The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

1.

Massey

Before my feet even hit the ground, I noticed the drop in temperature.

Upon exiting our carriage, I stayed behind my father and brother as we approached the Starks. Just as I remembered him, Ned Stark stood tall. I remembered feeling as though he was the largest man I might ever see. Though, that was through the eyes of a child. Beside him was his wife, Catelyn. Warm and as beautiful as any lady could hope to be. Alongside them were three of their children. Tall, handsome, and strong stood Robb. Next was Sansa, who had grown to match her mother's beauty. And lastly, little Rickon. He couldn't have been but five or six years old. Our fathers talked for what felt like ages.

   "Lord Stark, thank you for welcoming me into your home. Lady Stark, thank you as well," I said as soon as there was a break in conversation. I smiled at them, and Lady Catelyn took it upon herself to introduce me to the children.

   "We're delighted to have you here, dear. You'll remember Robb." He took my hand and held it for a moment too long. Much more gentle than the rough-playing boy I remember. "And Sansa, of course. And this is our youngest, Rickon. You'll have to forgive Brandon and Arya. They're difficult to catch these days, but you'll meet them at dinner."

   "It's wonderful to see you both again, and to meet you as well." I lifted the bottom of my dress and dropped to little Rickon's level. He promptly hid behind the leg of his older sister, who apologized for his shy demeanor. "It's alright, really. I hope to be friends with you, Rickon." To my delight, he smiled shyly from behind Sansa.

   Lord Stark pulled himself from conversation with my father. "You all must be exhausted," he announced with a clap of his hands. "Sansa will show you to your chambers, Massey. And Robb, you'll show Broden to his."

   Sansa glided quickly through the winding stone halls of her home. It was a challenge to pace myself between keeping up with her and not stepping on the ends of her gown that trailed behind her. As we walked, I admired her long auburn hair that she had twisted into a series of braids down her back. I had always felt plain next to girls like her. Though she was younger, she was nearly taller than me. And I was far less graceful. My soft brown waves were nothing compared to a girl like Sansa's shiny locks. I straightened my posture and patted my own head to make sure no hairs were out of place as I contemplated these thoughts. We eventually reached the second to last room at the top of the stairs, which she gently opened and guided me inside of. There was a feathered bed larger than I had had at home, an oversized chair, two trunks and wardrobe for my things, a fireplace, and a table with a large mirror. On the far wall was a wide window looking down on some boys practicing their sword fighting. One of the boys had knocked the other to the ground, and I heard cheering and taunting as he helped the other up. I opened the window a bit more to try to get a sense of who I was looking at. The only one I could recognize was my brother, who was watching from the side.

   "It's not very large, but we don't have much space left that's not already filled with guests or family." Sansa sauntered in behind me. "I was so sorry to hear about your mother, but I really am happy to have you here, Massey. It'll be nice to have another feminine presence around to combat all of these boys. Gods know, Arya is no help there." As she spoke, she reached out for my hands. For months, everyone I had encountered showed their sympathies and pity through every action they took around me. I'd hoped that might wear off soon. "The door at the top of the stairs is the library. I suspect that you'll make good use of that."

   "I suspect you're correct. It's lovely, Sansa. Thank you." I let go of her hands and ran my own along the surprisingly warm walls. My face must have reflected what I was thinking, because Sansa spoke once again.