The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

36.

Massey

I sat in my own chambers for a change, practicing my needlework in the morning light, a skill that brought me fond memories of my mother. I found that often times, my days had little to no structure if Rickon was with Old Nan, or Maester Luwin was too preoccupied with his actual duties to spend time training me. I began to long for the days to come once Theon and I managed to leave Winterfell. After awhile longer, there was a knock on my door, a boy from the ravenry come to bring me a letter.

"Thank you," I told him, holding my hand out for the scroll and keeping my tone polite despite how excited I was to see the seal on the parchment. My family's.

I shut the door hastily, nearly ripping the paper as I broke the seal and sat down, eager to read whatever my brother had written. Sitting on my own bed, I unrolled it, taking in the first words.

My darling daughter,

I dropped it immediately back into my lap with a sharp intake of air, letting it roll back together tightly atop my legs. My father. Not Broden. My father had written me. As if the sender were going to change, I sat entirely still, not daring to reach for the paper for several long moments. The panic rushed through me as though he were standing before me, pointing his finger with a disapproving scowl. Like I had to tell him then and there that I'd defied him. I felt his disappointment all the way from King's Landing once again. Shame and a childlike fear consuming me. Then, the worst possibility crossed my mind. He'd found out from someone other than me that I'd married Theon. With a heavy huff of air in an otherwise silent room, I swallowed hard and attempted to read it again, ready for whatever lashing I was about to receive.

My darling daughter,

   I have sat at my desk for the better length of an hour, trying to find the words that I need to say to you. The truth is, even at my ripe age, it is hard to openly admit to something that brings you so much shame. Yet, I find that I must to move on from where we left things.

   When Gareth came to me the day that he found you alongside that boy of yours, I found that I didn't know what to do. In the absence of my own wisdom, I found myself leaning into the crueler side of my being that I like to pretend does not exist. I was the one who sent Barret away. I sent him away to his death. I have spent many years trying to convince myself that I didn't, but I know now that I did.

   I want you to know, my sweet girl, that I believed I was doing the right thing. Whatever harm, whatever cruelty I did, it stemmed from a place of my immeasurable love for you. I have always wanted the very best for you, for all three of you. At the time, I thought that meant setting you up for a comfortable life, one that would bring you no strife. But, a lack of strife does little to compare to love.

   Your mother was the embodiment of love.  And, she was wiser than me. I made her a promise, and I've broken it. I never should have denied you when you confessed to me that you had found that love. That must have taken so much courage. You are so brave, my girl, the bravest of us all. Please, do not tell your brothers I've admitted that.

Broden is well set and comfortable here. He is thriving and no longer needs me here. I will set north for Winterfell before the month is up to see to this betrothal that you seek. It is, of course, not what I had hoped, but you are right. Your mother wanted you to be happy, to be loved. That is what I want, as well. That is what is important to me, and I cannot take that from you.