The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

56.

Massey

When I felt well enough, more shaken from the news I'd received than the actual ailments to my body, I ventured out of the cramped room alongside Jon. With a blanket still clutched tightly around my shoulders, I received my first glimpse of Castle Black. It was quieter within the walls than I'd imagined it would be. In every direction, people were scattered about the grounds, the snow below their feet crunching loudly as they came or went. Most of them didn't appear to be Night's Watch at all. They were Free Folk. That much was easy to tell. What they were doing here, inside of Castle Black was tougher to discern.

   I locked away any inquires I had and followed in step with Jon's stride. Although I didn't know where we were going, we eventually ended up outside of what appeared to be their version of a dining hall. Just in front of the doorway stood a tall, fiery haired wildling man. He greeted Jon heartily before turning his attention to me.

   "You're small."

I looked down at my boots planted in front of his, then trailed my eyes back up his long frame, where there appeared to be a scattered few crumbs tangled in his beard.

"Yes," I muttered after a moment. "You're large."

"Oh, yes."

   I let out a nervous chuckle, doing my best to keep any awkward silence between us to a minimum. The only wildling I'd ever met had been Osha, and she was nothing like this man. She was small, understated albeit deadly. I found myself wondering how she was faring under Ramsay's imprisonment since it was safe to assume she was there as well. She'd not leave the boys willingly, especially sweet Rickon.

   "Massey, this is—" Jon began, cutting through my thoughts before getting interrupted immediately.

"Tormund. Tormund Giantsbane."

The man beamed with pride as if his name was an accomplishment itself.

"Massey Bryer," I replied without any fanfare of my own.

As Tormund turned to go inside, Jon held my gaze in a way that commanded my full attention. "This is going to be a lot. Very confusing for you, I'd venture. But, just...listen, and we will speak after. Alright?"

   I, of course, agreed without question. I trusted him. When Jon stood aside so that we may join the others, another head of red hair came into view. A much more delicate, graceful head of hair that flipped over her shoulder as she turned in her seat to face us. She stood as well, practically gliding over to me as she always had before.

   "Massey," she sighed, pulling me into a tight hug that seemed to alleviate us both of some unspoken burden. I said nothing for a moment, relishing in the first genuine touch I'd received in years.

   "Sansa," I finally spoke as she pulled back. I couldn't help but to look over her repeatedly, unable to take in that she was the same little girl I'd known. Her eyes were still kind, her smile still comforting. Like her mother. "You've grown so much. You're so beautiful."

   She rolled her lips into a tight smile, as if refusing to show her excitement. "I'd hardly believed it when Jon said you were here."

   "Well, here I am," I laughed weakly.

I wanted more than anything to ask after Theon, beg her for any detail she might be able to give about the chunk of time in which I missed out on his life, but I knew it wasn't the right time. It seemed whatever the content of this meeting was, my arrival had delayed it. There were only a few of us in the large room. Edd, a brother of the Night's Watch. Melisandre, a mysterious woman who sat with a distant look in her eyes. Sansa and Jon, of course, with what appeared to be Sansa's personal guard at her side. Tormund, and an older man. I took a seat next to him, and he introduced himself as Ser Davos. He was gentle with me, asking how I'd ended up here and telling me he was glad to have me before we got down to whatever business was to be held. They all got to speaking, having apparently started this discussion at an earlier time. I did my best to keep from harping on thoughts of Theon, my eyes drawn to the vast map on the table before me.