#theon greyjoy fanfic

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

I recently read your theon fic and it's so good!! If you're still taking requests, would you consider writing something for theon again? Maybe a childhood friends to lovers with a Stark reader? It can be as short or long as you want and feel free to make it smutty!! And again love your writing! Going through the rest of your GoT fics now hehe

Omission

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy x Stark!Reader

Warnings: smut cuz anon told me i could! 😂, implied sex work in the winter town, slightly manipulative reader? 🤔, cunnilingus, face riding, praise kink, first orgasms, secret relationship 🤫, nipple biting, implied childhood friends, mentions of periods, mentioned past face riding

Words: 2432

"Oh shut up, Robb." Giving your twin brother a harsh shove, Robb merely laughs at you as you pummel your gloved fists against his shoulders. "Now I know you're just teasing me."

"Sweet (y/n), do you really think I would lie to my dear twin?"

Your eyes round as you gape at him. "You lie to me on a daily basis, Robb Stark!" Dealing him another smack on the head, Robb pleads for mercy from your tiny fists of fury. Seeing that he's given up, you let your arms fall back to your side, glaring at him. "There's no way. I've seen the two of you sneaking out to the winter towns. Probably to the brothels."

"You think so little of us men, don't you." He sighs and leans his back against the ominous face of the heart tree. To southerners, the face may appear quite macabre with the streams of red that streak out of it's eyes. Having been around it since the day you were born, it was never something to fear. Something to cower away from.

The castle of Winterfell was always hustling and bustling with the work of the many hands that were required to smoothly run it. Along with those of the large Stark family. Eight children including the Greyjoy ward, Theon, had the halls filled with loud shouting, singing, or laughing.

Out in the personal godswood that your family possessed, you and your twin brother liked to get away just to catch up. He was heir of Winterfell being the first born boy. You were separated from him and given the education that any other prestigious young lady of Westeros received. Unfortunately you never had lessons that overlapped with one another, despite your many complaints to your parents.

And what was your dear brother divulging to you? The fact that your father's ward Theon was so obviously smitten with you that even you were aware of his affections. You'd indulge your brother though and pretend not to know a thing. You'll keep your knowledge to yourself and utilize later. Pretend that you hadn't just been making out with Theon just a few hours prior. Robb may be your other half, but this was a secret that you couldn't truly share with him and swore Theon to secrecy. No, Robb was too close to Ned. He could accidentally let something slip to indicate your true relationship with the kraken boy.

A potential suitor for you, the eldest of Ned's daughters, hadn't been discussed fully though you'd heard whispers from the maids and lords in the halls. Trying to guess who your father would give you away to. Theon would not be a candidate.

"I just thought you should know how he feels." Robb hums.

"You know nothing real can come from it." Pointing out, you feel something seize in your chest. It thickens your throat so that pushing out your words was a struggle. "Theon and I. . . Even if- and I'm not saying I like him that way- even if we got together father would never allow it."

He purses his lips in response. "If we bring up the case properly, I believe father will hear us out."

You shake your head. Robb was ever the optimist.

"Don't say anything about it to father." Simply telling him, you use the trunk of the tree to help yourself get up. The weight of your gown skirts tend to pull you down. In response, Robb gets up as well and helps to dust you off. "Please Robb. I don't want Theon getting in trouble." That was the last thing the two of you needed was Ned to increase his surveillance toward Theon. While he cared for the boy, he was always wary due to the Greyjoy Rebellion. They'd proven to be untrustworthy and Ned being a realist always held concern that Theon would grow to be just like Balon Greyjoy.

You didn't know the Lord of the Iron Islands and Theon didn't speak much about him but from what little you were able to gather, you'd say Theon would be nothing like his sire. Lord Ned already felt like Theon was a bad influence on Robb with his cocky attitude and cavalier nature. He did not desire any of his children to adopt those traits.

"Okay okay." He's holding your hand as the two of you trudge through snow to get back to the warmth of the castle. "But. . . do you think you can be a little nicer to him now that you know he holds a flame for you? It's bad enough Sansa and mother always treat him coldly."

Frowning you glance at him. "I'm always nice."

You hate how he rolls his Tully blue eyes. "You're always frigid when he's around. You weren't like that when we were all children. You used to hang off him. But you've changed since. . . since you flowered. . ."

Again he finds your hands smacking his arm. "Please don't EVER mention my cycles again." Your cheeks were burning, embarrassed that Robb was even aware when you'd had your first moonblood.

As you enter through the kitchens, Robb's laughter rings above the other chattering. "My apologies. I forget that you're a proper lady now. Like mother and Sansa." He fake curtsies and you have half the mind to kick his shin until your septa shows up; breathless like she's been running around all over Winterfell.

"There you are!" She hisses and stomps toward you.

Robb abandons you to flee and save himself.

Even with your slippers covering your feet, the piercing cold of the stone floor got past even the thickest of wool. Frozen toes were a small price to pay; especially when Theon will happily warm them up once you get to his room. There were a few obstacles you had to bypass in your route. Nothing you couldn't handle.

You'd made this journey many times in the past two years.

Robb wasn't being dramatic when he claimed your change toward Theon. From innocent children to teenagers, everything happened so fast that you weren't really able to comprehend what was going on with your own head. When Theon first arrived to your family, you were a small child. You and Robb grew attached to him immediately. For so long you saw him as a brother. Then it just stopped the moment you bled.

That's when you saw Theon. . . differently.

"I was wondering if you'd make it tonight." Barely stepping in front of his door but a second ago, you grin at his eagerness and let him pull you in. Quietly shutting his door as to not alarm anyone, Theon spins around and envelops you in his arms.

Nuzzling into the warmth of his chest, you sigh in contentment. All the stress of your day rolling right off of you. Even within the security of his room, you still kept your voice to barely above a whisper. "I thought about it. . . Robb's onto you, you know. I'm worried he'll discover the truth."

Theon sits you down on his bed, wrapping one of his fur blankets around you so that you could warm yourself up. Wandering off to the table in his room, he pours two chalices of wine. "Just tell him. I keep telling you he'd take the secret to his grave. Your brother would never risk getting you in that much trouble."

"Not consciously." Pulling the fur tighter, you focus on the softness. "He might imply something to our father in his attempt to help us. Robb thinks our lord father can be reasoned with about a relationship between the two of us."

He's quiet with his back turned to you, busying himself with stoking the fire in the hearth. You watch shadows cast by the fire dance along the broad width of his shoulders.

"Why wouldn't your father marry you to me?" Theon asks after a moment of quiet contemplation. When he faces you again, there's a streak of hurt in his eyes that makes your stomach drop. "It would strengthen bonds between the north and the Iron Islands. And I can't imagine you marrying anyone else but me. I knew from the moment we met that you would be my bride."

Any other time you might have laughed at the idea. Empathetic, you rise from the bed and float over to him; caressing his stubbled cheeks with both of your hands and drawing him closer. In a perfect world MAYBE your father would have considered marrying you off to the last surviving Greyjoy son. His blood was too precious to him though and you knew Ned would only ever choose a husband for you that hailed from the north. Especially since he knew Robb would raise hell if you were given to any other kingdom in Westeros. It was only right that twins stay together after all.

You know how to pull his mind away from such unpleasantness. If you fell victim to those thoughts. . . it would only make your life miserable. The way you handled your reality may not be healthy and this certainly should be addressed, but you were too scared to discuss it. Cowardice you knew it was. You covered it up with saccharine kisses that coaxed Theon to lower his guard.

Your world was full of lies. Perhaps not outright lies, but you were still omitting the truth to your entire family.

If it meant keeping Theon's kisses all to yourself, you didn't feel too bad about it.

This discussion would be brought up again in the future. That was inescapable. You rue the day when Ned finally decided on your husband. Theon would raise hell. You'd hold it off for as long as possible. The maiden in you wanted to believe in this fantasy that Theon thought would come true. Far more happy than what was in store for you in your future.

Having to bend slightly over your short form (you hated how much taller Sansa was than you. It wasn't fair. You were older than her yet you barely were an inch taller than Arya!), once both of you break the kiss for much needed air, Theon presses his forehead against your's, his nose brushing against you're cheek similar to the barn cat that you liked to cuddle with. Rubbing his scent onto you as a claim.

Swiftly his hands grab at your rear as he hoists you up into his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around him for stability. His lips trail kisses along your neck up to the juncture of your neck.

"Do you remember when I first took you?" Theon asks, lips moving against your skin.

Your fingers curl, dragging him closer to you. If you truly could have things your way, you'd never let him go. Freezing the moment to never ending stillness. It was a selfish want, but you didn't care for you truly loved Theon; even if you could never say it out loud to him. If you did then he would do everything and anything to make sure you were wed to him. You didn't doubt that treason would be one of those options. You'd seen it in his eyes before when you let the discussion of getting married went on for too long. You couldn't indulge him.

How could you not remember the day he pierced your maidenhead? The very same day you broke down to him, admitting that you were uncontrollably attracted to him. Longing and desire replaced the once childish adoration you held for him. Ever since your first cycle, it was like your entire body was on fire when Theon was remotely near you.

When you admitted everything, Theon took you back to his room and. . . well. . . From between your legs he spouted nonstop words of adoration and utter devotion to you, his beloved Lady of the North. He confessed to going to the brothels in the winter towns but only so that he could learn how to please you in the bed in order to win you over. How else would he be able to compete against all the other lords that would come calling?

Honestly, you barely heard most of the words he was saying above the roaring of your heartbeat in your ears. A surprise that no one heard you screaming when you had your first climax. Terrified at first and not understanding what was happening to you, Theon ever so softly coaxed you with his tongue and soft touches until you relaxed and came. He encouraged you to shove your cunt into his face (his words, not your's). Even if you were afraid that you would suffocate him or break his nose. That would only make him more persistent. Your face was beaming bright red when he positions your entire body over his face and with the sheer strength of his arms, dips you up and down onto his tongue.

Theon folded you into positions you'd never imagined following that first encounter. From that moment on, you were his. And you couldn't imagine anyone else touching you like Theon did. When his fingers roamed over your skin, it was like he was reading from a book. All your sweet spots spelled out just for him in invisible ink.

From your hooded expression, Theon came to the proper conclusion that you did indeed remember that day which makes his lips curl into a wicked grin. His pupils are clearly blown out in the pools of blue.

Taking care to lay you down gently onto the surface of his bed, the furs around your shoulders fall and splay around you, revealing your nightgown and the small peaks of your erect nipples grazing against your shift.

Theon captures a nipple that poked from your shift. His front teeth softly put pressure making you mewl and writhe under him. You feel a hand glide up your thigh until it rests on your naked hip. "I think of it as the happiest day of my life. Not just because I finally got to fuck you, but also because you said you had feelings for me as I did for you."

Familiar warmth pushes past your lower lips that have you gasping and attempting to arch your back, but Theon makes sure you can't squirm.

Over the blood rushing through your ears and the numbing of your brain as he pumps his fingers in and out while easily sliding in a second and third one; you caught the low whisper of his voice.

"Whatever it takes. I'll make you my bride."

[peterjakes]

Theon Greyjoy - ‘they see right through me’

Theon Greyjoy survived The Long Night. He helped saved Winterfell. He has atoned. The Hero of the Godswood.

But things don't always go to plan. His uncle killed his sister, Yara. This can only mean one thing. Theon Greyjoy is Lord of The Iron Islands. The one thing he had always wanted as a boy, he now has. The one thing he doesn't want, he now has. The one thing he didn't believe he deserved, he now has.

But at what cost?

back when s8 aired, I had some thoughts about what would happen if yara died instead of theon (mostly bc of selfish reasons) but I thought it would be interesting to look at theon's potential feelings about this and possibly what would happen if he was named the last remaining heir of The Iron Islands

thanks for reading x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/45919603

Theon Greyjoy had, against all odds, survived the Long Night. He had survived the Godswood. Survived the Night King. He could go home. Wherever home was. Theon was still unsure of that. He had rescued his sister from his uncle, made sure the Iron Islands had its Queen. But then he had left her, for a place he never truly believed he would set foot in again. He had left his sister for Winterfell, to fight for the North, to fight for the Starks. Could Pyke ever be his home again? Would he want it to be? Being back at Winterfell, back at the place that caused so much anger and anguish in Theon, the place where he had destroyed so much, it brought up some strange memories, some strange feelings. Could Winterfell be his home? Could he stay here, a now honorary Northerner? Theon wasn’t so sure.  

Volunteering to protect Bran in the Godswood, Theon knew what that meant. He knew it had to be him. He had to make up for his crimes against Winterfell, against the Starks, against Bran himself. He was sure everyone else who had watched him say those words knew too. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran. They all knew what it had meant. Theon didn’t want to be thanked. Didn’t want to be celebrated. It was what he had to do. For all of them. It was the only real way he could ever make it up to them. Not only for betraying them, their family, their brother, their mother, their father. But betraying himself. For believing he was anything but part of them. He was, in truth, he just hadn’t realised it yet.  

As Jon had said, Ned Stark was a part of him. But it wasn’t just him, it was all of the Starks. It was Jon, who had told him he was both a Greyjoy and a Stark. Who had forgiven him for what he had done. It was Sansa, who had embraced him with such kindness and warmth. Who had relied so heavily on him during Ramsey’s reign of terror and had forgiven him. It was even Bran, who didn’t seem like the young boy Theon had once terrorised, who had told Theon he was a good man. Who had thanked him. It was all of these moments, so important and perhaps maybe so insignificant to anyone else, that had made Theon realise something.  

He had done things, truly terrible things, to the Starks, to Winterfell and to the North. He didn’t deserve any kindness, any forgiveness. He just felt regret, remorse and guilt. Every single day. And every single night. But regardless of that, he had been forgiven. He had been rewarded with kindness. With something he never thought he would get. He had been redeemed. Even before he had stayed in the Godswood with the Iron Born. Before he pledged to fight for Winterfell. Before he had saved his sister. But Theon just hadn’t realised that yet. Theon had been given a second chance, more than once. Saving and getting Sansa to safety. Citing Yara as his Queen. Fighting for Winterfell. Theon had been given so much more than he believed he had deserved. The Theon Greyjoy who grew up at Winterfell no longer existed. Nor did the Theon who took Winterfell and betrayed the Starks. The Theon who was tortured by Ramsey, gone. Reek? Gone, gone. Theon Greyjoy had been reborn; he had been redeemed completely. Theon had survived, not just the Long Night. Not just his uncle. But every single thing that had led him to that moment in the Godswood, he had survived. He could do more than that now. He could live.  

It was his sister he’d wanted to see. Wanted to apologise again, although Theon wasn’t sure about what. He had left her, but she had allowed him to do that. He still felt some guilt. He was a Greyjoy, he had pledged to follow her, she was his Queen. But at that moment, going back to Winterfell was the most important thing for Theon. He had to face those ghosts one last time.  

But that wasn’t going to happen, not for Theon. It was late afternoon when Sansa had told him. She looked weary and tired, clearly things had not been going well in King’s Landing. But she didn’t mention that, only of Theon’s news.  

“Yara’s dead.”  

After those two words, everything else seemed to stop. Theon had stopped listening to Sansa, although he wasn’t sure she had said anything else. It was possible she let the news sit with Theon, let it sink in, until Theon finally realised what she had just told him. His vision became blurred, he could only see the red from Sansa’s hair in the distance, the black from her dress. Everything else was gone. His breathing seemed to pitch up and his blinking, could he blink? Theon wasn’t so sure. Theon had not been awake that long after the battle, he was supposed to recover, supposed to heal. But he could only think of one thing. His sister.

Theon was the one who was supposed to die. He was the one who would sacrifice himself, finally atoning for what he had done. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Yara...she couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t right. Everything that had happened had led to her ruling the Iron Islands, the way it was supposed to be. Theon was never sure whether he would be able to stand by her side, but now he never would. No one would. She had been taken, by the waves, by the sea. She had drowned, the gods had taken her. Never to be seen again. She had floated out into the distance, where Theon couldn’t reach her.  

Theon wasn’t going to pretend he and Yara had the best relationship. He didn’t remember much about her growing up. He’d told her she looked like a fat, little boy when he was taken from Pyke. As a baby he would cry and cry and cry. But Theon didn’t remember that. His memories of Pyke, his memories of his father, his mother, his brothers, his sister, even they were never clear enough. Everything was always over-clouded, overshadowed by the North. There were bits and pieces he would remember if he thought about it hard enough. His mother’s smile. His brother’s play fighting by the sea. A fat finger prodding him all over. His father’s angry expression. But nothing concrete. It didn’t matter. Theon wasn’t angry or upset. Those memories were not who he was. They didn’t define him. They never could.  

But the memories of Winterfell always seemed far clearer. Robb’s laughter at any of Theon’s jokes. His anger. Lord and Lady Stark, their stern faces. Arya practicing with Theon’s bow. Sansa and her long, auburn hair. Little Bran and Rickon. The Maester. Ser Rodrik. These memories were now ruined, however, by what Theon had done. Taking Winterfell. Beheading Ser Rodrik. Burning the two little bodies. And then Reek’s memories, they would always come back to him. The ones he thought for long he deserved. Maybe he still did. Ramsey’s strange touch. The scars. The smell. The kennels. The hounds. Sansa. Her wedding dress. That night. Betraying her again. Escaping. Letting her go.  

New memories sometimes found themselves in Theon’s mind. Returning to his sister. Travelling to Mereen. Standing by his sister’s side. Dragonstone. Jon’s kind words. Saving his sister. Winterfell. Sansa. The Godswood. Waking up, realizing he had made it. Theon’s memories had reborn; they had become something else.  He had been given the chance to make new ones. Whether that was on Pyke or somewhere else, Theon did not know. But perhaps he shouldn’t waste it. Yara would not want him to waste it. Even with everything that had happened, he was her brother, and she loved him, in her way.

Meeting her again after so long away, Theon hadn’t given the best impression of her younger brother. Thinking back to how he had acted then, Theon felt ashamed. He felt ashamed about so many things, still now, particularly about that time. He knew that feeling would never leave him. This was the price he must pay to live, the Iron Price. He knew that now, though he wasn’t sure whether he had accepted it. Did he deserve to live? Deserve to want to live? He had hurt so many people, including his sister. But he had come back to her, to the Iron Islands, to Pyke. He had named her as his Queen, supported her and escaped Euron with her. It was something, something Theon could hang onto. He would have to. There were not many happy memories between the two and now there wouldn’t be.

But none of that mattered now, not truly. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. Theon was alone in the world. The only Greyjoy left. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t be the last one, it should never have been him. Yara, it was supposed to be Yara. It should always have been Yara. She would have taken great pride in being the last one, she would have made sure all of Westeros remembered the Greyjoys, remembered the name. Theon knew he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t up to that. Yara and Theon were so different. He wasn’t her and she wasn’t him. He couldn’t do anything for her memory. Not one thing.  

It wasn’t until Sansa brought up the subject that Theon realised with both Yara and Euron gone, there was only one person left who could rule the Iron Islands. Theon. But no. Theon couldn’t. He wasn’t fit to rule. He didn’t deserve to rule. He didn’t want to. But he was the last Greyjoy left. He was the last link to his father. His father, Balon Greyjoy. His father, who had shipped him away to the North. His father, who had bent the knee. His father, who never seemed to have any love for Theon. His father, who named Yara as his heir. His father, who died alone. What a father he was. Jon had once told Theon that Ned Stark was more of a father than the Greyjoy Lord ever was. Theon’s real father had lost his head at King’s Landing. Wasn’t that what Theon had told Ramsey once? What connection did Theon have with his father? Not one that mattered. His connection was stronger with the Starks, with Winterfell and the North.  

Theon couldn’t rule, he just couldn’t. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be the reigning Lord over a place he could hardly remember. It was supposed to be Yara. They were supposed to have their Queen. Their first Queen. After everything, how could he go back? He couldn’t go back, not there. He didn’t deserve to go back. Theon spent so much of his life being torn between Winterfell and Pyke. He seemed to belong to neither, floating between the two. The Northerners always saw him as an outsider, a sheep in wolf clothing. And when he went back to Pyke, he didn’t belong there. He didn’t dress like the Iron Born, sound like the Iron Born, didn’t look like the Iron Born. He wasn’t Iron Born.

But how could he desert the Iron Born? The ones who were left. So many died as Theon should have in the Godswood. Yara had taken her remaining ships home or had intended to. She hadn’t made it. And Euron, he was gone too. Killed by Jaime Lannister. How was this possible? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Theon knew what had to happen. He had it all planned out in his head. His death, his sacrifice, was one of the first things he would have control over again. How could it have gone so wrong? And what about the Iron Born? The men who had followed Yara with no real idea how it would end for them. They didn’t want Theon as their ruler, they wanted Yara. What could Theon do for them? He wasn’t worthy of it. Wasn’t worthy of anything.  

Yara was sworn by duty to lead her men, the Iron Born to do what had to be done. It was something that Theon admired about her. She seemed to know what the right thing was to do, always. Whether anyone else thought it was right was another thing completely. Theon didn’t share that quality with his sister. There always seemed to be a choice he had to make, an impossible one. But maybe there wasn’t one now. The Iron Islands had been ruled by the Greyjoys for so long, would he really be the last Greyjoy? The one to end that. Yara had a duty. But she was gone. Was that duty now Theon’s?  

Self-doubt and self-hatred were only two feelings that occupied Theon. They had occupied him for so long now, they had become a part of him. These feelings were why Theon couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take his sisters place. He was not like Yara, he never was and never could be. Even when he would pretend, he and everyone else knew it was all a front, knew it was not real. How would Theon even rule? Could he even do it? Could he replace his sister? No, no one could. Theon had spent many years at Winterfell wishing to go home, knowing that when he returned, he would be treated like a King, the heir of the Iron Islands, they had been waiting for him. But that didn’t happen, of course it didn’t. He was a fool. A stupid, fool. But worse men had been a Lord of a great house. This didn’t make Theon feel any better, however. Just worse.

This did mean something, however. Theon could do home. His family home. Where he was born. Where he was supposed to grow up. But Pyke never truly felt like Theon’s home. There was a part of Theon that knew he couldn’t leave the Iron Islands. He couldn’t let the people, the Iron Born fend for themselves. But he didn’t want to leave the North now, not when he had come back. Winterfell didn’t feel like a home growing up, but Theon thought now that his younger self never allowed it to be a home. He didn’t even try. Even though Theon spent so many years wishing it was his home, wishing he was a real Northerner, wishing he was a Stark, he couldn’t let himself wish too much.

Theon had spent so many years at Winterfell. Those years under Ramsey’s belt didn’t make it feel like a home, but a nightmare. Regardless of that, there was someone at Winterfell who understood completely, who was probably dealing with the same feelings of confusion. Sansa. She was here, she was at Winterfell, she was surviving. If she could do it, why not Theon? Sansa had seemingly overcome everything that had happened to her. She had changed, it had made her who she was. She was strong. Stronger than Theon ever could be. She was healing. She had lost people too. She had lost siblings, just as Theon had. But she wasn’t the last Stark, she still had a family. Something Theon could only dream of.

But there was a family who would welcome Theon, maybe not with welcome arms, but still, they would want him. He had seemingly always been a part of this family, even when he didn’t believe it himself. He was part of this family when he first arrived in the North. When he would sit next to Robb in the great hall. When he would practice his archery in the courtyard. When he would tease little Arya. It was unconventional, that was true, but the Starks were more of a family than the Greyjoys ever were. They were not given the chance too. Two brothers dead. A mother dead. A father filled with so much hatred. And a sister…a sister. Gods, Theon didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. How could they ever be a family? How could Theon ever have one? Theon wondered if he asked to stay at Winterfell, whether they would let him. Sansa, maybe. The way she hugged him tight when he arrived back, that seemed to signal something.

That sense of divided loyalty, that feeling Theon felt for almost all of his life, it wasn’t going to control Theon anymore. He didn’t have to choose. He was connected to both Pyke and Winterfell. To both the North and the Iron Islands. He was both a Greyjoy and a Stark. And he was going to be Lord of the Iron Islands whether he liked it or not. He knew this was what he had to do. Knew it was important. For Yara.

[mcrco]

THE HEART'S GHOST / Chapter 1

"If she had known what the future had in store for her and the pain she would live through, perhaps she would have cherished each moment with her lovers more."

Robb x Theon x FEMOC. To be tagged in future updates, just lemme know.

Banner and page breaks made by @diviines

Golden eyes like a cat's are all that is seen of a face hidden behind a mask. She stands, watching the approach of the Greyjoy siblings and her heart threatens to leap into her throat. 

She has lived and died and lived again, reborn anew in her own body but past lives still clutch at her heart like ghosts that haunt as she lays eyes on Theon Greyjoy.

They're here to make an alliance with Danaerys, she is sure, but still she hasn't laid eyes on him since the time in which Robb was alive. She had believed him dead all these years.

She knows he doesn't recognize her, not with the mask on. The memories from before still flood her mind…

Swords clashed far too loudly in the darkening woods around them. The sound of metal against metal resounded in a clang and Theon took the opportunity to use the momentum of their swords coming together to push her off her balance.

Elysande stumbled backwards, landing hard on her behind amidst the summer snow and Theon let out a laugh. His laugh usually warmed her but in moments like this, it only served to annoy.

"Cheat!" She claims as she picks up the practice sword and comes back to her feet. "Dishonorable cheat!" 

His laughter fades but the smile on his lips doesn't. "It's not cheating and it's not dishonorable. You just don't like to lose."

Her cheeks burned red and her gaze fell to the ground at her feet, proving that he was correct in his words.

"Come, give me your sword. Best we get back before it's too late and someone notices a missing lady," Theon didn't give her a chance to offer the practice sword up, favoring to yank it from her hands.

He had only agreed to teach her to use sword and bow because he reveled in breaking the rules from time to time. It was his way of pretending he wasn't a prisoner of the Starks.

Elysande had been in the North longer than Theon. Unlike him, she wasn't a prisoner but instead a guest. Her mother had been close to Catelyn when they were children, a beautiful Southern woman who had died in childbirth. Her father died not long later during Robert's Rebellion.

With nowhere to go, Catelyn had packed up the newborn Elysande and brought her along to Winterfell when she married Ned Stark. 

It was almost funny to think that she could bring a child from outside of their relationship to their family but that Ned could not. Though Elysande understood that Lady Catelyn's dislike of Jon was due to the embarrassment he brought her. A reminder that her husband had cheated. 

Unlike Jon, Elysande was no bastard. Though she hailed from a small and usually forgotten House that resided in Riverrun. Sworn allies to House Tully and Elysande was the last of her House.

She had found some sort of kinship with Theon when he arrived in Winterfell, all those years ago. They were both, in a way, outsiders to the North. Though his story and his life were more tragic than her's. She and Robb had immediately taken to the task of befriending Theon and both had succeeded.

Perhaps it was no surprise that both had given their hearts, somewhere along the line, to the Ironborne.

"C'mon," he says, already beginning the walk out of the woods, headed back to the castle and it's warmth. "Guide the way before I trip on a branch."

House Faelis was small and relatively unnoticed in the scheme of things but there was one peculiarity about them: golden eyes like a cat's ran through the house bloodline. Their eyes saw better than most other's, especially when it came to seeing in the dark.

A smile of her own slides into place and if Theon could see it in the fast growing darkness he would have recognized the mischief there. 

She darts ahead of him, stopping quickly right before him and leans up on tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Have fun in the dark, Theon," she whispers and before he can register what she's planning, she's already darted off.

She considered this her payback for being pushed into the snow. 

As she darts into the castle, Theon left far behind to make his own way, it's Robb that greets her.

He knows where she and Theon have been, probably made excuses to cover for them too. "One day a wildcat is going to eat him and you'll be sorry that you abandoned him in the dark," teases Robb.

"If you're so worried then go and find him," comes her reply and she lets out a little laugh. "I'm retiring to bed, I think I've had a long enough day." She gives Robb a curtsey and turns to leave him behind. "Though it is quite cold tonight due to the summer snows. If I awake to warm bodies beside me, I shan't be upset."

In the darkness of her room, much later in the night, she awakes to the sound of her door creaking open. Theon approaches her bed from one side and Robb from the other. She sees them in the darkness clearer than either can see her.

Theon slides into her bed from the left and Robb from the right and she smiles. She is warm between the two men and she is safe.

This is a secret that the three of them keep. A relationship that they know is doomed. Each will be married off one day, Elysande will be lucky if her match is with either though she doubts it. Because of this they refrain from speaking of futures.

"Shitty little move you pulled earlier," whispers Theon in her ear. ""Suppose Robb and I should punish you for it?

She feels his hands roaming across her chest and she almost lets out a giddy laugh. "Perhaps you should," she agrees.

The hardest part of their secret was keeping quiet when they're all together like this. 

Theon is quick to tug off her night dress, his eyes staring into her golden yellow ones. Her pupils become slits and he presses a kiss to her throat, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens.

Robb's lips find their way across her shoulders, ghosting her with soft kisses like the touch of butterfly wings. 

They've both learned her body - have mapped it out together over and over again. Tonight they will do it again, just like they will as far as the future allows.

When she wakes she is naked and alone. They can't risk staying until morning and getting caught in her bed, she knows this and yet it saddens her regardless.

Her body is sore and littered with bitemarks and bruises that will be hidden under her clothing until they heal. She runs the pads of her fingertips over bitemarks across her chest and smiles. 

For now both Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy belong to her.

Behind her mask she closes her eyes. If she had known what the future had in store for her and the pain she would live through, perhaps she would have cherished each moment with her lovers more.

She wants to hate Theon now but the pain in her chest tells her that she can't. The girl who loved Theon was dead but her ghost still lingered.

Elysande still loved him.

[axelsagewrites]

Main Masterlist Here

House of the Dragon Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Jon Snow ♡

🆇What he's like in bed🆇

Blind date

🆇Milady🆇

🆇Home Alone🆇

🆇Price of My Secrecy 🆇

Relationship Moodboard

🆇Couldn't Resist🆇

♡ Robb Stark ♡

Best Friend

Marriage night

🆇Dream🆇 🆇part two🆇

Frey Girl 🆇part two🆇

🆇I miss you🆇

Cloak

Honey Cakes (cloak part two or standalone)

Comfort

Sweet Girl

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇Good girl🆇

Yearbook

Don't Die For Me

🆇Little Secret🆇

🆇Can't Catch a Break🆇

Goodnight Dear Husband

♡ Sandor Clegane ♡

Most People Say Goodbye Part One - Part Two

🆇Brat🆇

♡ Beric Dondarrian ♡

Home

♡ Thoros of Myr ♡

Favourite Friend

♡ Brienne of Tarth ♡

【P】Queen in the North and South【P】

♡Ned Stark♡

🆇MiLord🆇

🆇Wife🆇

♡Ramsay Bolton♡

🆇My Father Would Kill Me🆇

🆇Catch You🆇

🆇How Far Would You Go🆇

🆇Appreciate You🆇

🆇Bath🆇

🆇Little Mouse🆇

♡Roose Bolton♡

Perhaps

Not Yet

♡Edmure Tully♡

【P】Who We Call Family【P】

My Queen My Love

♡Theon Greyjoy♡

Dream of Sweet Memories

🆇Give it back🆇

♡Sansa Stark♡

Roommates

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇What's This?🆇

Surprise Visit

♡Podrick Payne♡

🆇Praise🆇

♡Daenereys Targaryen♡

🆇My Queen🆇

♡Jamie Lannister♡

🆇Extra Credit🆇

♡Oberyn Martell♡

🆇Duty🆇

♡Margaery Tyrell♡

🆇Ropes🆇

♡Cersei♡

🆇Morning🆇

♡Tormund♡

🆇Real Man🆇

🆇Use your words🆇

♡ Yara Greyjoy ♡

Flirting

Preferences/Multicharacter

🆇Company🆇 - Yara and Ellaria threesome

🆇What they're like in bed🆇 – Robb, Jon, Sandor, Podrick

How they react to teasing – all

🆇What They're Like in Bed🆇 – Margaery, Sansa, Danny, Yara

Share pt1 🆇Competition pt2🆇 🆇Wait p3🆇 - Robb and Jon

🆇Hook ups🆇 - Theon and Jon

Love Languages - Jon, Robb, Bran, Tormund, Podrick, Oberyn

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

[lycorim]

Re: requests if you ever have time I would so love to see your Asha and Theon! i was so intrigued by their dynamic in Crosswinds Rising!

Sharing scathing goss about all of these swagless hoes

[hd-junglebook]

From Beyond The Wall

Part 1

The wind begins to howl mournfully, swirling snowflakes dancing in the air like lost spirits. The mountain remained still as night began to fall, leaving the brothers of the nights watch in the darkness of the north.

The fire crackles weakly, struggling against the encroaching cold, casting long shadows that flicker and dance across the frozen ground.

"Can you feel it, Jon?" one brother mutters, his teeth chattering as he huddles closer to the feeble warmth.

"A storm's coming. I can smell it in the air." Jon, his cloak pulled tight around him, nods solemnly. "Aye, a blizzard's upon us. We'll need to find better shelter if we're to survive the night."

In the cover of darkness beyond the glow of the fire, Y/n and her group lurk like shadows, their breath forming wisps of vapor in the frigid air. Ygritte, her fiery hair barely visible in the dim light, leans in close to Y/n, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We strike now, while they're weak and unprepared," she says, her blue eyes gleaming with determination. "We'll catch them by surprise, before the blizzard engulfs us all."

Y/n nods, her fingers tightening around the reins of her white horse, its breath steaming in the cold night air. "Agreed. Move on my signal.”

Y/n continue to watch in silence, glancing between the brothers and the free folk. She nodded to Ygritte, grasping her bow from the leather pouch. Y/n and her group emerge from the darkness, the crunch of snow beneath their boots muffled by the howling wind.

The brothers of the Night's Watch startle at the sudden onslaught, scrambling for their weapons as Y/n's group descends upon them like a winter storm unleashed.

"Take no prisoners!" Ygritte's voice rings out above the chaos, her bow singing as she looses arrow after arrow into the heart of the fray. the blizzard finally descends in full force, swallowing the scene in a swirling white blanket of snow and ice.

After a few minutes of the bloody onslaught Jon realizes his efforts were pointless as he is now surrounded.

Confused and heaving out heavy breaths he looks around to grasp his situation. He pauses mid turn at the sight of Y/n dismounting her horse gracefully, still holding her bow.

“Hold.” she raises her hand, signaling for them to hold their fire. The clash of swords and the cries of men fade into the background as Jon's gaze meets hers, his eyes locked on her figure clad in a fur cloak and a dress as white as the snow.

She approaches Jon with purpose, her footsteps leaving shallow imprints in the fresh snow. The wind tugs at her cloak, sending strands of hair swirling around her face like tendrils of shadow.

“Who are you?” he mumbles out, trying to find the words. He raises his hands slowly, his eyes flicking between Y/n and the members of her group surrounding him.

Y/n's lips curl into a confident smile as she keeps her arrow trained on Jon. "I am Y/n, Princess of the Free Folk," she declares, her voice ringing out clear despite the howling wind.

Jon's eyes widen in surprise at her proclamation, a flicker of realization dawning in his expression. He lowers his hands slowly, his gaze never leaving Y/n's face. "Princess of the Free Folk," he repeats, as if testing the words on his tongue.

Y/n nods, her grip tightening on her bow. "Indeed. And now, I command you to throw down your weapon and stand," she orders, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Jon hesitates for a moment, his gaze darting between Y/n and the looming figures of her group. But then, with a resigned sigh, he unclasps his sword belt and lets it fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

He stands tall, meeting Y/n's gaze, she studies Jon Snow intently as he stands before her, his demeanor composed despite the circumstances. "And who are you, truly?" Y/n asks, her voice softened but still firm.

Jon's gaze remains fixed on her, his expression unreadable behind the mask of snowflakes that cling to his beard. "I am Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch," he replies. A laugh escapes her at the name. “Mhmm snow. You’re a Stark. Ned Starks bastard son.”

Hearing her call his name and addressing him as a Stark made his heart skip a beat. Yet he remained cautious, seeing how easily the wildings obeyed her. “I am…How did you know?” he asked, as he slowly took a step back.

“It’s not me who knows, its my brother. what business does the Night's Watch have this far beyond the Wall? Us wildings? White walkers?” He nods to both causing her to sigh.

Y/n turns to her companions, her gaze sweeping over them with authority. "Tie him up. We're bringing him home," she commands, her voice firm and resolute.

He is stunned by her order, his body freezes still where he stands. The wildlings nod in silent acknowledgment, swiftly moving to obey Y/n's orders.

They bind Jon Snow's hands tightly with rope, ensuring he poses no immediate threat as they prepare to escort him back to their camp.

Y/n's eyes then find Ygritte, who stands nearby, her bow at the ready. "Ygritte, you'll watch him from now on," Y/n instructs, her voice carrying a note of trust.

"Make sure he doesn't try anything foolish." They hand the rope to Ygritte, who accepts it with a nod of gratitude.

With a swift motion, she mounts her horse, her cloak billowing behind her like a banner of authority. As she settles into the saddle, her eyes meet Jon's, and there's a flicker of something unspoken between them, a tension that crackles in the frigid air like lightning.

"Let's go," she commands, her voice cutting through the howling wind. "We have to make it back before dawn."

Jon's heart races as he watches her, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. A sudden chill runs through his back, he struggles against his restraints, approaching your horse slowly. “You really won’t say anything, huh? Just going to tie me up and drag me with you.”

Y/n meets his gaze, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “That’s how I like my men, Snow.” She stated with a devious grin. A cold look appears on his face immediately realizing what she meant by those words. Yet all he can do is be silent and follow behind you, keeping up as his body is pushed every which way by the pelting snow.

…

They finally reach the Wildling camp, Y/n dismounts her horse with a graceful ease and gives her horse a gentle pat on the neck, murmuring words of gratitude as she glances toward the towering big tent that serves as the heart of their encampment.

The women of the camp emerged from their makeshift shelters, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they danced with their children under the fading light of the day.

Giants lumbered about, their massive forms silhouetted against the twilight sky as they worked alongside the Free Folk, tending to the needs of the camp with quiet efficiency.

With a nod to Ygritte, who stands by Jon Snow's side with a watchful gaze, Y/n orders, "Bring the crow with you." she takes hold of Jon's arm, guiding him towards the tent alongside her.

Pushing open the flap of the tent, Y/n steps inside, the warmth of the fire within enveloping her like a comforting embrace.

Ygritte and Jon enter behind her, Y/n's gaze sweeps over the assembled group, taking in the familiar faces of her companions, as well as the curious glances directed towards their captive.

“Oh dear brother. I have a gift.” Mance, ever the troubadour, sat in a corner, his fingers strumming a haunting melody on his lute, the notes drifting through the air like whispers on the wind, weaving a tale of a Dornish woman's forbidden love.

He departs from his pregnant wife’s side. "What's this?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over Ygritte, Rattleshirt, and the newcomer with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "A crow?"

“Ygritte found the crow, Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell!” she introduced. “Release him.” With a collective nod, Ygritte moves to obey, her hands deftly untying the ropes that bind Jon's wrists before pushing him forward.

Mance's piercing blue eyes fix on Jon, assessing him with a shrewd intensity. "A crow," he remarks, his voice low and measured. "What brings you so far beyond your Wall?"

Jon meets Mance's gaze with a steady stare, his jaw set with determination. "I seek answers," he replies, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "Answers about the darkness that threatens to engulf us all."

Mance nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what answers do you hope to find here, among the Free Folk?"

Jon's gaze flickers with resolve as he speaks. "I seek allies," he declares, his voice ringing out clear and strong. "Allies in the fight against the true enemy, the Night King and his army of the dead."

A murmur ripples through the gathered Wildlings at Jon's words, their faces reflecting a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Mance, however, remains impassive, his gaze fixed on Jon with a calculating intensity.

"Allies," he repeats, his voice echoing in the tense silence of the tent. "The Night's Watch and the Free Folk, united against a common foe. A bold proposition, Jon Snow. But one that may yet prove to be our salvation."

…

The conversation with Mance concludes and the orders are given, Y/n watches as Ygritte leads Jon Snow and his direwolf away from the tent.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n turns away, her steps leading her back to her own tent. She sheds her fur cloak with a weary grace, allowing it to fall to the ground as she settles onto the floor, her legs crossed beneath her.

Closing her eyes, Y/n takes a deep breath, centering herself before allowing her mind to drift into the depths of warging. As her consciousness expands, she feels the pull of the nearby animals, their instincts calling out to her in the darkness.

With a gentle push, Y/n's spirit leaves her body, merging with that of a nearby fox. She feels the rush of freedom as she darts through the snow-covered landscape, her senses heightened by the wildness of her new form.

She approaches the bodies of the fallen Black Brothers, a sudden movement jolts her back to reality. The fox springs back in fear, its eyes locking with those of a figure rising from the snow.

Y/n's heart pounds in her chest as she stares into the ice-blue eyes of the reanimated corpse. The corpse lunges forward as it reaches out with cold dead hands.

With a burst of speed, the fox races southward, its breath coming in ragged gasps as it flees from the looming threat. Y/n's eyes snap open abruptly, her breath coming out raggedly as she sits up. She dons her fur cloak once more, the fabric billowing around her like a protective barrier against the biting cold.

Rushing from her tent, Y/n heads straight for Mance, her footsteps quick and purposeful in the snow. She finds him surrounded by his advisors, deep in conversation about their next move. "Mance, we need to leave now," Y/n declares, her voice urgent as she approaches him.

Mance turns to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We've just arrived at our camp. Surely we can afford to rest for a while."

But Y/n shakes her head adamantly, her eyes flashing with determination. "No, Mance. We can't afford to stay here any longer, thinking about Dalla" she insists, her voice unwavering.

Mance studies her for a moment, weighing her words carefully. But then, with a resigned sigh, he nods in reluctant agreement. "Very well, Y/n," he concedes, "We'll leave in a few days."

…

Y/n stood before the gathered clans, her hair blowing in the biting gusts as she surveyed the uneasy faces staring back at her.

"As you know, the white walkers arise once more from the dead," she called out, her voice carrying over the murmurs that rippled through the crowd. "As your Princess, I swear to lead you safely to the Wall."

She continued, her tone firm, "My brother has brought together the Free Folk like no one has before." Gesturing to Mance, who stood with his wife behind her, she emphasized, "But winter is coming—the harshest in memory. The dead will rise to join the White Walkers' army. They will not wait for spring!"

The truth of her words sank in among the Free Folk, glances exchanged as the severity of the situation settled upon them. Mance stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"The princess speaks true," he declared, his voice carrying authority. "The Wall is our only refuge against the storm. We must begin the march at once... before it is too late."

Agreement murmured through the clans, and Y/n nodded gratefully to Mance. Drawing her furs tighter against the cold, she caught sight of Jon Snow, his gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before flickering away.

…

In the wake of her stirring speech, preparations for the journey to the Wall began in earnest. The clans bustled with activity, packing supplies, sharpening weapons, and tending to their families in anticipation of the arduous trek ahead.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silvery light over the rugged landscape, and the distant howls of wolves echoed through the valleys.

It was there, in the quiet stillness of the night, that Y/n encountered her brother's pregnant wife once more. She stood alone, her silhouette outlined against the moonlit horizon, a solitary figure in the darkness.

"Are you all right?" Y/n asked softly as she turned to face her, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Y/n walked closer to where she was standing, her boots crunching on the frozen ground. "I'm fine," she replied curtly.

Y/n studied her for a moment, sensing the weight of her burden in the lines of her face and the tension in her shoulders. There was a distance between them, a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

"I wanted to thank you," Y/n said earnestly, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them. "For standing with me back there. Your support means more to me than you know."

Her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth in the depths of her eyes. "You don't have to thank me," she replied, her voice gentle. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not." There was a moment of quiet understanding between them as they stood together beneath the starlit sky.

…

give me some feedback, i'd like to know if this sucks lol

[5005weep]

God damn last drawing I think for tonight, finished the show wolf @toebeancreature I take it back bro turned into Ramsay, what a twisted ending myranda and Ramsay all over again 😭

[ophelias-lamentation]

Princess Sansa Greyjoy and Lord Reaper Theon Greyjoy at the presentation of their first child, Florian Greyjoy the future Lord Reaper of the Iron Islands. Her brother King Robb Stark and the Queen Margarey Tyrell were present, it was the first time in centuries that a King visited the Iron Islands for reasons beside revolt, marking a new age for relations between the North and the Iron Islands.

[asa-writes]

Dreams - Masterlist

They all need each other, though each in their own seperate way. Growing up and loving in times of war isn't easy at all. Especially when you have to fight for the lives of the people you thought you loved - when you have to abandon everything for the greater good, when you have to choose between sexual, familiar and romantic love.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings and General Tags under the cut.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Chapters:

1 - Jon ¦ 2 - Robb ¦ 3 - Lucie ¦ 4 - Robb ¦ 5 - Jon ¦ 6 - Lucie ¦ 7 - Jon ¦ 8 - Robb ¦ 9 - Lucie ¦ 10 - Jon ¦ 11 - Lucie ¦ 12 - Robb ¦ 13 - Jon ¦ 14 - Lucie ¦ 15 - Jon ¦ 16 - Robb ¦ 17 - Lucie ¦ 18 - Robb ¦ 19 - Jon ¦ 20 - Lucie ¦ 21 - Robb ¦ 22 - Jon ¦ 23 - Lucie ¦ 24 - Theon ¦ 25 - Jon ¦ 26 - Lucie ¦ 27 - Theon ¦ 28 - Jon ¦ 29 - Lucie ¦ 30 - Theon ¦ 31 - Robb ¦ 32 - Jon ¦ 33 - Lucie ¦ 34 - Jon ¦ 35 - (surprise) ¦ 36 - Jon ¦ 37 - Lucie ¦

Drabbles and One-Shots:

"My Sweet" - Robb Stark x Lucie Templeton

Also available on:

Archive of our Own and Wattpad

Warnings / Tags: Canon Divergence - AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Misogyny, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon, Alcohol, Drugs, Age Difference, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, War, Forced Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Pregnancy, Character death, Child Death, Age Play, Bondage, Masochism, Edging, Derogatory Language, Infidelity, Oral Sex, Unplanned Pregnany, Breeding Kink, Masturbation, Hunting, Underage Sex (Canon-Typical)

[valinoar]

a burning hill.

in which theon’s grins are for robb, and jon’s shame belongs to him alone.

theon greyjoy x jon snow. character study. 696 words

[sugarprincessbitch]

Could I request yandere Ramsay x Theon’s sister who got captured with him?

WARNING: Mention of death, rape and physical abuse.

The night Ned Stark came for Theon to Pyke you were merely a baby suckling from your mother breast, and as you grew up you only heard stories of Theon that your mother told you about when pronouncing his name was not followed by a slap.

Due to being born far later than any of your siblings and in the last stages of fertility that was left in your mother womb, she didn’t let you out of her sight. Having lost two sons in war and another far away from home you were the miracle that the drown god granted her, to redeem herself from failing to protect her children.

Growing up secluded in an island with only your mother for company affected your relationship with your other family members (if you can form a relationship with THAT kind of family) and they were not very welcoming either. The only one treating you like a human being and not a breading cattle was your sister Ahsa, but the two of you didn’t have a lot in common being rather soft for her taste.

The first time that you went out of your reclusion was when your father called for all his brothers and remaining children back to the main island. The lost son was back to home, and he couldn’t come at a more opportune moment when your house was a mess because of the succession fight for your father’s throne.

The feast was a disaster, you were uncomfortable with the gross and brutish behavior of everyone as well as the rather awkward interactions with your uncle Euron, his interest were caught more at your breasts than your face when the two of you were talking. 

You wanted to talk with Theon, that was the main reason you decided to come, maybe the two of you will bond with feeling like strangers in their own family. Instead he seemed to not recognize you, ignoring you the rest of the night.

In the following days you will only catch glimpses of your brother in the castle, he was preparing to go away again to attack the coasts in the north, you were rather sad to not have even interact in any form with the brother you never met. Yet when days later your father summon you and your siblings to the main hall, the least you would have expected was your father commanding you to accompany your brother Theon in the plan of the North attack, Asha tried in a futile attempt to convince your father otherwise, you were not a prodigy in the art of fighting, less being in a looting.

You were supposed to only seize with Torrhen Citadel and wait for your sister and the rest of the men to come to help you except Theon had other plans in mind, turning course straight to the place where he was home for much of his youth, Winterfell.

In the short time you were in the presence of your brother you came to the realization that he was a rather ambitious man, a little reckless too. He didn’t plan for the future, therefore gettin' you and the rest of you in horrible fate, when he confided in a stranger, opening Winterfell to him and his army of mad men.

Ramsay, that was the strangers name, one who he made sure you learned well given the case that it was branded on your body with iron and fire as one would do with cattle.

Every night he would tie your hands and feet to the bed frame, ravaging you until your body became sore from the friction, making you bleed.

When morning came he would leave your share chambers, not without giving you chaste kisses along the expanse of your skin and murmuring empty apologies in a mocking tone.

During the day you will be prostrate to bed being too weakened to get up, nonetheless of your physical state Ramsay forbid you to went out, locking the door with key. 

The only human interaction that you would have was with the maids (if they will talk at all, being too scared of the consequences of their master fury) and the maester to tend your wounds, Ramsay was known to play rough with his toys, even the most precious ones. 

Only one time he let you out, it was during the first days of your imprisonment when you still resisted his advances.

He took you to the dungeons, a horrible place full of death and suffering. You entered to the most dirtiest and dark cell of the place, there you saw Theon or what was left of him, horrified by the deplorable state your brother was in you stumble against Ramsay’s chest and in a low macabre voice he said “If you continue to disobey me darling… you will end up in here along with the scum of your brother”.  That was the last time you rebel against him.

Days became weeks, every passing day you were losing hope for anyone rescuing you from the claws of Ramsay, except one morning when the commotion outside of your window startled you from slumber.

Dragging your body as fast as posible to the window you saw Ramsay men fighting with the Iron Island people, your people. Hope sparkle rapidly on your chest, burning you so brightly that it brought you into tears. 

Without notice someone kick your door open, startling you out of your emotions, it was the face of your sister covered in blood. Before she uttered a word, an arrow pierce the back of her head making her stumble and collapse to the ground making a snapping sound. A sharp cry came from your moth, your face contorted in terror at the scene in front of you and the wicked grin the executioner was making, that Ramsay was making.

His father came back in time Asha and her men were attacking the fortress, outnumbering them by vast majority.

From there everything became worse, your torture reach a far atrocious fate, being bound forever to your executioner by the prospect of a dreadful marriage. 

Until one of you gave your last breath, your soul and body will never be in peace on this earthly plane.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

What We Sow

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy x Greyjoy!Reader

Warnings: game of thrones canonical siblingxsibling, sister-wife, violence, dark!reader?, euron being an asshat, voyeurism?, mention of torture, book!theon, oral (male receiving), p in v

Words: 6425

The rugged coastline of Pyke was the greatest thing to Theon's eyes. It meant his return home after a long journey that was filled with trading with not only the rest of Westeros but also smaller islands off the coast of Essos. Water churned with a restless energy, reflecting the overcast sky above. The Iron Islands had always been a place of harsh beauty, where the relentless sea and the unforgiving elements shaped both the land and its people. To an outsider's eye, the Iron Islands might appear as an eyesore, a desolate and forbidding place where life was a constant battle against the elements. Craggy cliffs, salt-stained rocks, and windswept trees clinging stubbornly to life. The sky, today, was an uninviting gray, as if the heavens themselves were reluctant to welcome Theon back. All of it was so endearing to him though. Theon couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness welling up inside him. Very soon he'd be able to hold his beloved in his arms.

This was his home, a place where the salt of the sea and the cries of seagulls were a constant presence and where you were. Waiting so patiently as always. His queen, his sister, his wife. He'd been dreaming of the moment when he'd be reunited with you after so long.

As the ship glided into the sheltered harbor, Theon could see the familiar faces of his subjects lining the shore, their weathered features breaking into smiles as they recognized their king. Faces that would have sneered at him previously since he'd been a ward of the Warden of the North for a number of years. Who would have thought that the salt people were actually capable of expressing joy.

King. Funny how the title his father had longed for was now Theon's. Smugness swells his chest when he thinks back to the salty old bastard that was Balon Greyjoy. He wished that Balon had a physical grave where Theon and you could dance upon it. No love lost for the death of their father. In fact it was the start of something wonderful for the Iron Isles. Not since the time of Lord Harren Greyjoy had the islands experienced such a flush of opportunity and growth. And of course he had you to thank as well. You were his anchor. The only person who could talk reason into him and quell his anger.

He would not be the king he was without you. Loving you had never been easy. While the faith of the Drowned God did not have any discrimination against incest, many in Westeros looked down on it as a reminder of their once Targaryen rulers. Not just that but the Faith of the Seven viewed it as extremely abhorrent. Your love was kept a deep dark secret while the two of you lived under the guiding hand of Ned Stark. The salt people didn't think twice of it though. Theon proved himself a better ruler than his father and everyone knew much of that was thanks to his sister-wife. They wouldn't complain. Now that many of the islanders were becoming more busy thanks to the opening of trade through their ports and the reconstruction of not just Pyke, but the other six islands as well.

Dock workers and sailors alike help those on deck, unload their cargo as Theon descends the gangplank, boots clanging against the wooden planks as he made his way to solid ground. The feel of the dock beneath his feet was a welcome one.

"Oy! Is that my brother the king?!" Came the crowing voice of his other sister Asha. She was on a neighboring ship the Black Wind, dangling off of one of the ratlines carelessly.

He grins, surveying her as Asha swiftly jumps down. A dockhand hands Theon the reins of his readied horse. He nods in thanks and turns back to Asha who was now strutting up the dock to give her brother a big hug. Their relationship had been rocky in the beginning when Theon first arrived back on the isles.

"Asha! Can't believe I'm actually saying this, but aren't you a sight for sore eyes." His arms embrace his older sister, bringing her into probably a less than fragrant body.

Asha snorts and is the first to release the hug. "A mule would be a sight for sore eyes for you by how long you've been gone." Her eyes soften as she gestures with her head toward their home. "The queen has been missing you."

"As I have missed her." Theon's chest flutters as it always did when he thought of you. You were his heart and soul after all.

She chuffs him on the shoulder. "Well, best not to keep either of you waiting then, eh?"

They ride off together. While he knew you were a patient lady, Theon was not. He wanted you in his arms as soon as possible. He urged his horse to go as fast as it could run along the rocky terrain.

Constructed from the same dark, weathered stone as the surrounding cliffs, giving it an almost otherworldly appearance as it melded seamlessly with its natural surroundings was their ancestral home. It was a place where saltwater spray had etched its mark, leaving streaks of briny residue on the walls that bore witness to countless storms. A series of narrow bridges and walkways connected the various towers and buildings of the castle, each one precariously suspended above the churning waters below. The cause of Balon's demise.

The main keep, which housed the Greyjoy family, rose from the center of the fortress like a dark, brooding sentinel. Its towering, angular walls were crowned with crenellations that cast stark shadows against the overcast sky. Theon could see the Greyjoy banner, a kraken of black on a field of gold, billowing in the wind above the keep, a symbol of his family's dominion over the Iron Islands.

Making it into the fortress' stables, Theon and Asha dismount from his horse and handed the reins to a waiting stable hand. Those who had spotted his arrival on horseback had come out to greet their king and his most trusted advisor. An up and rising young lord from Blacktyde, Kyllan Stewar, takes Theon by the forearm as was the custom greeting.

"Welcome back, Your Grace." Kyllan's smile is wide despite cracked lips that were common in this weather.

"Good to be back, Lord Stewar." Theon replies though his attention is elsewhere. "My queen?"

"Where else would our exuberant queen be?" Lord Kyllan chuckles knowingly. There was only one answer: the training yard.

Much like your siblings, you grew restless sitting around in a pretty dress. You loathed needlework and playing instruments of any kind. Your fingers weren't meant for delicate tasks. They were meant to wield deadly weapons.

You prefer to spend your days out in the fresh, salt air with either a blade or bow grasped in your hand.

The moment you spot Theon and Asha walking into the yard though, you let your sword fall to the ground; quickly forgetting about the young knight that you had been sparring with. Your legs move faster than your mind could think, on instinct they run toward Theon.

He collides into you, strong arms sweeping you up and off your feet. His grip could be considered suffocating to any other woman. You want him to break your bones though. To absorb you into his body so that you could always be with him.

"It's about damn time." You dig your fingers into his black hair, twisting the locks around your digits as Theon is now completely holding you up. Nostrils flare as you inhale his musky scent that mingles with the salty air. A primal smell stuck to your brother from weeks without a proper bath. But it was all him. "What took you so long?"

Theon chuckles and peppers the crown of your head in numerous butterfly kisses. "My apologies, your grace. There was lots of trading to be done overseas. Our oysters and mussels are the talk of the kingdom." You didn't like when he pulls away from you and you feel a pout rising on your lips until he crashes his mouth against your's. Relenting, you meet his hungry fervor; biting his bottom lip and keeping it as your captive for a moment before diving back into the kiss.

In the background, you hear the clearing of Asha's throat as she reminds the both of you that you were among other lords who were watching the reunion unfold. While many didn't care about your incestuous relationship, they didn't necessarily like being reminded of it with displays of affection. Not caring for what they think, Theon would have continued on kissing you until the sun went down, but you were more tactical and didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, especially toward men who supported Theon's claim to the salt throne.

Sighing, you pat Theon on his chest and ignore his frustrated groan and turn him around to face his men. They stand straighter at his attention. "Men, our feast tonight will be overflowing with the finest red meat Westeros had to offer us!"

They cheer, red meat had been a rarity in the islands besides goat and lamb they could spare. Actual beef was worth more than any gold dragon to them. The Crownlands boast the most cattle and they just so happened to enjoy the large oysters that were abundant in the Iron Islands. Even your mouth watered at the thought of the meat being unloaded into the kitchens of the castle.

Heading back to the Greyjoy fortress, Theon cocks his head toward you with that smug grin of his. Holding out his arm to you in a warm gesture. "My queen, shall we follow?"

Immediately you latch onto his extended arm. You wouldn't be leaving his side any time soon. You plan on monopolizing his attention for the rest of the evening. Damn the other lords who have important business to discuss with him. You were Theon's number one priority.

"What the fuck is he doing here." You didn't bother to keep the vulgarity from your vocabulary nor the venom that dripped off of every word you hissed out. It wasn't phrased as a question. A demand more like it from the lord who had delivered the news that your uncle Euron had shown up on the docks like he owned the place.

Heat rose to your cheeks and down your neck at what this threat could bring to the prosperity of the islands. Euron could potentially fuck up everything you and Theon worked so hard to build.

Theon watches his sister's rare temper come to surface. There was little that could truly tick you off enough that you would raise your voice. He almost found it amusing since it was an event that didn't happen often. That's why he merely leans back in his throne and observes you in all of your haughty splendor.

"Well. . . he says since Balon is dead that he should be able to return to Pyke." The lord hesitantly continues, nervous eyes dart to Theon a bit helplessly but Theon was not going to be the one to stop you from fuming.

Asha barks out a cruel laugh. "Oh that's rich. Like that's going to undo the baby he put in the belly of Victarion's saltwife. Or bring her back to life."

Victarion who was present in the throne room, glares at his niece for her callousness. Both Victarion and Aeron did share her sentiment about Euron though. He should not be let back into the inner circle of the family.

Another liege lord pipes in "He's making quite the ruckus out in the courtyard. He's insisting an audience with you, your grace."

Indeed, everyone in the audience chamber could hear Euron's booming voice from the other hall. Grating on your nerves, you look to Theon to gauge his reaction just to find him still staring at you. Lazily his lips curl into a smile now that he had your intention.

You would have found it cute any other time, but your patience was wearing incredibly thin. "Well? We're going to turn him away, aren't we? He has no place here in our Iron Islands. We do not raid anymore. He is a reminder of that century old practice that near ruined us."

The way you spoke with such authority really did get Theon's cock hard but this was no place or time for a hard-on. "I understand why you and many others may not want him back on Pyke." He kept his eyes solely on you as if you were the only one he was talking to. "But Euron does know how to rouse the people into work."

"That can be a bad thing, my love. He can rouse people the wrong way. We do not want to go back to paying the iron price. That's not how this world works anymore. It's evolving. We're evolving." Your words may have come off as harsh, but honestly you were scared. Scared that Theon could see the fear in your eyes too. So much had been done for the islands. Your people were now prospering and not being looked down by the rest of the world. There were even some from Faircastle and Banefort coming and joining the faith of the Drowned Man which made your Uncle Aeron jump for joy (that is if he was capable of such an intense emotion).

"Like usual, your queen is right." Aeron quips. Theon nearly rolls his eyes but manages to keep them trained on you. Where was the lie though? Even Theon knew it was you who really ran things around here. You'd always been smarter than him. You were the baby of the family but acted like the eldest.

His smile softens. "I know she is. But we should at least hear him out. If only for a few moments."

"Just a few minutes." Huffing in your own throne, you flick your gaze to the lord who had informed you of Euron's arrival. "The very moment he steps out of line, I want him off our island. He would be grateful enough that we let him leave with his life."

Oh, he wanted to fuck you right in front of everyone that instant. Have you bent over his throne and wear the seadrift crown as he rails into you. All of that would have to wait though. There was no way you were as horny as he was right now.

With his consent, Euron was brought in.

He leisurely waltzes in, a familiar cocky grin plastered on his face that resembled the one your brother usually wore. You didn't like it on his face. Once his eyes land on you though, his smile dims. "Well, you grew up into quite the beauty."

You resist the urge to vomit. "Uncle, what brings you here to Pyke? Our father banished you. That banishment still remains."

Euron all but chuckles at the lofty air you carried about you. A gleam of reverence shimmers in his visible blue eye. The other that was covered with an eyepatch, you knew, was deep black much like his soul. It takes effort for him to retract his attention from you and to finally regard your brother, the king, seated next to you. "I wanted to see my beloved family. Excuse me, the King and Queen of the Iron Islands. Imagine my shock to learn that my niece and nephew took up the Targaryen custom of marrying one another. Balon must be rolling in his watery grave. I was even more shocked to see Pyke. The two of you have really cleaned up the place. The soil actually has greenery to it now."

Theon remained quiet, observing his uncle and the way the Crow's Eye would size you up every now and then as he was speaking. A long time ago, he would have immediately felt the sizzle of jealousy. He was a grown man now. His love for you had evolved above jealousy as you had reassured him through the years that you were his and he was your's. Even Robb Stark wasn't able to woo you away from him, though the match would have been beneficial to both the Starks and Greyjoys. And there was absolutely no way you would reciprocate Euron's lustful stares. Theon could see you physically recoil at his leering.

Subtly, his hand lands atop of your's, pulling you away from Euron. He smiles softly before replying "Yes, Pyke has come a long way since you've been here. The old ways were not beneficial to our people and unfortunately you still represent that. You can imagine the threat you pose to our achievements, uncle."

Victarion could be heard grumbling from off to the side where Aeron hushes him into silence. It doesn't go unnoticed by Euron who shoots his brother an goading wink that only furthered Victarion's flush of anger.

"Threat? I bring no threat." Euron chuckles and takes a step toward your throne. Asha who was silently standing next to you puts herself between you and Euron, sending a message that he was not to come any closer. Her hand moves to her sword, eyes hard with her warning. "I wish to be part of the greatness you have created here! Even in Essos I've heard of the prospering Iron Islands. Did you know your products have reached even that of Qarth?"

Of course you knew. No traders left without the crown's consent.

"What makes you think you have anything to offer the islands?" Asha sneers. His words were as trustworthy as a snake's.

His smile twitches in vexation. "I am a changed man, niece." He spits out the last word with mirth. "I have my dearly departed brother Balon to thank for that. His banishment was actually the best thing for me. My years spent wandering Essos has tempered me into a wiser and more resourceful man. I have newfound knowledge that would greatly contribute to the Iron Islands. I wish only to serve."

Putting on quite the display of fealty, Euron bends the knee to you and Theon; bowing his head deeply in reverence.

Murmurs spring up in the throne room. Many were those of doubts. Some were of intrigue. Your hand that was under Theon's curl letting Theon know of your disquiet thoughts. Theon flicks his attention on the other lords lingering around. "Leave us."

While the lords obeyed their king, your other two uncles were more hesitant to leave. This was a family matter afterall and they deserved a say in whatever decision you and Theon made.

"You two as well." He informs Victarion and Aeron.

Pursing his lips, Victarion is dragged away by Aeron Damphair. His scornful glare never leaves Euron who waves at them tauntingly.

When their footsteps fade away, Theon surprises you by standing up. You and Asha exchange wary glances before you too stand next to your husband. As a trio, you and your siblings walk down the raised dais to stand directly in front of Euron. Up close you do notice that he wasn't that bad looking. You would even call him handsome, much like Theon. They must have gained all the good looks in the Greyjoy family.

"Walk with us, uncle." Theon beseeches.

"Please stop glaring at me like that." Theon hated when you were upset with him. Euron had proved that he indeed possessed knowledge that would be beneficial to the islands which irritated both you and Asha even more.

"This is a bad idea, Theon." Pacing back and forth in your chambers, all you could think of was the calamity that Euron's presence could bring. Anxiously you chew on your cuticles, a nasty habit you'd had since childhood. It soothed you though and dampened the swirling thoughts that plagued you.

He watches helplessly as you just refuse to be still. "My love-"

You shake your head. "Don't 'my love' me. I can't believe you're letting him stay. Others will have issue with this too."

Catching you by the hand, Theon implores you to still your body. Grudgingly you do stop your pacing only to frown at him. You didn't yank your hand out of his grip but allowed him to slowly pull you onto his lap. Once settled in, his thumb smoothes against your cheek. "Our supporters are many. People trust us. If Euron dares to raise a hand against either of us, he will face repercussions from our citizens. And don't forget Asha would never let him get close to our wing of the castle. I don't think she'll be sleeping tonight."

"I. . . I just remember the stories father would tell us about him." Your eyes flutter closed, grimacing with the thought of Balon's gravely voice recalling his treacherous brother.

"Your fears are valid. I know. I know he can't be completely trusted. But we're strong enough to handle him if he does get the idea in trying to harm us."

True. If Euron really knew the other side of you. . . he would not have returned at all. He would stay far away, the only wise thing to do. Still sullen about the turn of events, all you could do was nod and place a small kiss on Theon's forehead.

"Very well."

You leave, not feeling any better. The clicking of your boots against the stone floor seemed incredibly loud in your ears. You hate how uneasy you feel in your own home. Like Euron would pop out of nowhere-

"Sweet niece."

Fuck.

Feeling stupid for leaving your sword behind, you reluctantly swivel on your heel to address your uncle. "Euron. You're not allowed here. Where are the attendants that we gave you?"

"I told them they could have the day off." Was all he would give you. Something spoiled your gut watching him strut toward you, thinking himself hot shit. Practically purring, his voice was smooth as the sea on a calm day, "You are a vision of beauty, even amidst the stormy shores of Pyke. Time on the mainland was good to you evidently."

Nails bite into your palm, the one thing keeping your facade neutral and gaze unwavering. Euron's silver tongue and beguiling charm was well known and he used it to seduce both men and women for both sex and war. "Your words are kind, uncle. But I must tell you that you should refrain from saying anymore from here on out."

His laugh grates against your hearing. "But we're family!" A dark undertone lowers his voice. "And apparently you have no problem with having family say sweet nothings to you. Or is that only for your brother?"

"Watch what you say." Your own tone is icy sharp. "You're lucky he even allowed you to stay here. You do not hold any kind of power in our court."

In faux defense, he holds up is hands. "My apologies, your grace. I see I have touched a nerve. I'm just saying, if blood is of no issue to you, then I willingly offer myself as a paramore to the queen. Loyalty can be such a confining chain. Why tether yourself to just one man? Have you ever tasted another's lips besides your brother's?"

Your eyes flash with a steely resolve as you step forward. "My loyalty is not a chain and you have stepped out of line. I need no other lover except for my king and husband, you unworthy worm. Get out of our wing before I truly lose my temper. If I even smell you here again I will have you hanged. Kin or not."

Like the rest of Westeros, kinslaying was beyond abhorrent. You did not make the promise lightly and Euron was aware that you would keep true to it.

Euron's demeanor shifted slightly, his charming facade cracking to reveal a hint of frustration and resentment. His lips curl with a retort but you raise your voice loud enough for any nearby guard to here. "GET OUT OF HERE."

The abrupt loudness of your voice actually causes him to take a step back. He weighs his options before ultimately skulking away.

"Are you alright, your grace?" A guard quickly rounds the corner to check on you.

"Have the guards doubled around our wing of the castle. By no means is Euron allowed here. If he is, then I insist on corporeal punishment."

Thank the gods Euron kept relatively quiet for the following days. Not a peep or sighting of him. You'd told Theon of your encounter with him. The treasonous things he said. He took it all in good humor, annoyingly so.

"He's just jealous." Theon nuzzles his nose against the warmth of your throat. Both of you were taking a break from honing your swordsmanship. Your sweat didn't bother him. In fact it appeared to entice him to lick a long line at your throat. "Jealous that you're all mine."

You blow out an exasperated puff of air. "Of course I am. That should be of no debate." The two of you are seated on a lone, grassy cliff that overlooks the tops of Pyke Castle. You enjoyed watching the busy port, the many sea vessels that were drifting upon the waves.

You didn't expect for your brother to take Euron's advances seriously.

He'd have to do something though once rumors from the taverns started to reach the castle.

Asha brought you the upsetting gossip which stemmed from your uncle. It was well recorded from many people how Euron would fall into his cups and talk of nothing but killing not just you, but Theon himself. He spoke openly of the kinslaying/regicide as if he were the better candidate to sit the salt throne.

There was a reason Asha came to you hesitantly. She knew what would happen once she told you that Euron had outright threatened Theon.

You couldn't let him live. Not after that. He could have just said he'd kill you. The moment he said he'd kill Theon you'd already made up your mind that you would take the situation into your own hands.

"Gather everyone in the castle to the bailey. Make sure Theon and Euron are in attendance." The coldness in your eyes could make any weather worn warrior tremble in front of you.

Asha actually smiles at the prospect of seeing this side of her sister released to the open. "Of course. I'll get right on it."

You listen to her walk away, your focus still on the sword behind the case you kept it in. Your sword.

--

When you challenge you uncle in front all of the household, all Euron does is bark out a laugh that has him rocking on his feet.

"You're joking, of course you must be joking." One arm is pressed against his stomach as another laugh wheezes out of him. When he finds everyone else with a sober face, he straightens up. Unwilling to let his condescending smile fall. Others were serious about this, awaiting his answer.

Behind you, Theon hisses out a desperate whisper "What are you doing?"

You're still staring at Euron. "He's been boasting about killing you. I can't allow him to keep saying such things."

That was all Theon needed to hear. He recognized the tightening of your posture, a spine like iron. This wasn't his queen anymore. This was a mercenary. Someone entirely different from his sweet sister who loved honeycakes and playing with the kennelmaster's puppies when there was free time. You weren't you and yet this part had always been woven into your being.

The only ending for Euron now was a slow and painful death. No one threatened the life of your brother and got away with it.

Euron finally replies, his tone dripping with mockery. "I accept your challenge. But be warned, I am not one to be taken lightly. Even if you are queen and blood. Whatever happens to you, I will not be held accountable for."

As the duel begins, Euron lunges forward with swift, calculated strikes. His years of experience at sea granted him an uncanny balance and agility, making him a formidable opponent. That was well known knowledge. He was capable of holding up his own in a fight. He was fast, but there was no one in the known world who could match your almost dancer's grace, movements precise and deliberate. You didn't have to be physically intimidating and neither did your sword. Slender, sharp, and double-edged you deftly parry each of Euron's attacks, focus unwavering.

It didn't take long for Euron to realize the grave mistake he'd made by agreeing to fighting you. With a fluid grace that belied strength, you disarm Euron in a swift, unexpected maneuver, sending his sword clattering to the ground.

With his lone, blue eye, he stares at it. He doesn't even catch your voice telling your men to bind him and toss him into the dungeon to await the king and queen.

Their hands are not gentle.

Fists split his face open. Another thing Euron had underestimated was how much they loved their sovereigns.

At some point, Euron fell unconscious. He's slow to rouse awake, head lolling from shoulder to shoulder as he stirs. Pain explodes on every known surface of his body. They must have continued to beat him even as he passed out.

Moving his mouth, he finds a gag placed over it. Vaguely he was able to make out muffled voices.

"Good, you're up."

A sharp slap to his face was what truly wakes him up. He finds his eyepatch was removed. One black eye and one blue eye wildly gape at you and Theon.

"Your death has been voted on by not just ourselves, but the lords of the Iron Islands as well." Theon announces, his expression passive. "We will grant you a private execution to lessen your humiliation. However, there has been a special request. You have the honor of being executed by the very woman that made you look like a fool."

Euron was half-listening though, distracted by what you were doing behind Theon. Your hands are busy unlacing your bodice, letting free your breasts. His throat clenches at the sight. You weren't paying either men any of your attention as you went on to remove the rest of your cumbersome clothing, leaving you naked.

"But not before my queen and I demonstrate our. . . united front." Theon's lips curl when he catches on that his words fall on deaf ears. Euron was entirely consumed with watching you perch yourself on a chair he hadn't noticed before. The dip of your hips was hypnotizing.

Only when you're fully seated do you look at your uncle. Legs crossed and tits pushed forward, you were downright sinful just sitting there. A cruel smile on her pretty lips. "I like you a lot better like this, Uncle Euron. My king, you've wasted enough time on him. Why don't you come over here?" Syrupy sweet when you turn to your brother.

Theon turns his back on Euron. Happy to obey his queen's demands. There was nothing left to say to him.

Undoing the clasp of his fur cape, he lays it out at your feet like a rug. Watching his nephew undress would not be as nice as watching you. Theon's bare back was that of a grown man's, broad and muscled and covered in scars. A testament to the turbulent symphony of his tumultuous life. Inked verses of his existence, painted by the relentless hand of adversity. The little boy was gone. Dead.

This was the King of the Iron Islands.

You shift in your seat, pussy already throbbing with the need for Theon's cock to fill it. What a pretty cock he had too. A blossom pink bulb of a head that was supported by a long, weighty shaft. Just thinking about it had your cheeks warming and your breathing become shallow.

Euron muffles, attempting to pull free of his confines.

His struggle music to your ears. You bite your bottom lip, chewing on it as your hand creeps between your legs. "Yes, louder if you will." You wanted to remember Euron like this. Helpless, being a captive audience for you and Theon. You would drive the point into his head, as one would a nail in wood, that Theon life and being were your's. And you were possessive over your things to a dangerous degree. When someone threatened the safety and happiness of Theon, you took it personally. Who thought they had the authority to kill him? Only you did, but you would never.

Your slick already covered the insides of your upper thighs, dripping down onto your seat. The only thing to pull your focus away from Euron was Theon pulling down his breeches to reveal his swollen, feverish cock. Practically springing out and begging for your lips around it. The softness of his cloak cushions your knees as you slide off and in front of Theon. His hand lovingly brushes against the top of your head.

"I understand you in some degree, uncle." Theon's voice is raspy, your mouth opening and leaning forward to wrap around the bulbous tip of his dick. He lets you suckle for a moment before continuing "If she were not mine, I too would be driven to jealousy and perhaps want to kill whatever lucky man had the honor of sleeping next to her." His eyes rove over your face, a twitch to his cock at the hollowing of your cheeks and the bobbing of your head. Fingers tighten around the tresses that adorned the crown of your head. He slams his length all the way to the back of your throat, making you gag. Tears accumulate on your bottom lashes but you will your throat to relax. Expertly breathing through your nose as you take him. You could feel your throat bulge, barely able to contain his girth let alone allow it down your throat. Saliva dribbles out of the corner of your mouth. He face fucks you, each snap of his hips pulling out a gagging noise from you.

Obscene squelching emits from the velvety drag of his dick down your throat and along your tongue. Usually he enjoyed cumming in your mouth. Theon would have to restrain himself this time.

Sharply Theon's sharp canine tooth pierces the plump flesh of his lower lip as he uses all of his strength to yank you off of him. "Hands and knees, my love."

Maneuvering around him so that Euron could watch you position yourself in front of your king. Your ass raises high, exposing your puffy, wet pussy for Theon's gaze to feast on. He takes a moment to appreciate the work of messy art in front of him with a smug grin.

"To never know how it feels to fuck such a perfect pussy. . . I feel sorry for you." Flashing up to his uncle, Theon grabs the shaft of his cock and lined it up perfectly against your lower lips. You feel the blunt prodding as he makes small, experimental thrusts against you. A territorial growl rips from him that has your nipples hardening even more. "But you're lucky enough to witness this. For this to be the last thing you see before my queen severs your head from your neck."

Pulling back a margin, he propels his hips forward to fill you to the hilt. All you could do was pathetically grip at the fur pelt beneath you for any kind of stability. You let yourself be as loud as you want. Shamelessly so. Euron could see the whites of your eyes as Theon drilled into you with his cock. Your tits bounce with each snap of his hips. Skin on skin smacks together in a loud symphony that was accompanied by your high pitch cries and Theon's own sinful praises that he lavished upon your pussy.

Your upper body threatens to give out. "TH-Theon-" You rasp out between the slapping of his balls against your clit.

Reading your mind, he reaches under you and with a feather light finger starts to languidly stroke the hood of your clit; his thumb already toying with your swollen bead that could make you squirt if stimulated enough. Somehow he manages to lift you up without jostling you much so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. His hand holds your neck, the other going to support a thigh as he continues to fuck you. At least now you could see his cock impale you, breaking past your pussy lips and disappearing deep inside of you.

He feels your walls constrict at the new angle he was taking you from. Squeezing contractions that massaged his cock in the way that made him feel like he was but a wild beast, reduced to his baser instincts of simply rutting into you. Theon's vision grows blurry, his head hot.

When he feels you spasm around him, seizing up and squeezing the life out of his cock in your own euphoria, that's when Theon allowed himself to break. He shudders and grips you tightly against him. Teeth bite into your shoulder to help him ride out his orgasm.

You yourself feel light headed, delirious and almost forgetting where the two of you were. Everything around you melts into nothingness. There's just you and Theon, stuck together. His panting matching your own.

Theon's tender voice is barely audible in your ringing ears. There was something he was reminding you to do. Your faculties were shut down as you were slowly coming down.

Patiently chuckling, Theon kisses your cheek. "My love, we can continue this in our room. But there's something you need to do first."

That's right.

Euron's cheeks were flushed and there was a tent formed in his pants. You smirk thinking that he would die with a hard-on.

On wobbly legs, Theon helps you stabilize before handing you your sword.

More muffling comes from your uncle with each step you took toward him. Still naked and glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

He's offered no last words.

Your blade strikes fast and true, slicing past bone and cartilage; tearing arteries and veins so that his warm blood sprays onto your skin.

Thus was the fate of any man or woman who dared to think they could take your Theon away from you.

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@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[freakassfemme]

too sweet (slightly nsfw drabble) - yara greyjoy x f! reader

Summary: a lyric-inspired drabble about being Yara's crewmate and lover <3

Word Counting: 952

Warnings: slight nsfw

You know you're bright as the morning,

On mornings like this one, Yara loves being on land.

If you had been on a boat and not in her chambers, Yara would've woken hours before this, planning and preparing and delegating for the day to come. She would've missed the warmth of the sunshine wrapping your embraced bodies even closer, and she wouldn't have been able to crawl back into your arms.

Although the sea is her home, she is always happy to retire within your presence, relieving herself of her duties for just a morning or so.

As soft as the rain,

You're Ironborn, just as Yara is, yet she wishes you weren't.

Your recklessness kills her inside just as much as it turns her on. The way you dive head first into danger leaves her heart and her core throbbing, face growing hot for mixed reasons.

You've always been competent in battle, and you've taken down just as many (if not more) men than her. You've always followed closely behind her, watching her back and being the difference between her seeing the sun or not many more times than she could count.

Yara tries not to let herself get too comfortable with your capability, as every time she does, you return to her in shambles, coughing up your own blood with the remains of another person on your hands and sword. Every time, she shakes you, screams at you, curses you and herself, and she's reminded of the anchor she's dropped in you and how vulnerable it makes her.

Despite this, despite the way she slaps you and yells and acts as if she herself is dying, you always laugh up at her through pained winces. You let her carry you back to safety, let her stitch you up yourself and frighten away anyone with actual training, let her soothe her storm through you.

Pretty as a vine,

You stomp around the Black Wind like you were born to take on the water. You look just as roughed up, just as dirty and just as unkempt as any other crewmate on board, but Yara can't help but find the way you wear it particularly easy on the eye.

To any man, the dirty beneath your fingernails is disgusting, but Yara saw the way you lifted barrels over your shoulder like they were nothing. Your hair is unwashed now, but Yara knows what you look like when it's just the two of you naked in a sparkling lake. Your hands are rough, but Yara has seen you scale entire masts without any support, and gods does that stir something within her.

As sweet as a grape.

Yara's never been a huge fan of wine. She'd much rather prefer a bitter or hearty drink, but your dripping cunt is an exception.

It's a delicacy she'd greedily swallow, taking every drop you'd give her until your thighs are shaking around her head and you're clawing at her back and begging for relief.

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait until that day.

And gods below, if you could just wait long enough for her to claim that throne, long enough for her to make things right and make things possible, Yara would marry you in a heartbeat, forsake every other lover in the entire world for you if you would take her as your own.

Not as any salt wife, either, but as a rock wife, binding herself to you for the rest of her days.

She'd hammer some iron into a ring for you herself and wear a matching one around her neck. She'd carve your name into the hilt of her sword, carry a lock of your hair inside her armor, have you braid her hair before a reaving only for her to return with the updo still in place.

If you could wait, she would carry you with her until the rest of her days.

I take my whiskey neat,

You've never complained to her about the way she eyes other women when she's drunk. It's never been in your nature to say anything, but she can always feel your cold stare. If it weren't for the booze, it would eat her alive, the way she can feel your territorial nature radiating from across entire buildings and ships, so she drowns herself in liquor and cider until she's free from the burden of attachment, until she's too fucked out of it to remember her own name. All the while, you never say a word.

You sip your ale, watching her from across the room with narrowed eyes, letting her flirt and fondle and fuck to her heart's desire. And at the end of the night, when Yara's had her fill, when she's washed out the suffocation of having feelings, you guide her back to her quarter's and wait for sobriety to revive her of empathy.

My coffee black and my bed at three,

It's almost routine at this point, the way you slide next to her on the deck and hand her a cup of something invigorating. Your watches are always immediately after hers, yet you have always sat with her throughout her entire shift, and you never complain when she retires early before a long day.

Yara always accepts the cup gratefully, sipping on it and sighing. She would pinch the bridge of her nose and you would wrap your arm around her, letting her head fall to your shoulder. At this time of night, all of the men are asleep, and in between your exhausted banter, the waves and gentle rocking of the boat lure you two into your peaceful rhythm.

You're too sweet for me.

[direwolfrules]

The Weirwood Queen Memes Part 5: Because I was a passenger on a five hour drive and brought the wrong book

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Master Post

As always, spoilers for The Weirwood Queen by @redwolf17. 10/10 fic, go check it out.

[alleyskywalker]

NEW FIC: Grace (Tyrion, Theon)

Title: Grace Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire Characters/Pairings: Tyrion, Theon Rating: PG Word Count: 2,784 Summary: AU where Theon spends his time as a hostage at Casterly Rock rather than Winterfell. Notes: I began writing this for last year's Tyrion's Seasons of Love event but then the fic decided it wanted to be gen or one-sided at mostttt, so I shelved it. But thankfully, Battleship gave me a reason to see it finished!

Read on AO3

[lycorim-ao3]

Fleeting, A Moment

New fic on AO3!

- Theon x Robb | G | ~2k words | One-Shot -

Years after the war comes to a close, a king places a crown upon the head of his lover and binds their hands fast in union. They both know it means nothing. They pretend it doesn't.

A fluffy, romantic one-shot that I busted out way faster than expected :)