The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

12.

Massey

"Robb, do not. I'm serious, don't. I'll-" I couldn't think of a proper threat as he backed me out of an abandoned home with a beetle in hand. I could hear it's little wings hitting the palm of its captor. The sound made me gag. My gagging made Robb laugh. "You're worse than a child!"

We found two more homes that were unoccupied before Robb suggested that we head for the alehouse. We continued the muddy path there, with Theon sulking behind the rest of us. He stole glances at me along the way, which I tried to ignore, but didn't say anything to me directly. I'm not sure why he even bothered coming.

"The Smoking Log? What a ridiculous name," I said, looking up the sign above the alehouse.

"It's a ridiculous place," Jon responded as he held the door open for me.

The tavern was cramped and overcrowded. There were far more people than its crooked walls were meant to hold, and I didn't recognize even one of them. The smell inside was pungent, like everyone that occupied it had just come from doing labor in the hot sun all day. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, or smelled.

"Bessa," Theon called out, walking past me and putting his arm down on the table in front of a servant girl. "Can we get some drinks?"

"Course," she said, staring back at him suggestively. I see now why he bothered coming.

I tried to ignore the jealousy that flared inside of me. I sought out a spot to sit in and ended up close to a lone man who sat in the corner singing. He had a small drum to keep the beat of his song. I was trying to listen to the words he sang more closely when Theon slid in beside me with four cups of ale balanced poorly in his hands. He placed one in front of me while we waited for Jon and Robb to pull themselves out of conversation with some girls. One of them was beautiful with red hair down to her hips. I wondered silently if that was Ros. The other was short and much less pretty, with a laugh I could hear from where I sat. She was touching Robb's arm as she cackled. I took a sip of my ale and nearly spit it back into the cup. Theon spun his cup around and around on the table like he didn't want his drink either.

"This is disgusting," I mumbled after I finally choked it down.

Theon finally snapped at me with a harsh whisper. "Why did you do that? Why did you invite them?" His shaggy curls now fell on top of a furrowed brow.

"I...I didn't like how you spoke to me at dinner," I explained with a stutter, concealing the true reason for my irritation. Laughing at the thought of me sitting with the girls didn't offend me. It was the fact that it was Theon laughing at me.

"What did I say?" He looked truly bewildered.

"About dining with the other girls. I didn't like the way-"

"For that? You tossed me aside for that? We were meant to spend time together." He grew more agitated by the second.

"This is spending time together."

"Alone."

"Theon," I sighed, the weight of every emotion shared between us now resting on my next words. "What happens then? What happens when we spend time alone?"

He looked perplexed and ashamed all at the same time.

"Exactly. I'm not Bessa. I'm not one of the brothel girls. I can't be that for you."

"I never wanted you to be anything for me-"

"What, then? We'll get married?" My voice cracked. The sadness I felt was palpable, at least to me. "You don't want that, Theon. It's true, I care about you. I can't help it, but I have to do what's expected of me."

All traces of defense left his face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. The music had stopped, and we just sat looking at one another. Though, the conversations around us still roared. The short girl's laughter still filled the room.

"Tell Jon and Robb I'm feeling unwell. I'm going to go back," I declared without confidence, scooting toward Theon and motioning for him to move. He obliged after a moment of silent protest, almost as though were trying to think of something to stop me from leaving. I quietly slipped past the other boys and out the door.

I passed several empty stalls, which I can only assume were filled with different wares just hours ago. The days here must have been filled with more warmth than I was feeling now. I walked with my arms twisted tightly against my chest until I was finally able to collapse onto my bed.

———

Just over a week had gone by. Theon barely spoke to me during our meals, if he even showed up for them. I missed him, despite our disagreement. I found myself staying in my chambers whenever possible to avoid seeing him. Robb had unfortunately noticed how withdrawn I had become. I walked with him after breakfast until we spotted Ser Rodrik, who beckoned for Robb to join him. I could see that it pained him to be interrupted when he was just now spending proper time with me. It was for the best, I told him. It was almost time for Arya's sewing lesson anyhow.

"Wait here?"

I nodded and watched him walk to Rodrik and speak to him only for a few moments before turning back to me. I scanned the yard and found Lord Stark walking alongside Lady Stark.

"Rodrik says they've found a deserter," Robb announced, back at my side. "He's informing father, and I'm sure he'll want to ride out soon."

"How grim."

"Yes, very sad," he replied, not at all convincingly. "You'll be alright, then? Walking back alone. I've got to go-"

I tilted my head in his direction and interrupted him. "I believe I'll manage. I'll see you this evening, my lord."

Robb walked off after lingering a moment longer. Before heading to Arya's chambers, I stopped to send a raven to my father. I wondered how he was doing. I especially wondered how he was finding the southern climate. Not pleasant, I'm sure. He always hated the hottest days even at home. Every man in Winterfell now seemed to be shuffling around the yard preparing for the execution of the deserter. I saw Lord Stark walking with Jory Cassel, and behind them trailed little Bran, Jon, and Theon. Jon waved meekly to me, but otherwise kept his head down. Theon didn't look at me at all, even though I kept my eyes on him in case he might.

At her lesson, Arya expressed that she wished that her father would bring her along instead of Bran, to which I informed her that she most certainly should not wish to see such a thing. Unfortunately, that turned into a far too lengthy conversation in which I finally conceded to her point.

"Perhaps they'd even let you swing the sword," I muttered sarcastically.

"Do you think?" She exclaimed, much too excitedly.

I dropped all emotion from my face. "No."

After finishing with Arya, I waited outside until the boys returned. My eyes eventually found Jon and Robb coming through the gate, looking particularly happy for men who had just watched an execution. They all had something small wriggling in their arms. Bran's was the first that I could truly make out. Dogs. They had gone out to carry out the king's justice, and come back with a litter of puppies. I waited in my spot until Robb acknowledged me across the yard.

"Look," Robb said, still cradling the tiny animal.

"Dogs? Where did you get them?" I reached out to pet the one in his arms.

"Direwolves," he corrected. "Six of them. The mother had died. There's one for each of us."

"Direwolves? Here?" I looked now to Jon who had two in his hands, one of them was a pure white pup. He nodded and nudged his head to indicate that I could pet them as well, so I did. I looked past Jon to Theon, who also cradled two, albeit far less gently. He said nothing, nor did he move. Robb handed me the one from his arms, and it licked my hands.

"Father says we can keep them," Bran nearly squealed.

"That's wonderful, Bran. What will you name your's?"

He thought hard, squinting his eyes. "I don't know yet."

We all laughed at that, even Lord Stark, but Bran was too happy to care.