The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

16.

Massey

In those first moments after a long night's sleep, you awaken with a sort of bliss, no recollection of anything that may have happened prior to your slumber. That bliss was particularly short lived the morning after Arya had knocked me down that hill. I awoke with a sort of dull, yet intense pain throbbing throughout my face, and thoughts of Robb and Theon finding me much too quickly. Still, I forced myself to get dressed and walk downstairs, not bothering to attempt covering my face with powder in any way. I garnered many concerned looks and almost lost the courage I had gathered before I ran into Lady Stark on her way out of the dining hall. 

   "Oh my," she said to herself. "I'm so sorry that this happened. My daughter can be an absolute brute. How do you feel?" She reached out to lightly touch my cheek.

   "Much better," I lied again, holding back the urge to scrunch my face up in pain. "Like nothing ever happened."

   "Good attempt, but she's still in trouble." She laughed and so did I. She noticed me minimizing my appearance by hanging my head and avoiding her gaze, and she reached down for my hands. "You're still beautiful." The words of reassurance came from her mouth, but I heard them in my mother's voice. Suddenly I was an insecure child at her feet again. I felt small, but safe. "I'm having a new gown made for you."

   "Oh, my lady, that's not necessary-"

   She cut my sentence short without hesitation. "I won't hear it. It's already on its way. Now, go get some breakfast before the boys have it all."

   I spotted Robb and Jon sitting down already eating. When I looked over to them as I walked in, Jon's eyes went wide, and he whispered something to Robb. Robb shushed him, and I took my seat. Jon glanced from the table up to me several times before I was fed up with it.

   "Go on, then. Say what you've got to say."

   "A little girl did that?"

   "Yes, Jon. A little girl with a big stick and a strong arm."

   "I'm sorry, I am. I just...didn't expect it to be so...bad?" He added, letting loose a snicker with the last word.

   "Well, neither did I," I said as I laughed along with him. 

   "We'll have to make sure no one puts a real weapon in her hands anytime soon," Robb added in the tone he used when he wants the subject of a conversation to change. He smiled over at me, and I felt the burden of disappointing him last night leave my shoulders. Perhaps he thought nothing of it.

   Jon entirely disregarded Robb's attempt to divert the conversation. "Your father's going to lose his mind," he said into his plate.

   "Yes, well he doesn't have to know, does he?"

   "Going to be hard to hide it from him when he's standing in front of you."

   "I scarcely believe a little bruise will last that long, Jon."

   "You haven't heard?" Jon's voice dropped with genuine confusion. "The King is coming to Winterfell. With your father in tow, I'm sure."

   "What?" I looked to Robb.

   Robb swallowed hard, looking slightly annoyed that Jon had steered the conversation there. "I thought you knew. They should be here in a few days time."

   "Why in the world is King Robert coming to Winterfell?"

   "The Hand has died," Robb answered solemnly.

   "Jon Arryn?" I asked. He nodded. "Oh, your father. He must be devastated. I'm so sorry."

   He expressed his gratitude for my condolences, but assured me his father was fine. For the rest of breakfast, Robb treated me like I was broken. I was, in a way, but the pity annoyed me. If it had been one of the boys that got hit, they'd only taunt him for it. At least Jon had the decency to laugh at me. I waited at the breakfast table long after I had finished, but Theon never showed. My mind wandered back to his words to me while we waited for the maester. You were right, to an extent. Right about what? And, to what extent? And Robb. He had calmed my worries this morning, but I still feared that I may have offended him. None of that mattered right then anyhow. My father was coming, and with any luck, my brother as well.