Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Two (Completed)

Theon Greyjoy X Reader (Requested by @xXMiokoXx)

A/N- This imagine was requested by Wattpad user: @xXMiokoXx. I'm sorry to say that it strays a little from the original request, but I tried my hardest to do it justice. I hope you all enjoy it.

"Do you think people are scared of me?" It was a question that rallied around your head on a daily basis, and it had somehow slipped its way out from between your teeth, too quick for you to even consider holding it back.

Theon remained quiet for a moment, studying you as you leant forward, leaning your elbows against the surface of the table that sat between you. "Perhaps," he told you softly, and your lips quirked into a small frown for only an instant before returning to your straight-lipped expression. "But those of us who truly matter are not," he added, sitting up a little straighter as he smiled at you.

"But the regular people fear me," you uttered, finally allowing your frown to settle onto your lips. Being the daughter of a god was hard work, you had known as much from the day you had discovered your father's true identity, but the hardest part would always be the isolation. Even when they were doting on you it often felt as though there was this deep-rooted fear within them. Perhaps, it wasn't helped by your ability to read their minds. People always seemed to think of the one thing they are trying to forget when they are under such immense pressure, and they were no different when met with a Demi-god. You had heard a magnitude of strange mental confessions, from infidelity to murder, but your favourites always came from children. Sneaking an extra bite of cake at a feast, drinking a sip of summer wine when their mothers were busy elsewhere, crushes on princes and lords; they were always the most fun to listen to.

Mind reading was not, however, the key reason for peoples fear. That came in the other characteristics your father had passed down to you. Your eyes were a product of your father, burning a dark red, barely noticeable unless you were looking for the fiery tinge, but somewhat unnerving nonetheless. But the most unsettling thing you had gained from your father had been your ability to kill with a single touch.

You had only done it once before, to a stablehand who had forced himself upon one of your chambermaids. She had come to you one evening, shaking as she sobbed to you that he had hurt her, that he had forced himself inside of her as she kicked and screamed and begged to be free, but he had not yielded to her pleas, and she had come to you defeated. You had been so full of rage that you left the poor girl behind, storming down to the stables and grabbing the boy by the throat before shoving him into the wooden walls with such force that the entire building creaked in protest. You remembered how he had cried, and how good it had felt to deny his pleas in the same way he had denied hers. You had jabbed one finger into his chest, and his body had suddenly gone limp in your grip, causing you to drop him to the floor in shock. And just like that, Death's daughter had made her first kill. The rumours of your ability had spread quickly after that, and the only place that seemed to offer you any solace was Winterfell.

"Regular people are fools," Theon answered you with a shrug, leaning a little closer until you shifted away from him. You had become used to avoiding physical contact, for fear of harming those around you, but it hurt most with him. Your relationship had begun as something friendly and completely innocent, but since spending time together you had started to develop feelings for him, feelings that you had hoped he would reciprocate, though there had always been a lot of doubt in your mind. You could not bring yourself to touch him for fear that you would bring him harm, and yet he didn't seem to care. He did not drop his sweet demeanour, nor did he tell you that your fear was ridiculous, as others had, but he had comforted you from a safe distance and told you that he did not care that you couldn't touch him, for he could love you from afar.

You lowered your eyes to the table, biting down on the inside of your lip for a moment as you carefully considered your next words. "I do not like being feared."