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Chapter 2:
Theon remembers his life before very well. His strong father. Meron and Rodrik. Their training sessions with master-at-arms Dagmer. Their japes when he (always) fell behind. Master Wendamyr letting him hide from Yara in his work chambers when playing. Of his mother's loving embraces and dotingness. His terrifying uncle Euron. His annoying little sister.
The taste of salt in the air. The feel of the sea in his hands. All these things he took for granted.
He feels terrified when he has to leave. He fears Lord Eddard and his sword of valyrian steel "Ice". Of King Robert's war hammer and the bloodied knights who had just killed off half his family and people.
He spends the entire journey locked in his chambers. The thought of jumping crosses his mind multiple times. The sea is in him. Saltwater courses through his veins, thicker than the blood. He could swim home. Either that or he would sink…. Not that drowning particularly scared him. No ironborn could truly drown, for what is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger.
He wants to do the same thing when he gets to Winterfell. To hide away with his tail tucked behind his legs. To cry and plead to be taken back home. But he is Theon Greyjoy. Last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy. Heir to the iron islands. He will be strong, even when he feels anything but.
So he puts on his armor. He refuses to cower away in the corner like some craven. He will not show fear. He drags himself out of bed and out of his chambers every morning. He sits with Lord Stark and his family for dinner every night. He plays with his children. He speaks loudly and proudly of his family and culture. He chases around the kids and jokes, brazen laughs that no prisoner should feel comfortable enough to do.
And pretty soon, he stops having to pretend.
Ned Stark is a good man. Sure, he's rather cold to Theon but he treats him better than any other lord would treat their "ward". He asks him about his day. He wants to make Theon a better man than his father and brothers were. Perhaps Theon wants the same thing.
And then there's Robb. As courteous and dutiful as his father, but with a bold sense of mischief and adventure akin to Theon's own. Robb, who welcomed him with open arms. Who had always treated him like an equal, no matter what the other little lords (or his sullen baseborn brother) had to say about him. Who had become like a brother to him. More so than his blood brothers had ever been.
There were the younger Stark children. Bran and Arya, whom he'd enjoyed teasing relentlessly. Little Rickon, a much-welcomed addition. The babe was a wild thing, always running after them and trying to keep up. Theon and Robb often enjoyed playing with him: hide-in-seek and piggyback rides. Theon liked to imagine that he'd have a similar bond with his own son one day, though he was hard-pressed to admit it (everyone knew only ladies fantasized about parenthood).
The kids had been too little to understand what was happening when he arrived. Sure, they knew about his position, but they had known him too long to see him as anything other than their father's ward. And he likes that.
He trains with Ser Rodrik and excels at it. He may not be as good with a lance as Robb or with a sword as Snow, but no one has yet to best him with a bow.
He likes it here. He gets his fill of the ladies in Winterfell (which is only natural given his status). Sometimes Robb even joins him.
And late at night when he lies in his bed, Theon wonders if this place could ever truly be his home. He hopes so.
Theon huddled his cloaks closer around himself as he descended the steps. Even after years of being here, he had never gotten used to the climate. Most days he could bare it but today was particularly cold.
The castle was built on a foundation of hotsprings and got warmer the further down one went. And that's exactly where he was going.
He let out a sigh of relief as he reached his destination of the glass gardens, one of the most vibrant and warm places in the castle.
There were a couple of people there, as to be expected. Most were the gardeners and attendants, but he saw some other kids and members of the household. They gave him a nod, acknowledging but not smiling at him. He smirked back, nonetheless.
He walked briskly around for a while, letting his eyes roll over the plants but not particularly paying any mind to any of them. That is until one plant in particular captured his interest. Or rather, what was in front of the plant captured his eyes.
In front of a patch of Blood-blooms sat the middle Stark girl. She ran her fingers over the petals gently, a far-away look in her eyes.
Theon walked to her, leaning beside her to get a closer look at the plant. She made no movement as he approached, not a nod or even a look, just kept her attention on the flowers before her. Robb would probably scold her for not being more attentive to her surroundings, but Theon was not the scolding type.
"So, this is where you've been hiding out."
"I've not been hiding out. I was just admiring the beauty of the gardens. This is a fresh batch. Their first time blooming ever."
Theon hummed at that, not interested in the flowers blooming at all, but deciding against expressing so.
"You know, Sansa has been looking for you," he relays, trying and failing to remember what the redhead wanted. She had been talking to Robb and he just overheard parts of it.
The girl seemed to know what he was talking about though. "Our lessons!" She exclaimed. "I must've lost count of time again."
She wiped her dress off, beginning to rise. Theon offered his hand to the young girl, helping her stand up.
"Come on little lady," the ward smirked at her, "I'll escort you back up."
Minisa was old enough to not need an escort everywhere. Still, she accepted his offer.
The two climbed the steps, making conversations (and when Theon said conversation, he really meant it. It seemed impossible to make small talk with the girl before him) along the way.
When younger, Minisa used to follow him around like a little puppy, wide-eyed and amazed. She'd cling to his every word, giving him favors and gifts. In had been many moons since then and she was now ten and one. She had matured, no longer fawning over him as before. But while their relationship had changed, it had not disappeared. Theon would go as far as to call them friends now. Though he'd hardly admit it out loud.
The two had somehow gotten on the topic of Iron Islands by the time they reached the top. Minisa hadn't heard of many legends from there (a downright shame) and Theon was more than happy to inform her.
"The Greyirons were replaced by The Hoares, who were southerners in iron clothes. They worshipped the seven and wanted to rid the Iron Islands of the old ways. So, naturally, they were overthrown. 'Harmund the Handsome' they called him. He wasn't so handsome when the priests were done with him-"
"Minisa!" called out a voice as they drew closer to the castle.
Robb stood in the halls, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
"Brother," Minisa greeted, the ever-present smile on her face widening.
"Where were you two going?"
Minisa answered. Though still young and naive, the girl knew enough to pick up on the underlying question from Robb: ' Where were you two coming from?'
"Theon happened upon me in the gardens and was just escorting me back," Minisa explained. "I already missed my lessons but I was hoping to make my sewing circle. I have been working on this dress for a while now. It's beautiful" She gushed, her mind flitting from topic to topic as easily as… Well, he couldn't come up with anything.
"I would quite like to see you in that pretty dress when you finish it" Theon teased, gaining a small shove from Minisa and a sharp look from the young wolf.
Everyone was well aware of his reputation with the women. And though Robb had no problem with it, it made them very antsy at the two of them spending time together. Theon often played into this. After all, it was quite fun to goad the two boys. But in truth, they had nothing to worry about. He had no interest in her. If he had his choice of the Stark girls, Sansa would be the obvious choice.
Minisa was a perfectly fair girl with sweet eyes and good conversation. Theon would not have minded being married off to her, but she was not of the same beauty as Sansa, nor would she grant him the same power as she would.
And then there was Arya. She was not as horrid looking as some of the others often made her seem, but she definitely wasn't a beauty.
"Well, why don't I accompany you two then?" Robb questioned.
"That would be wonderful," Minisa replied. She interloped one arm through each of the boy's hands and gestured forward.
"Do finish the story Theon," Robb says, a smirk on his face.
Theon passed by the dining hall, seeing the Starks breaking their fast together. He doesn't go in and instead heads to the kitchens.
It wasn't uncommon for the young iron islander to dine amongst the family, that is if he wanted without company for the night or found himself in the bed of some maiden.
But Theon preferred to keep his mornings to himself.
After grabbing some buttered and jellied breads, winking at a much older but still attractive cook, he's on his way again.
He finds himself in the training yards which are for the most part empty. There is no training today, and even if it was it'd be too early for it.
He works on his archery, finding himself perfectly content to repeat the same motion over and over again.
Eventually, the yard fills in and the Stark boys arrive. Minus Rickon, who is still too young to join them.
Robb and Jon take turns sparring with Bran, pausing after every match to give him advice and tips. The little lord looks to be eating it up.
Some in the north want to learn to fight with sword to show off. Most want to learn just to be capable. As long as they can protect themselves and their family, they're satisfied. Not Bran though. The lad has big dreams of being a knight. He pays the most attention during Ser Rodrik's fighting lesson and fawns over those tales of legendary knights and swordsman just as his sisters do.
Theon hopes the boy's efforts prove fruitful. He much favors Rickon out of all the children(even at just three), but he still has a soft spot for Bran.
The climber's match comes to an end as Jon knocks the wooden sword out of his hands completely. Not with enough force as he would've used with Theon or Robb, but enough to not waste the boy's time.
Bran lets out a disappointed sigh and Jon ruffles the boy's hair, giving him an affectionate smile that he reserved only for his younger siblings.
"You did good Bran. Maybe next time try a little more offense."
"A little more offense? What kind of vague advice is that." Theon teases, waking over to join the boys. He carries his bow and his smirk.
"Yeah, why don't you try getting in there Greyjoy," Robb asks, bumping his shoulder good-naturedly.
"Scared you'll get embarrassed?" Jon asks.
"Not at all Snow. Besides, you're the least qualified person at handling their sword ." Theon replied, eyebrows raising suggestively.
Jon blushes at the insinuation and Robb just laughs.
Bran shoots a look of confusion at Theon. He thinks Jon is very qualified at sword fighting. Apart from Ser Rodrik, Bran would consider him the most talented amongst them.
Jon is the first one to notice the confused look on his face.
"It is inappropriate to speak of… such things... in front of Bran"
"No I'm not!" protests Bran, even though he had no idea what he was protesting.
"Such things?" Theon chuckles, ignoring Bran. If not for Theon seeing proof of Snow's manhood when they were all younger and frequently bathed together, he would think Jon a nun in disguise. "Do you hear this Robb?"
The ironborn turns to look at Robb and Jon does the same, both looking for support. The northern heir tries to ignore both of their pointed stares. Bran was too young to hear about such things but Theon hadn't said anything explicit. After they don't relent, Robb elects to move on.
"Come on," Robb pulled Bran a few feet away, kicking his sword over and getting in position for another match.
"Traitor," Theon whispered incredulously.
Jon looked even more certain at Robb's words but Theon was not one to back down. He continued his point.
"The boy is due to learn soon, Snow" He nocked his arrow, pointing it at the target before letting it shoot. Not quite in the bullseye but touching it. Satisfied, he continued, "Not all boys remain honorable maidens just as you."
"I'd rather die a virgin than carry on as you do, roaming from bed to bed with no shame" Jon spat out.
Theon took no offense to the words despite that being Snow's obvious intentions. If anything, he took it as a compliment.
Robb rolled his eyes at the two but otherwise paid the boys no mind, focusing on Bran. The two argued so frequently that he'd learned how to tune them out.
"It's in my blood I fear. My people are known to 'share our love' with many. Why, it is practically my people's custom to sire bastards-"
"Yeah," Snow sneered, "Well it's also your people's customs to lead stupid fucking rebellions that kill off half their line."
Jon knew he had gone too far and he would regret the words once his senses came back to him, but at the moment he was too angry to care.
Robb paused polishing his sword, staring at the two boys in stunned silence. Jon and Theon both stood still in their spots, eyes intensely trained on each other. A collective breath was held as everyone waited for something to happen. And then it did.
In the next moment, Theon's fist was making contact with Jon, hitting him square in the jaw. The boys collapsed into a flurry of fists, striking at each other with abandon, more emotion than precision or thought.
Robb quickly jumped in, "Guys, stop it!". But they seemed not to hear.
Soon, their noises garnered the attention of those nearby and they rushed in to see the commotion.
Next thing they knew, the boys found themselves ripped apart. Jon and Robb in Ser Rodriks hands and Theon in Jory's.
Robb explained hurriedly what had happened but Theon and Jon didn't hear him, intensely focused on one another.
The two struggled in the grips, still trying to get to the other, but the men just tightened their grips and held on until the boys had ceased their struggle.
Once Jory loosened his grip, Theon pushed his hands away from him. He stared at Snow for a few moments more, contemplating whether or not to go at him again. The warning glances of Ser Rodrik and Jory root him though. He feels hot under the two men's eyes, seen. He was suddenly aware of the angry tears in his eyes and the heavy breathing.
Angry and embarrassed, yet unable to do anything about it, he just stalked off, ignoring calls from Robb.
He found himself making his way inside the castle in the direction of the room, where he could take out his frustrations on his own objects. He passes by the library on his way and stops. It should be empty at this time of day and is much closer than his own chambers.
He pushes the door open, stalking back in front in the dim room. He breathes hard, struggling to keep in the hot tears fall freely now against his will. He'd let himself be reduced to tears like a craven by just a few heated words of a bastard and some warning glances.
He pictured what his family would do if they could see him now. He could hear his father's scolding words now, feel the blows and taunts from his older brothers. 'Craven' they'd call him, as they'd done many times before. But would never do so again.
He punches the first bookshelf beside him. Once. Then again. And again. Until the skin on his knuckles starts to break.
"Theon?" came a bewildered voice from somewhere in the room, strong but low. There, all the way in the back corner with a single, fading candle on the table in front of her was Minisa.
Theon hadn't noticed the figure when he came in and even after hearing her voice, struggled to make her out.
"What's wrong?" she asks. She must've had the same thought about it being too dark because she goes to open the curtains behind her, letting in more light.
He considers just stalking off, going back to his chambers where he could throw his fit in privacy. But Minisa's voice is so genuinely concerned that he doesn't.
Minisa is kind. She listens to him with no judgment. In fact, she thinks the world of him. And he needs that right now. He stalks over to her table, her person becoming more clear the closer he gets.
She wears a simple cream-colored gown, not unlike a nightdress but more appropriate. Her hair is loose, with random flower-laced braids through it.
"Your brother is what's wrong with me," he vents, "he's a pious, jealous sod who ought to know his position."
"Robb is nothing of the sort," Minisa asks, her eyes narrowing.
"No, Jon," Theon explains. Minisa's gaze is still wary (she is not close to Jon but he is still her blood) but she allows Theon to continue.
The iron-born youth continues to recount the events of earlier all the while pacing the length of the table.
"Can you believe that?" he lets out a huff, "I am Theon Greyjoy. Son of Balon Grey. Heir to the Iron Islands. What makes him think-"
A pair of small arms wrapped around him, cutting him off mid-rant and bringing him back to the present. He had gotten worked up during his rant and hadn't even noticed his face was once again wet and his body trembled.
Minisa was hugging him, her face tucked into his chest. She felt warm and secure, a tether (surprising as the girl was anything but grounded).
He was unsure how to react at first. No one had hugged him in years. He think his mother had been the last one, holding him tightly as they said goodbye. Sure, Robb had given him one-armed hugs in moments of camaraderie and Lord Stark occasionally gave him a shoulder squeeze, but it wasn't the same.
Theon found himself relaxing in the embrace, closing his eyes and letting out a tightly-wound breath he didn't know he was holding. The girl smelt of ginger and tree bark. An unusual combination but good none the less. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever.
He had gotten so long in the comfort that he hadn't noticed the sound of the door opening. Neither of them did, that is until a gasp sounded from across the room.
The two jerked apart, looking toward the source. Jon Snow.
Jon had taken off running to their father and not too long after, all three of them sat in Lord Starks chambers. Jon stared at Theon with a thunderous expression, arms crossed as if Theon would care about his attitude. If it came to blows right now, Theon was positive he could take him
Minisa looked guilty beside him. Her eyes downcast and her hands wringing together. She'd obviously never been in any sort of trouble. The ironborn had the urge to take one of her hands in his and comfort her until she returned to her normal self. But one thing kept him from moving a muscle.
Lord Stark sat in front of them at his desk. His face was bare of expression but his eyes were stormy. Theon had never seen him with such a look. It unnerved the ironborn and had to force himself to keep calm.
He questioned both of them on what happened. He listened silently to Minisa's account while Jon and Theon faced each other in a stare-off.
"Well, after breakfast I went to the library. Septa Mordane says that I need to work on my studying. I mean, my reading is perfectly marvelous, but I'm not as adept in more practical subjects as she would like. Things like math-"
"Minisa," the man warned his daughter as she trailed off.
"Right. Well, I was in the library studying when Theon came in, knocking over things and crying-" Theon's jaw tightened as she mentioned that detail, " He didn't even know I was there until I talked to him. He told me why he was upset and I hugged him to make him feel better, just as I do with Sansa or Bran or Rickon when they're upset."
After a few more minutes of Minisa over-explaining and rambling, she was done. Lord Stark then turned his full attention to the young ironborn, causing the young boy to shift. His eyes felt judgemental like he was thinking the worse of Theon.
"Theon," He commanded, his voice no louder than usual but somehow a thousand times louder. " Tell me what happened."
Theon swallowed deeply, willing his voice not to shake. He rattled off the events of what happened, his story practically identical to Minisa's.
"And then Jon saw us and ran off." he finished.
Everything was silent for a while as Ned stared at the two before him. Minisa had her eyes glued to the floor, messing with a braid in her hair. Theon felt like doing the same, but he kept his face normal and met Lord Stark's eyes. Why should he act shameful? He had done nothing wrong.
"Jon," Ned finally addressed the dark-haired boy, who was still fuming beside his lord father, "take Minisa to her chambers. We'll talk later."
He directed the last sentence to Minisa, who quickly stood up and headed toward the door.
Jon nodded respectfully, gently grabbing his sister's elbow and escorting her out of the room, all the way glaring daggers towards Theon.
Minisa shot him a look of sympathy as she left.
With that, the door closed behind the pair and he was left alone with Lord Stark. It wasn't until then that he felt the full gravity of the situation weighing down on him. There was such a visceral fear. It was an odd feeling that he hadn't had since first arriving in Winterfell.
Theon gave in to the temptation to avert his eyes, looking all around the room. Anywhere was better than looking at Lord Stark's hard, grey eyes.
This proved to be a mistake. Not too far away from him lay Ice, the Stark family sword. It was a beautiful thing, large and shiny and sharp. But Theon wasn't basking in the glory of the sword.
All of a sudden, images flowed through his mind unbidden. Of the sword suddenly in the Lord's hands, pressing against Theon's neck.
He was sure that this was it. Theon had been caught alone with his daughter in a dark room, locked into an embrace.
He would lock Theon up in a dungeon., or maybe confine him to his chambers for the rest of his 'stay'. He'd really be treated like a prisoner. Or perhaps he'd wash his hands with him, send him to King Robert and let him 'deal with him'.
All of these possibilities were the best-case scenario. He didn't like to think about the worst one.
"I trust you know that you and Minisa's behavior today was inappropriate." Ned finally questions.
"Minisa isn't Robb or Jon. She isn't one of your friends. She is your Lady, and these boundaries will never be crossed again, no matter the circumstance. Am I making myself clear?"
Theon nods mutely through all of this, not trusting himself to speak. When finished up, he just stares at Theon for a few seconds before dismissing him.
"Alright. Retire to your chambers for the night. Someone will be up with dinner. I think it best you take this time to reflect upon your actions."
As Theon opens the door he's faced with the three eldest children. They must've been listening at the door.
Jon and Sansa stand side by side with their arms crossed and brows furrowed, unified in their common anger at the Ironborn youth. It's an unusual sight. And then there's Robb. He has anger in his eyes too, but unlike the others, it's outweighed by hurt. As if Theon had betrayed him.
Theon ignores them all as he passes by but he can feel their lingering gazes on his back until he turns the corner.
He receives multiple stares as he walks through the hall. Hears whispers that he can't make out but can guess. The gossip must've spread through the castle like wildfire.
Their glances hurt. It's as if they'd expected such action from him. Theon may be unserious and like to play around, but he is neither dumb nor honorless. He would never try anything appropriate with Minisa. With any of the Stark girls.
He reaches his chambers and lays down on his bed.
As he stares at the ceiling he feels a lot of fo things. Mostly anger that.
That fucking Jon Snow. A jealous, baseborn bastard who'd been just waiting for the opportunity for Theon to mess up.
He wanted to be mad at the lot of them. To hate them. But he couldn't. The fault lay with one person and one person only. Himself.
Theon had gotten too comfortable. The families' affections, the children's interest, Ser Rodriks' compliments. They'd made it so easy to forget the cold hard truth. That Theon Greyjoy was a prisoner of the Starks, a hostage used as leverage against Balon Greyjoy.
He now understood that he couldn't be brothers with Robb. Couldn't be friends with Minisa. They weren't on the same level. She would always be his captive's daughter and he had made the mistake of getting too comfortable around her.
It had been a hurtful lesson but desperately needed. He was not one of them. He shan't forget again.
