#where there's ramsay there's trauma

[junior-stargazer-goke20]

This shot from Lynne Ramsay’s You Were Never Really Here is so powerful. The close-up of Joe’s mother’s shattered, bloodied glasses is more than just a disturbing image—it’s a haunting metaphor for the trauma and violence that’s at the core of the film. The glasses, a symbol of her fragility, are left behind as evidence of the brutality she faced, reflecting the never-ending cycle of violence Joe is caught in. It’s a stark reminder of how violence seeps into every part of life, shattering even the simplest, most domestic moments. This image says so much about the emotional numbness Joe carries with him, navigating a world where violence is both his weapon and his curse.

[daenystheedreamer]

stark succession crisis is so funny. robb dead. bran and rickon publicly dead. arya married to ramsay but that’s jeyne. sansa the only actual fully alive public facing stark but also she’s disappeared now. jon bastard and married to the wall. 

by laws of succession bran should be heir but only the mountain clansmen know he’s alive. northerners are trying to get rickon on the throne, dont know bran is alive, also trying to save fake arya. LSH, maege and galbart know jon was made robb’s heir. robb didnt know half his siblings were still alive. howland knows jon is a targ. stannis said he’d make jon lord of winterfell. petyr thinks sansa is heir. ramsay married fake arya and now theon is telling fake arya to keep up the pretence or stannis will just kill them both. jon will know fake arya is fake so where is real arya. real arya fucked off to braavos and due to trauma and cults is trying to induce dissociative identity disorder so really is anyone real arya. none of them know whos alive and whos dead. and benjen is also there maybe? 

[agentrouka-blog]

do you think jeyne poole will live? like a long and peaceful(or will try) life or?

Oh yes, absolutely.

GRRM used her character for plot reasons, and to make a big terrible point about hypocrisy and classist disregard in a big number of people. But he won't end it there.

From Jaime Lannister to the collective Northern nobility, no one would bother raising a hand to protect Jeyne Poole for her own sake. It's inconvenient. It would raise a fuss no one can bother to deal with. Only Theon comes to care for her as a person. Only Sansa remembers her friend.

Jeyne is only barely a step above the peasant girls Ramsay hunts for sport. He names his dogs after them, several are called Jeyne.

Even after she escapes with Theon's help, she must remain "Arya".

Jeyne Poole had wept all the way from Winterfell to here, wept until her face was purple as a beetroot and the tears had frozen on her cheeks, and all because he told her that she must be Arya, or else the wolves might send them back. "They trained you in a brothel," he reminded her, whispering in her ear so the others would not hear. "Jeyne is the next thing to a whore, you must go on being Arya." He meant no hurt to her. It was for her own good, and his. She has to remember her name. When the tip of her nose turned black from frostbite, and the one of the riders from the Night's Watch told her she might lose a piece of it, Jeyne had wept over that as well. "No one will care what Arya looks like, so long as she is heir to Winterfell," he assured her. "A hundred men will want to marry her. A thousand." (TWOW, Theon)

But names are important, even if they aren't convenient.

And suddenly there came a wild thumping, as the maester's ravens hopped and flapped inside their cages, their black feathers flying as they beat against the bars with loud and raucous caws. "The tree," one squawked, "the tree, the tree," whilst the second screamed only, "Theon, Theon, Theon." Theon Greyjoy smiled. They know my name, he thought. (TWOW, Theon)

It's only when he embraces his true identity, in the first chapter that carries his name in ADWD, that Theon can rise to save Jeyne. He is filled with joy at remembering himself, even after all he endured. Even while still pushing Jeyne into the pretense of a different name.

GRRM isn't using mirroring language for nothing. Jeyne will return to herself. Even after all she endured, she will know joy and belonging. There is life after trauma.

AFFC and TWOW contain the first mention of Jeyne Poole from Sansa's end since ACOK.

She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. (AFFC, Alayne II)

For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. (TWOW, Alayne I)

The mentions tie her to friendship and to Sansa's own true identity.

GRRM isn't building that up for nothing, and the theme of identity and friendship, the mirror to Theon suggests a reunion that will validate Jeyne as a person worth of consideration for her own sake.

And that's where the idea of justice will come in. Jeyne is the perfect crown witness against Littlefinger, who is complicit in the plot of false identity to tamper with legitimacy of Northern rulership and the rights to Winterfell. He's a collaborator with not just the Lannister regime but House Bolton. There's barely any proof for his crimes, and none that Sansa can safely divulge, but this is a proper witness account for a trial.

Just like it's extremely likely that the dogs, with their various Jeynes, will be involved in the demise of Ramsay (though not the way the show did it) in order to give justice to the peasant girls he murdered, it's likely that Jeyne Poole will have a hand in creating justice against Littlefinger, one of the architects of her misery. And with the protection and regard of Sansa (and Arya), it will be made clear that even a person of lower rank like Jeyne Poole has a voice and importance.

And then she will go on and live her life.

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

CW: Rape, incest, CSA

This is actually not a strictly A Song of Ice and Fire post here, but it overlaps in some ways so I figured I'd write this.

Anyone who has not read the web serials Worm or Ward and wishes to avoid spoilers, don't read this post:

Disclaimer out of the way, I've found striking parallels between fandom reaction for both A Song of Ice and Fire and Parahumans regarding how characters who survived sexual abuse view their abusers, in a dangerously disturbing way.

For this I'm going to specifically be using the examples of Aeron and Theon Greyjoy from A Song of Ice and Fire to compare and contrast to Victoria Dallon in Ward. All three were psychologically and sexually tormented by their abusers during the course of the series. Theon is a young adult by the time Ramsay gets his hands on him, but Aeron and Victoria were both children when they were molested by family members so they will be the main two characters to compare.

In the case of Euron and Aeron, there are a (sadly very vocal) minority who are ready to dismiss Euron's danger to others by specifically using Aeron's abuse against him. Sure, Euron is evil and horrifically abused him and Urrigon when they were children, and it is understandable that Aeron would be mortified of Euron. After all, he tries to warn people about Euron repeatedly, only for his attempts to stop him to all fail.

The response by this section of the fandom to claims of Euron being built up as a major threat are essentially that Aeron's trauma is in the way of his ability to perceive Euron objectively. Is Euron actually as dangerous as Aeron claims? You can say the same for Theon and Ramsay. After all, Theon is half-mad warning Stannis about Ramsay, and Stannis is bringing some Rational Realness to the forefront by saying "what do I have to fear him for?"

Since GRRM is never releasing another A Song of Ice and Fire book it's hard to say what he intends but he could definitely intend for this to be the case. That said, there is a story featuring a similar character that is completed. Ward!

Victoria Dallon's sister, Amy, is a cape with healing abilities, though as the series progresses we know that healing is just the tip of the iceberg; she can change the biological makeup of living things. Amy is adopted, and has never felt any love from anyone other than Victoria. Amy develops deep romantic love for her sister, however, and then begins a series of bad decisions that just serve to deepen her already deep mental breakdown.

Amy proceeds to; alter Victoria's brain chemistry to give her compulsive romantic thoughts about her, then following healing Victoria after a battle, she spends several days alone with her, during which she repeatedly rapes her, erases her memories of said rapes, until her mental health deteriorates even further and she is unable to use her power properly and turns Victoria into the Wretch: a mass of flesh and limbs and heads, rather than anything actually human.

Then Victoria spends 2 years in a mental institution, stuck in a body she hates, all the while fighting the compulsions Amy left in place. When she finally returns Victoria to normal at the end of Worm, it is actually against her will and not because she had a change of heart or got more confident.

Then we get to Ward, where Victoria is the main POV. As is very obvious, Victoria is struggling with extremely intense PTSD, mentioning Amy is enough to trigger a dissociative flashback, and she wants absolutely nothing to do with her anymore: and fucking rightfully so.

Victoria also warns people about Amy. She warns her therapist to try to reach out to Amy before she hurts someone else, she warns literally anyone who will listen about Amy and what she might end up doing. We may not know what it is that Ramsay and Euron end up doing, but we do know what Amy does.

She refuses all help and doubles down on bad decisions, enslaves people with her powers, later imprisons and torments and touches Victoria again against her will, and becomes the dictatorial monster in charge of an entire planet. Victoria's warnings prove to be extremely prophetic and extremely real.

Now lets get into some discourse shall we?

Despite Amy being a rapist who rapes her sister, enslaves others via mind control, and literally never once improving as a person or acknowledging that her actions even caused harm, there are still those who think Amy isn't at fault. Some might find this post, but I don't really care. Amy is at fault for things Amy did. Victoria is not at fault for hugging her sister like a normal human being when Amy is upset, Amy didn't do her a favour healing her because then she just raped her and then really couldn't fix her back to a human body, and Amy isn't absolved of these sins because she healed a lot of people.

Essentially, Victoria is sometimes blamed for being raped by her sister, the rapist, despite Amy canonically being a manipulative lying liar rapist.

Okay so that doesn't seem to related to what the fandom says with Euron and Ramsay, right? After all, we don't really blame Aeron for being molested and Theon for also being sexually tortured and abused by Ramsay, do we? There are factors as to why that is (mostly that Aeron and Theon are men and Victoria is a woman; if you don't buy this argument look at people who say Cersei deserved to be sexually assaulted by Robert or try to use "the times" as an excuse to overlook Daenerys also being raped by Drogo) but there is an overlap here.

Amy being able to get away with that she did only to go on and hurt so many other people is a meta-commentary on the way survivors of sexual abuse are disbelieved or blamed for what happened to them. Naturally, those real like abusers end up going to abuse other people too. Fuck, even in the fandom, Victoria is still fucking blamed for things that she had absolutely no choice in the matter.

Which leads back to Theon and Aeron. Yes, trauma impacts the way you remember traumatic events, and that means objectivity can get lost at times. It can for Victoria and Theon and Aeron. But that trauma, the dissociation, memory problems, all of these together, are there for a reason. And that's because someone came along, ruined another persons life for their own pleasure and satisfaction, and then got away with it.

Victoria warned the world about what Amy would do, and she was unfortunately correct. Theon and Aeron warned others about Ramsay and Euron. Survivors should be believed, and not be dismissed. After all, it isn't our fault that we got abused. People may hear things about Euron or Amy or Ramsay, but the people who truly know who they are---what they are capable of, what they are actually like---are the people they abused.

So yeah, it's kinda fucking lame when I hear someone go "Stannis gonna prove Theon wrong with facts and logic" as if he doesn't, I don't know, have insight into Ramsay's psychology in ways Stannis doesn't. Same with Euron. Same with Amy.

Also fucking read Ward it hurts as intensely as it kicks ass.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

We can learn a lot about D&D from these two quotes. The fact that one is demonized and protrayed as a narcissist (falsely) while the other is adored and praised.

Daenerys, who D&D decided to portray as cruel and descending into insanity from season 5 on, is written as acknowledging her suffering. However, she says that she endured by finding strength in herself. This view of her past shows how she understands that, while without her circumstances she wouldn't be where she is today, she knows it was unnecessary and awful. Her motivation for most of the show is ensuring that what happened to her doesn't happen to anyone else.

Sansa, on the other hand, outright thanks her abusers. It's one thing to acknowledge how one's trauma shaped you, but it's another thing entirely to thank those who harmed you. By thanking Littlefinger, Ramsay, and others, Sansa is basically saying that her past self needed to suffer in order to become useful. It's D&D basically saying that femininity and women in general need to suffer in order to become "strong".

By choosing to contrast how Dany and Sansa view their pasts and deciding to make Sansa the one the audience is meant to root for, D&D are condemning Dany's idea. They are saying that women shouldn't credit themselves for enduring trauma, rather they should be thankful to their abusers.

This is just one example for how Dany is punished for being active in her life and actively rebelling against her "place" as a woman. Sansa is passive and only acts out when helped by men until the very end of the show, when she has "earned" her active role. Even in her final ending, she asks a man, her brother, to be given the North. Dany takes the lead in her life as soon as she is able, and, even when she's Drogo's bridal slave, she learns how to gain some semblance of power over her life.

Dany is punished by the GoT narrative for being a proactive woman and choosing to condemn rather than thank her abusers. Sansa is rewarded for her passivity and thankfulness to her abusers. This an just one example of the underlying sexism in the show.

[yanderes-galore]

Yan!Sansa Rom. Headcanons?

I must warn you, I have not seen all of GOT or read the books fully. As a result, Sansa's character may seem off. However, I researched certain events, so I have some ideas I'd like to write down for the poor woman- I might return to this later or rewrite it if I feel my thoughts have changed.

Yandere! Sansa Concept

(Focuses more on Show! Sansa)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Heavy themes of abuse (Sansa's history, Darling is "fine" for the most part), Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Soft yandere, Isolation, Delusional behavior, Dubious relationship.

Sansa, in both books and show from what I've seen, has gone through a lot.

She used to be privileged and seemed to lack empathy due to that.

However... Once she's been treated poorly, she doesn't want anyone else to go through the same.

This makes me think that Sansa, after everything she's been through, would not want to harm her obsession or push them too hard.

Let's think about the trauma she's gone through.

Several forced marriages, misogyny, manipulation, being held captive, family members killed, many other things I'd rather not say.

By the time she'd meet her obsession, she'd hate to put them through Hell.

She's gone through many abusive husbands.

She doesn't want to be an abusive partner to you.

By the time she meets you, she's already gone through the pits.

Sansa, no matter what version or how much power she gains, she may want to be softer to you.

She'd be friends with her obsession, someone who has been an ally where she's had none.

Sansa really does need someone who won't have ulterior motives.

Sansa is a character who is trying to survive.

She needs someone who can aid her through all the abuse, manipulation, and trauma.

You no doubt know what she's gone through due to being her friend.

Not in the same way (Hopefully), but you'd be the one she cries to every night.

Sansa would not want to be like her abusers to you.

Which, I feel, would make her a softer yandere to you.

She wouldn't kill people in front of you, she wouldn't force you into anything, she wouldn't want you to hate or fear her...

She wants you to love her... mutually.

She used to fall for fictional tales of love and romance... ones where love is soft...

She never got that with any betrothals she got.

So... while it may be childish... she wants that soft kind of love with you....

She'd never force you into marriage.

She'd wait for you to be ready... even if she feels jealousy towards other potential suitors.

Sansa, by the time she gains some freedom, wants to love only you.

Even when she becomes Queen of Winterfell (In the show), she doesn't really wish to control you... much.

The most I can see Sansa controlling her obsession is subtle.

She'd say small lies or manipulate a system for your benefit.

She'd never hit you, never make you bleed, never harm you...

She isn't Cersei, Joffery, Ramsay, Littlefinger... none of them.

She's her own person and she'll never harm the one she loves.

She tries not to, anyways.

But... Everyone fights for what they love at some point.

She'd never harm your family or those close to you unless pressed.

Unless you're hurt or they try to hurt her... she won't harm a soul.

Sansa would be very soft with affection.

Her touch is gentle, she often asks how you feel.

She'll stick to hugs or gentle touches if you wish... only ever kissing you if you ask and only trying something further when you're comfortable.

Sansa wants your love, yet she'd never take it.

If you love someone else, it hurts...

Yet Sansa will be patient.

She may not take your love by slaughtering those around you, but she's still capable of lies.

She tells herself this isn't hurting you.

Exposing dirt on those you're close to... won't hurt the bond between you.

As a victim of what she's gone through, she doesn't like the thought of putting you through what she went through.

She doesn't put you through what she went through... but you're still manipulated in some way.

Who isn't in the Game of Thrones?

Sansa knows you trust her.

She's had that trust before.

She cherishes your trust.

Which is why, when she has to do the dirty work, she does it out of sight.

She wants you to view her in a positive light.

She wants you to experience that fantasy type of love with her.

The one with soft kisses and sweet words.

The one where you feed one another and hold each other in your arms.

She's tired of all the hurt... which is why she can't let you go.

Surely you'll enjoy Winterfell with her, right?

It may be cold... but she'll keep you warm.

Sansa no doubt genuinely loves you.

She has no motives to harm you compared to others.

She doesn't own you.

You are your own person, just like her... she just tends to... influence your surroundings.

She gives you an illusion of freedom... unintentionally most of the time.

Those you talk to are those she approves of.

Anyone overly friendly or trying to court you is removed.

This is her fantasy...

No one can interfere.

What I'm trying to depict is Sansa is seemingly a "better" yandere than most, but still has her selfish flaws.

She's still not the best for you due to her jealousy and ambition to create a fantasy love life.

She wants the love life she lost.

While she tries not to force you into anything, she wants marriage.

Even if you are a fellow woman, she will only ever take your hand.

Sansa, due to all her trauma, wants a fantasy life to retreat to.

Anyone who falls by her hand is out of sight from you.

She'll get that fantasy life she's always wanted... and you'll be happy...

You must be happy... she could never hurt you... right...?

[valinoar]

was scouring a search of ice and fire for theon jeyne & sam gilly parallels and made a devastating discovery…

and…

sam and theon, to me, are used by grrm to directly contrast archetypes of bravery as well as masculinity. sam and theon have similar upbringings in that they never felt home in their homes, nor did they have great relationships with their fathers (this develops later for theon but is relevant all the same), who held their inability to perform masculinity to their ideals against them.

now, onto gilly and jeyne.

sam and theon have a really interesting parallel where they both experience an iteration of saving the princess in the tower, though the way george subverts this is immaculate in my opinion. gilly and jeyne are so far from the princess/maiden archetype it’s heart breaking: in the literal sense neither of them are maidens as they no longer have their maidenhood and have been ‘defiled’ (i’m going by in-universe rules here) by evil men such as craster and ramsay. a sense of fabrication and imitation clings to them both, with gilly playing both a daughter and a wife to craster, and jeyne being passed off to the boltons as arya stark.

in short, they are not, archetypically, at all similar to what a girl should be in order to be saved. they are broken they are hurt….

and yet they are saved all the same.

both sam and theon are characterised by their cravenly nature at the point in their narratives where gilly and jeyne are introduced. sam suffers from low self esteem as a result of his father’s constant abuse and bullying, while theon suffers the same both mentally and physically at the hands of ramsay.

what do these two men do, though, despite all that they have experienced so far?

they find it in themselves to save the girl. they are not knights they are not princes they are not even truly men, and yet they overcome all that limits them to save gilly and jeyne from their demons.

theon, who has thus far been only selfish and known as a traitor, puts aside all his fear and trauma to do something larger than himself: save himself and jeyne with him. sam, who has never been allowed the opportunity to show valour, who doesn’t even believe he has it in him after the relentless berating from his father, saves a girl in need because what is the night’s watch if not an organisation meant to protect the weak?

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

17 - Plans of Pain and Horror

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 14.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, canon divergence, reference/discussions of rape, suicidal ideation, grief and trauma response, inferences to miscarriages

Notes: Heavy exploration of heavy trauma and mental duress issues this time. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

It was an odd feeling, standing there against the railing with a slight nervousness in his body. A feeling he had been learning to let go of, but there were two reasons for them to resurface now. If the circumstances were any different he may have prepared himself for what he once thought was coming to him, but Jon didn’t approach Theon with that kind of intention on his face. Instead of was one of deep introspection, where his true thoughts or feelings were tightly locked away except for the frustrated anger that slipped through the cracks.

Though it was also a nervousness that he knew exactly the last time he felt like that. In the dark dungeon cells of the Dreadfort he had seen the horrific jagged red on your stomach that made him shake. You sat there alive with that, when Theon knew he’d killed men with wounds just like that, and now he knew similar scars sat littered across the chest of the man next to him. The man who may have just stayed dead had you never showed up.

Dynamics twisted, Theon had nothing clever to say or anything teasing to throw. He knew Jon could sense how nervous he was, but now there was something in the man that had felt more commanding then in the days of Winterfell. His voice was low and rasping as he leaned on the railings next to him both looking out to the scene. “What you did for her is the only reason you’re alive right now.”

Nodding to himself, Theons swallowed harshly. “I know that. Even coming here I knew you might kill me soon as I came through those gates.” Sighing to himself he could see the look in your eyes for so long that scared him. “But I knew if I didn’t get her here..she’d rather die then let Ramsay get her back.”

Gloved hands tightened around their grip of the railing and he felt shame once more as the anger fought it’s way to hide in Jon’s voice. “I was going to find her myself, the day they...” Too scared to look at him, he could still feel the pain in his pause. “I didn’t force anyone to come with me, if I was going to have to go after her alone I wouldn’t hesitate. Couldn’t sit here and act as if it wasn’t eating away at me, letting her think no one cared. But I wasn’t the one who protected her. You were.”

Theon could sense there was something intense neither of you were saying. Something that left a protective rage about your safety that Theon had only ever seen in one other man. “They want her to marry Ramsay. More then half the North haven’t come to their side, so they thought if they showed up with their Queen married, already given Ramsay an heir, it would force the rest to surrender.”

Jon beside him was clearly holding a lot back, risking a glance to him that held real pain as he continued on. “If no one helped her get away from him, she would’ve killed herself. Not after what Roose Bolton did, not after what Ramsay..”

“After he what?” Turning with a hand still on the railing to face Theon, he felt intimidated to match his position. Quite the lives they have become for Theon to be the one looking at Jon Snow and wanting to slink away instead of size him up. Eyes dark and the scar around one eye only served to make him seem even wilder as Jon muttered with rough restraint. “I’ve seen the marks around her thighs, I know he touched her but I need you to tell me exactly what he did. Because we both know she’s not okay.”

Maybe it wasn’t his place, but Theon also knew it was torture for him as well. He was the one dragged into that room night after night made to watch. He had to watch as you either fought back or tried to block it all out which only ever made it worse. Force your head up to make eye contact with Theon as Ramsay taunted you both before leaving you to handle the torment and pain. He’d seen the marks some easily hidden, others not because Ramsay wanted someone to watch. It haunted him too, but it also for just a second of seconds, had a question occur to him that blurted out.

“When did you see her like that?”

Jon didn’t respond, his eyes shifted to something a bit heavier behind the grey but it was you with the talent to read so well, not Theon. And certainly not with Jon of all people. “I can’t help her if I don’t know what he did to her.”

Some people were passing by, some with nervous eyes others curious and all directed towards the man draped in black beside him. He wondered if he knew how much he was reminding Theon of those last days he spent with Robb. Once dumb teenagers now turned into leaders, and both of which had a dark temper towards others about you.

“Not here.”

As Jon moved to close the main door to his quarters, his eyebrows quirked up a tinge as he caught Olly’s eyes. Watching with a distant fear and horror as he walked across the gravel with what looked like some kind of drink in hand. Were the place his heart was not right under where that knife had dug into, he would’ve found something to note in how he now seemed to now serve the woman he helped murder Jon for trying to protect.

When he entered, you had barley noticed you didn’t even attempt to touch the food brought to you when Olly sat down a small container onto the desk as you leaned against it. Your head screamed at you to just sleep but you hadn’t found any courage to wander further into this place which held any semblance of her.

It was possible you nodded off at some point in the night, but not enough to made any difference as you went over and over again the plans of your father. The less it made sense for him to have lost the further you understood what he was doing. You had previously been rummaging through everything trying to find the letter. You knew it was right on the desk but it was now gone and you couldn’t take just one more spiralling of panic right now.

But now you felt even more overwhelmed as your palm pressed firm into your forehead. “He thought you would come back to him, he came here still mourning your death. Your father would want-”

“My father thought I was a traitor.” Your hands flew down the desk behind you, the slight slam almost making the boy behind it jump back. “He called Robb a thief, saying he stole half his kingdom if he took Kings Landing he would have come after us next.” The pain in your voice cracked slightly, tone falling as you knew it wasn’t Davos’s fault you were so unreasonable over this. “I stopped being his heir the moment I chose to join Robb instead of sailing for Dragonstone.”

Stepping towards you, your eyes fluttered shut as arms crossed over your chest. Davos speaking quieter then you had yelled, “For a time he was angry, but he knew he made a mistake by turning your offer down. I tried telling him more then once to reconsider making peace with your husband and everytime he denied it right up until you both died.”

Scoffing, you turned your attention to the darkness of the walls around you. “Never once did he step foot in the North. Never liked it, never cared for it but he sent me here for half my life so I wouldn’t end up spoiled and unprepared like Renly. Then he married me to the North only to have them as an easy ally at his back and then still called me a traitor for staying with them.”

The cold in the air now reminded you of that night, how despite the freezing weather around it was the spirits of the North that warmed you. How unsure Robb looked and yet how he never wavered to be the King they needed, the only one they wanted.

“What was I fighting for, if I turn around now and accept the very crown we lost the war fighting against? That I was willing to be their Queen only until something better came into my lap?” Biting your lip before dropping to something softer, more distant and somber. “Besides, I was never their leader Ser Davos. I was Queen only because they chose Robb as their King. I wouldn’t have been anything without him. He was their leader, I wasn’t meant to do this on my own.”

He felt for you, having seen the qualities of the man in person that day. It was clear why the Northmen respected Robb Stark so much, and easy to see those same qualities that Stannis had seen in his brother. He had said it to no one but Davos, but were you still alive Stannis said, he wondered if Jon would’ve accepted his offer of Winterfell, if he too, had offered you as well.

A hand rested on your upper arm as you looked up, an understanding kindness in his eyes that was so uncommon amongst most of the men you’d come across in these years. “These people need a leader, they need someone to follow someone to believe in.”

The way so many had gone to him, the way so many looked to him with love in his new life. “They already have a leader. They don’t need a new one, they just needed to have the one they already believed in back. And he is.”

You hated the ease in which Davos felt like a father sometimes, an honesty with a comfort that was frustratingly effective as it cut to the chase. “Then what does that make you?”

Voice quiet, but both in the room heard it well as it was weak yet conclusive. “Suppose it just makes me someone who is in his way.” Once you may have had something to offer him, but no longer. You had nothing to give Jon or his cause that wouldn’t bring him down. A disappointment you were.

Circling around the desk before he could speak, you sat down with a louder shift in tone. “It might be a better use of your time, Ser Davos to make yourself available to the Lord Commander for the time being. He is the one in charge and with the men who will follow him, he and Stannis were trying to fight for the same cause and they both died for it. He would be better served by you then I would.”

You didn’t mean for it to come off the dismissive way you did, but there was nothing you could see that didn’t leave you behind. It made sense, you married Robb and left Jon behind to the Wall and now it was destiny he do the same to you. And you’d deserve it as far as you were concerned.

He didn’t buy it though, and curse him for knowing you that well. “Your grace if I may,” Your inside twisted at the title, it didn’t used too but since arriving you felt as if it were a mockery. Sitting down in front of you he leaned forward, “You think you’re the only one to worry about disappointing the people you love? That the things we suffer through make us weak in their eyes?”

Hard pressed to find the right words to say, you swallowed heavily hoping it would take the nerves down with it. “Tell me, Ser Davos what could you possibly have done to disappoint the people most important to you in your life?”

There was no hesitation in his answer, the words much more of a surprise. “You had the restraint and the influence to send that woman away yesterday. That isn’t nothing, she’s been attached to the King’s side for a long time and no one has managed to force her to leave until you.” Your eyes narrowed in slight question as he elaborated. “When I tried, it was with a knife and it got me tossed into a cell.”

Your expression must have shifted drastically, because Ser Davos chuckled to himself. “That’s the same expression your father had. She had pushed me one step too far, and right there in the middle of the room I tried to put a knife in her.” It steadied on the tip of your tongue to ask, but you knew the man well enough that something quite wrong must have been that cause. Or very painful.

Leaning forward yourself, you lightened the weight in your shoulders a bit as you spoke a bit more freely. “She only left because I did the exact same thing to her. I was angry, I was confused, hell0 I still am but she just kept trying to convince me to join her. That her visions were all true and not lies made up to hurt people she can’t so easily manipulate.”

Meeting his eyes you found yourself being the open one for the first time, “Told me that her god was trying to say I was with the wrong person. That I was on the wrong side and everything since then had been trying to push me here.” Your eyes drifted to the side, a quiet crack in your tone breaking through. “Saying being with Robb, having our child wasn’t my destiny. I was just so angry, so I shoved her against the wall and told her I’d put a knife through her stomach where Roose Bolton did mine.”

It was an odd thing, but there was a semblance of proud on the mans face. “I don’t mean to overstep, your grace but in my own opinion her talk of destiny is nonsense. You had a husband you loved and a child on the way and she cannot take that from you. Even now that they’re gone, she can’t take away that love between you, that will always exist.” Your eyes flickered down to a spot of nothing on the desk, your throat too choked to make any sound.

You hoped that was true, you really did. But you failed everything Robb had fought for, and betrayed his memory twice over. Davos did not let the thoughts stew though, “You suited each other. Your father wouldn’t have been to happy to hear me say this, but you looked like a proper King and Queen by the others side. Losing both of them will always hurt, but no one can take away what you had. Not even her.”

Not moving, you nodded a single time as he could see the hold in your face trying not to let too much of that pain out in front of anyone. Looking up to Olly he nodded to the side, “Come, let’s go make ourselves useful somewhere else. Give the Queen a moment alone.”

Olly nodded, getting to the door before turning back looking to you and then the food he sat out hours ago. Catching a protest from Ser Davos he quickly grabbed it to bring with him. “I can bring you something warm later.” He was trying very hard to make up what he did in your eyes and you had no idea why.

You didn’t know what Queen anyone saw you as anymore, nor if they should. As the door closed you sat in that silence for a moment before standing abruptly. Ever so slowly, you walked to the main part of the room. Theon had tried to make it relatively inoffensive but you still could sense her right there. Saw where she’d spend her time, where all her books would lay out.

The red woman may have burned her but you were the one to put a knife through her, ending a horrid pain or not it was on you and only you that she was gone. Sending her away was more to spare you from letting that anger inside you take a step too far, stop seeing their faces in hers and maybe they won’t haunt you.

But they did, all of them did. Every waking moment felt as if it was one onslaught of terror after the other in a world that no longer had a place for you in it. Fingers gently tracing over one of the books tucked away you recognized the cover. Smiling to yourself as you flipped it open gently seeing how well worn the pages were, easily seeing Shireen opening it up and going through everything as if she hadn’t read it a thousand times over.

By the time you sat, your back against the wall and knee bent with your feet flat on the floor you rested your forearms over them. Letting your head fall back onto the surface as you looked around. Your father had come here to fight an enemy you barley understood, and yet still found it within him to try and fight for a North that he knew had denied him. Some still would, or did.

You knew of some houses who sided with the Boltons, others more predicable then others. Rumours of the Umbers, some of the Manderlys making you wonder what the justification of their new fealty’s were.

Still not knowing who was left, who escaped or survived or what kind of allegiances lay about the North in truth. Hadn’t even a clue what state the Riverlands would be left in, once under Robb’s rule as well now felt so far away it was impossible to see. It flashed in your mind before you could stop it, the fire around the chanting, the horror of what became of both of them.

He didn’t deserve to be a tossed away pile of bones scattered across the Twins. He deserved be in the North, deserved to be buried with his family he fought for in his own home. He and Grey Wind both didn’t deserve to have it end in such a horror. Bringing any of him home likely wasn’t possible, if the Freys kept track of any beyond that night. Your heart almost plunged down into your stomach as a vile feeling rose in your throat.

An agony in your heart that overtook the nightmares which followed that night beyond. How many of those men would stay aligned with such traitors if they knew what they did with their King. The Young Wolf they had called him and they forced him to die as such. You didn’t know when the tears started, or when they fell too heavy to contain but your head dropped into your arms. Pulling your knees closer to your chest.

You could see them all, feel the blood under your hands and the constant loss surrounding you that all screamed it was your fault. Maybe this new life was for no purpose, maybe this was still the punishment. Eventually the exhaustion took over from the tears, but you had no idea when you fell asleep. Only the dream like sensation of a pair of arms wrapping around you before something soft fell underneath along with a gentle rasp that you couldn’t see in your slumber.

Maybe if you were lucky, you’d never wake up.

Coming around to the waking world, you were laid out under the sheets of a place you hadn’t fallen asleep in. Laid out on your side your eyes slowly opened to the sound of a grumble, as right before you red eyes watched you closely. Ghost sat to the side of the bed, his head laid out on the sheets watching you before letting out a whine when you found his attention. Slowly pushing up on your palms, the sheets fell around your waist leaning forward to run a hand along his fur.

The direwolf leaning right into it with another low grumble before shaking his head out and turning towards the door. Pausing to look back at you, you raised an eyebrow as your voice crept back from a grumbling slumber. “I suppose I can’t argue with that face, now can I?” Head tilting to your words you finally stood up, muscles for once not so angry as you did so. Over a week now had found many rough places to sleep, and even less willingness to stop to do so.

You had felt far warmer then normal and only as you stepped forward towards Ghost did you realize there was a furred cloak wrapped around you, a cloak that had your heart skipping. The last time you had ever seen it was years ago riding away from you when it’s owners father was still alive. The white fur brushed with darker spots alongside it had always stuck out from the other Starks whose were mostly dark with spots of browns and specks of black around it.

Many years ago, still teenagers, you had told him that winters and snow suited him no matter what about it he hated in name. Draped in all black for so many years, it made sense that his companion was the pure white opposite that kept it all balanced. The North felt like it was all around Jon for so long that ever pretending he was anything but a Stark was unfair. You had told Robb that night in Riverrun you never understood why he was treated the way he was.

In truth you logically did know, bastards of Westeros were treated amongst different levels depending on who it was they were born to. It had been a long time since you thought back to that day, but you could still see the boy with striking eyes and dark hair that matched you so well it stunned you into a shock you never quite got over in those days. But Gendry was a lowborn, from what you had been able to tell, possibly knew his way around being sold as a slave as well.

Having any Baratheon in his parentage meant nothing, born destined to live in the slums of flea bottom and that’s all the world would ever care from him because Robert would never have cared. But Jon was as much of a Stark as any you’d ever met and yet the only way you found one another again was in the most dire of lost times at the edge of the world brinking on a darkening end.

He was more of a Stark then you were a Baratheon anymore, no matter what Ser Davos tried to convince you of, you didn’t belong amongst the golds of Stags. But draped in Jon’s fur, you didn’t think you belonged with the wolves either. Just the dirt and rotting ground.

The Lord Commander’s quarters were naturally the most well made of the lot. More rooms were sectioned off with proper privacy rather then most of it in one place. The chill in the air reaching the point you knew it would never truly go away, wrapping the ends of the cloak a little firmer around your front as your eyes narrowed looking around.

For a brief moment, he hadn’t seen you yet. Sat away at his desk with his face twisted into something more exhausted then you’d seen before. It was hard to tell by the light coming from outside, but it appeared to be later in the afternoon, and likely Jon had been there for far too many hours scanning over too many words and numbers to not hurt your eyes eventually.

You hated the jump in your heart, the spike that felt so familiar like everytime you would see him for the first time when returning to Winterfell. Then it was more innocent, a comfortableness with a growing of more heated touch that never quite got off the ground then but just a quiet intimacy with your best friend. Now though, the faces in your mind, the life you lost in one horrible night that told you it was wrong to have anything close to that ever again.

You promised to never leave the other anymore, and you broke that by being pulled back to the world of living and not doing your duty to your vows and following him right back to the darkness. Pain and a scarring ravaging of your mind and body that took away the things he had given you and yet once you escaped that too?

Would they all hate you for what you did? For how it felt now? To look at Jon, his black curls thick, wild, and longer then they’d ever been, and the rest of him sharper and more distinguished from time, face framed by facial hair that you knew what it felt like scratching between your legs. Was it so horrible of you to so easily look at him now, and rediscover things that you once found so easy to love but in a whole new version of the same man. Was it unfair to Robb for you seeing his brother for the first time in years, and that was what happened?

It was a burning inside you that night, like you would be consumed by flames should you not give yourself to him as many times as he needed to take you. Never felt like it was more natural to be with someone, but now it all felt like you were just finding traitor in yourself to more people. A traitor to your father with Robb, and now a traitor to Robb with Jon and all of it was only your fault alone.

Clearly, you’d been standing there for a little longer then you guessed. Jon having set aside whatever took his focus previously as he softly called your name for what sounded like a second attempt. Mind snapping back to him, too falling easily into the wide tenderness of his grey eyes that made you stir uncomfortably. Your voice rough, and tone even more awkward. “You brought me here?”

Jon didn’t respond with the same stilted feeling, just looking to you with the same ease he always had even despite the raging tension in his shoulders. “The only way you could sleep was passing out on the ground or at your desk,”

Your brows narrowed for a moment, “How would you know that?”

His face never changed once and neither did his soft toned confidence. “Because I know you, and I know the last thing you’d want to is to fall asleep in either of their beds.” You hated that he was right, you hated that you had been to terrified to sleep in either your father or Shireen’s beds. Knowing the nightmares would follow thusly.

Stepping a few feet in more, distracting yourself by looking around his quarters to shove the sting in your eyes back down. “So you what, brought me to yours?” Whatever distracting accusation in your voice you attempted failed, either in you or to be fooled by Jon. He knew you so well and you hated every second of it. You couldn’t hide from him and you had the distinct feeling he no longer would let you try.

“If it meant I could keep an eye on you, yes.” You could hear a shift, likely him leaning back in his chair looking you over with a more narrowed, scrupulous gaze. You felt him follow you, as you looked over whatever lay about in the room to not meet his eyes back. Your name slipping roughly from his lips, making your jaw clench and eyes sting more.

Interrupting him before he could push the issue, but trying to push the playfulness in your voice didn’t quite hit it’s mark. “Thought men of the Night’s Watch weren’t allowed women in their beds.” Not looking, you missed the smirk slide easily onto his face.

Still low, his playfulness was much more natural in tone. “No, normally the men prefer sneaking off to Mole’s Town to stay in theirs.” But hair so red flashed in your mind and you knew it wasn’t there which his company was found, and you hated yourself deeply for feeling uneasy over it.

You had no right. You married his brother, kept another man’s bed warm while you were being looked to as a Queen and he was here shut off from the family who wished they did him better. You had no right to feel this way about Jon finding that same thing with another woman it was his life. The hands clutching the cloak gripped tight enough you could feel the strain in your knuckles, at least hidden by the black of the fabric over it.

Trying to smile while casting your eyes over titles on a bookshelf, “Suppose if they punished everyone for that, there would be nothing but corpses to man the Wall.”

“You mean more then it already is now?” You didn’t know if he intended it as a joke or not, but it finally made you whip around with a sharp unamused glare. It was all too clear exactly how those scars on his chest felt and nothing funny about it came to you. But the small conflict in his eyes had you pull back a bit. Wasn’t really funny to him either.

Glad he was giving you the space, you walked a bit closer before sitting in the seat opposite across the desk. Your hands still tightly gripping the cloak around you as he looked you over with something you didn’t want to recognize. Something you wish didn’t warm the chill in your veins. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” Your eyes flickered back up to his, something that was keeping himself at a distance to you but yet it appeared as if the effort was difficult for him. Once in another life, you both found it easy to keep apart so honestly. Hide in plain sight and save these kinds of emotion for private. But now? Now doing so in private felt almost worse, like giving into what you didn’t deserve anymore.

The quiet between you was heavy, but you had no clue how to break it. No idea what to say to make any of this easier, make any of it make sense. Neither of you should be here, and yet?

“Ser Davos told me my father offered you Winterfell.” His brows narrowed a tad as you glanced up to him and then back to the window on the walls. A twisting in your own expression at the idea, “Said he would legitimize you, give you Winterfell if you helped reclaim it. But you said no.”

The conflict in Jon’s own eyes were missed as he finally looked away from you. He was confident when he said no to the King, but all it took was one discussion with Ser Davos afterwards that stripped him off the lies he told himself. You did not know what exactly was said between them, and you did not presume to ask the details. It wasn’t your offer and not your right to know and yet here you were running your mouth about it because your mind couldn’t stop itself.

Running a hand over his mouth, there were finally nerves visible in his own person then just you for once. “I swore a sacred vow to the Night’s Watch.” You clenched your jaw as you turned away only to feel confused by the breath of a genuine chuckle from him. “There’s that look again.”

Turning with a furrowed brow, you more defensively turned your voice up. “What look?”

Jon only chuckled harder. “That right there” His forearm leaned with him to rest on his desk to point to your expression. “The same look you gave me that night, when I tried telling you why I was joining in the first place. You gave me that same look then, like you knew I wasn’t being honest with myself.”

You had no idea where it came from, but something so calm and flat slipped from your mouth with a very small amused shrug of a shoulder. “You and I are quite good at that, aren’t we?” You wanted to laugh with him, but it wasn’t quite as easy. “Lying to ourselves about what we really feel.”

His grey eyes shined at you with a familiar fondness so unique to only him. “Part of me didn’t think I deserved it. I spent so many years pining after everything my siblings got, but finally when it’s right in front of me all I could worry was that it shouldn’t be mine.” Voice and eyes far away in both as he let himself open up. “I found a place here, I found a reason to keep going to keep fighting but did any of that mean I should have the one thing I could only get because the rest of my family is gone? So I said no. That my place is here and getting myself involved with politics of the Seven Kingdoms wasn’t my place anymore.”

Pulling something from a drawer in his desk, you stilled. Recognized the tint right away before he even could open it back up. Sitting it face up between you, both knew the other had read and reread it too many times to count. Only this time, as a shaking panic found it’s way into your eyes a darkening anger swirled in his. The proof that what happened to him, was your fault.

You’d run from this very room if you didn’t think Jon would instantly leap up to shove the door closed before you could walk out of it. There also, was no hiding the watering that finally broke free of the dry sting and the red that followed the pressure. “I...what do you want me to say? If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t have come here and maybe they never would have-”

It was uncommon that anger was directed towards you, but the darkness in his eyes and twisting expression of frustration as he looked at you felt horrid. “That’s what you think this is?” He leaned back before forcing himself to stand. Taking a few steps to the window running a hand over his face once more before turning back to look at you. Less of a furious anger and more like a hurt form.

Your name slipping harshly from his lips, making you turn to look at him wishing you weren’t so weak it was obvious you wanted to cry. “The Bolton’s murdered my brother, took my home from it’s own people. And when I finally find out after a year that they’ve kept you alive as their prisoner did I finally get it. I spent all this time trying to convince these men that the Free Folk deserve a place in the North as much as we do, but it wasn’t until him,” His chin nodding to the letter, “Did I realize that I don’t deserve to be the one leading these people if I don’t even try to protect the people I love.”

Your nerves ragged and your muscles under the cloak shook as you shook your head as your words gritted together. “And coming after me got you killed.”

Clearly a sore spot was pricked at, as he stepped forward, his voice raise along with his temper. “They killed me for doing the right thing.” Your head jilted back a small bit, biting your lip at the tone but never moved to make him stop. “The Night’s Watch isn’t the shield that guard the realms of men if we’re only protecting each other. What’s the point of trying to protect the world from what’s coming if I let everything I love die before it even gets here.”

Walking closer to you, your eyes were turned away from him completely. His voice lowering as he braced his palms across the side of the desk angled towards you. “I died trying to protect you and there wasn’t one second I ever regretted it. I didn’t regret it when I bleeding out on the ground, and I don’t regret it now that you’re the only reason I’m even alive.”

One gloved hand rose up to cup your cheek, turning you to look up at him and starling you by how close he really was. Your lungs chose to not even try to work as you looked at him as he whispered, his breathe warm as it gently reached your skin. “So stop avoiding me. I made my choice. Fight for what’s right, for my people, and for the woman I love.”

Even under the leather, you were sure he felt you shiver as you tried turning your gaze away from him, this time the tears just falling. The one hand still on you, running his thumb over to wipe away what it could reach but he never moved forward beyond it. Just kept you there, until your nerves settled down.

For once, you felt a sliver of calm that gave back any strength in your voice. “So, now what? You’re alive, as am I, so what do we do?”

Not that he said it, but the darker animal inside of Jon certainly had a very different answer to that question then the reasonable answer you were thinking. But after what he learned, part of him was petrified that he had scared you. And as much as he wanted you, as much as whatever this feeling inside his new beating heart screamed at him, he would never take that gamble when you were so fresh from such a disgusting torture.

His voice was low, and sure of himself as he came back around to the right conclusion. “First, I’m getting you to eat something for once and then? We do our duty. We start planning how we get the North back. Together.”

Nodding, you felt the loud noise in your head settle. Part of you sick of how only Jon seemed to quell it, but that was just a fact you were going to have to live with. Jon on his part, gave himself credit for having the will power to not kiss you. Running his hand over the side of your head, hair running through the leather between his fingers just looking at you for a moment when he let it slip out. By accident, his voice a quiet, husky awe like it was only meant to be in his head. “You look so beautiful in my clothes.”

Jon’s chuckle was deep as you flushed, turning away from his touch trying to hide the swirling embarrassment. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that felt so normal to be there with him, but you scoffed anyways. “Alright, you already made your point there’s no need to flatter me into it.”

Laughing more freely he let one more tiny part of him slip, and thankful that you didn’t shy away from him for it. Leaning closely he mumbled, “If I’m not supposed to flatter you, then you shouldn’t look so beautiful in my furs, sleeping in my bed.” You flushed one more time as Jon leaned in like it was such a normal thing to do, slipping his hand gently behind your head to pull you to him. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, your heart leaping in your chest at the tenderness. “Stay here with Ghost, I’ll bring you something.”

If you weren’t so flustered, you’d tell him you could do it yourself but by the time you registered he even said anything he was gone. Leaning forward to drop your head in your hands only to be nudged by Ghost. Drawing you back up, you sighed running a hand along his head. “At least I know now it’s just a Stark thing to enjoy making me nervous.”

Ghost just moved a bit closer, begging for more of your nails to stretch around his ears as he shuffled closer to comfort you. If only with the direwolf, that might have been the first time you said something so calmly about Robb and not felt like you wanted to throw up over the pain. It hurt, but it was a hurt that stemmed from memories that weren’t so agonizing to recall.

Eyes drifting upwards, you hesitantly reached out to grasp the letter. Despising how easily you could hear his voice as you glossed over the words. It seemed more unhinged then what he was when you left, but still the details didn’t add up. It had taken about seven days to reach Castle Black and this letter would’ve arrived on the sixth night. Seven days of battle, but only that very night Theon and yourself made an escape did Roose Bolton bring your father up to Ramsay.

The details of his ravings about you added up in your mind, there was only one place, one person you could reliably run too and blaming Jon as if you were stolen in the night was easier then accepting two beaten prisoners out foxed your men and hounds. But why lie about your father? Why would he have reason to lie and say Stannis was dead if he wasn’t?

You froze as it hit you. So much, so very much had happened between then and that day, many people who were there in person or signed to it were gone or prisoners still to the Freys. But there were absolutely still those who would know about it.

Ghost whined at you in concern as you bent in your seat, head falling into your hands at the factor you had so massively forgotten in this haze of your mind. How could you even bring that up now, how would you ever say it? Especially after what your father already tried to offer, he would just think you were trying to manipulate him.

It was made in genuinity, you and Robb both never doubted that choice and there was never even a second choice that you two considered good enough to put first. Not even Catelyn could find a protest beyond her own misgivings, and yet as it all came onto you like freezing water you realized that you had no idea what to say. Was this even a North anymore that would value your words? Would they see you alive and consider your stance as fair and righteous as they considered their once King’s?

One thing after another it seemed, not even a fortnight had passed since you escaped the Boltons and already the weight piled up one after the other with things that you had no idea what to do about. It was a bit odd however, having this weight and yet the giant direwolf here seemed to not just sense it but found discomfort in your own.

Even sized as this, Ghost was still a bit smaller then Grey Wind. Silent as anything when he wanted to be, preferring to slink into the background to watch with keen attention. Whereas Grey Wind stood tall and proud, confident in his intimidating nature that used it as a protective guard to those he cared about and in private, preferred to relax to fall asleep in gentle peace. But the quiet watchful direwolf in front of you was so much more lively alone.

As if Ghost was still a pup demanding your attention, huffing at you when your hands stilled as they scratched along his fur. Standing so close he could knock you over when outside you had noticed he preferred to stay back and watch it all play out with no distractions. Yet both still seemed to regard you with their own protective nature when most others knew direwolves to only answer to one.

But then there were those days, moments that felt like the wolves were more human then animal and something aggressive in them leaping to the forefront at your defence. Jon had said when he died, it was like part of him lived within Ghost, that he could see and control his animal in such a strange way that left him wild and aggressive until you showed up at the gates.

For a moment, you remembered the flames. Those few seconds before there was nothing, and how there was just enough flickers of life in Robb’s deep blue eyes that you knew he had to watch you first and were you not sitting you may have fell over at the thought.

Grey Wind shot full of arrows before his head was cut off just like- jumping up to your feet as if needing urgently to shake off the bile in your throat at the memory. You told yourself countless times not to think about it, but it was the last sight of him you’d ever get and suddenly the world felt dizzy.

Stepping forward, you had to brace your palms against the desk, head hanging low as the world spun both around you and inside your mind feeling like you were at a dozy sea. Only it was the sea which dragged you out, just as a hand reached your arm you spun around in a gasp as you both flinched away from the other. Theon a few feet back, hands now raised in the air as he looked over you with wide eyes at your breathless tone. “What are you doing in here?”

Lowering them back down, he tilted his head slightly to look you over with concern. “Checking on you. The two dead people disappear all day, started to make everyone a bit nervous out there.”

Steadying your breathing you leaned back against the desk, crossing your arms. “There is a difference between being dead and rumoured to be dead.” He didn’t take the hint to leave it be, and you could only wonder just what the talk really was outside your hearing.

Moving to match your position, he eyed Ghost now sitting quietly with watchful eyes unlike the affection of mere seconds ago. His arms crossed as well, tone bordering on light but in a more distant banter then perhaps years ago. “And I know there is a difference between surviving a knife in the stomach, and surviving being butchered like he did to you.” Your head turned to the side, eyes slipping closed to turn it out but he leaned closer. “You can’t keep avoiding it. Everyone is talking about it, you and Jon both, like they can’t decide if they’re terrified of you two or ready to worship you.”

Neither of those things sounded appealing, your resolve shredded too cowardly to be feared and there was nothing about your new life that deserved any kind of reverence. You were just you, alive somehow and far more broken then any Northerner would recall following you as. “I can avoid it as long as I refuse to speak on it. I’m alive that doesn’t mean anyone thinks I’m special.”

His eyes softened as he watched you, your gaze less harsh as you looked meaninglessly around the room. It took a while for it to be spit out, but once he did it was out there and he knew he had to address it further. “Jon does.” Your tone warning him by name but he climbed over it. “You think I’m stupid? That I can’t see the way he looks at you? Like you hung the moon in the sky just for him?”

Nudging his arm, the tiny gesture letting you two slip to a more normal feeling. “Have you been reading poetry in your spare time at the Wall, or did I only miss the fancy words in between ignoring how vulgar you used to be.” Both of you didn’t really laugh, but a far away smile crossing both of your faces at the memory.

Truly two different people in those sights compared to the ones in the present.

He shrugged as you both looked more to the ground in the quiet. “Guess I’m just noticing things more then I used too. Ruined my life always trying to be the centre of attention, decided maybe it might do be some good to take influence from you two and shutting up once in a while. Gave me time to start noticing the things around me.”

You wanted to dismiss it outright, but turning to glance at Theon you didn’t see the once cocky charmer he once was, but a man just as torn apart by the very people who did you. The one who risked everything to bring you here, to someone who had every reason to hate him for what he had done. It wasn’t so easy just brushing him off anymore, not when even now he stood by you instead of finding a better life anywhere away from here. You bit your tongue as something choked up built, but you never spoke of it.

Not outloud to a soul, and with those striking blue eyes still so painfully in your heart you had even less words to describe what those grey ones did to you now. “One of us should be able too. It feels like I have no idea what anyone is thinking anymore, like I could always read a person and their intentions but now there’s a fog overtop of my eyes and everyone is just a mystery.”

Nodding mostly to himself he hummed, “I can lift it for a few people. If you care to hear.” You shrugged a shoulder, and he continued on taking it as a yes. “For once, I can tell you that boy Olly? He’s about as afraid of you as he does admire you. Told you to your face he shoved a knife into Jon’s heart, watched you cut a man’s head off and hang two others for that crime but you kept him by your side. At this point, I think he’ll do anything to make up for what he did.”

You swallowed heavily. “He’s just a boy. I can’t blame a boy for being manipulated into something he couldn’t possibly understand. Seems keeping around people like that is a new pattern of mine.” Eyes meeting the other, you both knew there was direct influence on that one. You had found a true friend in Theon after once only seeing execution as a choice for his life and perhaps it make you more willing to forgive that of another.

“I also know I ruined my own life by going back to the Iron Islands, that the only time I felt like I was part of something good was fighting by Robb’s side. And that I’m willing to get dragged along with you until you figure out what your next moves are as well.” The only thing you could be sure with, was the honesty and dedication in his eyes that was as foreign to him now as it was for you to see it again. “Besides, I didn’t just swear my sword to the King in the North. Pretty sure there was a Queen in there as well.”

Both of you knew, you didn’t feel like that person anymore. Not even close, but now you knew in a strange panic that you were going to have to do your duty. The last real act as King and Queen you had made with Robb needed to be upheld, if only could it be done by one who was less inclined to so easily fall apart. Theon didn’t need to hear it, but you said it anyways. “I’m sorry for ever sending them to you. Truly, I am.”

Eyes meeting once more, it was a bond that likely none else would understand. Forced into a torture upon the other that no one else could image were they not there to endure it. “So am I.” Progress was made for him, a kind moment of comfort where your hands found the other.

Memories of a hellish nightmare that left your souls both in horrid tatters, and yet enough pieces were scraped together to run from it before it consumed you both without mercy.

If the gods had none else planned for you, at least you could rely that Theon would go with you towards that chaos. What worse could you two find that hadn’t been done to either of you over by those blood curling pale blue eyes.

Too far removed from the present still, the small moment as the door from outside opened followed suit with something that only further proved Theon’s point which escaped your notice. But as the door and cold swung open, and as Jon walked in to the sight? Theon couldn’t help but notice that as Jon’s eyes flickered sharply between how close you two were standing and your attached hands, that he had never seen such a quick flash of possessiveness even on Robb.

But as soon as it was there, it faded when you let go of him to stand up straight, a bit of a wall throwing itself back up. One on one was easier, but more then that seemed to put you right back to an edge that you were terrified of looking weak standing over.

Theon also couldn’t help it as the thought came to him, but that he had almost walked in on you and Robb during the earlier days at war. And that even in Robb’s quick temper at Theon to get out considering your state of undress, it wasn’t anywhere near the dark which came over Jon’s grey eyes as he for hardly a second, noticed you holding hands.

If this was some strange connection between you because of what happened, he didn’t know. Theon just hoped you weren’t adding to this onslaught of self punishment by pushing it away out of a surviving guilt. Robb may have died hating Theon, but he knew he wouldn’t have died never wanting you to find any happiness again.

And gods help him, Theon was starting to suspect Jon desperately wanted you to find it with him.

“What would he get from lying about that?” That was the question you still weren’t sure of. Ser Davos seemed to agree that the time of events didn’t line up if Ramsay had been telling the truth about Stannis. But with no word from him, or where his armies were none of you had anything to go off of but a feeling.

Busy looking through the papers left behind from your father, it left Davos and Theon to work with Jon on how everything fit together. Having attempted to pledge Northern houses to his cause, you and Theon could say with certainty who wasn’t loyal to House Bolton but many had denied Stannis or not given him any response what so ever.

If the remaining Ironborn were driven out of the lands, it would leave only the ones who betrayed and murdered their King as the ones left in charge. Must like the rest of the kingdoms it seemed, no longer were the wars fought across the lands but within them just for the right to live. But the North was vast and large with little organization in place to start at.

“Trying to scare me into surrendering. If he thinks I’m a threat, telling me he and his armies are dead might mean less chance I go after them.” Your eyes were starting to hurt, but there was a vast amount of back and forth to put everything together. Half of Jons desk on the opposite side of him was covered in papers as you leaned over in your chair sorting things quietly as their voices moved around you.

Theon spoke up from the side a sudden thought occurring to him, scouring back into his memories to find it past the fears of the moment. “He tired to do more then scare you. They were trying to find Bran and Rickon, and he sent one of his men here to look for them.” Pausing he looked at the slowly filling anger in Jon’s confused eyes. “He said that even if they weren’t, you might be a threat to them, especially if you found out about...”

You knew eyes drifted over to you, but just narrowing your own at the paper hoping to blur passed the thoughts from distracting you even more. Jon asking, “When was this?”

A pause between them no doubt as he tried to recall, you knew too well keeping track of days or weeks in those times was an impossible task. “Wouldn’t have been long after..” Theon clearing his throat trying to push past the looming narrative there, “after what happened at the Twins... He’s not here though, so I don’t know what..”

Your eyes widened, hands gripping the paper a bit tightly trying to not see it. Not see the way in that last time outside the way the sun shined on the Trident and how the next time you saw any sun you were being dragged through the North almost in a delirious fever. You purposely didn’t look up, you didn’t want to distract them either.

Jon connecting it on his own, “We had a man come here, saying he was from the Riverlands but he died when we went to take care of the mutineers at Craster’s Keep. If he was there for me, someone should have told him not to waste his time. Thorne took care of that one.”

If this all happened while still at the Dreadfort no wonder you didn’t hear a thing about it, locked away in their dungeons ready to die was your state. Not much had changed beyond where you were allowed to walk around since then.

Ser Davos was sat next to you, “Makes sense actually. You know the North better then most, your father was Warden of the North for over twenty years, your brother was their King. Roose Bolton’s a smart man, he knows if you come out of the Night’s Watch you’re a threat. Especially after losing what they thought was going to be their key to their claim.”

This time they all knew you were trying to avoid their gazes. Let them speak you thought to yourself, let them figure this out. So far you were deep into discussions and numbers with the Iron Bank of Bravvos and promises to pay out the debt of the Seven Kingdoms should your father succeed in taking the Iron Throne with their backing. How he planned to do that was just another dark hole of headaches and papers and you suddenly could remember why you got so little sleep in the Westlands.

You think your name was passed around once or twice, but you had all been there quite a while and you wanted to get through most of this before leaving for the night. “Alright, so you two escape taking what they thought was their key to gaining the North’s support with, knowing the only person you could go to is me. Then lie about Stannis being dead to scare me out of retaliating.”

Theon responded this time, “Why wouldn’t you hear anything from him then?”

Both likely turned to Davos this time, who took a good moment to consider the most reasonable action he would take. “If he thinks the King would be going right for the Iron Throne, then the most reasonable way is to take Winterfell on the way to King’s Landing, goes right through there. If he’s trying to misdirect them, it’d be easy. The North is big and the Bolton’s don’t have enough men to search for him.”

“Gain support, or try to, from the other Houses and attack Winterfell when they least expect it.”

You didn’t know how to say it, but it wouldn’t work. Your father wasn’t going to gain their help and the reason why was the two people sitting at the desk. But dumping that on Jon, especially now was unfair. It felt too much like trying to convince him to do something beacuse you said so, even though it was the furthest from the truth. You knew the choke hold the Boltons were keeping the North in hurt him, it couldn’t not. The North was Jon’s home and it pained him to see it so shattered from the bloodshed of his own family.

Deep within your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the time passing enough that only you remained at the desk rereading the same thing over and over. Thinking for a moment you were alone, you put the remaining of it down with the rest of the piles before leaning down in your seat resting your head back in your palms trying to will away the growing headache behind it.

War had crept up behind you all in King’s Landing over four years ago and not once had it left you. The continuation of fighting for your people on one side, and the other just beyond this very wall with things you barley understood. You hardly dreamt of the cold and the ice since that night but now they felt like they were gone. Hints of something you had no way of grasping in the war down south and yet up here you didn’t understand them any better having disappeared.

Inhaling deeply, you gathered yourself enough to stand. Deciding there was no point in lingering in his quarters beyond what he kept you there for initially. But behind you was where his voice rasped out from, your name soft on his lips. Turning to him, whatever calm you felt with him earlier struggled to return once all alone.

Everything about him tried to entice you whereas all the rest insisted you had no right to any of it, not what had already been there and none more. Turned partially to look back at him you clearly were ready to walk out the door at any second. “Was there something else you needed?”

Jon hated how formal with him you were trying to be, hated that he didn’t know if it was him or you that was causing this rift, and most of all that it hurt everytime you built that barrier. A barrier that for the entire time you’d known each other never used to exist. But if it was him, then he knew it was his responsibility alone to mend it. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Your brows narrowed as you turned to him more, confusion all over your face but quiet for him to explain himself. “For what I did. Coming back was...overwhelming, and seeing you again just...” A frown forming deeper as he stepped forward, shaking his head to collect the words catching your eyes once again. “I of all people should know better then to have assumed that was something you wanted, and it probably didn’t help I wasn’t exactly gentle about it either.”

Your heart started to race, trying to grasp what he thought was going through your mind but the implications were making you uncomfortable. “Why would you think I-”

His voice a little louder this time, but you simply refused to even look him in the eye and he hated trying to guess why and only finding an answer in his actions. “Because I know what it’s like.” You found them this time though, and yet Jon instantly could feel what he did back then. That the thing you’d hate was that he was lying to himself thinking it was alright and he couldn’t stand there and not atone for doing the same thing. “You can tell yourself it’s fine, you can lie all alone and say you liked it so what does it matter but don’t lie to me.”

You tried protesting but it seemed he couldn’t stand you trying to shut down the conversation before it even could pick up. “I’m not lying-”

His voice on edge and frustrated as he called your name almost in a tone of a stern lecture, “You can’t even look at me, barley wanted to be around me since that night and after everything Ramsay did to you,” Your eyes flickered back up to his, “and after what she -”

You fully spun to look at him as soon as he cut himself off. Something flashing in his own eyes that you had felt in yourself. “Jon,”

Shaking his head he stepped forward gently pushing back whatever he found almost slipping from his tongue. “Theon told me what Ramsay did to you. I needed to know, I saw the marks on you and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Thinking that you didn’t want to be around me because I forced you into it-”

Finding your own voice this time with it’s own breathless anger in tone. “Jon you didn’t force me into anything. I liked it.”

“Just because you liked it doesn’t mean you wanted it.”

Your eyes finding something in pain behind his grey ones, the deep breaking in his low tone that was holding back for his own sake now. Your mind only remembering flashes of pretty red and yet before you was something that didn’t match what you thought you had seen that day.

In that thick silence you looked at him, a face that at times so far could be sharp and rough now was a softness none here likely had ever seen. But still, even now, he showed it to you. The girl in you wanted to go to him, but the darkness inside your head told you to leave him alone. Your words being all that was left of the fighting between them. “I promise you, I wanted it. All of it. And maybe if I wasn’t so sure I was just ruining your life being here, I’d let you do it again.”

Just as you turned, just as the cold of the outside slipped in from the turning of the door handle, Jon’s own hand reached over your shoulder. Closing it gently as you felt his warmth radiate over your back, but he was far enough that you couldn’t feel anything else. His voice clearly at least a foot away from you. Whatever he actually wanted to say, he changed his mind at the last second. “You should stay here. It’s not good for you, being all alone in that room, and at least here I can make sure you actually get some sleep at night.”

The tender concern, your mind almost dividing as you could too hear Robb telling you to calm your temper, that it wasn’t good for you. The deep care in both of these men that came so naturally as they were around you, and yet this from the one man you thought it would be gone from for good.

Your voice was a whisper, too afraid to speak any louder or even match his quiet fear of being so loud everyone outside could hear. “So it is only the Lord Commander whose allowed to break his vows about women in his bed.”

Neither of you smiled or smirked, but the lightness in his tone felt more comforting then the pain in his eyes that threatened to break you. “My vows also said my watch does not end until my death, which has already happened.”

This time you did smile a bit, a tiny half one that unseen by you, genuinely let a real one come over Jon’s face. “I don’t think that’s how they are supposed to work, Snow.”

Stepping forward you could see the egdes of his curls dance across he side of your vision, his voice a tad lower but the smile then you could finally hear in this voice. “I also wasn’t supposed to bring the free folk South of the wall, or leave the castle to try and protect the woman I love, but I did both of those things and the only life it cost was my own.” Neither words you had ever found the bravery to say before, not in the growing affection of teenage hood and then the nervousness of adulthood kept them away more. “The only vows that matter anymore are the ones that swore me to protect the realms of men, and that includes protecting you. Even if it means me keeping you safe from yourself.”

Neither said anything else, but you nodded. Jon’s hand removing itself from the door before letting you walk out into the cold. Jon knew lying to himself was pointless and no one here would buy them anymore. The North was his home, it was part of him, and it was his duty to fight for it.

The Night’s Watch couldn’t protect the people from what was coming if they stopped caring about their well being before the darkness came. This couldn’t be about vows and rules anymore, that’s what got everyone he ever loved killed. He broke those vows and Thorne had his men murder him for it, but now he was the dead one and Jon was still here.

Thorne died and stayed dead for the rules the old gods were telling Jon he was right for breaking.

You weren’t sure you had ever been in a room this uncomfortable before. On the best of the years with him, you on many instances had no clue what things to say to your father, and you spent more years with him then your mother. Yet now, you both sat in her quarters nothing but a fire crackling on the opposite wall of her to distract. She didn’t look well, but you supposed in her eyes neither did you.

The small cuts on your face were finally beginning to fade away, but you both knew of the one sitting under your shirt that was utterly fatal. The books by her bedside spoke of titles you never heard before and you need not think of the sort of darkness preached. One that led to such horrors when you couldn’t think of anything less comforting then the fires to your agonized heart.

“You don’t think it’s going to work.”

Looking up from where your fingertips were tapping at the table between you, her eyes were narrowed but something like hope. Selyse and Stannis Baratheon were the most unloving couple you ever had imagined and yet they were your parents. Robert Baratheon was married for over twenty years to Cersei and they despised one another. But Cersei had once admitted there was something akin to a faint love in her heart during their early years towards him. You knew your parents never even had that.

Loyalty to each other is not the same as love.

You could remember telling Robb you were afraid you were dragging him into a life with a miserable woman to love as your parents were. The small hope in her eyes as you told her that you suspected he was using the rumour of death to hide his movements through the north was nothing.

Nothing compared to the way you and Robb would look when in the ends of blood and battle you’d find each others eyes and remember why the fight was worth for the other. Nothing compared to the screaming, dizzying cries in your heart as you saw Jon’s beautiful grey eyes staring back at yours that night in the ice cell.

They were not Robert and Cersei, but their affection stopped at loyalty. She stood by Stannis no matter what he chose, and he never let others disrespect her as they did himself. The thing that bonded them together truly, was their daughters. First was you, young and curious prospering in the strangeness of the island you lived on and a Kingly uncle who would visit, that in those days still held much genuine love of life inside his eyes. Then your father sent you to Winterfell for the first time after the second instance your mother lost a son in the womb.

It felt like punishment on the ship. Your second baby brother was too gone and they sent you away to a strange, cold place where you knew none but the household guard which accompanied you. You aren’t quite sure if your relationship with your mother ever really improved past that point.

“I fought beside those men, mother. In battle, I fought on the front lines with them and watched how even in their own losses, they truly believed in us....in him. They won’t have a king that isn’t one of their own.” The way they all worshipped Robb, and how he never understood it but he accepted their loyalty with such a weight and responsibility.

Her face fell a small bit, leaning more over the table to sip at her drink. Every silence felt like it lasted for hours, to the point even Olly by the door could likely feel it. You barley touched yours, ever since those long nights in the dungeons of the Dreadfort, horribly ill and throwing up so much of what went down that eventually you had only stinging bile to coat your throat, food and drink felt like a feat to down.

There was a sharpness for a moment in her eyes that you interrupted before it got any further to her mouth, “If father really is the only one true king, then they would have pledged their loyalty already wouldn’t they have?”

Your mother sighing, glancing to the fire before turning back to you. “I didn’t ask you here for an argument.”

You nodded, leaning back in the chair as you glanced to Olly. Ever since that day he has seemed to stick by your side, whenever Theon didn’t. Two men who had done terrible thing’s now seem to atone by serving you, and you had no idea what they saw in you to care so much. Certainly not your social skills judging by how difficult you and Selyse found it to even look at the other.

“I know. But I fought a war by Robb’s side for three years, a war we knew would eventually be against my own father. Even if he is passed, I will not sit here and act as if only now do I swear loyalty. If I were going to do that, I would’ve come home to Dragonstone they day I escaped King’s Landing.” Your eyes blazing into hers now actively avoiding you. “But you and father married me to the North, and they accepted me as their own, they accepted me as Robb’s Queen and I died for that cause.”

Her head whipped back to you finally. A sorrow in her eyes slowly painting over. “Could I...would you show me?” You nodded pulling the edges of your shirt up, eyes glancing back to Olly who looked at the jagged scar with the same shock in his eyes that were towards seeing Jon alive, but much more contained.

Your mother couldn’t look away. It was getting harder and harder to deny it, and it was what everyone thought regardless if you pretended it was anything but your end. Letting the fabric of your shirt drop back down, you swallowed heavily. Broken and losing what will was left as his blue eyes looked from how soaked in red his hand was to your face gasping for air that would not come through the blood that flowed up into your mouth. “I suppose the women in this family simply aren’t destined to have boys are they.”

No doubt she could see the pain on you as well as her voice was low. “That is not the same. I lost them from my own body, my health, my failings. Yours was taken from you by another. There is no reason to think you would’ve-”

Where it came from you weren’t sure but it slipped out. Maybe because if anyone understood what that loss felt like, it truly was your mother. “I dreamt about him once. A small baby boy, he had my eyes but..” Your eyes for once found the flames but saw nothing but your own memories behind them. “He had this dark curly hair, face just like a Stark..I didn’t even know I was with child at the time.”

Both of you sat in silence, a pain that was too hard to put back in it’s darkness had unleashed and no doubt both in the room saw the reflection of the crackling fire in tears down your cheeks. You didn’t bother to hide them either. Neither of you finding it in you to speak a word on the matter, the pain too fresh for you and comfort not a commonality between such a family.

Speaking your name quietly, you didn’t bother turning to look at her. Your hand risen up, nails lightly digging into your mouth trying not to see the blood once more. “You’re sure he was dead, it wasn’t any kind of a mistake?” A strange seek for doubt in your mothers tone but one that you were hearing from many on the matter.

Olly to the side dropped his head as you smiled half a smirk with no feeling beyond the simple motion as if a huff of disbelief of the question. As if down there once more, you could feel the way they pressed against your bare hands. Not healed, not quite open, but just open wounds that existed on his body much like your own and how horrible and pale he looked when you first were brought to him.

Voice a slight whisper, “There is no mistake, mother. He was dead, as dead as any man can be.”

Sensing her eyes on you, begging in your mind for her not to say it but she did regardless. “The Lord brought you back to bring him back.” You tried warning her to stop, but she pressed on. “Whatever your destiny is, it’s tied with him and you need to accept that perhaps you are meant for something greater then-”

“Then what.” Looking at her, the remains of once tears trying to dry up. “Greater then what, mother? I had a life, a husband and a son to be, coming home to the North with Robb was my destiny. I was never supposed to have one with..” Your voice so quiet but the room was as well, and she certainly heard you. “We never thought..”

Her eyes watched you carefully but you shook the thought off. For the first time in all your life, you had no idea what to feel or think about Jon Snow and you hated it. You hated that he still knew you without any doubt, but you felt like you were just intruding on a strangers life pretending you could ever still mean something to him.

Selyse had never met Robb Stark, she had no way of knowing what your life with him was like but she had seen you at Jon Snow’s side. And she could say without doubt that she has never seen a man look that way at a woman before, as if their entire world has been consumed with this other person. And yourself? She looked at you now and knew as difficult as it was, how hard you tried to not look at him said just as much as his inability to look away.

Standing up abruptly, you tried hiding any tears with the back of your hand. “You should rest, it’s getting rather late.” As you approached the door, you turned back to look at your mother before turning to the boy. “Olly, I ask if you could see to Selyse for the next coming days. We are about to get rather busy, and I think she would appreciate the company.”

He didn’t disagree, and you could only wonder what about you made him stick to your orders in atonement so deeply. Your mother’s voice speaking up, only catching as you turned only partway to look at her. “Goodnight.”

Nodding back, yours was as stiff. “Goodnight, mother.”

Walking out into the cold, you only got a few feet before finding yourself leaning against the railing you stood on, hands braced as you looked out to the night. Something you didn’t understand was beyond those walls, something that once had you dream of cold and ice, but little understanding beyond those visions.

But there was something in the eyes of those here, something that truly haunted them. As you made your way back, for only a moment did you pause before your eyes slipped closed as you sighed and the path turned only slightly towards a different room.

It was dark, but you found no care to light any fire as you made your way through the quarters with a slower hesitancy. Being in here felt so strange, not right and you were too on edge to consider looking around like any other would normally. But as you draped the fur cloak over a dresser, you ran your fingers gently through the light colour.

In the night just like this, sat in front of the Weirwood in your final moments only together as you found a comfort hiding your face between this very fur and his neck for what you both felt was surely the last time. And as you carefully peeled off your boots, you slept only under the thinnest of the top sheets as you saw and felt too much in the quiet.

Sleeping alone used to be normal, but then it was by Robb’s side for years no matter where you travelled too. Then in the worst of it, your nights too often interrupted by the violence of pale blue eyes and a slimy taunting voice that sought to make you afraid of sleeping at night.

As you lightly drifted off, part of you wished Theon never brought you here. You felt as if you were just ruining his life, and he deserved better. He always deserved better, better then what Catelyn treated him as, better then to be shut away at the Night’s Watch and better then being trapped with you.

Yet later in the night, your mind woke just enough to sense as a figure came into the room, keeping the dark as much as possible like they didn’t need to see to navigate. The part of your mind that was still mostly asleep clenching your hands as if to brace yourself.

If he thought you were asleep, he would often drag you from bed and wake you up with a jostle usually to the head against the hard ground. Make you foggy and a little less coordinated as he begun, but it never came. And in an instant your mind which was slowly finding itself more awake settled itself as the figure was warm. Sliding into the sheets behind you, slowly before leaning over you.

The brush of his curls against the side of your cheek and neck, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself wasn’t for you to enjoy anymore, relaxed at the feeling. Feeling Jon carefully drape back your hair, collecting it so gently in his hands to neatly move it out of your face and tucked neatly to the side.

A large, calloused hand ran lightly over your arm before finally relaxing. His other arm stretching out to the other side of the bed by your own head as you felt his chest bare against the thin material of your shirt. Slowly, you let him pull you closer into his arms before you shifted yourself to fit better in his touch as well. His free hand draped over your hip with a gentle touch before it slid up to just under your breasts. Pulling you back firmly into him as his own forehead nuzzled against the back of your hair.

For the first real time in either of your lives, you freely found yourself sleeping in Jon Snow’s bed, tucked safely in his arms and were you not so close to the depths of dreams once more?

You may have otherwise cried at how overwhelming it was that you and him fit together so perfectly.

[ladystoneboobs]

[Bran, to Theon:]“But you’re Father’s ward.” [Theon, to Bran:]“And now you and your brother are my wards. [...] You’ll tell them how you’ve yielded Winterfell to me, and command them to serve and obey their new lord as they did the old.” -Bran VI, aCoK “He[Ramsay] is a great hunter,” said Wyman Manderly, “and women are his favorite prey. He strips them naked and sets them loose in the woods. They have a half day’s start before he sets out after them with hounds and horns. From time to time some wench escapes and lives to tell the tale. Most are less fortunate. When Ramsay catches them he rapes them, flays them, feeds their corpses to his dogs, and brings their skins back to the Dreadfort as trophies. If they have given him good sport, he slits their throats before he skins them. Elsewise, t’other way around.” -Davos IV, aDwD [Roose, to Theon, about Ramsay's mother:]"[...]I was hunting a fox along the Weeping Water when I chanced upon a mill and saw a young woman washing clothes in the stream. The old miller had gotten himself a new young wife, a girl not half his age. She was a tall, willowy creature, very healthy-looking. Long legs and small firm breasts, like two ripe plums. Pretty, in a common sort of way. The moment that I set eyes on her I wanted her. Such was my due. [...] This miller’s marriage had been performed without my leave or knowledge. The man had cheated me. So I had him hanged, and claimed my rights beneath the tree where he was swaying. If truth be told, the wench was hardly worth the rope. The fox escaped as well, and on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame, so all in all it was a dismal day." -Reek(/Theon) III, aDwD

something something the way theon tries to rectify his childhood trauma by taking his captor's place as lord of wf and taking ned's younger sons as his "wards"/hostages, while ramsay repeatedly reenacts different versions of his own conception by hunting and raping peasant women. except theon fails in his role reversal when (unlike him in his own captivity at wf) bran and rickon escape custody. and ramsay enhances roose's "dismal day" by killing all the women he catches to prevent any more bolton bastards and further punishing those of them who fail to give him "good sport" (which his mother apparently did not give roose) while those who do satisfy him are "honored" with a quick death (and a canine namesake). and then the consequences of theon's failure to replace his captor/cold noerthern father figure include losing wf to house bolton and becoming the new "reek"/another of ramsay's dogs. (meaning he made himself ramsay's prey but gave him "good sport" in the experience)

ramsay starts out as deceptive dark trickster figure/evil adviser/devil on theon's shoulder in clash but he's also a dark mirror of theon, and a more successful one at that, not just better suited to villainy but more able to get away with his crimes. neither will ever be truly accepted by their fathers but ramsay is made heir once he's the only son while theon is rejected as such despite his better birth. ramsay profits from the alleged kinslaying of his actual brother by blood, while theon is more openly condemned (and seen as still not punished enough) for (falsely) killing stark boys who were never his actual kin. it's almost as if ramsay is an evil force who came into being to find theon and was drawn to him upon his return to the north. we first learn of the bastard of bolton's existence after theon returns to pyke and learns of his father's invasion plans, then his last hunt with the original reek just shortly precedes the ironborn attacks, all so that he's captured and waiting in wf right in time for theon's real plan to go into action, and we don't actually meet (disguised) ramsay in-person through dialogue with rodrik cassell or any other northerner but only when theon arrives as the new lord to free him from the dungeon. as the first reek may have corrupted ramsay, ramsay-as-reek corrupts theon. reek belongs to ramsay and ramsay belongs to reek.

[atopvisenyashill]

do you think george has purposefully written theon as queer? the jokes are funny but fandom tends to oversimplify everything lol

okay i’m gonna be real honest. i don’t really care what george thought, theon IS gay lmao.

i’ve seen this around, for theon specifically a lot but it happens w other characters that get like Shipped As Gay, that the jokes about theon Experiencing Homophobia are homophobic in and of themselves, because you’re laughing at the idea of Theon like, being called a f*g by his father basically, or the idea that being very devoted to a queer reading of a character is somehow not as serious a take, it’s all haha fujo-ing out but it’s like. Well I’m laughing bc Theon’s story is very familiar to me lol. And I don’t think funny posts about Theon being effeminate or being in love with Robb (or Jon or Dagmar or Ramsay or whoever we’re talking about) are inherently jokes, I think it’s a perfectly legitimate reading of Theon to be like “this is a very queer story arc” and I don’t think reading romantic and queer overtures into his story is an oversimplification of his feelings for Robb or his relationship with Balon. Not to be a huge embarassing nerd about this, but I like the Mark Hamill stance here - if I say Theon is gay, HE IS GAY. It’s funny because he’s got a very darkly funny narrative and I love to have a laugh but it’s not a joke to me.

Do I think George wrote Theon intentionally as queer? Man, fuck if I know. I would definitely argue that he’s directly writing something romantic between Stannis and Davos, and he’s definitely saying a lot about Satin & sexuality & gender, but I wouldn’t bet money on him directly thinking the words “theon is gay.” but he’s not like, stupid, he’s just as much a fan of fantasy as he is a writer of it and these close, intimate friendships between men are a very big part of it, I think it’s hard to be as savvy of a writer as he is and not know that writing something like “where was i i should have died with him” might set some hearts aflutter. Nor do I think the parallel of Robb becoming close with two children of enemies in Jeyne Westerling & Theon, and those two loving him but getting roped into their parents’ schemes to betray Robb, is an accidental parallel. homoerotic friendships are very common in historical fiction, in fantasy, and I think it’s likely George was playing that angle when writing this story arc. That’s not quite the same as George conceiving of Theon (or Robb, or Ramsay) as A Bisexual Man but I don’t really care about that difference. What’s on the page is a story I see queerness in, and I think it’s likely to continue. He’s going to keep up this guilt & devotion to Robb’s shade, he’s going to wrestle a lot with his masculinity and his struggle to uphold Westerosi patriarchal norms due to his disabled body & emotional trauma, I think he’s on a collision course with Jon Snow and those two are bound to have a few homoerotic scenes of their own given all their parallels, and Seven willing, he will get to wear something pretty and shiny and get complimented for it at least once (by Asha preferably but I’d take like, anyone).

[keplercryptids]

I know this was posted like. a week ago. but as someone thinking of running a forged in the dark game I would love to see your homebrew xp mechanics

hell yeah! so let me start by saying, forged in the dark games (at least, the two i've played, blades in the dark and scum and villainy) are designed to be run either 1. in campaigns with a maximum of 12-20 sessions, OR 2. in campaigns where you're running through characters frequently and telling a story of the crew as a collective, rather than focused on a specific group of characters. so if you do either of those things, i don't think you actually need to tweak the xp.

i am a longwinded bitch lmao and i also prefer running campaigns that don't switch out PCs often. so the rapid xp acquisition of these games is. troublesome. i've actually very recently decided to simply hand out milestone xp (which is what i did when i ran d&d 5e). basically, every few jobs, when something narratively Big happens, i'll give the players [x] amount of xp. but! i did come up with these narrative xp rules, which i like and i'm having fun with, so for now, any xp the players accrue by making desperate rolls will be added to their narrative xp bank to spend in the following ways:

(under a readmore cuz it's long!)

Narrative XP

At the end of each job, the maximum amount of XP that can be used for character advancement is 50% of the XP gained that session, rounding up. This is called Advancement XP. The remaining XP is called Narrative XP.

When Narrative XP is spent to increase or reduce a clock, 1 XP = 1 tick. Personal Narrative XP can be spent on campaign clocks, personal clocks, connection clocks, long-term projects or resolving traumas, as described below. With the exception of campaign clocks, any given clock can only be affected by 1 Narrative XP, per player per session.

At a player’s discretion, Character Advancement XP may be spent as Narrative XP, with the same restrictions as above.

CAMPAIGN CLOCKS

Throughout the campaign, there will be clocks tracking organizations’ goals, external forces outside the scope of the PCs’ sphere of influence, or events looming on the horizon. During downtime, these clocks can be increased or reduced by the use of Narrative XP. This is almost always going to be a meta decision made by the players and GM, rather than anything the PCs are doing within the fiction (though there may be some exceptions - talk it out!). The progress of campaign clocks can also be leveraged as Devil’s Bargains during play. There is no limit to how much XP can be spent on a campaign clock per downtime.

PERSONAL CLOCKS

Each PC can accrue personal clocks, tracked on your character sheet, that reflect potential complications, goals, or outcomes affecting your character. During downtime, Narrative XP can be used to increase or reduce ticks on these clocks (maximum 1 XP per clock per downtime). To use Narrative XP this way, describe or roleplay a scene to illustrate what your character is doing to affect the clock in question.

CONNECTION CLOCKS

[note: this text is taken basically word-for-word from Beam Saber by austin ramsay - a really cool game i haven't gotten to run yet! check out beam saber if you're interested in sci-fi forged in the dark games!]

The crew sheet contains separate 4-tick Connection Clocks for each other member in your crew, representing your character’s relationship with that crewmate. Make a belief about that crewmate for each tick on that clock (checking in with that player when you do). When the Connection Clock fills, ask the target crewmate for a truth about one of the beliefs tied to them, then reset the clock to 1 tick as you see them in a new light. When a Connection Clock resets, erase all the previous beliefs you had about that crewmate and write a new one related to the truth you just learned—it’ll take time and effort to understand them again.

A belief is a brief statement about how a character feels about another crewmate. Beliefs are simple, quick, and influential in the rapport between the two crewmates. However, the players need to remember that their beliefs are not necessarily true as they are based on incomplete information and gut instinct. A good belief is:

Something a character might say about their crewmate to a confidante.

Easily summarized, so that it can be quickly remembered when relevant.

Potentially true.

Suitable for the game’s setting and tone.

Something the player is interested in exploring.

During downtime or free play, Narrative XP can be used to add a belief and tick a Connection Clock with another crewmate (maximum once per session). To use Narrative XP this way, your character must have a one-on-one scene with a crewmate, which challenges their perception of their crewmate, and/or shows a new side of them, and/or during which the characters bond in a significant way. After this, spend 1 XP to tick the Connection clock with that character, and gain a new belief (see above).

LONG-TERM PROJECTS

During downtime, you may spend 1 XP to add a tick to a long-term project clock (maximum 1 tick per clock).

RESOLVING TRAUMAS

[note: there isn't a way in the rules as written to resolve traumas, but being able to do so is important to me, so i included this as a way to use narrative xp.]

When you gain a trauma, start a 6-tick Trauma clock on your character sheet. During downtime or free play, Narrative XP can be used to tick a Trauma clock (maximum once per session). To use Narrative XP this way, describe or roleplay a scene to illustrate what your character is doing to work on resolving their trauma. Once a trauma clock has been filled, you may remove that trauma from your character sheet.

[undeniablespice]

drowned god the weak little beast you put on this earth to write fanfiction and like greyjoys has been neglecting homework in order to reread the affc ironborn chapters and have way too many opinions about the soggiest man in the world. i have Had Some Thoughts on aeron, theon, and names

it really is striking to me just how little people refer to aeron by his name. not just in conversation, but in the narrative itself, with the most notable example of this being aeron himself in his pov chapters constantly thinking of himself not as aeron but as damphair or just The Priest. he refers to himself as damphair or The Priest instead of aeron like twenty times throughout the prophet, to the point where it's used almost as frequently as his actual name. in the drowned man it's only like eight times (which i think is mostly because the vast majority of this chapter is given over to the kingsmoot, where aeron is mostly a spectator and the narrative focus is on the events taking place rather than his reaction to them). in the forsaken, it's ten times, though while aeron is actively imprisoned he mostly thinks of himself as aeron, with damphair being used four times in flashbacks to events that took place in the past, once during a conversation with euron while aeron is defying him, and then three times after he is freed and he can see the sea again

the consistency and frequency of aeron in his own mind thinking of himself as something other than his name reads to me almost like a foil to theon and reek. the identity of the damphair allows aeron to dissociate himself from the burden of his past weaknesses and sins: his pre-drowning frivolity and alcoholism and euron's sexual abuse. for aeron, being damphair is as empowering as being reek is degrading for theon. he is constantly affirming to himself that he is a loyal servant of the drowned god and that this makes him strong. it gives him status and purpose he never had as aeron the boy, who was the youngest and weakest of his brothers. aeron-the-priest cannot be frightened by any mortal man any more than he can be frightened by the dark or by memories. kill the boy to become the man -> drown the boy to become the damphair

(although, of course, when aeron tells himself all this about how god chose him and it makes him strong and special and immune to fear, he is deluding himself. the damphair is haunted incessantly by his brothers. aeron has the tendency to reconcile his lasting fear of euron with his special god-given immunity to such mortal flaws as feeling fear by believing that euron is ungodly/an avatar of the storm god/literally the devil, and therefore not really a mortal man in the same way that balon and victarion are

which is a really interesting parallel to how euron must see himself, what with the whole apotheosis god-king thing he's got going on by twow. in a way, euron is aeron's real god. it is euron's abuse that first connected aeron with faith, and it is faith that aeron uses to cope with and overcome the lasting psychological scars of that abuse and urri's death. aeron doesn't think of euron as a mere flesh and blood human being anymore. he's mythologized the crow's eye in his own mind: euron is not just his abuser, he's a boogeyman, a devil, quite literally the thing that goes bump in the night. and euron knows this, and delights in knowing it and in taking every chance he can to tear down aeron's faith and replace the drowned god with himself as the backbone of aeron's life. which he does not actually succeed in doing, as of the forsaken! aeron keeps his faith like theon keeps his name. it cannot be taken from them)

reek, meanwhile, is not an identity that theon chooses to assume to cope with his trauma. it is forced upon him in the middle of the trauma and he has no choice but to accept it for his own self-preservation. ramsay devastates theon physically: flaying him, starving him, beating him, removing his fingers and toes and teeth and genitals. imprisonment and violence are the tools he uses to take away theon's physical strength to resist him, but reek is how he gets to all the parts of theon that can't be bruised or cut. it's the psychological equivalent of a flaying knife. reek is the weapon he uses to attack theon's identity and sense of self and personhood. though it's important to me to note that those were things theon was already struggling with well before ramsay came on the scene, and that he has an absolutely unbelievably strong will that allows him to retain a degree of his original personality under ramsay and regain his own name later in adwd even after enduring all the torture and abuse. he is a greyjoy of pyke. his name is theon, and if he dies, he will die as theon, not as reek. when he leans into being reek, it is as a means of self-preservation and protection from harm. he basically says as much to jeyne when he tells her to be arya: he believes that serving ramsay and capitulating to his whim is the best way to stay safe. you have to know your name.

ultimately, theon is as relieved to be rid of the name reek as aeron is relieved to see the ocean again at the end of the forsaken. theon's name is a source of pride to him, something that he clings to after he has lost everything else, something that will always be his even after all that has been taken away from him. aeron's name is a source of shame, something that he is reduced to when he feels weak, something that he reverts to when he is powerless at the mercy of his abuser

[altocat]

I don't know if someone did this already but that Gordon Ramsay meme definitely describes Glenn in FF7EC FS Chapters 4 and 5 perfectly to a T.

Glenn in Chapter 4 of Ever Crisis First SOLDIER:

Glenn in Chapter 5 of Ever Crisis First SOLDIER and onwards:

Glenn went from bully to bro within the span of a single chapter. I guess baby Seph really was that irresistible.

I do like that they still seem to squabble with each other. It makes for a fun dynamic. But Glenn is also really good at getting Seph to rethink a lot of the harmful trauma he's experienced and actually act like a kid. It's really refreshing to see a situation where SEPHIROTH is the one still growing into his own skin. Like he's still in charge, but Glenn and co. also manage to have some level of pseudo-familial authority over him. Very cute.

....CAN'T WAIT FOR THIS TO GO SOUTH REAL FAST

[agentrouka-blog]

Do you think Sansa was ever a girlboss (derogatory context)? Some dude is lamenting that the ending of Battle of the Bastards (where the Knights of the Vale ride in) was her “girlboss moment”, even though she was the only female in sight and her screentime was very limited in that part. Did she… smile at the Bolton line breaking? Oh, the malice!

I think D&D considered the "girlboss" concept as a credibly attractive way to showcase Strong Women Characters, usually by the way of Dany standing triumphant after scenes of violent victory, which is a pose they usually didn't give to their male characters, who were usually given more nuanced/tragic "war is complex and bad for us manly warriors" angles (Jon, Jaime, Tyrion, Robb...) so giving Sansa the triumphant smile at the sight of the carnage was true to form for them.

That said, it's not very girlboss to be belittled by every ally they encountered, be barely included in the planning, beg to contribute insight, be condescended to, and then given no public credit for the entire army she did manage to contribute while watching her bastard half-brother be crowned after he doomed them all to be slaughtered in battle. Sansa was Lady of Winterfell and didn't truly desire that Northern crown but it was a very telling moment nonetheless. To top it off, she was made to apologize again.

A proper girlboss moment this is not.

Of course, to D&D her "girlboss" arc was probably done justice by having her walking away smiling from another moment of carnage letting Ramsay be eaten alive by his dogs in a dark dungeon (another Dany mirror).

I don't know what drives the critic you refer to but I can say that I am not a fan of these moments precisely because they glorify the violence that the same writers decry as complex and damaging for male characters, they are superficial momentary triumphs that don't address actual power dynamics or trauma, and they should be considered out of character for Sansa. It's lazy storytelling, and if "girlboss moment" is meant to criticize that, I would actually agree.

[alleyskywalker]

THROBB FORTNIGHT Fic Recs: Days 1-5

Day 1: Canon Divergence

unkingly by nonexistentwench / @team-mom-wannabe (T, 1.8k)

This is a wonderful No Defection/”Betrayal” AU where Theon never went to Pyke in the first place. There are several things that I especially love about this fic:

1) Often in these types of AUs, it’s taken for granted that a Theon who’s chosen to stay with Robb (or never had the chance to choose) will be happy with that decision and that without actively divided loyalties, all the other issues will just…go away somehow. This fic, in this a very well-drawn couple of scenes, examines and acknowledges how that’s unlikely, how Robb and Theon, despite loving each other, have a lot of situational issues between them as well as interpersonal problems with communication and empathy, and things aren’t likely to just go away.

2) That said, the love and trust between them is so very genuine, and even when they argue and hide from each other, they cannot help but be tender with each other.

3) Excellent and satisfying characterizations of both! Robb is young and vulnerable in some ways, and needs Theon’s support, but also stubborn and overprivileged and not entirely able to open up either. Theon, for his part, is loyal and supportive but struggling with a lot of the same issue as in canon and though they seem to have resolved the question of his hostage status somewhat, the trauma still gets him, and his reaction to Karstark’s execution – which is the inciting moment here – is poignant and realistic.

Day 2: Modern AU

Subterranean Homesick Blues by Fluorescentgrey (M, 4.9k)

A beautifully atmospheric and achingly bittersweet fic. The setting is…I’m not sure but I want to say 80--90s maybe? The families and weed drug lords in Northern California, so there is a lot of mention of drug use, as a warning to anyone who’s not into that. But really, the fic isn’t about being drug lords at all. It’s about Theon’s past youth and lost love for/with Robb, on which he reminisces in vivid, idealized, and yet somehow suppressed flashbacks. They have a very canon-esque relationship in this, where it’s unclear if in between their friendship and partying and snuggling on illegal train rides their was more to their relationship, whether Robb reciprocated or it’s mostly in Theon’s head. The present time is a modern AU translation/version of Theon and Jeyne trying to make their way up to Seattle to Jon after they’ve escaped Ramsay. Their relationship/friendship is also well done. I just very much enjoyed both the style this was written in and how very canon-like this kind of feels, despite being a modern AU.

Day 3: Childhood/Pre-Canon/Friendship and brotherhood

both are windy by nonexistentwench / @team-mom-wannabe (G, 1.4k)

This is just a super adorable childhood fic about Theon dealing with lowkey learning/realizing that life is slowly moving on without him back home and Robb dealing with wanting to be Theon’s brother but knowing he’s not really and that Theon has actual sibling he might want to bonding with. And, of course, both of them learning to navigate each other and their friendship. Angsty and cute at the same time. Robb’s POV especially is fantastic –  I love the bit of petulance mixed with naivete where he’s got this genuine but very childish understanding of what Theon should be acting like if he had really been “stolen” as he claims, but he does have kind of an instinctive understanding of the truth at the same time because he’s so uncomfortable about the whole thing (yet doesn’t want to acknowledge it).

Day 4: Trust and loyalty

to bandage your wounds with the salt on my tongue by janie_tangerine (T, 1.6k)

Perhaps only vaguely fitting this prompt/theme, but it IS a No Defection AU where Theon comes back to Robb after things go to shit on Pyke. But really, what I love about it most is that it’s an incredibly tender hurt/comfort fic (because Theon comes back sick, for hand-wavy reasons). Soooo much cuddling and tenderness and it’s incredibly iddy. I’m more meh about this aspect, but I know a lot of people enjoy Theon having some self-doubts and self-esteem issues in these sorts of situations, which is a pretty central emotional note in this fic, and Robb is in fact very reassuring in response.

Day 5: Secret Relationship

After All This Time by saltywench / @salty-wench (M, 11k)

A fantastic, entertaining, enthralling, tropey in the best way 1940s-1950s Hollywood AU! This fic is basically a short romance novella, staring Theon as a rising movie star and Robb a blossoming young director who’s family is very “from the industry.” The secret relationship comes from the fact that, well, it’s the 1950s so homophobia very much exists, and especially in such a public-facing industry. But it’s handled with such a light touch that it’s not overwhelming at all and serves the conflict in a meaningful way. It’s a story filled with this sense of romance and longing and hope and nostalgia in the end that is somehow especially heart wrenching, but in a good way – and I think for that it’s the kind of fic that’s difficult to comment and write a rec for.

The characterization, plot, pacing, emotional and sexual tension, and the supporting cast (Patrek, Kyra, Margaery!) were all incredibly on point. (And of course the happy ending!) I have to say, I loved some reversals and trope subversions here especially, such as Theon being an outsider to the Hollywood scene, but not working class like in so many modern AUs. His family is also fancy in its own way, just not the kind that would help him here. And Robb must apologize at one point or another for being an oblivious prick – always a nice dynamic reversal!

[fineosaur]

theon grejoy vs finnick odair - a comparison

theon greyjoy:

when we meet theon in agot, we quickly learn his humour, how he hides his sorrow/trauma well enough under a veil of smiles, quick wit and seduction. 

theon’s character is painted as a dark youth, very well loved by the common ladies in the area (meaning he’s hot!!!!) and loves to joke about his exploits (bran pov in agot where robb needs to cut theon off for talking about a threesome in front of a child)

his character has connections to the sea and he is extremely skilled with his weapon of choice (the bow). and he was very young when he was taken away from the home he knew.

finnick odair:

when we meet finnick in catching fire, we see him through katniss’s lenses. she quickly dismisses him as an attractive man with little compassion other than for making lewd jokes. (she is not very good at reading people on an emotional level, much like bran the literal 8 year old). 

his humour and seduction are useful in making it seem like he’s not much of a threat, though he did win his games very young because of his charm and skill with his weapon of choice (the trident)

the allusions of him and the sea are a big part of his character, though it’s clear that he was pulled away from his home as a capital’s hostage to please the citizens, putting his loved ones in danger should he go out of line. 

NOW TOGETHER:

theon and finnick are both known as characters who a quick to humour as well as wit. shining smiles seem to win them the favour of those attracted to them but behind those smiles there is always something hidden. 

much like finnick, theon is taken away from his home against his will, he is used as a hostage in the north, the lines blur between him and finnick as the latter’s loved ones are threatened, whereas for theon, he is the one who is being threatened, should his father fall out of line. 

both go through a rather traumatic ordeal- crippling them mentally. theon in his reek transformation due to ramsay and finnick post catching fire when he knew that annie was captured.

the biggest similarity, other than their good looks, would be their draw to the ocean. we see very clearly in catching fire that finnick is in HIS element when he’s close to the ocean. theon’s ancestry and gods are of the ocean and i believe the thing that weakened him significantly is that he was away from the element that sustained his people. leaving him on land where he became so detached from the ocean that even his own father didn’t accept him. 

anyway this is long winded, i will come back with more because i want to discuss this with people.

please comment, rb, send me asks on things that i might have forgotten, these are my scattered thoughts at this very instant.