The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

42.

Massey

I walked the woods and sat at the foot of the Weirwood tree for the first hours of the morning, switching between reading and praying. I prayed for guidance. I prayed for the safety of my brother. I prayed for the safety of the Starks. I prayed hardest for Theon's safety and for him to return to me as quickly as he possibly could.

Finishing off the last of the food I had brought with me, I began to prepare to head back to the castle. Perhaps to find work, or just to keep a closer eye on Rickon. A rain had started to fall, anyhow. As soon as I began walking, I noticed a figure approaching me through the trees. I kept my eyes fixed on the figure, ready to strike up a conversation or just exchange a friendly greeting. As it grew nearer, though, it wasn't anyone that I recognized. It wasn't anyone who looked to belong here at all. This man was dirty and lacked warmth. In an abundance of caution, I attempted to keep my head down and pass him, but he grabbed my upper arm and began to yank at me.

"Now what's a little thing like you doing out here all alone?" He croaked as he flashed his crooked teeth down at me.

Panicked, I thrashed until I was out of his grip and ran the best that I could, dropping my books along the way. He caught up to me quickly and wrapped both arms around me to drag me back to the castle.

"Stop it! Help! What is the meaning of this? Who are you? Get your hands off of me." I tried my hardest to shout out anything that would get this thin, suspiciously strong man off of me. "You cannot do this to me."

He only offered a smug laugh as a reply. Against my protests, we made it to the bustling courtyard, where I was finally released from the stranger's grip. I ran through a crowd of yelling people to Bran and Rickon, who were the first people I sought out. They were off to the side with Osha, Luwin, and Hodor, and all five had sorrowful looks on their faces as they watched something behind me. Everyone left in Winterfell seemed to be here, all murmuring or shouting different versions of the same sentence, but I saw only the boys. I knelt into the mud and pulled Rickon into a tight hug, trying to drown out the commotion around me.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" I questioned frantically, looking over his little body. He stared past me, sobbing incoherently. I didn't even have time to ask what was happening.

"Please, stop! Stop right now!" Bran shouted.

"You don't give commands anymore, little lord."

My heart sank farther than I knew it could go, so far down that I doubted it would ever return. I knew that voice. That's when I rose to my feet and turned around, leaving Rickon to bury his face into Luwin's leg. Though I only half recognized him, I saw Theon standing in the middle of the crowd. His hair was shorter, and his clothes were different. He wielded his sword, and the look on his face frightened me. I believe I meant to yell for him, but my lungs betrayed me. All I could manage was a soft "No."

Ser Rodrik attempted to console Bran from his position on the ground below Theon. "Hush now, child. I'm off to see your father."

"Any last words, old man?" Theon barked with authority, staring down to Ser Rodrik.

Last words?

Bran was still pleading from beside me as the rain continued to fall. I couldn't even process what was happening before it was over.

"Gods help you, Theon Greyjoy. Now you are truly lost."

The sound of Theon's sword being brought down on Ser Rodrik's neck broke the air, silencing everyone for only a moment before their cries continued. It was terrible, perhaps the worst noise I had ever heard. Worse than my father's sobs the morning after my mother had finally passed. Worse than the words from Luwin's mouth that informed me my father had been murdered. I covered my mouth and shut my eyes immediately out of pure shock. I kept them closed only briefly as Theon hacked away, opening them just in time to see the sickening sight of him kicking Ser Rodrik's head from his lifeless body. He stood over the body of the man who had helped raise him, the man who had taught him to swing the sword he'd just used for such a horrendous act. Somehow, he looked scared. Scared of himself, maybe. Theon stumbled around, scanning the crowd in front of him while his chest heaved heavily up and down. He finally found me. I watched his expression change the instant his gaze met mine. I brushed a mixture of raindrops and tears from my face and studied him.