THEON
'Damn the storm god and his thunder for this pounding headache!' thought Theon as he entered through the North Gate. He had just spent the previous night enjoying the ale and company of two lovely whores instead of one. The one he'd reserved for Robb, who'd been too craven to come. Ahh, well, that just meant more for him—his loss. He'd spent his company with those lovely whores all until sunrise when he'd passed out, only having just awoken near an hour earlier so he could stumble his way back to Winterfell before the dinner hour. He'd hear an earful about honor from Lord Stark, and perhaps another about punctuality from his lady, but Theon didn't care, well too much.
Theon returned to his room in the Great Keep and took a swig of his sour tasting remedy for ale induced headaches. He hated its taste, but it would work its magic so that come supper none would be the wiser-except Robb, of course. Theon then changed his clothes and sponged what grime and dirt was on him off with a water basin and sponge. After having done so he pulled on over his smallclothes a clean pair of breeches, tunic, and a rather nice doublet. After cinching his belt around his waist he then stepped into his other pair of boots and took his leave of his room and attended to the Great Hall for the evening meal.
He was surprised to find he wasn't the last to arrive, Robb and Jon were mysteriously absent. So Theon did not receive much rebuffing from either the lord or his lady on his tardiness. His presence however did seem to cause the rest of the table to stop eating. Arya glared at him. Bran was somehow uncomfortable with his presence, and with Sansa, well she was staring at him with eyes that seemed as disturbed as the sea which struck the shores of Pyke. It was however, the babe's reaction which took everyone by surprise. No sooner had Theon taken his place at the table, than the toddler grabbed his fork and came running at him, stabbing him in the leg with the silver utensil. It was at that moment chaos erupted in the Great Hall as servants dropped serving platters, and Theon could only watch on in horror as the wild toddler continued to try to gore him, screaming as though he were a feral animal. Lord Stark and his lady immediately rose and called for the babe to stop. Arya seemed to enjoy looking on the scene, a weird sort of smile stretching upon her lips. Bran joined his father in trying to calm the insatiable beast, but Sansa was the only one to come over to the toddler and manage to wrangle him under some sense of control, prying the offending utensil out of his grasp. Rickon however had hardly achieved his task, beyond a few minor puncture wounds-which hurt like the Storm God Theon admitted-he had done more to ruin his breeches, than he had to injure him. Lord Stark however still advised that he seek the Maester's care and so he quite willingly left the Great Hall with Lady Stark promising to send some food up to him after things had settled down.
Theon was simply glad to be out of the Great Hall-whatever madness had taken hold of the toddler had surely spread amongst the other Stark children, and he was loathe to be near them, less he too might go stark raving mad. Theon chuckled to himself, complimenting his clever turn of the phrase.