell in love with another woman, she must have been special. I yearned to meet both of you. Being raised a bastard I am used to being treated with disdain wherever I might go. It just never occurred to me that I might cause harm by emerging without warning."

"You haven't. Not really. It is a blessing to know that you exist. To have you here…I never thought I would meet a child I fathered." His eyes flickered with sadness. "Not one so…so like me…So like I used to be." He shivered.

"I can still leave, Father. If Sansa cannot heal as long as she sees me…I can leave…Return to the Iron Islands with Aunt Yara and reside there with her. Are you certain that would not be best? I cannot bear to cause either of you pain." Colton's voice shook.

"Please…Don't leave. I did not tell you any of this so that you would leave. I just want you to understand that Sansa probably would have broken eventually. It pains her to know we cannot bear children together."

"What can I do to make it better…?" Colton asked. Sincerity in his eyes.

"Nothing. Nothing will make Sansa better I am afraid. Only time."

And Theon desperately hoped—that was the truth.