Hey all, I wanted to let you know I see you reading, and it makes me feel incredibly guilty. (not a bad thing)

I'd be open to starting a Discord/Group Chat so you guys can harass me about writing more (bc this fandom does not need to be pushed further towards the edge of its seat, GEORGE!) but also so there's a place to discuss GoT lore and more. I'm thinking about starting a YouTube channel later on as well, but that's a ways down the line. If you are interested in any of these ideas, please drop a comment. You're all terrific at that.

As art moves towards becoming "content creation," artists must adapt, and I (a humanities major) let my hatred for social media keep me from prioritizing putting my work on the internet. I'd like to put an end to that habit, starting with my secret account, but that starts by finishing the story you've all kept reading despite me. Thank you for your passive support; it means a great deal.

Also, if you don't like how Theon was written as smart, let me explain myself: Theon kind of is smart. He's surprisingly competent, mostly in the books, but his competence in martial affairs is worth mentioning. I also don't hate war stories, like Vietnam Vet GRRM, so I may end up making him out to be more likable but not OOC.

Theon

Life in Winterfell was warmer than he'd imagined it would be. He'd heard drunkards in his father's hall call it 'winter-hell' before, thinking themselves clever. Theon had also heard captains and lords say it was a terrible place to stick their cocks, but that had taken too much eavesdropping with his brothers. Those days were long behind him now.

As Theon pulled his trousers up, he sniffed at the air and smiled. "That's more than man cum," he decided.

Ros smiled lightly, her lithe form sprawled out for him to admire. A white fox fur lay draped over her thighs, which she played with using her legs. She was covered with small beads of sweat, for she had been doing all the work, and practiced as she was in the art of cunt-waggling it seemed she had taken the liberty of getting herself to climax as well.

"It speaks to your skill, my iron lord," she said.

"Whatever," he answered coolly, believing his favorite whore as much as he dared. "S'not what I paid you for, though."

Before he could grumble more about how distracted she had been and how completely unacceptable that was for a laborer of any kind, the door swung open to reveal Jon.

"Snow," he said, glad he'd put his pants on. He went for his shirt now, looking for his dirk. It was by his gold, he knew better than to trust a whore with either when his cock was hard and back turned.

"Theon, let's go," Jon commanded like a prick.

"Fuck that, bastard." Jon bristled at Theon's jeer. "I've got my next meal right in front of me."

He took a step towards Ros, his back turning to Jon as he did so. The bastard was honorable, Theon thought; it might be safer to give him an easy, yet undesirable, path to victory rather than a fair fight.

He was wrong. A hand on his shoulder put Theon on his heels, turning and trying to strike out or grab at the first bit of that northern bastard he could. But Snow was sharp, fast, and irritated. The result was that Theon found himself on his back, rubbing his jaw.

"It's not a meal, it's a feast. And you missed the king's arrival, you shouldn't miss this too," Jon said, his cold features softening for a second. "I'm trying to help you, fucking eejit."

Theon groaned, but on some level, he knew Snow was right. Cersei was liable to have him questioned sharply for his whereabouts under normal circumstances, and these weren't normal circumstances. Besides having King Robert in Winterfell, Lord Jaime Lannister was said to be here as well to visit his father and sister. Cersei was in a strong position in the Stark court, and Lord Eddard's honor might be outweighed by the force of will that was the House of Lannister.

When Ned Stark had first brought him here, it was just him, Jon, and Cersei. Then Tywin had come for a visit, and at the sight of him and Jon had decided his presence was a necessity. Now that he was a man of ten and nine, Theon could do more than just pretend to understand the man's logic. The aged Lord Tywin had not lost a step since coming to the North, or so Theon had heard. Without a frame of reference, Theon could not verify that. All he could say was that he looked the part of his legend from afar.

"Fine, I'm coming," Theon said as he sat up. Getting knocked down always gave him enough time to think. "Help me find my coin and dirk, then we'll be off."

"Gods, you're a drunk," Jon answered scornfully.

Then, suddenly, the two of them heard a giggle. Then a clinking of coins.

"Looking for these?" Ros asked, playfully. Theon blanched.

"Not anymore," Jon answered for him. "Grab them, and let's go."

Jon Snow didn't like Theon Greyjoy. That wasn't to say he didn't have redeeming qualities, but the man was a drunk and an ingrate. Theon fucked whores on House Stark's silver, the least he could do in Jon's opinion is not make his life harder. With no pretensions at playing court games himself, Jon was of the mind that politics were best left to women and Theon. Some days, he could swear his father felt the same way.

The cold began nipping at him as he and Theon stepped out of the brothel. He nodded toward the two boys' horses, which were tied up next to each other, silently telling Theon to go first. The older boy rolled his eyes, but did as Jon gestured.

"Don't they have their legitimate children there?" Theon whined with his barbed tongue.

"Yes, Rob and Tommen are there. But you should be, too," Jon said. "Everyone wants to know where you are, even my father."

Jon gave a small pause, allowing emphasis to make its way into what he had to say next: "He sounded worried."

Theon's face was expressionless for a moment, but he was never good at hiding what he thought. His brow furled slowly, his lip curled tightly, and his steps became smaller. Jon Snow had struck a nerve, and he knew it. He pressed further.

"Why do you persist in making his, your, and everybody else's life harder with your endless antics?" Jon asked interrogatively.

Theon went quiet for a moment, readying his horse as Jon stood in eager anticipation. Before mounting his horse, Theon looked over his shoulder to see if Jon was still waiting for an answer. When it was clear that he was, Theon sighed.

"Because I don't believe that your father's worried about me," Theon said slowly and sadly. "He's worried about King Robert, and King Robert is probably the only one who wants to know where I am."

With that, Theon mounted his horse and began to wait on Jon. Jon, through pangs of guilt, began to silently ready his own horse and resolved to press Theon no further about any of this.