The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

47.

Massey

Theon left our chambers that night and did not return. He didn't return on the second night, either. I can't say that I had many complaints about his absence. Truth be told, I was too numb to feel much at all. Each day, the hours trudged on while thoughts of each of the Starks made me sick to my stomach. I didn't leave the room because even though the door was no longer locked from the outside, the foreboding presence of the Ironborn reminded me that I was not exactly welcome to roam the halls. Meals that I hardly touched were brought to me, a bath was even drawn for me one morning, but I saw no sign of my husband. On the fourth night, however, Theon finally returned just after nightfall. My heart thumped more quickly, and my mouth ran dry at the sight of him.

   He seemed to move at half speed, shedding pieces of his outfit as he made his way toward the bed where I had already been laying. I didn't realize until I saw him just how much our room had become my sanctuary, hiding me away from everything awful happening beyond its walls. My body as a whole began to shrivel up, recoiling at the thought of sharing a bed with him. The thought of his skin brushing against mine, or the same hands that hurt Bran and Rickon touching me in any manner was unbearable. He sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots, tossing them and causing two loud thuds as they landed near the fireplace. He stood again and lifted the furs to climb in beside me. When he was nearly settled, I felt the sudden urge to flee. I whipped the covers off of my legs and began to sit up in preparation to sleep on one of the chairs by the fire. On the floor, even, if it meant I didn't have to be so close to him.

   Without hesitation, Theon threw his arm in front of me, blocking me from getting up any further. He slowly pushed me back down to the mattress. My heart was racing, and I knew he could feel the rapid beat of it against his forearm. Once I was down to my pillow again, he leaned over me, propped up on his elbow, and stared down at me. I felt then that I had truly lost him. His hand caressed the side of my face, and I tried my best not to emanate the fear I felt. He had kept me in Winterfell. He had sequestered me in this room. I was his, and he knew it. To be at the mercy of a changed man you once trusted entirely is an unforgettable feeling. My head spun as I questioned every choice I had made that led me to where I was in that moment. I didn't know what he intended to do to me, but I remained still, looking him right back in the eye as he studied me.

We remained that way for a prolonged, incredibly tense moment before I felt his weight shift in the bed. I know he felt me flinch as he moved, and I know he didn't like that I was scared. Scared of him. He brought the arm that guarded me back down to his side and huffed quietly as he looked over my body. In turn, I scrambled to cover myself again with the blankets.

   "I have been thinking," he started much more gently than I'd anticipated he'd speak to me. I kept a watchful eye on him as I waited for him to go on. "You are unhappy here."

   Keen observation.

   "I know that," he added dryly as he took in the contempt on my face. "You want to leave?"

   I let the offer linger for a moment, too wary to take him up on it immediately.

   "I have nowhere to go."

   "Not permanently. I just...I mean perhaps a visit."

   I furrowed my brow at him, my teeth involuntarily chewing at the inside of my cheek.

   "Jon," he clarified quietly. "Do you wish to see Jon?"

   "Theon," I breathed out, "if this is some sort of trick..."

   "It is not a trick. I will send you with as many men as I am able to spare if that is what you want to do. It will not be for long, and you must return here, but—"