The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

66.

Massey

"Hello," I began softly, the creaking of my door announcing my presence beforehand.

   Theon turned in his seat to face me, the fire at his back and his face expressionless, save for a bit of nervousness.

   "Hello," he echoed back.

   With my hands clutched awkwardly before me, I made my way over to where he sat, grabbing the stool from my table and bringing it next to him so that we were both sitting before the fire.

   The warmth of the fire did little to soothe the chill I felt. A chill not even from the winter beyond my bedchamber walls, but from all of the possibilities that dawn may bring. I brought my eyes back to Theon's, the light from the crackling fire now illuminating his face, drawing a particular attention to the lines of exhaustion etched into his skin from the many hardships he'd faced for one so young.

"How are you feeling?" I asked quietly, as if speaking any louder might disturb the fragile balance of peace we'd recently found.

"I'm nervous," he admitted as though it pained him. "Not...not for me, even. For all of us. I want to protect Bran."

"We will," I assured him. "Together."

A few moments passed with comfortable silence, my mind traveling back to the look on his face when he'd spotted me earlier.

"That business with Podrick today. He is a friend, nothing more. Barely that, even. I just wanted to practice— to do anything aside from...awaiting my doom. You know I hold no love for the sword—"

"I know," he told me. His tone let know he meant it, too.

I nodded my head, the air growing silent and tense once more. It was as if we didn't know how to be alone together now. But, that wasn't what I wanted. I sought that same comfortability we'd shared before. Like I was half of him, and he was half of me. Because we were.

"I wish," he started before I could speak again, taking a moment to swallow and steady himself. "I wish that I had been better."

"No, Theon," I cut in softly, reaching my hand out and placing it on his. "I wish a great many things. But, that's not what I desire to think about tonight, to dwell on. If this is our last night, let it be a good one."

With a blind sort of confidence, I rose from the stool, bringing him to his feet gently by tugging on his hand. My heart pounding all the way, I took a step toward him, the ends of my old light blue gown coming to rest on the toes of his boots.

   "You'll stay, won't you?" I nearly whispered.

   He didn't answer immediately, but glanced past me to my bed before bringing his nervous eyes back to mine. I could tell what he was thinking, and my heart ached to imagine that he felt, even one bit, like the man he was could stand to disappoint me.

   "It is not something we have to conquer tonight," I said softly.  "I only wish to be with you. Tonight is all that we have guaranteed to us. Let us not waste it."

   With that, he gave an almost undetectable nod, conceding to the thought of sharing a bed with me. My hands trembling as though it were the first time I'd been in the presence of a man, I brought my fingers up to unlace his doublet. With timid movements, we both worked to reduce his clothing to merely his tunic and trousers. He kept my gaze solemnly with what he did next.

As though determined to bare himself to me, he grabbed his tunic from the ends and pulled it over his head, holding it in his palm as it swayed by his side. Immediately, tears prickled my eyes and a soft breath escaped me as I took him in. The amount of scars on his body, some of them lashes, some of them cuts, some of them burns— all of them horrid. A fair amount of the scars were in the shape of the Bolton sigil. Several X's carved into him, a shape not worthy of a second glance lest you knew the origin of them. I kept my lips tightly closed, but that didn't stop my bottom lip from trembling. He was more scar than man, more pain than man. When my eyes worked their way back up his abdomen and torso and landed on his face, his eyes threatened to spill tears as well. He was once a man so proud, so driven by lust, and now he was left broken, no matter the time that had passed.