Theon

It took him a little time to pluck up the courage to go into the Godswood. He knew that he had to go there, Lord Stark had told him to. But he had a terrible feeling about what Robb was about to tell him. He had no idea why, he just had a feeling that it would be something terrible.

And so eventually he braced himself and strode into the Godswood. He found Robb there, sitting in front of the Heart Tree, staring at it with intent eyes in an expressionless face. He acknowledged Theon's arrival with a nod.

"Father said that you need to know what else has happened," Robb said in a voice that was slow and almost hesitant. "I do not know if you will like much of what I have to tell you. 'Tis a terrible tale."

He looked at his old friend for a long moment and then winced slightly. "Can it be any worse than dreaming of being chased by the Drowned God, who had been summoned by the rotting corpse of your own brother?"

Robb seemed to think about this for a long moment. "Yes." He said the word hesitantly but with an underlying firmness. "Theon, what I have to tell you will… well, it will change you."

He looked at him, confused. "Change me? Change me how?"

Once again Robb paused, seemingly to gather his thoughts. And then his head came up and he placed a hand on the Heart Tree. "I swear by the Old Gods that this tale is a true one, Theon. I swear it."

Theon knew that this was not something that Robb would do unless he meant it in every way and he nodded slowly in acknowledgement. Unease roiled through him like a sickening wave.

"I… was touched by the Old Gods. They sent me back."

"Back from where?" Theon asked blankly.

"Back from the moment… the moment of my death. I died Theon. I died."

Theon stared at Robb. The heir to Winterfell was white-faced and strained, the skin stretched tightly over his features. He meant what he said. But what he had said was madness. "You… died?"

"I died. It was in the Twins, at the hands of Walder Frey and Roose Bolton." The names were spat out angrily. But surely this was more madness. "Why?" He croaked the word, unable to say anything else.

Robb closed his eyes for a long moment and then let out a puff of breath. "There was a war," he said almost gently. "A very terrible war."

The unease was joined by a terrible coldness in his guts. He had read so much about war of late. "We fought a war? Who attacked?"

"It's… complicated," Robb sighed. "A month or so from now we heard – in the old future that is my past – that Jon Arryn was dead. Aunt Lysa blamed the Lannisters, but, well, it was…"

"Complicated, you said that. What happened next?" Theon sat by the Heart Tree, his mind whirling like a sycamore seed in the wind. This was madness. Wasn't it?

"The king came to Winterfell. With much of the Court, including the Queen and their children." There was something odd about the way that Robb said that last word, as if something about it soured his mouth and Theon squinted curiously at him.

Robb caught the look. "I'll explain in a bit. The king wanted Father to be his new hand. At first Father turned him down. But then Bran had an accident – he fell off a tower that broke his back, he could never walk again – and, well, Father changed his mind."

Something clicked within Theon's mind. "That's why Lord Stark forbade Bran from climbing!"

"Yes. He had to. We never found out how Bran fell – he didn't remember what happened – but it was odd at the time. I think that he saw something that he shouldn't have. Anyway, Father agreed to become hand, pledged Sansa's hand in marriage to Prince Joffrey – something that'll never happen now, thanks the Gods – and then he, Sansa and Arya went South to King's Landing." A complicated look of many different emotions crossed his face, from fondness to fury to deep, deep, grief. "And we never saw them again."

There was something in the way that he said those last words. Something that terrified Theon. "What… what happened?"

"There was an attempt on Bran's life. Mother went South to warn Father and learnt that Father was investigating the death of John Arryn. We think that Father learnt the truth about the Queen's children. Namely that they might the Queen's children, but they're not the King's children."

Theon stared at Robb as if he was raving mad. "The King's children… aren't the King's?"

"No. That's what Stannis Baratheon claimed."

"Then who's the real father?"

Robb's face twisted a little. "Stannis Baratheon claims that it's the Kingslayer. It explains why the children look nothing at all like the King, but instead appear to be all Lannister. Explains why Joffrey is the way that he is too. Too much in-breeding."

This made no sense. "What's wrong with Prince Joffrey?"

This time Robb's face twisted into a snarl. "The boy's mad. Cruel and mad. When the King was mortally wounded in a hunt by a boar Father was made regent, but after the King died the Queen ordered that Father be arrested and all his men killed. Sansa was made a prisoner and Arya… she vanished. We never found out what happened to her. Father apparently had found out the truth and was going to expose Joffrey for what he was – is. They were going to have Father take the Black and go to the Wall. Instead Joffrey had him beheaded in front of the Sept of Baelor."

This time horror roiled through Theon and he came close to voiding his guts on the grass. Lord Stark? Dead? He couldn't imagine that happening, not after everything that had happened in Winterfell the past month. Lord Stark dead? "What happened then?"

A bleak smile lit Robb's face. "I refused to bend the knee to the little shit who killed my father and instead I called the Banners. And we rode South. With you at my side."

Pride lifted his heart. Yes, that was something that he could see happening. Riding to war at the side of the man he would be proud to call a brother. "To the Twins then?"

"Eventually. It was… chaos. Stannis Baratheon claimed that he was king. So did his younger brother Renly, with the support of The Reach. My bannermen proclaimed me The King in the North. The Lannisters invaded the Riverlands so we went South to support Grandfather and Uncle Edmure. Aunt Lysa did nothing in the Vale. We fought three great battles. We smashed Lannister armies and captured the Kingslayer. And then…" His voice faded away as he screwed his eyes closed.

"And then?" Theon prompted gently. Was that when Robb died, at the Twins?

"And then you betrayed me."

This time the horror felt like an almost physical blow as it smashed into him. No. No, it couldn't be true. He didn't say a word – he couldn't – but his face worked as he tried to make his mouth work as his limbs shook.

Robb opened his eyes and then looked at him. "I sent you to broker an alliance with your father and attack the Lannisters," he said almost gently as he caught sight of the expression on Theon's face. "But something happened at Pyke. You never returned. Instead you joined your father in his mad plan to invade the North. You led a force that captured Winterfell, because no-one could believe that you would ever turn your back on us. But you did. You even captured Bran and Rickon. But when my men counter-attacked you burnt Winterfell and…. Well they say that you murdered them. You murdered a small boy and a boy who couldn't even walk."

The shaking feeling swept him up in a storm, horror and shame and shock roaring through him and he finally leant to one side and voided up his guts. Everything came up and even after there was nothing left he still kept heaving and gasping. No. It couldn't be true. No. He'd never have done something like that. Kill children? Burn the place that had become his home? No. Never.

When he finally regained control of himself he wiped his mouth and then looked in shame at the pool of vomit next to him. And then he shakily stood and walked a few trembling steps to Robb's side, before his legs refused to bear his weight again and he fell to the ground.

"Lord… Lord Stark knows this tale?" Robb nodded. "Why did he not kill me?"

"Because you have not done it yet. And Father thinks that you have changed. Changed enough that you will never do it." Robb said the words almost gently.

Theon bowed his head at this and then the tears finally fell. They were many and he sobbed before the tree for what felt like an age and a half. And they finally ebbed as a fierce flame was kindled deep within him. It had two sources. The first was determination. The second was hate. His father. His fucking father had done this. The man who had done nothing right in his life had done something terribly wrong yet again.

"I will swear an oath to you," Theon eventually choked out. "An oath to you, or to your father. I can do it now, before the Heart Tree. Here, now, in the place. I will never betray you Robb. Never. This place is my home. Pyke means nothing to me. I will swear to protect Winterfell."

There was a long pause and then Robb nodded tightly before smiling at him slightly. It wasn't much, but it raised his spirits for a moment. "Thank you Theon."

"What happened after… after that?"

A sigh emerged from somewhere very deep in Robb. "I won battle after battle, but I was losing the war," he said bitterly. "The Lannisters always had a new army somewhere. I promised Walder Frey that I would marry one of his daughters as the price of crossing at the Twins, but then I married someone else – don't ask, that's a long story. When we captured the Kingslayer he killed two of Lord Karstark's sons and I wouldn't let him take the Kingslayer's head in revenge. And when you… when Winterfell fell I lost a lot of prestige.

"So Tywin Lannister must have plotted with the Freys and also with Roose Bolton. You know the history we have with them. He wanted to be Lord Paramount of the North. The last words I ever heard in that other future was Roose Bolton telling me that Jaime Lannister sent his regards. Then nothing – before I woke up back here in my bed. When I realised what had happened, that the Old Gods had sent me back – well, I ran straight to the dining hall. I almost cried when I saw Father and Sansa and everyone."

Memory tickled at him. "I remember that morning! It was the day when you came in and looked as if you were ill. And that look you gave me…" He shivered. "So you died."

"I died."

"I wonder what happened to me then?" He caught the uncomfortable look that Robb sent his way. "Did I die too? In the North?"

Robb ran a hand over his chin. "No," he said eventually. "But I do know that you were captured by the Boltons. In a sense."

"I don't understand."

"In the future I remember Domeric was dead by now. I think that he was poisoned by his half-brother, Lord Bolton's bastard son Ramsey Snow."

"Who's dead now himself. I heard about what happened. Lord Stark was furious."

"Aye, Father wanted to take care of Ramsey Snow himself. In the future I saw… Ramsey Snow captured you after the burning of Winterfell. And… you know what the banner of House Bolton is."

"The flayed man," Theon whispered in horror. "Ramsey Snow flayed me?"

"On the day that I died Roose Bolton gave me a gift. We were at the Twins to witness Uncle Edmure marrying a Frey to make up for my mistake and before we entered, Lord Bolton gave me… well, he said that it was a piece of your skin. And said that you still lived."

This time there was next to no warning and Theon leant over in an attempt to spew his guts again on the grass. There was nothing left to throw up by now though, so he dry-heaved for several minutes as the tears poured down his face. When he was finally as composed as he was ever going to be he turned back. "Sorry," he said weakly. Then something occurred to him. "Wait… how could your Father go South to be Hand of the King if he knew that the Others were coming?"

"He didn't," Robb said grimly. "That has been a terrible change from my memories. Days after I came back he confronted me here, by the Heart Tree. We both placed a hand on the trunk and… had a vision. Father saw things about my life. And received a warning, from the Old Gods, about the Others. If he hadn't had that warning then he would never have sent the ravens out asking for information about them, and GreatJon Umber would never have looked at the Hearthstone and then brought it here to Winterfell. We would have had no warning."

He nodded in response and then ran a shaking hand through his hair. "This is a lot to take in, Robb."

"I know." He smiled slightly. "But at least I was able to return from that dark future. Some warning is better than no warning at all."

Theon nodded slightly and then looked at the Heart Tree. "My father will be annoyed when he learns that I no longer follow the Drowned God. But I don't give a damn what he thinks about anything."

"You don't?"

A bark of laughter forced its way out of him, surprising him a little in the process. "Robb, my father is a fool. So no, I don't give a damn about him." He looked at Robb. "I've studied the Greyjoy Rebellion. Only a fool willingly starts a war with Robert Baratheon, especially when he had the other six kingdoms united behind him. And from what you said he was an even bigger fool in that dark future that won't happen. He had a chance to attack the Westerlands from what you said, with their armies in the Riverlands. My father, the man who would love to reave the Westerlands of every piece of gold it has, gave that up just to attack the North? For what? Some kind of revenge against a dead man?" He snorted with anger. "No, the man's a fool."

"A hateful fool," Robb sighed after a long moment. "So – here we are."

"Here we are." A silence fell. "Things between us won't be the same, will they?"

Robb sighed and then squinted at a passing cloud far above them. "No," he said eventually. "I would like them to – but, no. I have too many dark memories."

Theon sighed himself and then nodded. "Perhaps we can remake things, after time?"

After a long moment Robb smiled and then nodded. "I would like that. I missed you."

"As far as I'm aware you were never away." He paused. "This is very confusing."

Robb nodded again. Then: "I think we need some ale."