Theon (297 AC)
Theon always felt so much better after a good bedding with a whore, especially when he and the whore relaxed in the bed after they'd had their fun, allowing him to pretend for a short while that she loved him, though he'd never admit it. She was warm, soft, and fit against his body like a perfectly placed puzzle piece. It certainly didn't hurt, as he reminded himself when she turned to look at him, her face wasn't bad to look at. At all.
"Marta, has anyone told you that you are the most beautiful whore in all the North?" Theon told her.
"The other men call me the most beautiful woman in the world," she replied with a smirk. "Have you met women more beautiful than me?"
"Of course," Theon cheekily retorted. "But they're all married or they're highborn ladies who would turn up their noses at a fuck with me. But of all the whores I've ever met, you're the most beautiful of them all."
"I've heard that you've said that before, from Jenny and Sophie," she said.
"And it was true every time," he greedily insisted, pushing himself above her, trapping her between his hands. "As I found each of them to be a greater beauty than the one before."
"So, I am the most beautiful whore in the North until your next fuck?" came her barbed retort.
Theon leaned in very close to let his slowly quickening breath spill over her lower face. "Are you trying to get me worked up?"
She gave a toothy smile that could have been given by a tricky fox. "Is it working?"
He smiled ferociously, intending to get very rough with this whore beneath him. "Oh y-"
BAM*
Theon leaped off the girl like a doe, grabbing at the blanket to cover his shame and stumbled onto the floor like a flopping fish before getting on his feet to gape like one at the only person in all the North who would so brazenly burst in on him when he was fucking.
"Blackie!" he uttered. "What a surprise! I was just-"
"Theon," Black Rock Shooter barked.
He shut up.
Black Rock Shooter glanced at Marta, who was already grabbing her clothes from beside the bed to wear again, and looked back at Theon. "Give her the money for your time if you haven't already, get dressed, and then follow me back to the keep. Lord Stark is hosting the Ser Goldaxe and Yellow Leaf Cutter for supper very soon, and you're the only one unaccounted for."
"Of course," Theon groused, slipping back into his trousers and grabbing his shirt and vest. "Yet another jumped-up Toy Knight scraping at Lord Stark's feet to keep him from remembering that they're the cause of at least half of his problems."
"Ser Goldaxe and Yellow Leaf Cutter," Black Rock Shooter reminded, "are being rewarded for breaking up Rouge Runner's bandits that had been harrying Tarrhen's Square, with land and a knighthood. Good service should be rewarded appropriately."
Theon scoffed in anger as he shucked on his shirt. "Lord Stark would do better to have you all hunted down and killed like the monsters you are, if you weren't always holding a knife to his throat."
"That is unfair to him and you know it," Black Rock Shooter stated.
"Right, it is," he buttoned up his shirt, the whore and his previous relief all forgotten at this point. "It's not a knife at his throat, it's a Shooter to his head."
"That's not-"
"You must really get off on it, don't you," he growled, stomping up to the smaller Doll, his finger thrust into her face. "Holding his life in his hands, pretending to be his dutiful servant when it's the other way around! You're the one making all the real decisions here! You may have everyone else fooled, but you and I know who the real Lady of the North is, don't we, you blue-eyed bitch?"
Her left eye sparked in blue fire.
Theon's heart leapt into his throat, his feet scrambled him away from her, his knees lost all strength, and his mind flashed back to that day.
Pyke was burning, island and castle both. The greenlanders were unleashing centuries of grief-born rage and hate upon the Iron Islands in a grand act of pillaging and destruction that would have made the Reaver Kings of old proud, had it not been their own people and home being completely ruined.
"Father! Father! Get up!"
And which was making sure not to spare their bloodline from their wrath.
Balon coughed up blood onto his son's hands as he looked at him weakly, a table leg lodged in his gut from the force of the greenlander Doll's monstrous weapon.
"I've failed. Oh gods I've failed. Rodrick, Maron, Euron, I've killed you all."
"Father!" he cried, grabbing his father's face to get him to look at him. "It's going to be alright! We'll find a healer, get you fixed up, and-"
"Yara," Balon uttered. "My daughter, you were the last hope of House Grejoy. Theon is too weak…"
Theon stilled in shock.
The light faded from his father's eyes.
Theon's heart broke, and he wailed.
The door to the hall crashed on the floor, drawing Theon's attention, as tears streamed from his eyes.
There was no King there, no lords, knights, or even common soldiers.
Just the form of a girl, wrapped around a monster, that carried a massive Shooter, and whose left eye burned with blue fire.
A monster they had thought dead at the hands of Hook Grappler, but had come back from death carrying the scars of their battle.
A monster who had just murdered his family and destroyed his home.
A monster that he had no choice but to live with.
Black Rock Shooter allowed her eye to extinguish. "I have promised myself to stand in protection of that which Lord Stark holds dear to him. My Shooter is held only to the heads of those who would threaten that. And I only pull the trigger when I am certain that they would take the chance to do it again should it arise."
She walked up and leaned forward to look him in the eyes, terrified as he was to have her this close. "Are you a threat, Theon Greyjoy?"
He shook his head immediately. "No. Never."
Black Rock Shooter stood up. "Then put your boots on, and come with me to the Great Hall. You have a duty to Lord Stark as his Ward, and you should do your best to fulfill it."
"Yes, Black Rock Shooter." Theon groped on the floor for his boots.