Game of Thrones, 𝙤𝙣𝙚-𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨

VIII. THEON GREYJOY (2)

[READ PART 1 FIRST]
No smut.
Season 5 spoilers (big time) regarding Sansa, Ramsay, and Theon/Reek.

I'm copying the same plot-line from the actual show for this part, except switching Sansa's role with nameless MC.

This one-shot obviously takes place years later and is in Theon's POV.

Not being able to see the only woman he has ever loved suffer at the hands of her new husband, Ramsay Bolton, for another day, Theon Greyjoy vows to help her escape Winterfell and make amends to the Stark family.

•  •  •

The sound of the keys dancing in my hand was a soft one. After finding the right one and grabbing the tray that held her breakfast, I slipped into the room, pushing the door back closed with my body.

I looked through the strands of my hair to see that she was lying in bed with her back to me. She still wore her dress from her wedding night which happened a little less than a fortnight ago. It was now ripped at the arms, displaying the dark bruises that marked her fair skin.

I kept a careful eye on her sleeping figure as I set the tray down on the table, making sure the clattering wasn't too loud as to wake her up. She didn't. Then I went to close the window, which blew frigid streams of wind into the room. It was already dark and cold as it was with the absence of candles. I reached for the shutters which fell shut in a much louder manner than I had intended.

I knew she had woken up to the sound which had me turning around quickly and moving to the door.

"Theon, wait." Her hoarse voice called for me.

"Not Theon, milady. Reek." I amended, looking her way to see that she had pushed herself up to sit on the bed.

"Help me." She spoke again, stopping me from reached for the door.

"You're his wife now."

"Theon," The pain drenching her voice made me clench my jaw. But I forced myself to talk some more.

"Do what he says. Do what he says or he'll hurt you."

"He already hurts me every night." Even from where I stood, I could see the gleam in her light eyes that were the tears threatening to spill down her rosy cheeks. "It can't be any worse." She shook her head, her voice cracking.

"It can. It can always be worse." She got up and I immediately dropped my gaze to the floor, but I couldn't unsee her.

The marks on her body were of a dark pallet. Blue, purple, red, black. They were the only flaws to her complexion. I didn't want to think about what she thought of them- looking at them all day and knowing that there would be more to come by nightfall.

Her hair spilled down her back in disarrayed strands, knotted in some places and reminding me nothing of the silky brown locks through which I had kneaded my fingers through countless of times. Now it was only a distant memory to my fingertips.

I could see more of her body now, exposed in places where it shouldn't have been. Exposed because of the rips in her dress, exposed because of him. The bruises painted her skin there too. Down the side of her neck, crawling down the valley between her breasts.